Ouroboros
Sounds like a plan.
The children’s books, the idea of never touching sandy shores again – but there’s something that doesn’t fit, something that Haruka can’t just accept. He walks forward a couple steps, goes right up to the edge of the river, and he crouches down.
As soon as his sleeves are rolled up to the bicep, he dips his fingers in the water.
‘I get what you mean, but,’ he breathes, soft and encouraging like he always is… but Shintaro’s special. He doesn’t have to use that as a weapon to get his point across, and so Haruka doesn’t. ‘You’re wrong. It’ll… never just be a “fairy tale.” I know you probably want to forget,’–and that’s a luxury that’s been robbed from him, Haruka thinks, closing his eyes sadly–’But it’ll always be a part of us. Letting that go means we didn’t live, and what we have is…’
Nothing. He flicks some of the water out, but the ripples disappear instantly.
‘I love summer,’ he says abruptly, voice powerful in a way it never usually is.
‘And I’m glad it happened.’
Shintaro makes a face at Haruka’s little fishing attempt--it’s not, but he’s being cruel in his mind for a bit--and he tucks his hands into his pockets, content to wait it out. His best friend’s got the kind of articulation and thoughtfulness that fits someone who had nothing to stop him from going insane but his own thoughts; he’s turned inward, a lot more than before.
He sympathizes.
His expression goes slack--
And then Shintaro snorts, swatting the back of Haruka’s head now that he’s low enough for him to do so without stretching.
“Yeah. I know.” He watches their reflection. Haruka’s pale like a ghost and he sees Konoha for a moment...and there he is, Shintaro Kisaragi, all dark eyes and messy hair. Quite a pair.
“I’m a little sick of summer,” he admits. “I’m glad for fall, you know? But it’ll be back. And I won’t forget that.” Looking away, he scans the city, changes subjects temporarily due to a concern he’s poor at hiding. “Anyway. Let’s find something to eat. You’re probably starving...when aren’t you?”
