CHOCOLATES IN MONSOON | HRK

05 | strawberry candies and milkshake

CHAPTER FIVE ;; HARUTO
strawberry candies and milkshake

"A library date ? ", Haruto mused, sitting on the sofa and gaping at his mother, who, quite annoyingly, was maintaining a straight, neutral face.

Mrs. Watanabe nodded for what must have been the hundredth time that evening, highly amused by her son – who refused to believe any such thing. No, he didn't have any date. No, he didn't even have a neighbour. No, her son didn't have any of that.

"Mum, I don't even LIKE Junkyu – "

"Caught in a lie", his father said, peeping up from behind some book again, earning an exasperated groan from their son.

"Stop acting like Sherlock Holmes and hear me out ! I- "

"O go to your room, I'll help you pick a good outfit for tomorrow. Wait for me okay ? Don't doze off ", Haruto's mother said, patting him on the head like a child and ushering him out of the hall amidst loud, mocking howls of laughter from Mr. Watanabe. Haruto threw a nearby pillow at his father and went out grumbling under his breath.

He could very well have thrown a tantrum then and there because,

first, he DID NOT have a date.

second, he DID NOT fancy boys in glitter shoes.

But it was a hard time convincing himself that and he let it pass.

It was just...well...a boys day out. There couldn't be anything simpler to it and yet...a boy didn't just kiss you on the cheek when you agreed to go to a boring, stinking library. Just the mere memory of it made his face burn and glow red. He climbed up the stairs as fast as he could – waiting with bated breath for his mother to walk away and stood outside his room, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

His heart did a wild tango in his chest as his fingers closed on the knob – the prospect of seeing Junkyu painting, reading, studying, doing anything through his window suddenly seemed a lot more difficult and flustering. He coughed loudly a dozen times, cracked his knuckles, made weird noises in his throat just

(to stop blushing so hard)

- to ease the tension and pushed his way in.

The rain had gone down to a drizzle again, the room now glowing by the bright yellow lamp on his desk – which had a glittery paper plane and basket on it. He smiled looking at the merry collection and cautiously made his way in – toward the window. He had kept the blinds open all day

(to let in some air of course, you could never have enough air you know ? oxygen. Lots of fresh, natural oxygen)

- but there had been no sign of Junyku. He'd dashed into his room occasionally, peeping over the window sill and trying to see the other – but Junkyu's room had been deserted the whole time. Haruto swallowed his medicines for the night and crawled up his bed again.

The room opposite was still dark but a faint rustling came from inside. Heart thudding painfully against his ribs, throat sore from the medicines, his hand groped the window and he leaned over. The butterfly lights on the blue walls glowed dimly, throwing dark shadows over everything – including Junkyu's paintings and all the books splattered over the floor and on the younger's bed.

Yet again, Junkyu himself was missing.

The rustling had been the sound of the countless paper cranes, planes, ships and what not hanging on strings from the ceiling. They scraped against each other in the light breeze, looking oddly like a collection of dreamcatchers without music.