Chapter Text
The human eye is like a camera.
It captures everything it sees. Focusing in, blurring out. Even when you shut your eyes tight, you can see the colors dancing like sunspots behind your eyelids. Each picture taken by the eye is recorded, noted, and filed neatly away in your mind. The more new pictures you take, the more old ones that get overwritten. Discarded.
And like cameras, without the right lens, you cannot always see everything that may be present before you.
You might miss something. And it might be important.
Sophie learned this lesson first.
The eyes of family...they did not capture her in all the illustrious, detailed and complex ways that she had imagined she should be perceived as a little girl. The categorizations came from outside of her, yet it was her own skin that they burrowed underneath and made a home, mortgage-free.
Ordinary. Average.
Plain.
Often, she was considered too plain, not worth the gloss on the magazine print of her sisters’ glittering hoard. Towers and mountains of bound photographic volumes, premiering the latest fashions and threads to don in that day and age. Vogue, Cosmopolitan, i-D, Nylon, Vanity Fair, Esquire, on and on and on the carousel went. The Hatter sisters had them all.
Even Sophie.
When she was young and her sisters were unborn, when she was still learning that eyes were like cameras...Sophie began to notice the mental pictures people took of one another. The images they drew up using the information they received from visuals alone.
Some people were believed to be more clever than they actually were. Some were considered more dull than what was true. Some were seen as stronger than their truths, and others weaker than their possibilities.
More than anything, Sophie noticed that people’s cameras often got things wrong.
Very wrong.
And yet, it did not stop the parade of pictures, oh, no. Everyone had their picture in the eyes of others.
Sophie was sharp enough to catch on early that her picture was often one discarded by others in terms of value. Fine. Nothing special, but fine. Just fine.
...But her sisters? They were photogenic down to their very bones. Every pretty, poreless angle, every perfectly shaped jawline or plump bow of kissable lips, all of it was beauty defined. Refined. Magnified and highlighted in all ways. Lettie, Martha, and Meghan may as well have been wood nymphs or sirens from legend itself.
They were beautiful. And they knew it. So they took many, many pictures.
It was Lettie who bought the first professional camera into their house. A far cry from the typical polaroids. 'To help her social media!' she'd said. From then on, the sisters took pictures of themselves and one another. Their mother enjoyed the vanity and encouraged it, saying that it was good exercise for their self-esteem to see themselves in such a pleasant light.
But Sophie did not think it was true, even then.
She did not think her pictures were beautiful. Not like her sisters. She was told so, by strangers outside the family who did not have the grace or tact or love that her relatives held for her, keeping them from saying anything hurtful.
She wasn’t sure how to feel about it in the beginning.
'Perhaps beauty does not have to be so important for me, then? Maybe I don't need it.'
A lie, of course. One to help sleep easy at night.
From then on, Sophie chose to take pictures of her sisters instead, watching them model and pose like swans. She realized that if she took her pictures in a certain way, if she captured a certain something, that the insecurities and woes on her sisters’ faces would slip away. They would cheer and beam, in awe at just how beautiful they could be in the eyes of Sophie.
Sophie knew she was not beautiful. But she felt beautiful when she was making her sisters see themselves in a new light.
Soon, it wasn’t just her sisters she photographed. Her mother, her cousins, the mailman, the dog walkers, the stroller pushers, the doves, the mice, the fields, the skies, the sun, the moon, the stars. Everything. Sophie photographed everything.
It was behind the lens, where she felt strong. Important. Necessary and valued in her own, special way. She didn’t feel the immense anxiety and displeasure of laying herself out for another, in hopes of a ‘good’ photo when she knew she had none in her. There was no indecision on how to place her legs or arms, no confusion on how to be appealing when she felt like the most sexless, frigid thing in Ingary.
No. Behind the camera, her insecurities could remain hidden away. And her vulnerabilities could be spotlighted the best of ways. Artistically.
People may not have blinked twice at her face, but they couldn’t look away from her best photographic captures.
The photographs were her window to let others see inside. They were the pictures she could choose, unlike much else in her life. They would tell her story when her voice failed, they would show her griefs when her tears were nowhere to be found.
