#y'all ever had an existential crisis bc ur bilingual but u can't translate worth shit

[katharaya]

In this ask you get to write an Asra/MC drabble but here's the thing: you gotta choose a few lines from "Kahit ayaw mo na" by This Band as a prompt. (Hi ate I love you and your apprentice tho)

opm is the way to my heart tbh (hello din and thanks beh!! ♥️)

asra/female apprentice (technically this is rei but i didn’t use her name), early post-amnesia

—

Even though so much of you has changedI’m gonna love you anywayThough you don’t feel the same

—

“Ta-da!” Asra says, grinning at her in the dresser mirror, but it sounds flat even to his own ears.

She reaches up to touch the ends of her hair, just barely brushing the sharp jut of her jawbone. She stares back at him in the mirror, face blank, dark eyes sunken within her gaunt cheeks.

His smile falters, but only a little. He has gotten very, very good at faking a smile since—since.

“It’ll grow out more evenly, now,” he tells her, reaching over her shoulder to return the scissors to its place atop the dresser. She’s still touching her hair, twining it around her fingers and tugging lightly, but it remains stubbornly short, curling in little flyaways that make it seem even shorter. Her brow furrows in minute frustration.

“It’s very pretty,” he reassures her, smoothing down some of the frizz at the top of her head. He thinks she’s beautiful no matter what (even now; even after—After), so he’s not lying, but still a line creases above her nose the way it always does (always did) when she suspects he’s not quite telling the whole truth. She pouts, lower lip jutting out in just that familiar way, and he would laugh and kiss it if only she—if only.

A mournful sigh builds up in his chest, but he forces it back down, and keeps the smile up.

“It really is very pretty,” he says softly, and he has never, ever told her she was beautiful without meaning it with every fiber of his worn-out being, and he isn’t about to change that now.

(Too many things have changed since the night he’d left with a slam of the door. He doesn’t need to add to them more than he already has.)

She doesn’t (—can't—) answer, just stares down at her feet, her fingers still curled in the hair at her nape.

“Wanna go back to the bed?” he asks, and she nods, reaching absently for his arm. She grunts as she rises, swaying unsteadily on her feet, and grits her teeth as he helps her hobble the few feet to the bed they (still) share. She sinks onto the mattress with a deep sigh, pulling up her legs as he rearranges the blankets around her. “Comfortable?” he asks, and she nods again, combing her fingers through her hair in a valiant (if futile) attempt to tame the flyaways that never quite did what she wanted them to, even before—Before.

He allows himself one small sigh, straightening up. “I’ll go start on lunch, okay? I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Before he can turn his back, she rasps out, in her rough voice that sounds to him like she’s still only halfway out the grave, “A-ah.”

She’s looking up at him, her hands folded and motionless in her lap, and she smiles, tiny little thing though it is. “Teng koo.”

His own mouth moves to mirror hers, his smile turning just a little bit warmer, a little more real.

“You’re welcome.”

There’s a small flash of teeth as her grin widens a little bit more. “Pri-tee.”

He blinks. “Sorry?”

She gestures to her mouth, tracing a U-shape in the air with her finger. “Pri-tee.”

He actually laughs, a short burst of startled, embarrassed joy. “Flatterer.”

She frowns, poking lightly at his chest. No, you are.

“I meant it.”

She thumps her hand emphatically against her heart. So did I.

(Well, he supposes. The more things change—)

“We’ll call it even, then.” He grins, gently tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’ll just be in the kitchen, alright?”

His heartbeat sounds too loud in his ears as he turns and walks toward the kitchen, feeling her eyes on his back every step of the way.

(Who knew a half-heart could still beat so hard?)

And perhaps it is nothing more than a traitor hope, but he thinks of the way she smiled at him, and still, he hopes: maybe this one thing stayed the same.

(And even if it’s just this one thing—just a familiar smile in a stranger-beloved’s face—then everything else was worth it.)

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fic #asra #asra x apprentice #rei #y'all ever had an existential crisis bc ur bilingual but u can't translate worth shit #yeah mood #me: just use the literal translation it's fine no one's gonna care #also me: but what about the syllable count and the rhyming scheme and #yeah that was fun #anon asks #katharayawrites