the-auctors

[the-auctors]

   Five hours before the sunrise, people in their 20s would usually hang out at the city square wearing body-fitting clothes to spend the whole night dancing mindlessly and drinking until they drop. As for me, I spend that time waiting for the inevitable — death.

   In the middle of the four-cornered room with white painted walls, I lay on the bed with countless tubes inserted in my body like a helpless lab rat being experimented on by numerous scientists. I have a disease called leukemia and to explain it simply, the blood that was supposed to keep me alive was the one killing me day by day. How long has it been since I've been here? I lost count. 

   "Luna, are you feeling well?" I snapped out of my reverie and looked at my mother — Martha Hernandez. Because of this disease, only my mother and I are left in the family.

   "I feel fine, mother. You seem.. tired. Do you still find it hard to sleep at night?" I asked. 

   Ever since the doctor predicted that the cancer had reached my heart, she became restless. She tried to hide her fear but seeing her frail figure standing before me – I can't help but be worried. 

   She simply stares at me for several minutes before nodding. "It's already two o'clock in the afternoon, you should be resting. I'll come back later at night. I'll be cooking your favorite dish.. wait for mother alright?" she asked while packing her bag.

   "Okay. Be careful on your way home." I answered and pretended not to notice her avoiding my eyes. Is she hiding something? 

   "I will." she smiled at me before leaving the room. I was once again surrounded by the sounds of the beeping monitor as soon as she left. I have long been accompanied by silence and the bright light of the moon for several years.

   I wonder if I was born healthy will my mother's suffering be lessened? 

   I was deep in thought searching for the answer when I felt drowsiness kicking in and I unconsciously drifted to sleep. 

   In my dream, I was in a castle with gates as big as the skyscrapers I see in my window. Although this is a dream, I cannot help the excitement rushing in. I started to walk and followed the stone path on my left side. Even from this distance, I can smell the fresh scent of nature.

  I can see the garden filled with beautiful flowers and butterflies when the path I was walking on stopped right in the middle. Suddenly, I heard a man's voice calling my name. I looked around and saw a blinding light standing in the middle of the once empty Eden. That is when I realized that this place must be what the Bible calls heaven. 

   The light explains that this place is not heaven but only a pathway for wandering souls who are in the midst of dying.

   I was surprised by the revelation and cannot help but to think of my mother who is going to be left behind. After seeing my brother and father dying from the same disease, I readily accepted my fate. I was ready to die. However, the thought of letting my mother go through such pain again is what I cannot fathom which is why I endured the endless therapies even though my body is not accepting any of the treatments anymore. 

   We were clutching on the tiniest sliver of hope but it seems my time is up.

   "Luna, I am here to send you a message from the Almighty. Your resilience and love for your mother have touched His heart and wishes to grant you a day to live. Spend the day well, child. I will see you again." 

   I was not given a chance to express my surprise and found myself awake. I'm still wearing a hospital gown. A lot of machines are still beeping next to me. Everything was not real. I shook my head. How can I expect that everything was real and that I'm not dreaming? What does he mean a day to live? Wasn't I supposed to be dead? 

  "She's doing great Ma'am. It's a miracle." said a voice outside. Was that my physician I heard? 

   While I was in a state of confusion, my mother came in. "Are you awake now? We're going home in a few minutes, " she said as soon as she entered the room. 

   I stared at her in wonder. She looks different from last night. She must have rested well. She has a much healthier complexion.

   Right then, I remembered the voice in my dream who said I have been granted a day to live. I immediately jumped off the bed and embraced my mother tight. She was a bit startled before she patted my head gently.

   "Mom, let's do everything we want today" I whispered.

  I will make this day meaningful for both of us. 

   "Alright. Where should we go first?" she pulled away and I can tell from her voice that she is so pleased right now. How I wish this would never end.

   "Let us do everything we couldn't do," I said with determination. Mother nodded and held my hand. "We'll do everything we want, my dear."

   In the morning, we stayed at a coffee shop near the hospital for three hours where we simply chatted as if we are used to doing this kind of bonding. We passed by my mother's school in college and talked about how it would've felt like if I was in one. She told me she liked the way it is now. Her friends told her having a child who is in college is stressful. 

   I feel so pleased looking at my mom being this happy. It has been a long time since we talked about stuff that does not involve my disease. I always imagined us like this. Walking side by side on the roadside while happily chatting about the things we want to have. 

