Hi all! I wrote this shortish oneshot drabble after reading Volume 3 of Honey Hunt and falling even more in love with Haruka. I like Q-ta as well, but I can relate to Haruka's character more and I think he looks REALLY cute when he blushes. :-D
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Honey Hunt, but I wish I could borrow Haruka for a couple days so I could... you know. =P
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It was something he ultimately should have been used to. He'd thought he was, in fact, until he felt his carefully built walls crumbling around him once again. Those comparisons, a constant remainder of the link unwillingly forged between himself and Q-ta, the string that just didn't seem to break, no matter how long and hard he yanked and tugged on it. Ever since they had been born just minutes apart, relatives and neighbors had pinched cheeks and cooed about how much they looked alike, how gifted they both were, "Two peas in a pod,"
He should've been used to it, after all the times his parents had called him by the wrong name and teachers mistaking him for his brother. Q-ta had always been the favorite. Being a twin had always made Haruka wonder what a couple of minutes could mean in differences. A minute, in all truth, was just sixty seconds, which could be nothing, rushing by like leaves in the wind, or everything, slowly passing in a boring lecture. A couple minutes; if they had been born in the opposite order, he would wonder, would they have switched attitudes, lives, and personalities? Because, shit, anyone with half a brain should have been able to tell the difference between them, right?
The difference wasn't always apparent on the surface, it was deeper than skin. It was in the maturity, the cool elegance of Q-ta, spinning words like cotton candy dream worlds for girls, countless beautiful girls, where hearts always seemed to end up shattered. And it was in the heady, searing hotheaded defiance of Haruka, who told no lies. Haruka left each blade-like word sharp, while Q-ta painted the blade to make it look less threatening, turning weapons into art and beauty, hidden under that constant façade.
But these comparisons he was so used to, that he'd heard all his life, hurt so much more when they came from someone whom he just wanted to see him for who he was, not as a shadow of his brother. It stung, like a slap in the face, heat rushing to his face for so many reasons. Was that all they saw him as, a shadow? That's why he was glad not everyone knew they were related, because the gossip magazines that did know about their familial ties took advantage of them and compared the two endlessly, pondering who was 'hotter' and who was more talented. He was sick of people looking at him and seeing someone else.
That was because he didn't want her to be reminded of his brother when he spoke, or sang, or because of the way he smelled. He wanted it to happen the opposite way, if at all, and that made him wonder what would have happened if he had met her first. What still could happen.
Everything was step by step. She thought he was cool now, at least. He saw this as a great improvement from being seen as a rude, petulant teenager. Now all he needed to do was erase Q-ta from her mind. He wanted to make her think of only him; wait for him to call night after night, as opposed to his brother. He wouldn't hurt her, because she deserved more than that. She deserved everything, and he wanted to show her it all.
He wanted to show her the world, how it looked from his place up high on the stage where he held the microphone as his link to the world around him. He wanted to taste love on his tongue, let the sensation flow through his body.
He knew that she would taste like the night sky and rain, joy and wonder, and love, all wrapped up with a pretty little bow. And noodles, because she was Yura, she was Onozuka, and to him she was the Noodle Girl, always.