(ᴜɴ)sʜᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ʀᴇsᴏʟᴠᴇ

He was covering for Haruka today, a nice girl with a calm but friendly way about her. Really, Ashe couldn’t believe his luck at working with such nice people. His boss was reasonable, he got to make things that he liked, and he rarely left work hungry. It wasn’t home, and there were still…things, that weighed on his mind and conscience, but it was enough. 

The door’s entrance bell rang, and green eyes flick upwards to the first customer in a while.  Long, dark hair, dark eyes, a confident gait–was it her?   Ashe waves, giving the customary “Welcome!” greeting that came with every few customers. 

“Hello there! You um, pardon me but you wouldn’t happen to be Rin, would you?” it’s going to be pretty embarrassing if this was someone else, but Ashe didn’t always exercise perfect impulse control.

“Sorry for being a little forward, but Haruka asked me to give you something. It’s on the house! Is that alright?”

Today was no different except Rin hadn’t expected Haruka to be out. When a young man calls out to her, startling her, Rin nods almost bashfully, feeling the eyes of customers on her for a brief moment. Once it was her turn to order, she looks to him with uncertainty. 

“I couldn’t possibly accept...but, ah, just a drink for now please. I will order my pastries to go for later.” 

Having to adjust to someone new was a bit nerve wracking, realizing that he probably didn’t want to deal with customers more than he absolutely should’ve. Her eyes lower and she gazes to her usual spot in a corner, tucked away where she’s not bothered or could potentially transform. She unconsciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling a tightness in her chest form.

                                                                         ♞ — @duoxity​  ▸ ⁽ ˡᶦᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉʳ ᶜᵃˡˡ ⁾

     PICKING UP THE PIECES from the last time they spoke, Rin still desired to keep her distance. She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever, not so long as Yuki was here or anyone else she cared for. They would all encourage her to talk to him again but in truth, she still harbored complicated feelings towards him. After all, she was the one who broke up with him right?

      Who cares if he hated her (she cared), who cares if she was being selfish (he might)–what truly mattered this time around was that she move past that for both their sake. Rin could only imagine how frustrating it must be to deal with her stubbornness and pride.

     So, she opted for them to meet at a gothic boutique she managed to find. She may not outwardly apologize but she’d be damned if she didn’t somehow show it.

      ❝ You made it. Didn’t think you were gonna show. ❞

Few things could breed that same, uneasy sense of dread and anxiety that wells whenever he thinks he’s about to lose her, again. The tension between them, taut like the strings on one of Momiji’s violins wound too tight, Haru hates it. He hates it. He’s tried giving Rin space to breath, as much as he could manage, but it’s not easy when it feels like he’s been intrinsically programmed to care for her, protect her. Keeping his distance had been like pushing a knife through his chest every day, but he’s vowed, for once, to respect her wishes for distance.

He’d messed up before. Being too possessive, too suffocating probably. The last thing he wants it for her to hate him, he loves her, and if he can’t show it in the way he wants ( or, once wanted ) then he’d at least show it to her in the way she wanted or needed now. A lot may have changed between them, but his desire to see Rin happy hasn’t budged. 

Haru arrives at the appointed time and place and keeps himself from holding her, hard as that it. From the get go, her words sting like nobody’s business. Had Rin really thought he’d stand her up?

“Of course I showed.”

“This place--?” As soon as she says it, however, she realizes what exactly he meant and her mind races to all sorts of conclusions, arriving at each completely on her own regard. So, did he not want to see her after all? Had she forced him into an uncomfortable situation? Foolishly, she assumed that if she ignored the tension between them, they could return to how they once were- or in the very least, no longer be at an impasse with one another. 

Of course it was bound to be like this, she thought. There was only so much she could get away with, so much she could demand of him.

Hesitantly, she puts down the gothic accessory, hoping to hide her nervousness as she exhales as quietly as she could.

“I meant it when I said I didn’t want to see you--” she states firmly, eyes fixated on the falling snow outside the shop. If she exposed herself now, she would give herself away along with all her intentions. She wasn’t certain she wanted Haru to understand and not because he couldn’t, but because she no longer wanted to burden him with her troubles. “It would’ve been to difficult to have kept our relationship a secret any longer. Eventually, he would’ve...”

She stops herself before it gets worse, before she recalls a memory that’s still too painful, too fresh for her to forget. Shaking her head, she turns to look at him and offers him a curious expression.

                                                  ♞ — @baddestdangerboy​ ▸ ⁽ ˡᶦᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ˢᶜ ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃᵍᵒ ⁾

     THE COLD WEATHER WAS STEADILY ARRIVING, giving the Horse much comfort when picking out her clothes. She liked to pick things that were dark, that were mature, and despite the gnawing sense of disgust and self-loathing, it was the one thing that gave her joy. 

Today, while out and about, she put down her red scarf in a cafe or store somewhere, and realized it as she was heading home. She headed back, trying to retrace her steps until she came across a figure with stark orange hair and an eyepatch holding her scarf. 

Undeterred, she extends her hand, eyes narrowed.

“That scarf is mine. Hand it over.”

He’d been minding his own business when this incredibly fluffy and comfortable, yet stylish scarf had been whipped by the wind as he’d crossed past the cafe and slapped him right in the face. 

Badou raises an eyebrow at her…blutness but you know, whatever. He offers it to her.

‘You.. Aren’t wanted.’