   In the afternoon, we went home and cooked my favorite food — carbonara. I wanted to wash the dishes but she simply brushed me off and demanded me to watch on TV instead. I remained stubborn and stood by her side until she finished. When night came, I took my pillows and blanket to my mother's room. She was surprised at how clingy I was the whole day but I didn't tell her the truth and said I just missed her.

   "Luna, did you have fun? Are you happy?" she asked while caressing my hand. I smiled at her and nodded. "I hope we will stay like this forever." 

   She pulled me in her arms and rested her chin on my head. "We'll be together forever." 

   The sound of my mother's heart beating sounded like a soothing lullaby that was calming me to sleep. I hope after this day ends my mother will not suffer from my absence.

****

   Several hours later, the loud ringing of the siren surrounded the neighborhood. People were swarming outside a house located on the roadside. As soon as the police got inside, they separated to look around the house. 

   "We have one body here!"

   The voice came from the bedroom where an old woman was found lying on the bed with multiple pills in her hand. While gathering pieces of evidence for the suspected suicide case, the police found a warm dish of carbonara in the dining room signifying that the old woman's death happened several minutes before daybreak.

[the-auctors]

future

/’fyoᴏCHər/

 noun

1. It is already set, tastes like victory. All your hardworks, pain, and tears, they come to an end.

2. You are at the pinnacle top of your success, stop worrying too much because all is settle. You did a great job, you may rest now.

 3. A peaceful bright place, no wars, no hate, no cruelty, no judgement. I am with my savor, the one who created me, who put me in his creations. All is done right now and all is well, I achieved the peace that I have been asking for.

[the-auctors]

You are sad

as Sadness

You are hurt

as Hell

You are strong

like a bull

 You've cried a

millions of tears

You've been

through a lot

It's time to

let go and

forgive

 Someday,

You will

forgive yourself

like Monmon did.

 Someday,

You'll be a

Psychiatrist

as you promised

to Mon.

[the-auctors]

Note: For a better and soothing experience, please, play the music player on the side.

꧁Poem꧂

    𓇕Conventional𓇕

       𓇚 Someday by M. Balajadia

       𓇚 Remembering you by GJ. Pantig

    𓇕Unconventional𓇕

       𓇚 Knots by M. Balajadia

       𓇚 What Lies Ahead by GJ. Pantig

꧁Short Story꧂

   𓇚 One Day to Live by R. Capane

   𓇚 Soulmate by JC. Formoso

꧁One-Act Play꧂

   𓇚 The Rest is Silence by F. Senapilo

   𓇚 Alright, What is the Genre? by L. Salinas

꧁Craft Essay꧂

   𓇚 My Dose of Serotonin by NA. Pineda

   𓇚 My First Step into the Pages by S. Nucum

꧁Credits Post꧂

[the-auctors]

I'm locked up by the cage of my past

Should I be thankful that I'm alive?

Can't let go even the past had passed

I do not know if I will survive

My head is heavy as a huge truck

It's full of unsaid and what if thoughts

A world where I am tired and got stuck

Living in this world, I'm going knots

What if I did what I have to do?

I told you a million times that I'm here

What if I was there and I've saved you?

I've always wanted to disappear

I know that you want me to survive

I will be thankful that I'm alive.

[the-auctors]

Found a man holding an old dusty book,

With tenderness and brilliance beneath

I’m astonished, bewildered, I cannot breathe      

Well he’s quite familiar, I remember that look

He dance with the stars, with the night through the dark

Rummage my pocket, realize I have his photograph

My heart is going to shatter, I clench and watch,

He still glow like a beam, illuminate like a spark

No words came out into my mouth, wanted to burst my heart out

Funny and striking with hilarity,

I realized whom I seeing and talking to

That man was not just somebody, it was my dad there’s no doubt

But why I am seeing him? Am I dreaming in reality?

Because he is living peacefully and heavenly, yes, he died long time ago.

[the-auctors]

A One-Act Play by F. Senapilo

CHARACTERS

Helen - Has a great moral compass but gutless. She tends to overthink, and is always fidgety.

Mary (Her aunt) - She is a smart and successful politician that was believed to be almost “perfect”, but turns out to be evil behind the scenes.

Carla (Her sister) - An activist; a total opposite of Helen. She found out Mary’s secrets.

