#((The imagery of Idol Cherry being the complete opposite of what regular Kurosawa is..))

[antihibikase-archive]

💌 idol cherry’s fanmail opening! 💌

Made for @citrongarde’s Roleswap AU! Idol Cherry and his horrors..

Once the cameras were done rolling, and the lighting crew packed up, Cherry found himself alone in the set, surrounded by freshly opened packages consisting of trinkets, dolls, and occasionally, candies in sickly sweet cherry flavors. 

Normally, Cherry isn’t allowed to keep some of the more “dangerous” fanmail; food items could be drugged, letters could be laced with a poisonous scent, and even the Pokedolls had to be checked thoroughly to determine they weren’t hiding anything malicious.

But today, there was one thing he could bring with him to his room.

A gift so touching that his reaction during the shooting was not guided or fake, but genuine thankfulness.

He pushes aside the compacts and perfumes to a corner on his table, and gently places down a pink, plastic box, decorated with stickers of cherries and red stars.

When he opens the box, a soothing melody plays, and a small customized figure of Idol Cherry spins and spins.

It was a cute gift, befitting of his image. Practical too; the music box served as a small container for jewelry and the like, even containing its own mirror. He could use this to organize his accessories better.

His manager also claimed that if he were to use it regularly and take it outside during trips, fans would be in awe over how personable he was, holding the gifts of the public so close to his heart.

And the melody was nice. A simple classical tune of Relic Song.

The Cherry figure continues to spin and spin. Cherry’s arms are on the table and he places his face on his palms, almost like he’s in a trance.

The figure continues its monotonous, rhythmic pattern, swirling and spinning,  swiveling and spiraling.

Spiraling down, down, down.

The dance never changes, and neither does the melody, but the longer Cherry watches, the more his feelings warp like his reflection on the music box’s mirror.

And just like that, a switch in his mind is flipped.

His love turns to spite, and the initial awe he’s had for this gift- a result of pure hard work and admiration, goes down the drain, just like the cherry sodas he was forced to taste and drink in front of the camera.

The more the dance continues, the more stiff the movements become.

The more the melody plays, the more grating it sounds.

The words “We love you, Cherry!” are written in white paint just beside the plastic mirror, one that was projecting a fake image of him.

And just like that, Cherry is gone, and Cheren’s hands are the ones that hold the music box with a force unfitting for an idol.

With a scream, he throws the music box across the room, breaking it instantly.

The melody continues, distorted and slowing, while the head of the Cherry figure rolls on the floor, stopping right next to his foot.