And so, though it was a huge surprise for her accomplished, fashionista stepmother and modelesque sisters, it was not a surprise to Sophie when she announced her decision at the dinner table one evening.
“I’ve been accepted to the Royal College of the Arts, in Ingary."
Her stepmother gasped, dropping her fork with a clatter as a smile arose on her face.
"Oh Sophie! You're going to learn to sew and run the hat shop? You should've told me...! Your father would be proud."
"No," Sophie explained, watching her stepmother's face fall. She tries to ignore the pang of hurt at the mention of her father. Whether he'd be proud or disappointed is irrelevant. He isn't here anymore.
"I’m going to study fashion photography.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Hatter worried, distractedly nipping at her nails, “how...unexpected...! I never saw this coming.”
'Well,' thought Sophie, 'you couldn't've. Your camera is too different from my own.'
“Checking out some new finds?” a voice inquired near her.
Sophie shrugged, resurfacing out of her memories. It always took longer than anticipated, so she tried not to do it. Accidents happened, though.
“No. Old pictures. Reminiscing.”
“Ah,” her classmate noted, “that’s your family in that one, I assume?”
“Mhm.”
“Wow! Look at her! Your sister...?”
“Mother.”
“O-oh! She’s very beautiful. She doesn’t look like she’d be a mother.”
Sophie let the unsaid question hang in the air, unanswered.
‘How is the woman who birthed you so lovely when you’re so...?’ No point in answering. Because then she'd have to explain it's her stepmother, and then she'd have to explain that's why her sisters were so pretty, and then they'd wonder if Sophie's biological mother was not pretty, to which she would have to respond that she was very beautiful but Sophie looked more like her father, who was no longer alive. And then it would all turn very awkward and tragic and sad, and it was too nice of a day to ruin it over unasked questions.
Her classmate accepted the silence as an answer and pressed on.
“Any siblings?”
Sophie clicked on the navigation button of her display, revealing flashing images of her sisters posing and smiling coquettishly at the viewer.
“God...they’re all stunning!”
“Mm. They are.”
“You on the other hand, uh...captured them well!”
“I did,” Sophie felt the tension ease out of her muscles.
'I really did, didn't I?'
Her friend clapped her shoulder lightly, jostling her out of her thoughts.
“Well, you’ve been staring into that tinny, old display for a while. Come and have lunch with the rest of us?”
Sophie shook her head, giving a small polite nod to her friend.
“I’m alright, thanks. I’ve got to decide on one for Thursday’s assignment."
"Seriously?"
Sophie turned to see her classmate looking exasperated by her unrelenting ways. It wouldn't be the first time schoolwork was prioritized over socializing. Sophie quickly thought of a defense.
"Professor Suliman is a difficult grader. You know that. I just...don't want to give her any reasons to be difficult, that's all.”
“Oh, c’mon Sophie. You’re the only one that prepares this stuff in advance. You can afford to work a normal schedule like everyone else.”
Sophie paused for a moment before deciding to meet her friend halfway.
“I’ll decide on a picture in the next fifteen minutes. Then I’ll meet up with you all in the dining hall?”
“Alright, Sophie,” they allowed as they pulled away, "but remember! Fifteen minutes and not a second more!" Her friend walked away, leaving her to her wishes.
Sophie stood up, realizing she needed a quiet place to focus and select the perfect picture so she could join her friends in time for lunch. She didn’t like to break promises and she didn't like to be late.
'Off to the secret garden, then.'
Sophie hurried to her hideaway on the campus, grateful that is was nearby. The 'hideaway' was a small, hidden cove around the corner of the Textiles and Sciences building, in the garden next to the greenhouse. It had a sizeable, visibly forgotten statue of some long lost Greco-Roman god pointing skyward in the nude. There were little green snakes and bursting red ladybugs and the odd gecko or two. It had flowers galore and weeds and soft grass, everything a secret alcove could ever need.
It was also quiet and solitary. Sophie often got work done in her little glen, the prime place for a retreat away from people. From society.
It wasn't difficult to clamber through the bushes and brambles, setting her things down. She relaxed there in the grass, leaning up against the old statue and continuing to flick through her camera, unbothered.