TIME

Modern age

At night

Past and present

PLACE

In the Philippines

a house

Scene 1

Night. There are strong winds and loud sounds of thunder. There’s a tree being blown by the wind beside a huge gate. CARLA enters the stage.

CARLA is about to open the gates of their house when suddenly; a person wearing a mask covers her mouth with a cloth then her whole head with a sack. She tries to scream and resist, then heavy rain starts to pour, and sounds of thunder overpower her voice. Dramatic music starts playing.

After a while, the mixed sounds fade slowly.  

BLACKOUT. 

Scene 2

Midnight. HELEN is on the kitchen. It is so dark, and the only light that illuminates the scene is Helen’s phone, and the light from the microwave. HELEN is typing something on her phone, whilst biting her nails, and shaking her right leg.

Sounds of footsteps, then MARY enters with a phone by her ear.

The light from HELEN’s phone goes out.

HELEN

(breathes out, mutters to herself)

No turning back, Helen.

MARY

(talking on phone, holding her head because of stress)

It’s not my fault Helen picked up the wallet! You’re the one who’s useless! You’re the one who left evidence in the scene! But don’t worry about Helen, I’ll make sure she shuts her mouth. She’s not dangerous.  

(beat)

She doesn’t have the guts. She’s also not the type to bring harm to her family.

HELEN while hiding in the dark, scratches her head and starts biting her nails. She is shaking, cold sweats start to form in her forehead. HELEN drops her phone. The sound will get MARY’s attention.

MARY

(on her phone)

I’ll call you later.

MARY walks slowly to the kitchen.

MARY

Who’s there?

(beat)

(smiles creepily) Oh my, Helen! (laughs hysterically) I know you’re there. After all, it’s just the two of us in the house tonight, right? Come here, dear. Why are you hiding in the dark?

HELEN shows herself. HELEN is shaking and is about to cry.

HELEN

(shouts)

I’m sick of you! I really can’t stand you anymore! How can you act so normal? How dare you.

MARY

(acts kind; faintly smiles)

Helen, dear, I told you I’m sorry. I really did not want that to happen… but we had to do it.  Your sister knows too much, and it was an order from m—

HELEN

So what?! What are you trying to prove?! (laughs while tearing up) Stop your drama. You’re a murderer.

MARY

(puts on a serious face)

(pause)

Why are you acting like this? We had an agreement, right? Now what do you want, Helen?

HELEN

(scoffs) You really believed that, that I would just sit still while knowing you killed Carla? You’re really so dumb when it comes to people’s feelings, you know that? And here I thought you are one of the smartest people I know. You want to know what I want? I want you to stop! I want you gone!

(beat)

And there’s only one way to stop you.

(pause; looks down; starts biting her nails)

You have hurt so many people. I should’ve done this a long ago.  I should’ve listened to Carla’s warnings! My sister had to die to make me realize how nasty you are! (sobs)

MARY

You, shut your nasty mouth! You’re the nasty one! How could you act like this? Let me remind you, if weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be able to live like this! You wouldn’t be able to enjoy all these riches, all those privileges! I am the one who made this family—

HELEN

(shouts; still tearing up)

Aaagh! Shut it! No one asked you to do that! And I never asked for this kind of life! This life is shit! And now that Carla’s gone, it’s really not worth living anymore. (sobs)

MARY

You, ungrateful bitch.

MARY grabs HELEN’S hair forcefully. HELEN tries to resist while screaming and crying.  

HELEN

You, crazy bitch!

HELEN and MARY pull each other’s hair for almost a minute while cursing at each other. MARY puts more force so HELEN falls unto the ground.

Sobbing, HELEN brings out a wallet from her pocket. MARY puts on a puzzled face.

MARY

What are you doing?

HELEN

(sobs; puts up the wallet and stares into it)

Alas, poor Carla. (laughs hysterically while crying)

After a while, as HELEN is still going hysterical, an alarm starts to ring coming from HELEN’s phone. Slowly, HELEN smiles.

MARY

What is that for? Turn it off. So noisy, it’s annoying.

HELEN

(smiles to MARY)

Don’t worry, the rest is silence.

A sudden explosion happens, engulfing the whole place with fire.

BLACKOUT.

[the-auctors]

A One-Act-Play by L. Salinas

CHARACTERS

Diao - a 19 year-old music producer

Wong - a 21 year-old music producer

TIME

Present time

PLACE

In a music production studio

Scene 1

Midnight. Producer’s studio. There is one couch at the center of the studio, and electronic equipment at the left, with a table and several laptops on it at the right. The studio is decorated with sound-proof foam, and a staircase at the middle left.

