Fragments - KathNiel One Shots

Perfect Thursday

"Then you shouldn't have left it here"

"I was in a hurry, I forgot to put it in my bag!" She cried.

She literally cried.

He froze at the sight of tears streaming down her face. Did it mean that much to her, that she can't bare to have anyone else touch it?

But it was just a sketchbook.

He quickly erases that thought. It wasn't just a sketchbook. Petty little things never had a chance to capture just even a tad bit of his attention.

He would've cared less if it got wet.

This particular piece, it looked plain and neat on the outside, nothing much going on, not a fascinating detail that could catch attention.

But it dawned on him. The moment he laid his own eyes on it, he felt the ultimate urge to pick it up and scan the pages. It over took his control, and he was glad it did.

It wasn't filled with Claude Monet art pieces, or some Pablo Picasso perhaps, but he felt something. Something he never ever felt before.

Or so he thought.

"Please, just give it back," she wails, her eyes puffy and her nose red from crying. He felt pain.

Realizing things, he was left gasping after he handed her the thing she owned.

"How could she make me feel like that?"

The question was left unanswered.

She ran, her legs moving swiftly. A torn page slipping out of the sketchbook she held tightly....

Before he knew it, she was out of his sight. The moment he inched closer to it, the moment his eyes witnessed the picture illustrated on the seemingly delicate canvas, along with three words beautifully written across the rigid edge of the paper. "I miss you" he reads. It amazed him, how could she possibly know about the birthmark he had just below his ear? It was barely noticeable.

The illustration couldn't be mistaken as someone else, it was exactly him. From the pointy nose, the disheveled hair, the smirk that he wore still on that day. A dimple showed on his cheek, and his eye....... appears happier and brighter than they are right now.

He had to get the answer.

Because after all these confusing years, maybe she was the answer to all his questions, the solution to his doubt. The key to the secret of his blurry past.

--------------

Frustrated, he heaved a sigh as his fingers pressed hard against the keyboard. His hands balled into a fist, the search results were useless, giving him all the more reason to grieve.

His finger ran across the small signature sprawled along one edge of the paper, the penmanship was clear and simple, but he can't seem to read the name correctly.

"Ka-thr-yn Ber-naaaaar-" he paused, looking at the signature more so.

"-do," He huffed. The results came one by one, but he was still certain that none of them was the one he was looking for.

"No use," He frowned, "How am I going to find her? I don't know where to start."

It's been days, weeks even, and he wasn't getting enough sleep. Her face kept him up all night, and it was making him crazy.

Everyday, he goes to the same park he saw her and the sketches, in hopes to at least see her again. But to no avail, he hasn't seen even a single strand of her hair ever since. He tried waiting at the same bench, but the sky was already dim and dark, yet she was still no where in sight.