Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket. Shucks.
A/N: Beep! Beep! Beep! My angst alarm is going off!
If you saw Hatsuharu's room – and you wouldn't – you would be afraid. All over – all over – there were tiny scraps. They could be from anything. Torn up pieces of flyers that he was supposed to give to Hatori, bags of chips, the chips themselves, receipts, scraps of color from an art project, maybe the odd origami sheet – they were scattered all over the room – the floor, the desk, even the bed.
Then you would look closer. All of them were written on. One word, maybe repeated several times on the same scrap.
lost. lost. lost. lost. lost. lost. lost. lost. lost. lost. lost.
And if that wasn't fucking creepy enough there was writing on the wall. It was fading, it was messy, it was reddish-brown, it was blood letters repeating what the papers already said – LOST, it told you, screamed at you with everything it had. You would know, after looking into Haru's room, that something was wrong.
Of course, no one ever saw Haru's room.
Momiji thought about this. No one ever went into Haru's room. If they knocked, Haru either cracked open the door just enough to see out, slid out of the door, or wasn't there. He kept it locked.
That was what worried Momiji the most – the locking. Hastuharu was not an especially private person; what he had was shared with everyone else. If he was feeling something, he quietly let everyone know. So this was out of character for him, wasn't it? And it had only started a few months ago. A few months ago…after Haru's curse had been broken?
His curse had been broken and maybe, just maybe, Momiji thought, maybe Haru had been too.
So he did what he usually did in these sort of situations: he told Hatori because of course his Ha'ri-san would know what to do.
His Ha'ri-san did indeed know what to do, because he had seen this before, but in himself; and so one day he quietly locked himself in Haru's room and waited for him to come home.
When Haru came back from school he of course retreated to his bedroom hoping for a little comfort but he saw that Hatori was in there. Even though he felt dreadfully apprehensive in a dull kind of way, Haru entered anyway; and when Hatori closed the door with a snap and had Momiji lock it from the outside his fears were answered.
Momiji didn't know what went on inside that room, but he knew that the two stayed inside there for three days. Momiji did not get a wink of sleep, but he definitely became a better violinist, considering the amount of practicing he did to pass the time.
"Are you all right, Momiji?" Tohru asked him anxiously more than once when she came with a bento box or two every day.
"I'll be better once I see them," Momiji replied more than once when he answered the door to see her smile.
So it was three long days that Momiji played his violin and Haru and Hatori did whatever Harus and Hatoris did when locked in a room together. But at the dawn of the fourth day Hatori banged on the door and asked Momiji to please open it.
"Haru! Ha'ri! Are you all right? Do you need food? Tohru-chan brought some bento boxes – do you want anything? You look hungry, Haru!" Momiji kept up a dull roar of babble as he threw open the door and herded Haru and Hatori down to the kitchen where he thumped a bento in front of each of them and bustled about making tea.
"You look like Tohru," Haru said, and when Momiji looked very closely he saw a hint of a smile on Haru's marble face. It cheered him more than anything else in the world could have.
If you looked into Haru's room again, you would see part of the result of those three days locked inside. Underneath every single lost. lost. lost. lost. lost. was written found. found. found. found. found. found. found.
The next day, Haru bought a GPS.
A/N: Thank you for reading, and I would love it if you reviewed...gah, am such a feedback addict.