Prompt 11:
Writing Christmas Cards
Makoto never had many close friends until the latter part of her teenage years. She never kept a tally, but somehow sending out cards for the holidays kept it for her. She stared at the last of her Christmas cards, knowing full well that she hadn’t forgotten anyone. She always had one left over, never quite having enough to need more than one box of cards. It didn’t bother her; it let her buy the prettiest, most expensive box she could find. Her long fingers ran over the sturdy cardstock, tracing over the trails of slightly raised glitter over the picture of a poinsettia and white roses on the front. Saving the last card for that nameless person could’ve been an annual tradition, but never before did that person have a name. Or an address.
Hesitantly, she opened the card. A kind, polite message was outlined in gold ink on the inside, as gentle as Makoto herself. It wasn’t intrusive, just good-natured hope and best wishes. Even reading it over, it brought a soft smile to her face. She tried to convince herself that opening the card didn’t mean she had to write it out, and most definitely not send it. She was just seeing how it felt. Deciding there was no harm in that, she picked up the pen.
"Dear Nephrite."
Makoto stopped abruptly and dropped the writing utensil. What was she doing? With a scoff, she slid back in her chair and ran her hands over her face. She was being so childish for even thinking of him, even though she hadn’t even met him yet. But her princess had asked it of her, and her friend only wanted the best for her. Makoto lifted up the pen again. She wouldn’t send it, only write it, and she was doing this for Usagi.
Yet when she sat down to begin, she wasn’t sure what to say. For the first time, Makoto let herself think over the past. Memories were sorted through with a bit of fear, anxious about what she would find within her own mind and heart. There were good memories, of course, of love and happiness. Many of them were scarred with dark ones, however, but it didn’t stop her. She let herself remember.
At long last, the soldier of courage found herself sitting at her table with tears staining her cheeks. How wonderfully tragic it all was. Blinking furiously to rid her eyes of the tears, the pen in her hand moved without thought.
"Please help me. I’m not sure if I’m happy about this or not. What I do know is that there will always be a part of me that misses you. Of course I miss what we had. I think I’ve been searching for you for the whole of this life. But I just can’t get hurt like that again. I’m scared. You were always good at chasing away my fears, weren’t you? I always felt safe in your arms. You were the only man who was ever able to hold thunder.
Makoto"
