Undeveloped

When he’d first heard about living on campus during university, Shirou had gotten himself ridiculously worked up over it. The idea of having to live by himself or, worse, with strangers had been terrifying. He might have been a bit of a clingy child in that way. Just visiting his parents wasn’t enough. Who would feed him? Who would wash his clothes? Who would wish him goodnight?

It was only a few years later that he was asking the same questions in a different context. They’d seemed silly then. But he hadn’t had the resolve to answer, “I will.”

Luckily, he didn’t have to be that independent. His grandfather took him in and fed him, washed his clothes, said “goodnight” when he remembered. He helped him with his homework and pushed him to a good school in the same way his parents had. He taught him to cook and do the laundry so that he’d survive when he left. He taught him to be independent.

Shirou had been happy when he got the letter confirming he’d be staying on campus. He’d started packing so fast, his grandfather had even laughed.

The first thing he packed and the first thing that went up in his room was his picture of him and Belle.

“Who’s that?” One of the boys had asked.
“It’s my girlfriend. It’s an old picture.”
“You’ll have to bring her round and introduce us someday! I bet she’s real pretty now. Are you two some long-distance thing?”

“Shirou, were you in Mother Bird?”
“When I was a kid. Me and Belle were co-stars.”
“She was the white girl, right?”
“Yes.”
“Huh…”

“Shirou, do you want to come to the mixer tonight?”
“Huh?”
“Come on, it’ll be fun! Mouri is bringing that Miyamoto girl she’s friends with!”
“I have a girlfriend.”
“…Ah…right…”

Shirou pulled the covers up over himself. He’d dumped his camera in the corner. He didn’t know when he’d remember to take it to the dark room. It would have to be soon. Maybe he could send someone else to develop them.

He pulled the cover in tight.

He’d looked just like her. It had to have been her. It couldn’t have been her. His Belle wasn’t…

That had to have been the scar she got that day. He could only just see it. Their hair was so long, it covered it. But he always imagined she would. Not that he minded the scar. But Belle was probably sensitive about it so she would grow her hair long to hide it. Then he could pin it back and tell her how beautiful she was. That she was beautiful no matter what she looked like. And tangle his fingers in her hair and kiss her and-

Belle…

He curled in on himself tighter.

They had to have seen him, right? Did they recognise him? They had to have. They left so quick.

They’d looked tired.

His Belle-chan was a beautiful young woman. They were going to get married after he graduated. When he’d first said that everyone had asked for invites.

When he’d mentioned it later, they’d squirmed a little.

They’d probably known. Somehow.

His eyes were burning.

His Belle-chan was a beautiful young woman. A beautiful young woman.

That man was exactly how he’d imagined her.

It was a coincidence. He saw a man who looked just how he’d imagined Belle and he’d… he’d just made some jumps in logic.

His Belle was still out there. He was going to be a photographer. He’d take pictures of her every day. He’d have enough to cover a wall, not just one silly picture frame.

His grandfather could never know.