The rest of the studio building is off left.

The two producers can be heard discussing on the sofa with their laptops on the lap, audibly discussing, typing, and clicking.

Diao

You see here, sometimes, I just don’t know what genre to assign on this track I made.

Wong

What do you mean?

Diao

Well, you see here...

Diao moves closer to Wong, tilting the laptop sideways for Wong to see the screen.

Wong

What are you trying to show me here?

Diao

Look, this is a Future Bass track, but it’s a little different.

Wong

What do you mean?

Diao

Listen.

Diao proceeds to play a 19-second portion of his track on the laptop.

Wong

Really? This is definitely not Future Bass. It’s more of a Melodic Riddim type of track. You know? You put the same drum pattern, chord progression, and sound design. Just like how Melodic Riddim works.

Diao

But isn’t that how Future Bass is, too? The features you mentioned just fits Future Bass as well.

Wong

How about you try removing the kick-and-snare combination from the drums? Like, leave it just like, you know, the general kick and snare loop?

Diao

Right, let me try that out.

Diao proceeds to tilt the laptop towards him, and starts tapping and clicking for 15 seconds.

Diao

Alright, let’s hear this.

Diao tilts the laptop towards Wong, then plays the same 19-second portion of the track, now with an altered drum loop.

Wong

Wait, isn’t this just Melodic Dubstep?

Diao

Actually no, it really sounds like Drum & Bass now.

Wong

W-what….? But isn’t that just how Melodic Dubstep sounds like?

Diao and Wong stare at each other for 5 seconds with visible hints of confused expressions.

Diao

Man, I’ll just mark it as Electronic, it’s midnight and I don’t want to give the both of us a headache over this.

Wong

Hm, fair point. Fair point.

BLACKOUT

[the-auctors]

     Everyone has their own writing journey at some point in their lives. Mine in particular isn’t the most colorful like others, because I’m not a writer to begin with. Although, I enjoy writing bits and pieces at times. My writing journey began when I started learning about the basic functions of words. My hand was small and my pencils were huge, but it helped my grip when I first wrote my very first word. I’ve forgotten what it was, but it was probably my name or some fruit like an apple. As I went into grade school, and when I first learned about sentences, I remember it was really intimidating when my teachers asked us to create a sentence. I wasn’t the best in spelling words, let alone making sentences. My handwriting at the time was barely understandable and my parents would often complain about it. I was a really lazy writer at the time. 

     I haven’t gotten the encouragement to even finish my cursive writing book. I would at times doodle on the pages of the book, because of how I was more of a sketcher than a writer at that time. As I pressed on into high school, spelling became a big issue in my writing. Even today, I would misspell simple words from time to time. My teachers at that time made spelling quizzes which I ultimately failed at. I was extremely lazy at the time and I would only care about having fun like high school students do. But as I went on, I developed a passion about storytelling and world building. It fascinated me at the time seeing how these story tellers build their world out of their own experiences. I would often visit the library and find amazing stories hidden across the aisle. The most fascinating book discoveries I found were some old books with pictures of the past. That’s where my love for history began and it truly helped me in developing imaginative ideas for my writings.

     I brought this along with my developed talent in writing into my senior high school and I’m honestly impressed on how far I’ve come in terms of my writing skills. Now, I can take advantage of the use of complex words in my writings. Essays to me are made easier because of my experience being a HUMSS student in Holy Angel University. I’ve became a leader multiple times in multiple groups and this made me see how far I have improved from checking the work of others in my group. Works like these have greatly helped me in my writing and I’m more confident than before in my writing capabilities. Honestly, I’m pretty satisfied of what I have achieved so far and I am proud to share it to others. Although, I still need to greatly improve in my grammar. But seeing how far I have become; I am happy with what I have.

[the-auctors]

   It all started because of the application called Wattpad. Back when I was still in my elementary days, the 'jejemon' year of my life. At a time where keyboard emoticons were still a 'thing', a classmate introduced me to this application.

   It was her safe haven, her escape from reality.

   It is still fresh in my mind how she dragged me onto the corner of our classroom. With monobloc chairs being dragged. The sound of our classmates' stories, whispers, and laughter echoed in the four corners of the room. I was intrigued as she brags about it in an enthusiastic way. It seems like she has created her own world.

