//Aaaaah, so I got this idea for a little fic/drabble/whatever. It’s kind of just how Oda’s fem s/o is handling his death in the present time (four years after his death). She was three months pregnant when he was killed, and now she’s struggling as a single parent, still trying to get over loss and moving on. So, without further ado, read-
The rain pelted the window, thunder shook the walls, and the lightning illuminated the room. It was cold inside, the heater having been broken for months. [Name] watched the rain roll in sheets on the glass panes, no emotion on her face. A picture sat in her lap, a Polaroid of her and someone ever so dear to her. Someone who’s face she could never hold in her hands, lips she could never kiss, hands she could never feel on her. Not any more, at least.
The door creaked open, startling her out of her daze. “Hajime, what are you doing out of bed?”
He walked over to his mother, resting his head on her lap. “You’re awake, mommy.”
[Name] sighed and ran a hand through his auburn locks. “But I’m an adult. I can stay up however long I want.”
He didn’t reply, and instead, tried to pull himself onto her lap. After some help getting there, he twisted his little fingers into the fabric of her shirt, burying his face in the cloth. “You were looking at daddy.”
A pained expression found it’s way to her face. “Yes, I was.” She picked up the photograph that had been moved to the mattress, holding it to where Hajime could see it. “You look so much like him, you know that?”
He nodded, taking the picture from her. “Our hair is the same.”
“And your eyes,” she said, just barely above a whisper. “You act like him, too. You’re smart and kind and honest.”
There was no reply. [Name] placed a kiss on his forehead. “Say, what do you think about going to see Dazai tomorrow?”
He yawned, curling up against her. “Okay. We can go see Daisy.”
[Name] smiled slightly, picking him up and carrying him to his room. “Alright. I’ll call him tomorrow so we can play at the park together.” She tucked him into his bed, brushing the hair from his face and kissing his cheek. “Goodnight, Hajime. I love you.”
He curled up in his blanket, rolling over to face his mother. “Goodnight, mommy. Love you.”
Slowly making her way to her own room, she closed the door, and slid down to the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest as she wiped away a stray tear. It hurt. Just talking about him made her chest sting. She missed him so much. But it’s been four years. She needs to move on.
//If you guys like this, let me know. I might write a part 2, so let me know what you thought about this!