Work Text:
Memories/Letting Go
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"John, I don't see the purpose of taking one of thes-"
"Oh c'mon, Lovecraft! It'll be fun!" The bright smile of the blond boy convinced Lovecraft to just accept the ridiculousness of the situation. After all, he never really could refuse John Steinbeck when he set his mind to something like this. Though, he still didn't see the purpose in taking a "photograph". John had said it was to "preserve the memory of the day", but Lovecraft had no idea what that meant. How was a piece of paper supposed to preserve the memory of this day? John was human, even with something like this, he was sure he'd forget eventually.
Ah well, before he could really put up another argument against it, a bright light flashed at him.
John laughed a bit at the stunned look on Lovecraft's face, grabbing the square that the camera had ejected and shaking it. It seemed odd to shake a piece of paper but after a moment or two, he looked at it and seemed satisfied.
He’d tucked it away in his pocket and set a hand on Lovecraft's shoulder, holding the camera up once again. "Alright, say cheese!" Lovecraft blinked in confusion, "Why would I say cheese?" That seemed odd. There was no reason to say cheese. He didn't see any of that around and John didn't bring it up prior to this moment so it made no sense to bring up something like that at a time like this.
“No, Lovecraft it’s a saying. You’re supposed to say it when someone takes a picture because it…” John’s eyebrows furrowed in the way Lovecraft had come to understand meant he was confused by the very thing he was trying to explain. A small smile crept onto his face as he thought about the little habits John had like that. “It’s...It’s like something you say to get someone to smile for a picture. ‘Cause it’s funny, ya know?”
Lovecraft tilted his head a bit, “Funny? It’s funny to say cheese?” Humans had odd senses of humor if something like “saying cheese” could make them smile so easily.
John groaned a bit, “Look, I don’t really understand this either but just...Smile. I want it to look like you at least semi enjoy being around me so in the fu-” Lovecraft cut him off with a simple, “I do enjoy being around you, John.” In fact, he enjoyed it a lot more than he let on. It was just hard for him to express that all the time.
That gave John some pause, though he recovered quickly and gave Lovecraft a small smile, “I know you do. I just want to remember that fact for a long time.” He held the camera up again, beaming up at it. Lovecraft, despite still not really understanding it, gave his own small smile right as the flash went off again.
John repeated the shaking action with this piece of paper, smiling once again at what he saw on it. “Alright, one more picture.” His hand that was on Lovecraft’s shoulder gripped a little tighter to the fabric of his coat, yanking him down into a kiss. While confusing, Lovecraft kissed back, only processing the flash once again when he heard the click noise that dreadful machine had made every other time they had used it.
“You should see your face in this one,” John laughed out, “You look like a fish out of-” John paused before bursting into laughter once again. “Oh my god! Fish out of water!”
Lovecraft blinked a few times, “John, that’s precisely what I am.” This only seemed to make his laughter increase, to the point that he was gripping his stomach. He watched him for a few moments before taking the “camera” in his hands and pressing down on the button he’d seen John press before.
The noise it made didn’t seem to alert John that he’d taken one of those “pictures”, so Lovecraft decided that would be his memory to preserve only.
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The weeks following, they’d almost forgotten that they had the camera. It wasn’t until Lovecraft had been about to shove another spoonful of cake batter ice cream (An amazing invention by humans), that he heard the snap he’d recognized from weeks ago.
“...John?” Lovecraft questioned only to earn back a small chuckle. “Sorry, you looked really cute. I had to.” While Lovecraft didn’t understand this “need” to take the picture, he shrugged it off in favor of eating his ice cream.
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This little “game” continued in the following months. John would snap pictures of Lovecraft doing seemingly mundane things. Sleeping, eating sweets, staring off at the water, etc. He even took one once when they were in the middle of a fight. Though the cut he’d gotten thanks to that had seemed to discourage him from trying that once again.
Lovecraft had even begun to do it as well. He’d taken ones of Steinbeck driving, growing his vines, fighting with Hawthorne, and sleeping in their shared bed. (That one actually had been a nice one until Steinbeck woke up and complained that the bright light and loud noise was probably fine when Lovecraft was sleeping since he can and had slept through hurricanes before, but was terrible for someone like him)
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The last time Lovecraft had seen the camera, was that day in Yokohama. He’d said his goodbyes (By which he means he explained he was going to sleep and was about to jump into the water) when he heard the snap of the camera behind him.
Turning, he watched as John shook the photo. His blue eyes stared at it for a moment before he turned it to Lovecraft, “...Looks like a pretty good memory, huh?” Lovecraft had to pretend not to see the tears in the corner of his eyes, but he nodded and jumped into the sea. It wasn’t that he didn’t wish to say more to him, just that he wasn’t sure what to say. It was better to leave John with a good memory of him rather than make him unhappy with made up words.
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The time that had passed since that day seemed irrelevant. At least, in his opinion. He hadn’t kept track of that while he slept. How could he have? When he returned to land, however, he became aware that it had been a long time indeed. The first place he tried to stop at was a diner. It was small and sat just off of the highway but both John and Lovecraft enjoyed their food, so they managed to stop there quite a bit. To Lovecraft’s surprise, the diner wasn’t there. Just flat dirt where it used to be. Ah well, not much he could do about it. He turned away, walking towards his next destination.