   That's when I started to engage in the world of writing.

   At first, I was fine with reading these awesome stories from different authors. Time by time, their works were being published by big different publishing companies. I was inspired to do so. I decided to make my own story. It was entitled, "You and I, Together Forever". That was my first ever story that I published on Wattpad. I was an amateur writer.

   I began to explore my writing skills. I was fast to come up with different scenarios that I would like to put in my story. I was flooded with different concepts and themes. I would even add some situations that happened in my life. I made my own magical world where I gave life to my fictional characters. Indeed, I felt like I was born to be a writer. I was so sure that what's happening was meant to be for me.

   I received good comments from different people. My classmates started to enjoy my work. I even gained some friends through the internet because of it. They were rooting and patiently waiting for my story to be updated every now and then. I felt giddy as I received love and support even from some random strangers. They admired my work.

   However, something has changed.

   As I enjoyed what I do, I received hate comments. Their words were full of loathing. They hated my work. At first, I ignored them. I made it an inspiration to be better in what I do. I was trying to prove to them that they are wrong. I failed. This is where I started to lose interest in writing.

   At that time, I lost the passion that I once had. Even if there are people who were still supporting me, as a child, I lost interest. I decided to stop writing. My works were not yet completed but I decided to unpublish them. I was so ashamed of my work. I hid it where no one else can see it.

   Years later, it felt like fate was the one who's taking action for me. When I entered my junior high school life, it was full of monologues, musical plays, dramas, or projects that required acting and making scripts. 2 years have passed when I decided to stop writing. Surprisingly, I'm always the one who makes our scripts and storylines.

   "You'll be a good author! Why won't you write your own book?" they frequently asked.

   I was appalled. At that time, I thought of going back to my passion. I left the past behind and started to move forward. The harsh words that I received serve as an inspiration for me to do better. I strengthened my heart as I continued my works.

   Little by little, my passion came back. I felt like I'm on top of the world. My friends and the people who support me also felt ecstatic as I returned to the world of writing. I felt better along the way as I used our past lessons when it comes to vocabulary, grammar, and even the use of literary devices. With the help of tons of essays and position papers, my grammar and the way that I write improved a lot. They are not only mere school works, but they helped and shaped me to be better.

   As I entered another chapter in my life, my senior high school years, I stopped writing. However, it became one of my therapies. As I grew older, struggles and problems served as the humps along the road. I was at my darkest point when I decided to write what I feel. No one could understand what I felt. My pen and my notebook became my companion.

   That was the biggest transition of my writing journey. It wasn’t only my passion but my therapy, my dose of serotonin.

   When I entered the HUMSS strand, I even got better than before as there are subjects that are focused on writing. Even though I stopped writing my stories on Wattpad, I began to write for my school works. I got the chance to showcase my talent in writing as we were allowed to write countless essays, short stories, poems, and one act play. I got the chance to share some parts of my life.

   During the past few years, writing poems caught my attention. They were my new way to express what I feel. They were not only school projects but the emotions that I couldn’t explain. People knew me for writing good poems. However, I wasn’t confident with them until my teachers began to like my works. Courage built up in my heart. Their words motivated me to continue what I’ve started.

   As my journey goes on, I’ve learned that writing is not only about the words that you use but the context and the message that you would like to convey. The emotions or the theme of what you’re writing is also important. It is where the readers will feel the sincerity of what you write.

   Writing may be boring to others. They may think of it as a heavy task. For me, writing is wonderful. It doesn’t just allow you to communicate with others or express how you feel. In writing, you could also create your own world. A world that is filled with what your imagination creates. Writing can be your best friend too. It will help you release the emotions that you’ve been bottling up.

[the-auctors]

Trigger Warnings:  Mentions of death, blood, suicide, dark/depressing thoughts, toxic and disturbing environment, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, etc.

     Drip...

       Drip…

       Drip…

       Drip…

     Haruka sighed and immediately walked towards the bathroom, moving his arms awkwardly to avoid letting the copper-scented substance fall and stain the cream-colored carpet. His mother never liked how difficult it was to wash the wool and nylon fibers, but there was nothing that the Lady of the House could do. She couldn’t insert the blame on the blessing given to them by the higher beings. She, herself, has a soulmate tattoo inked in elegant calligraphy, which says ‘Hey, excuse me? Do you know where the nearby convenience store is?’

