💭 for haru and ara BECAUSE I'M SHAMELESS AND I LOVE THEM UR HONOR
☁️ for a thought my muse had about yours / accepting though i’m a snail 🐌
ara probably made him go through many scripts with her for her auditions since they’re very small. be it classics like alice in the wonderland or romeo and juliet ( ara vc: what even... THINK you dumbass ) and people who see them practising will often say maybe haru should try acting too, he clearly has a face sculpted for it
when she’s older and going to Real Auditions TM out there, sometimes she still begs him to accompany her for the more nerve wrecking ones and some staff would go to him and invite him to audition too and ara is just watching on the side like... all he did was just sit there but okay?????
what i’m saying is they both have pretty privilege but while she obviously has a hopeless case of resting bitch face, his beauty is more approachable, which means people do not shy from saying something about it but it’s not always nice to hear, especially when overtime it becomes dehumanising like he’s only seen as parts of him instead of a whole person
imagine if haru ever gets hurt in PE or some sports in school, the first reactions of the girls in class are ‘i hope he didn’t hurt his face TT’ and ara would be so annoyed even if they’re ~ joking ~ ‘he juST GOT INJURED AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS HIS FACE???? he’s a PERSON not a goddamned jewel to keep spotless WTF PEOPLE’
in short: ara thinks he’s the bee’s knees, an amazing artist, a great friend, a better brother, 10/10 despite being a whole idiot ( affectionate ) and she’ll fight the world for him, goodbye
protective found family dynamics.... my Weakness TM
“haru?” glancing at the ticking clock at the front of the classroom, she repeats the name and resists the urge to roll her eyes. she does not know how many times she has to experience the same thing, fawning girls with a desire to pry about him at the start of every semester. does she look like goddamned wikipedia? perhaps it is only fair that some view her as his sidekick, given that she often uses him as one for her acting ambitions. she knows too well about how the admirers will grow to fantasise a villain out of her, as they often do, the obstacle to whatever alone time they want with him. disconcerting, but she is too used to it. “he’s a good guy.” that’s it? no comment on his dashing good looks and fine physique, things that people cannot stop talking about? what about his favourite brand of chocolate? secrets to winning him over? the gazes query. no, he is a good person. my person. my best friend. she closes the book with a flick of her hand, before she rises to her feet and readies for an escape. ”if you guys are so inclined to know, perhaps you should find out yourselves. get to know him, like real people do, huh?” though she has witnessed too much to be certain that no one will. not about the things that matter, anyway.
it was a bright, cloudless day in october. she was six and late again, too late to join everyone at the start of the semester. perpetually the newbie in class and all too used to it. this is it, ara. this is your school from now on. her mother said. she’s still thinking if she believed her.
she sat on the top of the little slope under the cherry tree, watching her classmates as they played soccer. some girls were sitting on the bench, laughing about the day’s happenings. her mother would tell her she should join. strike up a conversation and make some friends. it shouldn’t be hard blending in.
it occurred to ara that one of the things that they’re laughing about could be her.
“you don’t have to be afraid of them.” a familiar voice emerged. she lifted her head to see him. the boy who sat next to her in class, the one who whispered to her the answer so she wouldn’t have to skip the question in science lesson.
... haru? haru, that’s the name.
“i’m not.” her hands moved to smoothen the fringe of her summer dress before tugging at the cardigan. her gaze shifted before the stare turned into a glare. he was kind to her, after all.
“good.” he smiled, then settled next to her on the still-damp grass. lied down on his back and crossed his hands behind his head. she followed and looked up at the sky.
it was a bright, cloudless day in october.
the sun was warm on her cheeks.
her mother’s words turned out to be true. even with her bringing ara on set every now and then, she would always return to the same school and the neighbourhood eventually felt more and more like hers. she remembered the name of each street in proximity, the name of each classmate and teacher with their respective subjects.
she thought it was nice, finally having a place to call her own. not a hotel room, however lavish it could be with five-stars desserts delivered in mere minutes. not the same spot on the private jet next to her mother, who was either rehearsing for the hundredth time or drifted off somewhere far away.
she thought it was nice, finally having friends to call her own.
it felt natural to grow close with the boy who only lived three houses away. he was soon made her study partner, that designated person to show the new kid around, the one she would gush to whenever something exciting happened.
“do you think i should try it?” she asked with the script clutched to her chest. there was a new play coming and auditions about to begin. she was tired of being just another girl in the background with few lines, but maybe she needed more practice. more observation. maybe she needed to be better before she attempted and made a fool out of herself.
“don’t be such a scaredy cat, ara.” he knew by now the best way to motivate her was with provocation. she no longer shied from shooting glares his way. “you know you want to.”
she did want to.
it was nice to have a friend.
he became the one to share her latest adventures and roam the streets with, the one she would force to rehearse the script with even though he’d rather be with his sketchbook instead, the shoulder to lean on when she was torn over a lost role, a lost argument, a lost brother.
it was the first time she watched her mother dissolve in tears. she had seen her mother cry before but not like this. writhing and unceasing, as if she was made with water. ara’s hand looked so small on her shoulder, as if it’s not there at all, its presence unfelt when the weight hung so heavy on the woman’s chest.
ara’s throat was dry with guilt. a mouthful of regrets for begging to wait at the neighbour’s house when the grown-ups said kids shouldn’t follow to the hospital. she had wanted to finish the final pieces of the puzzle with haru before she welcomed the new member into her home. she bet her mother didn’t want so many people to see her fall apart. she didn’t like it, either, but he always noticed.
he didn’t say it’s okay because it wasn’t, but something about the way he held her told her he’s always going to be there. his hand was steady, comforting, warm like the sun on her face the day she met him.
maybe he could be her brother then.
she discovered then how it felt to have family, to have someone who’s always there. someone who asked have you eaten? let’s go. hey, you look sick today. have you slept well? they kept each other company when their mothers weren’t around — they never were — steadied each other as the storms reigned. told each other they’re enough when no one else was there to say it. he pushed her to do the things she loved and she did the same. “don’t be an idiot, haru.” she frowned. “you know you’ll hate business school. you won’t be able to last a week.”
she was right. she knew she would.
it was strange going to university without him, but she enjoyed spending more time with her grandmother and exploring acting in another tongue, the first when she mostly used it only for the summer-long vacations. timezones were a hassle but it’s okay, unlike their mothers, they actually picked up. spent hours discussing miscellaneous the adults had little patience to hear. it’s okay, she still saw him in the holiday breaks, both of them cladded to the neck in scarves and thick jackets before escaping to a restaurant for her favourite soups.
he saw her at her grandmother’s funeral, too. it was drizzling that morning, but it meant she could smell the earth even clearer, with delicate wafts of jasmine and gardenias. her grandma had always loved flowers. ara remembered being dragged to tend to them under the scorching sun. remembered the calloused, gentle hands. she gripped the tissue in her fist and he held an umbrella over her head. but it’s fine if he didn’t, her dress was black and she didn’t mind if it was blotted with mud. she didn’t care. she just wished she didn’t have to know loss so well at twenty-one.
he knows it well, too, doesn’t he? loss. lack. loneliness.
it’s why they understand each other, right from the beginning.
“hello!” she rings the doorbell again, growing impatient. if his schedule today doesn’t differ from the norm, he should be back around this time. if he isn’t — well, that’d be disheartening given she has rushed here right after washing up from a half-day flight. the first door she knocks on after her return, just like she promised. now that she thinks about it, it would be unfortunate if she’s interrupting something, but that’s an inherent risk of attempting a surprise. ah, to hell with it. “open up, loser! your favourite person is back and she’s starving!”
