{drabble} Somewhere I belong - Kaito/Akiho
This is the second Kaito x Akiho / YunaAki drabble that is paired with the first one I wrote from Akiho's POV. Please read that one first so you can have a better understanding of the situation!
The setting is the same as the first drabble, but Kaito's thoughts drift all over the place because....well, he's Kaito. He's been officially named as the "overthinker" by CLAMP so now I'm going to call him that for quite some time 😂
As you will be able to see, while Akiho thought to herself without problems that she loved him, you won't see Kaito thinking that, here.
This is a very early stage of their new life and he's still far from acknowledging any of that, but he's starting to come to terms with things, at least.
This one might be a bit more angstier than the other one, again because this is Kaito we're talking about. His self-loathing won't disappear overnight. But I hope that the finale will comfort you, at least. ❤️
Once again, I'm not a native English speaker so forgive me if any line sounds weird!
P.s. Dandelion, thank you again!
P.s.2 Yes, I also like Linkin Park 😁
Excerpt:
“I’m sorry...”, I blurted out, in a whisper. Every time we ended up in this situation, I would apologize. And she would never reply to it.
Maybe an apology wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but I had yet to find out what were the right words to say.
Kaito's POV
I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it.
The way she looked at me when they told her everything, that night.
The way she had slowly turned her head and kept her gaze fixed on me, while the British magician rattled off all that my plan had entailed, down to the way it had affected my body.
He recovered all the previous memories, and he knew Akiho-san needed an explanation more than anyone else, but also knew I was in no condition (neither mental, nor physical) to give it to her.
I could feel her gaze piercing through me, while someone was helping me sitting down, as I couldn't even stand up.
Her hands gripped tightly the tablet, shaking. Her blue eyes, usually crystalline and bright like the Caribbean Sea, darkened several shades and became like a raging storm. They once again glazed over with emerging tears, but she probably held them back, because not even one dropped.
And I felt so weak. My guilt, growing again by the second.
I would've given anything to remove that hardened gaze from her and bring back the soft features I've always known.
But you see, that was my problem.
Giving everything the way I did before wasn’t the correct answer. And I had finally surrendered to the truth, that night.
But I didn't know any other way. I simply didn't know how to express how important she is to me without pushing it to an extreme, and that was exactly how we came to that point.
I don’t know when exactly I started to hear that voice inside of me, telling me that I wanted to connect with her.
I could hear it every day, before I carried out my plan. Louder and louder and louder. Kicking and screaming inside of me. I tried to fight it for so long, forcing myself not to hear it. But when she asked Sakura-san to bring me back, and she stated that she refused to keep living a fabricated life, wanting to go back to what she had before with me, I suddenly grew so tired. So, so tired. I was exhausted. I didn't want to fight it anymore.
I've fought countless magicians ever since I was a little boy, and defeated every single one of them. People kept me at a distance for that. And yet, completely oblivious to all of that, she was the one who defeated me every single time.
Even this time around, she won. She won over that brutal, devastating desire to disappear forever that had consumed my life to such degree. She won over my guilt and self-loathing that I, quite frankly, haven’t got rid of yet.
So here I was, now, clinging to her like a lifeline in the kitchen, while I waited to regain control of my breathing. I had tried to hide it from her, the first couple of times after I got back on my feet, following that fateful night. But she found out every single time and made very clear that if we wanted to live together from now on, this had to stop. I didn't know what to do with myself anymore.
Why was I fighting it again?
So I did as she requested, and by now, this was already the third episode of seizure she had witnessed.
I didn't know.... how any of this worked. But I wanted to learn.
I wanted to try.
I was slowly starting to get it. Why I caved in and agreed to go back to her, that night, despite how confused I was and how much I still despised myself for making her cry like that.
She made me feel wanted.
Made me feel accepted. Made me feel like I finally belonged somewhere. I hadn’t realized how much I actually had yearned for that, all this time.