     Those were the unromantic words her husband first told her, which was almost the complete opposite of what she stated. ‘You have pretty eyes and a cute beauty mark…’ It wasn’t a lie... Although, she’s still pouty at the gesture she received.

     Haruka’s unidentified soulmate must have been going through several hardships; the mother can’t help but feel worried. Not only for the boy but also for his significant other.

     The brunette finished bandaging his wounds and stepped outside the bathroom and then his room. Peeking his head around the corner, where his approaching mother ushered him to the dining table to take a bite of their lunch, knowing that the teen will take his daily afternoon stroll in the park where...

     People often would openly show distaste at the sight of his covered arms and neck scar.

     Bystanders will either watch him in pity or gaze at him with strange looks in their eyes. Haruka wasn’t surprised. He grew up in a toxic and unhealthy society where the civilians are expected to have glorious and impressive jobs with exceptional educational backgrounds. His father told him how his uncle was once hospitalized due to overworking. Japanese citizens know that there is a problem with the system, but there is no one with enough courage to voice it. Unfortunately, leading it to bottle it all up to themselves and causing depression to conquer many people’s minds.

     No wonder Japan is one of the countries with high ratings of suicide.

     The young Kataoka sighed at the thought, not forgetting to pack the pens and papers while eating the rice ball offered to him by his mother. The brunette gazed at the bright-colored items and blank drawing pad with a dazed look. ‘She’s not ready yet…’ He reminded himself by the nth time this past two months. The lady hadn’t had the slightest idea of what her son is up to these days. All she knew was that he suddenly took an interest in arts and drawing.

     This was surprising since he gave up on it because of his lack of talent in that particular field. She could clearly remember the hand-drawn portrait he made of himself; his relatives almost died of laughter when his sneaky cousin used that item to embarrass him for the whole night. Haruka is still traumatized due to the incident.

     After practically smothering his lunch, almost giving his mother a heart attack, he pranced out of the house energetically. It was almost as if the blood loss from earlier did not affect him. It wasn’t long enough for him to be greeted with a breath-taking view of the gorgeous park flowers and the newly-trimmed green fields. Despite being in that place several times, the scenery never failed to amaze him.

     As well as she.

     Her bored eyes stared at the fish fountain as her figure sat down on the wooden bench. The peach-colored turtleneck expertly hid her scars and bandages; on the other hand, Kataoka wore a simple black shirt. Once noticing his appearance, Yuriko Umemoto grimaced at the white medical tape and gauze’s lack of concealment.

     Looking down at her sleeves, a wave of guilt washed down her entire being. Adding a mixture of salt and vinegar on the wound, she, again, lifted a knife to her wrists this morning. 

    It was hard…

    Their first meeting was not exactly the prettiest.

    Yuriko stumbled upon him in the supermarket while he was being lectured by the crappy lady from her neighborhood. Screeching like an annoying siren and reprimanding him about the injuries. It wouldn’t have been her business until she saw the exact scar on his pale neck… Obviously, caused by a rope, judging on how it coiled around his skin... The female didn’t know what had gotten into her when she pulled Haruka out of the building. Even today, she theorizes that it must have been the soulmate connection that drove her to protect him.

    One thing escalated to another. The pair told each other’s names and chatted briefly, the melancholic girl purposely left out the phone number details, in hopes of not being in his vicinity.

    After all, what would his parents, friends, and relatives think of her?

    She was an embarrassment—a humiliation to human existence.

    What kind of a fool would find escape in death and self-harming?

    She also caused him pain, despite trying his best to hide it from her. The way he flinches at small subtle movements as the blood began to seep from his white bandages.

    Yuriko was burdened and constantly being hovered by her parents’ non-stop pestering of entering a well-known university. Her awkward and detached personality didn’t help, for she was having a terrible time making friends in the first place, leaving her alone. But when Haruka Kataoka entered her life, it brought change. Before leaving, the male gave her a hug and told her he could always find her in the local park.

    Yuriko could swear that her legs moved on their own the next day. She sat down on the bench with eager eyes as she looked for her other half.

    He never forced her to open her thoughts and problems, only waiting patiently for her to be more comfortable with him. To which she shockingly did after weeks together as friends.

    Haruka also did not mention much about their soulmate bond. 