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The next place was John’s family farm. It seemed there were people there at least...That was good. Maybe he hadn’t been gone for quite as long as he’d thought. At least...He’d thought that until a girl with long curly brown hair and a baby on her hip answered the door. “Ah, excuse m-” She interrupted him with a, “Mr. Lovecraft?”
Lovecraft blinked in confusion until she gave him a smile and said, “It’s Ruthie. John’s little sister?” The longer he looked at her, the more he processed that she did look eerily similar to the young curly haired girl who used to try to braid his hair whenever he visited. “...Oh, Ruthie. Nice to see you and…” His eyes landed on the baby. She peeked at it as if just remembering it was there and giggled, “Oh, my son.” She yelled off into the house, “Ava! Come get your brother!” A girl who almost looked like a copy of Ruthie at the age he’d known her, ran in and upon seeing Lovecraft on the porch, shyly took her brother and ran off as fast as she could.
“Hey don’t run with your bro-Annnnd she’s gone.” The smile on her face was one of resigned fondness. “Sorry about that,” She gave him a shrug, “Kids.”
Lovecraft nodded. He didn’t really know what that was like since his past experiences with children had been dealing with John’s siblings and that kid him and John had to get for Fitzgerald, but he figured it was better to act like he did.
“Anyways, what can I help you with?” Her smile had fallen a little at the question. As if she knew exactly what he was about to ask. “...John?”
Ah, her posture suggested she had known exactly what he was about to ask. “...Mr. Lovecraft, we um...We wanted to contact you...But…” She shifted from her left to her right foot, “...No one knew where to find you. John…” Biting her lip, she paused and looked over the side of the porch, “...John died.”
Ah.
“When?” He asked, knowing it wouldn’t make any difference to know. “
Last year, actually.” She sighed a bit, “He was...He was shot. By the time he got home it was too late to take him to the hospital so…” Her breath hitched and for a second, Lovecraft feared she’d start to cry and he’d have to somehow comfort her. But, she seemed to take a deep, calming breath and look at him with new determination. “Actually, he left something here for you Mr. Lovecraft. Just a moment.” With that, she disappeared back into the house.
It only took a few minutes when she came back out, she placed a book in his hands. “Here...He said this was for you.” The book was thick with a dark blue cover and frayed edges. “It should still be okay. I’ve kept it out of reach of the kids…But I do worry it might be damaged inside,” She sighed, “John made me swear never to open it. So I, unfortunately, wasn’t able to check if it was okay.”
Lovecraft stared at it a bit longer before giving her a nod, “Thanks.” She gave him a quick smile, turning to look towards the door right as a loud crash resounded. “Ava! What was that?” The ‘nuttin!’ that was shouted back was followed shortly by another crash.
Another sigh escaped her, “That’s my cue I guess...God, I swear these kids are worse than all of us when we were younger…” Pausing as she went to walk back towards the house, she turned to give Lovecraft another smile. One that reminded him too much of John’s. “Hey, don’t be a stranger, okay?”
Before he could ask what that meant, she vanished back into the house.
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It was...Difficult, finding a place to look at the book. Mostly, because Lovecraft couldn’t think of any place that might still be around. Save for one place.
His house was a fading shade of blue with paint chipping off in clumps. It had probably been a long time since he’d visited...He’d have to repaint it eventually...Key word: Eventually. Right now, he had a mission in mind. He pushed open the door and plopped on the dusty couch with the book in his lap. Staring down at it, he finally flipped open the cover to the first page.
There, in the middle of it was a picture. One with Lovecraft blinking in confusion and John laughing. It was...The first picture they’d taken. Underneath it in John’s terrible writing were the words, ‘Lovecraft’s first encounter with a camera.’ Staring for a moment, he flipped to the next page where there was the one Lovecraft had taken of Steinbeck doubled over in laughter and the words, ‘FISH OUT OF WATER! Still hilarious.’
It continued on like that for pages. Everyone had a picture or two they’d taken together and little notes from Steinbeck, commenting on what was happening. Lovecraft even found himself enjoying it for a bit. Then, he reached the last couple pages. There, he saw the one of him facing the water, ready to jump in with John’s words, ‘Come back soon.’ His eyes lingered on that page for a while. As if he’d been cursed to stare at it somehow.
Flipping the page, he looked at a series of pictures of Steinbeck as the years went by. There were some of him in Rocinante and various places they’d visited together. Things like, ‘Wish you were here!’ and ‘When you come back we’ll go here again!’ were spread out along the pages and right as the end was the picture they’d taken of them kissing that first day. The last words written there were,
‘Thank you for giving me such a great set of memories. ~Love always, John Steinbeck.’
Lovecraft stared at that longer than necessary once again. His fingers traced the picture so many times he’d begun to lose count. He was pretty sure...Most humans would be crying right now. This was the first time Lovecraft wished he could replicate that...Anything to get these feelings out would be nice at this moment. Instead, he grabbed a pen nearby and wrote his own little note just below John’s.
‘Thank you as well, John. I’ll be sure to take care of them. - Love, Lovecraft.’
At that, he set the book down on his side table and leaned back.
Ah, he could really use some sleep...