40 fandoms: fandom 3
Feb. 27th, 2009 07:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tallulahgs[Title] Paint it Black
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Sachiko helps Sayu to recuperate.
Sachiko gave the felt-tip pens and paper to Sayu because she didn't know what else to do with her. Because she couldn't leave her nineteen-year-old daughter in front of the TV all day. Because it was an underhand way of ordering her to fix herself and move, create, do something, be normal. All of these.
For a long time, nothing happened.
Then one day Sayu picked up the black felt pen and began to colour in a piece of paper. Back and forth, back and forth, taking care to fill in every bit of white space. In the end, before she'd covered the page, the pen ran out, and Sayu dropped it and slumped back onto the sofa.
Sachiko cried harder than she'd cried for a long time, furious with herself for buying pens that lasted so little. She wanted to scream at her empty daughter fine, that's it, I give up, die if you want, I don't care! To be childish herself instead. Instead.
Instead, she bought another pack of pens with thicker nibs.
Sayu coloured in one piece of paper in black. Another in dark blue. Another in purple. Her face was blank and her hands seemed listless, unfocused, as if she didn't really know what she was doing.
Sachiko took the pieces of paper when they were finished, and thought about what to do with them. Wondered if this was all because she hadn't put enough of Sayu's drawings up on the fridge when her daughter had been young, if it had fundamentally weakened the girl's sense of self. Or something. She wanted explanations. She didn't want the guilt, but how had she been supposed to know? Raito had brought home drawings demonstrating perspective, shading, unusual observations. Sayu had just drawn princesses in high-heeled shoes.
Later, Sayu raised her head from the pillows and looked round. A baby would cry to demonstrate what it wanted, but Sayu didn't even do that. She just looked.
Sachiko began to leave paper and pens out as a matter of course. In case, in case. Sometimes Sayu wouldn't touch them for days and Sachiko would watch the dust gather on them and want to clear them away, but she never could bring herself to, and then, sooner or later, Sayu would begin to colour again. Green, now. Dark red.
The days were short, but that helped; when it was dark, it felt less wrong putting her daughter to bed at four-thirty in the afternoon.
One day, Sayu started to colour in a piece of paper in orange. Sachiko noticed, and stood, and watched as the light crept over the paper. Sayu's face was not unfocused this time. She stared as she coloured and she pressed so hard with the pen that parts of the paper grew soggy, began to tear. She coloured and coloured and then she stared at the finished square of brightness. And then she suddenly sat up, crumpled it into a ball - as if it were homework that hadn't worked out - and began to cry.
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Sachiko helps Sayu to recuperate.
Sachiko gave the felt-tip pens and paper to Sayu because she didn't know what else to do with her. Because she couldn't leave her nineteen-year-old daughter in front of the TV all day. Because it was an underhand way of ordering her to fix herself and move, create, do something, be normal. All of these.
For a long time, nothing happened.
Then one day Sayu picked up the black felt pen and began to colour in a piece of paper. Back and forth, back and forth, taking care to fill in every bit of white space. In the end, before she'd covered the page, the pen ran out, and Sayu dropped it and slumped back onto the sofa.
Sachiko cried harder than she'd cried for a long time, furious with herself for buying pens that lasted so little. She wanted to scream at her empty daughter fine, that's it, I give up, die if you want, I don't care! To be childish herself instead. Instead.
Instead, she bought another pack of pens with thicker nibs.
Sayu coloured in one piece of paper in black. Another in dark blue. Another in purple. Her face was blank and her hands seemed listless, unfocused, as if she didn't really know what she was doing.
Sachiko took the pieces of paper when they were finished, and thought about what to do with them. Wondered if this was all because she hadn't put enough of Sayu's drawings up on the fridge when her daughter had been young, if it had fundamentally weakened the girl's sense of self. Or something. She wanted explanations. She didn't want the guilt, but how had she been supposed to know? Raito had brought home drawings demonstrating perspective, shading, unusual observations. Sayu had just drawn princesses in high-heeled shoes.
Later, Sayu raised her head from the pillows and looked round. A baby would cry to demonstrate what it wanted, but Sayu didn't even do that. She just looked.
Sachiko began to leave paper and pens out as a matter of course. In case, in case. Sometimes Sayu wouldn't touch them for days and Sachiko would watch the dust gather on them and want to clear them away, but she never could bring herself to, and then, sooner or later, Sayu would begin to colour again. Green, now. Dark red.
The days were short, but that helped; when it was dark, it felt less wrong putting her daughter to bed at four-thirty in the afternoon.
One day, Sayu started to colour in a piece of paper in orange. Sachiko noticed, and stood, and watched as the light crept over the paper. Sayu's face was not unfocused this time. She stared as she coloured and she pressed so hard with the pen that parts of the paper grew soggy, began to tear. She coloured and coloured and then she stared at the finished square of brightness. And then she suddenly sat up, crumpled it into a ball - as if it were homework that hadn't worked out - and began to cry.
