Chapter 4:
Chapter 3.5
Is It Wrong To Wear The Heart Like A Clown?
Haru slipped back into the venue after an hour. The noise had subsided, and now the hall was being emptied.
She re-entered from the exit, making sure to avoid the crowd, only to meet a convoy of maintenance men hauling out equipment.
“Please make way!!!” the crew called out as they marched.
Haru’s feet shuffled for a moment. She pressed her back against a door to let them pass. It gave way under her weight, and she stumbled backwards into a quiet, softly lit room.
She caught her balance, then looked up.
A man stood by the counter, packing a black duffel bag. He was tall, with broad shoulders visible in a plain white T-shirt.
No sinks, cubicles, or urinals.
Her gaze returned to the guy. He faced the mirror, quietly cleaning his face with a cotton ball without any hint of distress or worry.
Resting on top of the duffel bag: a frilly wig. Yellow and red.
Before she could apologize, the man slung the bag over his shoulder, pulled his cap on, and walked towards the door.
Haru’s eyes narrowed. Those eyes
The man stepped right into her personal space. In one fluid motion, his arm shot out, his palm slamming against the door frame inches from her head. Haru flinched, chest tight. The scent of lemon-flavored lollipop filled her nose as he leaned in dangerously close to her.
"Miss," he rasped, voice low. "You're in the way."
Her face burned. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. All of a sudden, she felt small, cornered.
The man waited for the slap, but she didn't say anything. Haru didn't even push him back. She just stared, wide-eyed and flushed.
The awkward silence stretched too long. The façade cracked, and the man’s smug smirk faltered into a look of sudden panic. Haru stared as he pulled his arm back, scratching his head.
“Ah… Heh… Sorry about that.” He laughed nervously. “I thought it looked cool in anime. That was awful.”
He bowed quickly, flustered.
“I’m really sorry, Miss. Please excuse me.”
Haru nodded. The man sidestepped, clutching the strap of his bag tightly, and hurried out the door before she could change her mind.
The door clicked, and the room returned to silence.
Haru stood there, knees trembling, heart racing.
Face. Voice. Eyes.
She looked at the empty spot where he had stood.
More importantly... that trick earlier.
"Is that... you?" she whispered to herself.
Then –
"Haru? Haru!"
The voice snapped her out of the trance. Maya burst into the room, looking frantic.
"There you are! What are you doing here?" Maya scanned Haru’s face, noticing the redness in her cheeks. "Wait... are you okay? You’re red as chili.
Haru jolted. She straightened her posture and dusted off her coat.
"Nothing." Haru brushed past her secretary. "I’ll go ahead. Make sure the cleanup goes well."
Maya held a hand up to stop her. Too late.
She re-entered from the exit, making sure to avoid the crowd, only to meet a convoy of maintenance men hauling out equipment.
“Please make way!!!” the crew called out as they marched.
Haru’s feet shuffled for a moment. She pressed her back against a door to let them pass. It gave way under her weight, and she stumbled backwards into a quiet, softly lit room.
She caught her balance, then looked up.
A man stood by the counter, packing a black duffel bag. He was tall, with broad shoulders visible in a plain white T-shirt.
Slim fit jeans. Black hair in a ponytail. And an arguably pretty face.
Haru’s breath hitched. She frantically snapped her head around.No sinks, cubicles, or urinals.
Her gaze returned to the guy. He faced the mirror, quietly cleaning his face with a cotton ball without any hint of distress or worry.
Resting on top of the duffel bag: a frilly wig. Yellow and red.
Before she could apologize, the man slung the bag over his shoulder, pulled his cap on, and walked towards the door.
Haru’s eyes narrowed. Those eyes
The man stepped right into her personal space. In one fluid motion, his arm shot out, his palm slamming against the door frame inches from her head. Haru flinched, chest tight. The scent of lemon-flavored lollipop filled her nose as he leaned in dangerously close to her.
"Miss," he rasped, voice low. "You're in the way."
Her face burned. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. All of a sudden, she felt small, cornered.
The man waited for the slap, but she didn't say anything. Haru didn't even push him back. She just stared, wide-eyed and flushed.
The awkward silence stretched too long. The façade cracked, and the man’s smug smirk faltered into a look of sudden panic. Haru stared as he pulled his arm back, scratching his head.
“Ah… Heh… Sorry about that.” He laughed nervously. “I thought it looked cool in anime. That was awful.”
He bowed quickly, flustered.
“I’m really sorry, Miss. Please excuse me.”
Haru nodded. The man sidestepped, clutching the strap of his bag tightly, and hurried out the door before she could change her mind.
The door clicked, and the room returned to silence.
Haru stood there, knees trembling, heart racing.
Face. Voice. Eyes.
She looked at the empty spot where he had stood.
More importantly... that trick earlier.
"Is that... you?" she whispered to herself.
Then –
"Haru? Haru!"
The voice snapped her out of the trance. Maya burst into the room, looking frantic.
"There you are! What are you doing here?" Maya scanned Haru’s face, noticing the redness in her cheeks. "Wait... are you okay? You’re red as chili.
Haru jolted. She straightened her posture and dusted off her coat.
"Nothing." Haru brushed past her secretary. "I’ll go ahead. Make sure the cleanup goes well."
Maya held a hand up to stop her. Too late.
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