preface

It was quiet when Ren stepped into the apartment. Closing the door behind her, she let out a sigh and let her bag fall out of her hand. It had been a long day and she couldn't wait to get into bed and rest.

"How was it?" Haru asked, walking out of the kitchen. He had a smile on his face. Ren noticed how his eye bags were starting to fade and how much livelier he seemed—it made her happy to see her brother getting the rest he needed.

"Not bad," she said, taking her shoes off and moving away from the door. She threw herself onto the couch and let out another sigh, louder than before.

"But not good either..?" She hummed and closed her eyes, obviously tired. "Was it the kids?"

"I'm getting tired of reading children stories," Ren said. "They're all the same, with their cliché plots and happy endings. It doesn't help that they're easily distracted as well." Haru sat next to his sister and pat her back.

"Maybe you should've stuck to reading your stories at the university," he said. "I got a call a few days ago—they said they missed you and your depressing plot twists." Ren laughed.

"I'm sure they weren't that bad," she said, smiling. "It wouldn't have been a plot twist if they had just read between the lines."

"Which one was it?" he asked.

"Hm?"

"The one that made them think you're all dark and edgy," he said.

"Probably my rewrite of Peter Pan," she said. "Version four—the one where he died." She sat up and rubbed the back of her neck. "Okay, maybe they are a bit depressing."

He snorted, "I'm pretty sure it wasn't just that one," he said.

"Yeah, it wasn't." Ren shrugged, "But what's written is written—even worse that they're already published." It was quiet between the siblings, a comfortable silence settling over them. Ren sat back, taking off her glasses and throwing them onto the coffee table. She closed her eyes and sighed again. Haru felt it was the perfect time to bring up what had been on his mind for the past couple of days.

"I found an old draft," he started, "when I was cleaning out your study a few days ago." Ren's eyes opened almost instantly. "I didn't know if I should throw it out or not, so it's just sitting there—"

"Which one?" she asked. "What was it called?"

"It read Untitled," he said. "I thought it was just one of your assignments from college or something."

Ren felt nostalgic at the sound of the title. Untitled—it brought back memories, ones she had been wanting to forget but unable to do so. "It's just a story," she said nonchalantly, as if it meant absolutely nothing. "You can throw it out if you want, since it's just sitting there." Haru could tell something was up the moment she had said those words. He had read the first few pages of the draft to know that Untitled was anything but a story.

"Then tell me a story," he said in a soft voice, "the one about the boy who never learned to love himself. Tell me a story, the one about the smiling boy who got tired of pretending everything was okay."