I thought I was nothing to her. I thought that she could've lived perfectly fine without me, without remembering anything of what we experienced together. Because, in the end, who was I? Just her butler. I embarked on that mission with the full understanding that I would've always been just her butler, and I played that part till the end at the best of my ability. An expendable tool to let her reach the happiness she deserved.
But I wasn't. I wasn't, and I couldn't see that. I could only finally realize it that night in the most harrowing way possible, causing that face I wished to see eternally smile to be tainted with burning tears, as she poured out all her pain. Pain that I had caused. This wasn't the kind of support she wanted from me, and I failed her terribly.
I was willing to do anything to make things right. So when she asked me, no, rather demanded to not be kept in the dark whenever I had one of my seizures, I had no choice but to comply. That was what she wanted, and there was no way I could refuse it to her.
But now that the medicine was finally starting to kick in, and my breathing stabilized to a more normal rate, I raised my head to look at her worried face and I couldn’t help but think how unfair all of this was on her. She was so young, and she didn’t deserve to withstand all of this because of my choices.
“I’m sorry...”, I blurted out, in a whisper. Every time we ended up in this situation, I would apologize. And she would never reply to it.
Maybe an apology wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but I had yet to find out what were the right words to say.
She helped me stand up and supported me all the way to the couch, where I finally laid down and released the tension from my stiffened muscles. Seizures usually left me completely exhausted and sore.
She sat down on the floor next to the couch, and we exchanged a long, wordless stare. Her eyes were again clear and bright.
Before I drifted in a dreamless heavy sleep, I remember I felt so grateful to have her by my side.
I didn’t deserve it.
But the warmth I felt in my chest, contrarily to before, felt so nice.
And I was pretty sure she was the cause of it.
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“Is it rude to say I’d volunteer
For a day of fun just once a year?
I’d fly the coop, if only I could...
But I've got a really bad case of being good!
I’d go find trouble if there was some to get in:
Ask a friend to play if I had one to let in...
Nana’s rocker sawing through the floor --
Every day just like the one before --
We lock ourselves behind that door...
Is it wrong to wish for something more?
~“Good Girl Winnie Foster” from Tuck Everlasting (musical)
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Carewyn’s gingham dress based on this design // original photo used for the background, edited with Lunapic! 💚
x~x~x~x
If asked about her childhood, Carewyn Cromwell would always say that even if her family was poor and she had to wear a lot of second-hand dresses when she was growing up, she, her mother Lane, and her brother Jacob still were nonetheless able to manage all right. What Carewyn often did not talk about was at just how young of an age she was forced to start looking after herself -- something that many people would look at with quite a bit more dismay than Carewyn herself did, looking back at her own circumstances.
Now to be clear, Lane Cromwell was a very loving and caring mother -- but with the abandonment of her husband Evan and the abrupt lack of financial income that came with it, Lane had to take on the role of both breadwinner and caregiver simultaneously. While Carewyn was a toddler, that forced Lane to do menial laundry and seamstressing work from home, as well borrow some money from her good friend Judy Castine to help make ends meet until Carewyn could start public school. Once Carewyn did start school, however, Lane still couldn’t afford childcare -- and so, after doing a lot of research and preparation, Lane made the difficult decision to teach her nearly-five-year-old daughter how to walk home from her new primary school. Understandably worried for Carewyn’s safety walking anywhere by herself, Lane used both magical and Muggle means to ensure she would know Carewyn’s location at all times, on her way coming home from school. Lane made contact with several trustworthy adults along Carewyn’s route, like the elderly owner of the local ice cream parlor, Mrs. Sackett, and introduced Carewyn to each of them, so that they could help Carewyn get home in case of an emergency or even call Lane if they didn’t see Carewyn walk by at a specific time. Lane also taught Carewyn about the Knight Bus, which she could always call by sticking her left hand out over the street, just in case anyone tried to hurt or grab her. Judy even gifted Lane a small Magical-Child-Monitor watch from Diagon Alley in preparation of Carewyn’s first year at school, which could always tell Lane whether Carewyn was at “school” or “home,” whether she was “traveling,” or even whether she was “lost” or “in distress.” (The last feature Judy customized to make the watch chirp loudly, just in case Lane didn’t notice it immediately. Lane kind of had wished she hadn’t, given how loud it was, but appreciated the sentiment.)
