Disclaimer: Kimeru, Nagayan, Yanagi, and Konomi are not mine, as much as I might wish they were.
Pairings: Konomi Takeshi x Kimeru. IF THIS BOTHERS YOU, LOOK ELSEWHERE.
Warnings: RPS! BL, drabble.
Author's Note: This one's also for yomimashou, with whom I got started on this pairing. Damn you, yomimashou, damn you...
Kimeru has always been fascinated with letters, ever since he was a small child. There's just something personal, something romantic, something magical about having a message written for one person's eyes only. Certainly, phone emails and instant messaging and mixi and blogs are convenient and have their uses, but, in Kimeru's opinion, there's nothing more exciting than receiving a letter. Knowing someone put in the time and effort to write something that can never be duplicated, that's one of a kind and tangible is enough to brighten his mood even on the dullest of days.
Kimeru, himself, does enjoy writing letters, and though he rarely has the time, he sends them to Nagayan and Yanagi with some regularity. He very rarely gets replies, but he understands. After all, Yanagi is always doing something with the D-Boys, a new photoshoot or a TV show, and outside of work, he has physical therapy, and Nagayan just doesn't have the attention span for that kind of thing. "And anyway," they've both asked him, "Why would I send a reply when I could just tell you everything in person?" But Kimeru doesn't mind, he knows he sees the world in a bit of a different light than most, and he enjoys going out with his friends just as much, anyway.
There's only one person, really, who has ever understood Kimeru's love of letters, and that was a long time ago, an eternity ago, really. In the bottom drawer of his bedside table, he keeps a box of the letters from that time, hidden away. He doesn't often look at them, doesn't like to think about them anymore, but they're there, filled with pretty words and little drawings and promises he used to be naive enough to believe. They're beautiful, really, every one of them, individual works of art, each one unique, singular, and just for him, and, though most of the time they're too painful to face, sometimes, when he's feeling particularly lonely, or particularly nostalgic, or else particularly brave, he goes back and reads through them, smiles at the warm memories, the notes and the jokes and the doodles, and it's enough to make it worth the tears at the end. Though he'd never admit it, no matter how painful they are to think about, to look at, Kimeru considers those letters some of his most precious possessions.
And then, one day in late November, he receives a phone email from Konomi which simply reads, "forgive me," and despite how plain and simple and and absolutely ordinary it is, this message means more to Kimeru than all those letters combined.