the help of others is something rare usually would prefer not to get, doing things himself is far much easier, that way there’s nothing that’s expected back, like a favour or payment for the help. doing things always by himself has it’s positives and it’s negatives, he’s definitely learned to become far more independent, knowing how to do things by himself. but at last, sometimes the time comes where you need the help of another, and it’s a time that rare would like to constantly push away or ignore, but it’s difficult ignoring something when it is a need, a need can’t be pushed away.
maybe if he really didn’t want the help of anyone, he could jump down and hope he wasn’t breaking both legs. oh but what had happened? into an apple tree the male had climbed, and down of course he could not get. there’s quite a few tries to find a way down, but no plan seems good, and there’s a few people who have yelled up to him offering help, and all he has refused, but at last, what can the blonde male do? he rolls his eyes before talking, a bit disappointed in himself. “hey!” … “up here! look up!” hopefully that’ll catch their attention.
“but the words you told me haunts me, so now i tell them to other to haunt them too”
...
loyal. loyalty. ‘why would i trust anyone, when everyone turns out to be disloyal?’ the real question though is ‘aren’t you the most disloyal?’. ever since rare’s father had managed to contaminate rare with his own beliefs and thoughts, rare had been a changed man. maybe one could change, though the apple often didn’t fall far from the tree, change was possible. you’re never doomed to be your parent, but perhaps rare is just weak, and his father won, he won the race long ago. his mother had tried saving him from the man she loved so much, but with no luck, though his sister was far from like their father, rare was almost a copy. ‘you’re the only one important in your own life’ a line that had rolled in rare’s mind so often, words he could never forget, like a creeper on his brain. rare swore he was not his father, but how come his actions kept proving he was much like his father?
out on a journey, to prove his father wrong or something, that he could trust other’s, that he could love others, that people could trust and love him. but how was that journey going? traveling around the country, never staying one place too long, almost making friends just to hurt or leave them.
“i know it was you!” what an angry voice filled with sadness. but instead of continuing his walk, he stops his steps and stands still, letting the other talk to his back, but at least he’s listening. “what was me?” a calm voice, “you took my diary, i told you it was important and you took it!?” so confusing how many feelings there are in that single voice. but he just shrugs, turning his head slightly back, but not much “what makes you think it was me?” calm. she takes his wrist, forces him to turn around, and there’s she holding it in front of his face, dangling it in front of his eyes like was she trying to hypnotize him. and he looks at it, well aware of what it is, but he keeps quiet, “i’ve seen the jewelry you make, and i’ve complimented it, and i’ve recommended it to others, but i’ve never bought it!” silence, and then she sighs “but it was in my room, the room i keep my diary in” he looks at the jewelry, the green colours, the light shining down on it. “you can keep it” he sends her a smile before turning around on his heels “what’s even in it to you!” she grabs his shoulder “what’s important about my diary to you! i thought we were friends, i thought…” he pushes away her hand, letting out a sigh before turning around again. “well i don’t know yet, not before i’ve read it” she hits his chest and he furrows his eyebrows a little. “you say” anger “you say you have trouble trusting people, but maybe it’s you who is difficult to trust” he rolls his eyes, words he’s heard so many times before. he snags the jewelry “thank you” he says before digging down into his backpack. he throws it on the ground, the brown book with something written on it he doesn’t understand. “had to throw my diary? couldn’t hand it?” but she looks away from him and at the diary, and he takes it as a quick opportunity to steal her hairclip. “go have fun with your diary” he tells her, turning around and making his steps fast, got to get away before she notices pages missing.