That’s when it began, with the arrival of a very large bother.
“Oof!” something cried out from beyond the brush.
Sophie quickly looked up from the camera, puzzled and searching.
A person suddenly crashed out of the leaves and onto the grass of the glen, just before her feet. Sophie watched as they rose up from the tumble, large and broad and unseemingly affected by the hard fall they just took.
The stranger spotted her and spoke.
“Oh," they wondered aloud.
Sophie glances the young man over quickly, shocked. If Sophie hadn't gotten a better look, she might've accidentally mistaken him for a large bird or peacock. He donned aquamarine...sapphire?...earrings and a jewel necklace to match. His shirt looked more like an oversized blouse if anything, with tight dark trousers, cinched at the waist. His fingers were littered with silver rings, fading remnants of henna or marker lining up and down his fingers. They were clutched around a huge, technicolor cloak, tightly imprinting the fabric as if he'd been moving quickly. His hair, slightly disheveled, was long, dark and shining like a fresh reel of film.
He made a very alluring picture.
For a moment, Sophie watched the boy watch her, uncomfortably absorbing the odd tension and empty air.
The attractive stranger finally gives her a small smile, tilting his head curiously as dark, luminous blue eyes flick this way and that across her form and the environment. They are hypnotic, and Sophie finds her own following the trail of his.
“I’m Howl.”
It is then, that Sophie realizes just how deep the tenor of his voice is. It is rich, warm and comforting. As if it’s holding her safe from the very lips of his mouth. The genuinity of his being seems to bleed through it, cradling her.
Sophie has never been one for infatuation, but even she can tell that his voice already has her oddly hooked.
This is beyond unexpected. Sophie has odd taste, and it is odd because she usually doesn't have it, desiring no one. Or rather, pretending to desire no one. Usually she has time to prepare herself, to steel her heart before interacting with interesting, seductive people. This time, however, she had not anticipated a beauty to tumble into her lap so suddenly.
“How...?” she repeats back listlessly, gazing up at the stranger.
“Howl,” the young man responds gently, making a show of curling his tongue so that she’ll catch on.
“Ah,” she nods, unable to take her eyes off of him. “Howl.”
He watches her for a moment, before seemingly deciding on something and taking it upon himself to sit down and scoot in front of her. He crossed his legs, looking at her camera inquisitively.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
Sophie can feel her brow raise into her hairline. He's still here?
“...I could ask you the same thing.”
“Well, I asked you first.”
Sophie can't stop the chuckle that bubbles out of her throat, nodding.
“That you did. I’m...deciding on a photo for my assignment. Then I suppose I’ll go eat lunch with friends.”
Howl nods once more, understanding. “You’re in the Photography section?”
“I am. Now it's your turn.”
“We’re taking turns...?” Howl says in a teasing tone with a smirk. Sophie gets a feeling that he’s far more mischievous than his angelic features seem to let on.
“I'd hoped so.”
“Alright then. Just for you. I’m in the 3D Modeling and Textiles section.”
Huh. How interesting. She didn’t meet too many boys in that section at Ingary Arts. It sort of explained his very unique, provocative outfit. He probably designed it. Probably made it, even.
“Ah! That's nice. But I rather meant...what are you doing here?”
“It's a nice day to sunbathe.”
Sophie assesses his outfit and the tree leaves shadowing them overhead.
"It is. But you didn't come here to sunbathe."
"Sure I did!"
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
Howl’s eyes glint curiously. “I think you do know.”
Sophie opens her mouth before loud noises outside the secret glen erupt.
"Over here!"
"This way? Are you sure?"
"Positive!"
People are moving about just outside their bushes, seemingly frantic and in search of something.
Or someone.
“He was just here,” a female voice calls, clearly upset.
“Don’t worry,” another coos. “We’ll find him. He’s not getting away with it.”
“Right,” the other voice sniffles angrily before the footsteps lead away into silence.
Sophie stares at Howl as they both listen, her curiosity growing more and more. His face reveals nothing.
“Why are they looking for you?”
Howl’s playful smile falls a bit, and he shrugs regretfully.