Most children about to turn five would’ve been petrified at the thought of walking anywhere by themselves. Carewyn, fortunately, had always been a rather brave and independent child -- and considering that she knew her mother needed to keep her job in order to provide for all of them, the little girl took the responsibility onto her tiny shoulders like a champ, walking home with her head held high every day with no sense of fear or resentment. She and Jacob were all their Mum had now, after all, and with Jacob away at school, Carewyn knew she had to do her best to help take care of Lane, just like Lane did her and Jacob. Jacob always made her promise to take care of their mother and flat before leaving for Hogwarts every year...and Carewyn would never break a promise to her brother.
So every day, from the age of 4 all the way to 11, Carewyn Cromwell walked home from school every single day by herself, straight home to her mother’s and her flat, where she’d lock the door and stay safe inside until her mum came home. And to Lane’s relief, in that entire time, the single mother never heard her Magical-Child-Monitor watch chirp once -- for truly, Carewyn had always been a rather risk-adverse child. Her brother Jacob used to break into the kitchen cabinets and try to drink bleach as a baby, but Carewyn? Lane herself would often compare her daughter to a “little angel,” never starting trouble or getting into anything she shouldn’t. And because Carewyn knew Lane was working so hard trying to do well for her and Jacob, the last thing Carewyn wanted to do was make things more difficult for her mother -- so she stoically followed the same routine every day without complaint, going to school just for her classes and then heading straight home, all the while trying hard to not to let any accidental magic slip out that could make anyone side-eye Carewyn or her family any more than they already did.
This didn’t mean that Carewyn didn’t ever quietly lament the arrangement, of course. What child wouldn’t? It was hard having to see other kids getting picked up by their parents in their cars when it was wet or snowing outside. It was hard to have to walk straight home when there was an exciting football match going on in the field near the local secondary school. It was hard to sit cooped-up inside when Carewyn could hear all the neighborhood kids riding their bikes on a sunny Friday afternoon.
But hey, Carewyn told herself gloomily -- she didn’t even have a bike to ride on next to them anyway. And really, she thought more stubbornly, they’d probably just think she was a freak like everyone else did, which meant they’d only say nasty things that would make her upset and make her cast magic by accident anyway. And then she’d scare everyone, and the Ministry would have to come in and fix things...and her mother would worry. Carewyn couldn’t worry Lane...
And so Carewyn stayed inside dutifully, day after lonely day, soldiering through with no complaint. Because really, all of that silence was worth it, the moment Jacob would come home for a holiday break. As soon as he was home, Carewyn wouldn’t be alone, and with someone else around at home, it was safer to go outside without her mother. She and Jacob could walk to the park or the library -- to Mrs. Sackett’s ice cream parlor, or maybe even take a trip to the beach. Even being inside some of the time wasn’t so hard, when Carewyn didn’t always have to be by herself. And then once Lane was home too, they could all eat dinner together, the way Carewyn wished they could every night -- laughing and talking and sharing and bonding the way they all loved doing. And once Carewyn started at Hogwarts herself...well, then she’d be able to go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted -- be the great witch she wanted to be, instead of the “freak” ginger that the Muggles in her neighborhood would never understand. She’d be able to play out every single wild daydream Jacob and Lane had sparked to life inside of her through all their stories about the magical school -- cast spells, brew potions, visit all the shops of Hogsmeade village...play Quidditch, sing for the Frog Choir...maybe even tame a real-life dragon!
Carewyn held fast to this thought and never let go of it. Once she could go to Hogwarts and chase her dreams, Jacob and her mother rooting for her all the while...all those silent, cooped-up, lonely days of the past would be worth it.
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