PUT YOUR RECORDS ON (oikawa t.)

ch 4: himari, the wimp

Himari rarely ever got time to herself. If she was at school, she was surrounded by others. If she was with Takara, usually Mei and Mio were also there. It felt like she was constantly surrounded by everyone, boxed in and jailed. Sometimes, she felt like she couldn't breathe from the weight of everyone constantly just being there. The air was too thick. Even at her own house, she never got to be alone. Itaru, Himeko, and her mother would barge into her room whenever they cared to, and Himeka (her mother) didn't allow her or Itaru to shut their room doors.

So, when Himari walked out of her room (after studying for hours after school), to find that the living room was empty for once, she immediately grabbed her sketchbook and sat down on the couch. One of her favorite things to do was draw scenes from movies and shows with beautiful aesthetics and cinematography, so that's what she did. She changed the channel to some Korean drama, then began to draw a beautiful scene of the main actress leaning against a window with rain dripping down it.

As her pencil lightly scraped against the sketch paper, Himari took a moment to smile at the silence that filled the usually lively living room. It wasn't anything special, just a couch, love seat, book case, TV, and a few potted plants, but it felt so peaceful in that moment. Serene, even.

Of course, though, it only lasted for about fifteen minutes before Itaru barged in.

Sweat glistened on his pale skin. His hair, pitch black like Himari's, stuck to his forehead. There was still mud on his shoes, but he didn't take them off at the genkan before rushing in and throwing himself onto the couch.

Himari sighed lightly, as he slammed into the sofa and jostled her sketchbook. Her pencil fell to the floor with a small clatter.

"What crap are you watching? The subtitles ain't even on!" Itaru yelled, face messed up. He leaned over Himari, taking the remote from the arm of the couch beside her.

Himari's nose scrunched; he smelled awful, and should have really taken a shower before sitting on any of the furniture. She wanted to tell him this— to tell him that it was usually either her or Himeko made to clean, so he should respect the house more. But, of course, she didn't. She watched him take the remote and flip the channel to a shounen anime, turning up the volume way too loud.

So loud, in fact, that it awoke the demon.

Himari grimaced, as footsteps, angry footsteps, traveled from the back of the house, to the living room.

"What the hell?!" Himeko yelled, marching into the living room with her eyes narrowed into a glare and a snarl on her face. She took a look at the muddy tracks leading up to their nice, white couch, and then stormed over to rip the remote from Itaru's hands, "What the hell is that?"

Itaru blinked rapidly, following Himeko's gaze to his footprints, "U-Uh, they, uh, I—"

"You give the remote back to imouto and then clean this shit up, before I shove that damn remote down your throat!"

Itaru looked up at Himeko with wide eyes, going pale in the face and shaking his hands out in front of him as if in 'surrender,' "Right, okay, yeah, I'll get on it!"

Himeko smirked, as he jumped up, threw off his shoes, and quickly sprinted into the kitchen to grab a rag. Falling back onto the couch and spreading her arms out over the back of it, she side-eyed Himari, "He's so easy. All you have to do is threaten 'em a little, and he'll do whatever you say."

Himari gave a small smile, "He's scared of you, onee-san, so of course he does."

Himeko let out a huff of amusement, "Yeah, well, he'd be scared of you, too, if you weren't such a wimp."