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twilightscribe) wrote2014-06-18 03:21 pm
twilightscribe) wrote2014-06-18 03:21 pm
Entry tags:
not a day goes by
Notes: So, this was originally inspired by this comic. When I first saw it, I'd thought to write some cut fluff, but then it descended into angst because anything else is hard to write when these two are involved...
Title: not a day goes by
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Characters: Kratos+Lloyd, family angst.
Words: 465 words
not a day goes by
Lloyd was not so small that he could sit on his shoulders. He also didn't pull at Kratos' hair or face. But, for Kratos at least, he was still not so heavy as to be a burden to carry. Lloyd was a warm weight on Kratos' back, making his chest constrict tightly. Kratos closed his eyes for a second and sucked in a sharp breath, which burned like he'd swallowed hot coals.
How many times had he carried Lloyd like this as a child? He'd been such a small child, then, much smaller than had been healthy. Even as a young child, Lloyd had been undernourished and light; carrying him had been far too easy. Kratos had been able to easily sweep him up on his shoulders or into a single arm. Even so, he'd been remarkably energetic and curious – had he not been too afraid to approach anyone but his parents, Kratos was certain he would have had to rescue him from all manner of trouble.
Strange, how that had happened now.
Lloyd was having a very embarrassed conversation with Colette from his place on Kratos' back. His left ankle, bare now but for the bandages wrapped around it, was swollen and turning to a mottled collection of varying shades of purple and black.
Like a child, always getting himself into trouble.
“Why can't you just, I dunno, help me walk back to the inn?” Lloyd muttered, head ducked. “There's gotta be a less embarrassing way to do this.”
Colette skipped along beside them, Lloyd's swords and boots in hand, “Oh, I don't think it's so bad. I think it's rather sweet.”
Sweet. It had been fourteen years, six months, and sixteen days since Kratos had last held his son like this, but now he was much bigger. Kratos couldn't easily pick him up with arm and hold him close, shelter him under his cloak from the elements in one arm and feel him curl closer.
Instead, Lloyd is a heavy, comforting weight on his back. He isn't the same small child who looked at the world with that wide-eyed wonder, but there's still quite a bit of that there. Lloyd has grown up in so many ways, but somehow managed to keep that bright outlook of the world; he still sees the best in it – the best in others. Lloyd hasn't become jaded or cynical, he hasn't given up.
Kratos has to swallow the burning stone lodged in his throat. He finds himself mourning for the years lost. But then, he wonders, could he have raised Lloyd so well?
He doesn't have an answer to that.
Almost unconsciously, he tightens his grip. He'll take his time with Lloyd however he can; it's a moment he'll cherish for a long time, for it was a rare moment he could spend with his son.
FIN.
Title: not a day goes by
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Characters: Kratos+Lloyd, family angst.
Words: 465 words
Lloyd was not so small that he could sit on his shoulders. He also didn't pull at Kratos' hair or face. But, for Kratos at least, he was still not so heavy as to be a burden to carry. Lloyd was a warm weight on Kratos' back, making his chest constrict tightly. Kratos closed his eyes for a second and sucked in a sharp breath, which burned like he'd swallowed hot coals.
How many times had he carried Lloyd like this as a child? He'd been such a small child, then, much smaller than had been healthy. Even as a young child, Lloyd had been undernourished and light; carrying him had been far too easy. Kratos had been able to easily sweep him up on his shoulders or into a single arm. Even so, he'd been remarkably energetic and curious – had he not been too afraid to approach anyone but his parents, Kratos was certain he would have had to rescue him from all manner of trouble.
Strange, how that had happened now.
Lloyd was having a very embarrassed conversation with Colette from his place on Kratos' back. His left ankle, bare now but for the bandages wrapped around it, was swollen and turning to a mottled collection of varying shades of purple and black.
Like a child, always getting himself into trouble.
“Why can't you just, I dunno, help me walk back to the inn?” Lloyd muttered, head ducked. “There's gotta be a less embarrassing way to do this.”
Colette skipped along beside them, Lloyd's swords and boots in hand, “Oh, I don't think it's so bad. I think it's rather sweet.”
Sweet. It had been fourteen years, six months, and sixteen days since Kratos had last held his son like this, but now he was much bigger. Kratos couldn't easily pick him up with arm and hold him close, shelter him under his cloak from the elements in one arm and feel him curl closer.
Instead, Lloyd is a heavy, comforting weight on his back. He isn't the same small child who looked at the world with that wide-eyed wonder, but there's still quite a bit of that there. Lloyd has grown up in so many ways, but somehow managed to keep that bright outlook of the world; he still sees the best in it – the best in others. Lloyd hasn't become jaded or cynical, he hasn't given up.
Kratos has to swallow the burning stone lodged in his throat. He finds himself mourning for the years lost. But then, he wonders, could he have raised Lloyd so well?
He doesn't have an answer to that.
Almost unconsciously, he tightens his grip. He'll take his time with Lloyd however he can; it's a moment he'll cherish for a long time, for it was a rare moment he could spend with his son.
FIN.