Work Text:
c. an old kaleidoscope in the attic
.
.
He finds it in the attic, barely breathing beneath a layer of dust. Chihiro has no idea what compelled him to go to the attic, anyway--aside from the fact that it’s the only room in the house with no windows--but he figures, hell, he’s already there. Picking the kaleidoscope up, Chihiro runs his finger across the glass on one end. The stupid thing’s much heavier than it should be, and it makes him thinks of things he doesn’t want to think about.
(Seijuro was plastic with mirrors at both ends, reflecting the stones in-between. Chihiro still thinks about the patterns in his eyes, sometimes)
All of a sudden, the attic is more uncomfortable than he remembers. He opens his mouth, feels the heat sweep in. Most things never leave, Chihiro knows.
(Did Seijuro, or did Chihiro?)
He looks down at the kaleidoscope still in hands, too aware that he’s holding it so tightly it bites indents into his palm.
(Someone who sees things in black and white has no need for colours, and someone so bright has no need for monotone.)
Chihiro decides to entertain himself by looking into the kaleidoscope once he’s out of the attic.
He almost laughs when it’s broken.