    “Hey, you’re spacing out again, dummy.” The teen suddenly stated, sitting down on the excess space of the park bench. The white plastic crinkling made the girl quirk a brow at the object; he pulled out a bunch of pens and markers, along with a pristine white pad.

    Playfully rolling her eyes at his statement, she rested her back against the wood and hummed, unconsciously fidgeting with the fabric of her white jeans. “What are we going to draw today, Haru?” She inquired, receiving a boyish grin in return. “I dunno, something that gets your eye, perhaps. But before that--” He reached over and gently took Yuriko’s hands, making her forearms face upwards even if it was hidden underneath the cloth.

    Seeing what he was inspecting, her eyes somberly watched the ground below. She heard him sigh and caress her limbs, “Yuriko…” He called for her attention. 

    The said-female slowly averted her gaze from the dirt to her soulmate/friend, who was watching her forlornly. He raised her arms and gave a small peck on each appendage. Was it platonic? Or was it romantic? She doesn’t know, but the amount of love and care delivered to her was enough to make her feel that she wasn’t alone, nor she will ever be.

    Somehow, earlier that morning, dark thoughts invaded her mind and attacked her like a plague. She didn’t know whether to be grateful to have Haruka, but she would have been happier if those disgusting marks wouldn’t taint his being. ‘If only the soulmate system didn’t exist.’ Unknowingly, she clenched her fists and dug her against her palms, leaving crescent-shaped dents when the male tenderly pried her fists open.

    He gave a warm smile, “So, instead of drawing in a paper, I actually thought of doing something different.” Haruka started.

    Grabbing the blush-colored marker and placing it on her palms, Kataoka smiled fondly at the smaller girl and took an annoyingly-bright yellow pen. Uncapping the item and he planted the tip to the patch of unbandaged-skin between his wrist and knuckles. His dominant hand moved around, successfully inking the smooth surface with a star design.

    A proud grin entered his features as he showed off the ‘art’ on his hand. Yuriko snorted at his enthusiasm, “That’s a pretty-ugly star.” His face fell as he took offense to her comment. Quickly pinching her by the side of her knee, resulting in a stomp in the foot later on. Haruka sighed and gazed at the sky, “I’ve been looking for a professional to help you, so this random idea could somehow help… I’m not an expert on these kinds of things, so if I’m doing it wrong… Punch me in the gut as you please.”

    Realization crashed down to her. 

    She looked at her covered-forearms and to the pen. A small smile crawled on her lips, finally knowing what Haruka’s intentions were. 

    “It’s just… Ughhh… So hard to explain... “

    She ignored him as she drew.

    “I’m hoping that it can help you… Although if a therapist might suggest a better way, but for the meantime…”

    And drew.

    “If the urge or temptation… Oh god, those are weird wordings…”

    And drew.

    “Arghh! In short! I wish that instead of coping with pain, I have the suggestion of painting yourself with beautiful colors!... Hey, Yu! You’re not listening--!” He stopped in his words, his eyes widened at the pretty cherry blossom flower on her skin, an equally-elegant smile gracing her lips.

    “Hey, Haru?” She mumbled. The Kataoka gulped and straightened his back, leaning closer to his companion. “Yes, Yu?” Was his reply.

    Raising her hand towards the sky, admiring her adorable masterpiece, Yuriko hummed. How was it that with such a simple action, he managed to pierce her tough exterior? It was almost ridiculous how soft she had gotten for him. Within the 2 months of knowing each other, the ice and iron shackles in her heart were melted and torn down. Was it because of the soulmate bond? Or his genuine love and care?

    She also doesn’t know.

    “Once… My forearms are healed… I should try drawing a whole cherry blossom branch, what do you think?” She wondered almost inaudibly. 

    He gleamed, “I think that’s pretty cool! Here, you can try it with my hand!” Haruka offered his other hand, enthusiastically. She cradled his larger hand and drew a mini-cherry blossom tree. Her eyes began to fill with warmth as she suddenly realized the meaning of the said-flower. “Hey, Haru? You know what Cherry Blossoms symbolizes, right?” Her other-half nodded and gave a loving smile.

    She continued, “What a great coincidence, don’t you think? Knowing our situation.” A breathy chuckle escaped from his throat. Haruka raised a free-hand and fixed a stray hair on the female’s head.

    “Indeed, it is.” He softly agreed.

Cherry Blossoms, also referred to as Sakura, is known in Japan as the flower of spring, beauty, and the time of renewal.

[the-auctors]

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