"I hurt her feelings,” he admits. “She wanted to be something I didn’t. So I pulled back. I think I’ve upset her.”
Sophie listens to the distant sobbing and responding consolations, her face curling up in a bit of sorry feelings for the other girl.
“I think you broke her heart.”
Sophie’s bluntness is usually commented upon and disliked by others, but Howl seems unaffected, agreeing if anything. He simply nods.
“Yes. Wouldn’t be the first time, though.”
Sophie frowns. She didn’t like people who played with other people.
“You make a habit of it?”
Howl glances at her, seeing right through her cordial tone.
“I’m not a fiend,” he assures gently. “I just can’t live a lie.”
Sophie nods. That made sense.
“I can tell small ones sometimes, though,” Howl adds mischeivously, moving from the front of her and over to Sophie’s side. He throws his heavy coat across both their shoulders for convenience, pressing his towering, silken shoulder against her small, cottoned one.
Now she was shrouded in the smell of him, his fragrant, androgynous aromatics curling all around her. She couldn’t blame herself for relaxing under the heavy coat, enjoying the weight of it. She looked down to pull a lapel up in between her fingers, eyeballing the fine stitching.
“You made this?” she noted. “It’s gorgeous.”
Howl says nothing, but leans in an inch closer, his hair tickling her ear.
Sophie decides to say nothing herself, letting him rest against her and the old statue. Instead of making sense of it all, she chooses to flick through her display, thinking of pictures while Howl watched her.
If she's being honest, Sophie feels oddly vulnerable, but unsure of what to do about it. She didn’t want to shoo Howl away, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him seeing her raw photographs either. It was as if he were peering directly into her artwork, her soul, through her camera.
She decided on trying to suppress the trepidation and continue on with the task.
“I like that one,” Howl said suddenly, pointing to the display.
It was a picture of Sophie as a little girl, wearing a big straw hat and relaxing in a hammock with a book as her sisters ran about and blew bubbles at one another. Sophie found it odd. She looked gangly and unshapen in that picture, the hat swallowing up her head, her dull brown eyes downcast boringly in her book while her sisters’ bright eyes were captured in an infinite moment of joy and happiness, their dresses whirling about them.
She said nothing, wordlessly changing the picture to a new one.
“...Aren’t you going to ask me if I like the others?” Howl wondered aloud.
Sophie paused, retreating into her thoughts for a moment before returning to the present moment.
“I could,” she reasoned. “But whether you like the photos or not doesn’t matter.”
Howl tilted his head, humming.
“Surely it does? If not me, then other people liking them matters.”
“No,” Sophie disagrees simply.
“Why not...? Isn’t it important if people...your audience...like your pictures? Why else take them if no one will look at them?”
Sophie turns to look at Howl then, her meaning becoming stronger than her shyness or fear. He is right beside her, their breaths intermingling.
“Is a photograph not a photograph, even if no one is there to see it? Even if no one is there to like it? My photography is...it’s a selfish act. I would like for people to enjoy my pictures, yes...but their gaze is not needed. People haven’t always liked the photos but that didn’t stop me from always enjoying taking them.”
Howl listens, nodding his acknowledgement.
“Wow. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
Sophie looked confused then, glancing down at her knees. She tried and failed to move a loose hair out of her face as she tried to configure the words.
“I mean...it’s important to me.”
Howl leaned in then, brushing the hair back effectively for her, securing it easily behind the nook of her ear.
“Hmm. What else is important to you, Miss...?”
Sophie looked at him then, watching him watch her.
'Oh. My name.'
"Sophie," she breathes.
Howl lifts a hand near her, a question on his lips.
"May I?"
'Touch me?' she thought. Bad idea. Sophie nods her consent anyway.
"Miss Sophie...?" he inquires. His fingers are back on the hair behind her ear now, twirling it around his finger.
She struggles to finish.
"Sophie Hatter."
"...Miss Sophie Hatter," he concludes, smiling as if he's found the last piece to a puzzle.
Sophie wondered right in that moment; what kind of picture Howl was building in his mind right now? She often didn’t concern herself to care on such things—as the thoughts of other people on her often hurt her, anyhow—but...something about Howl’s face told her that perhaps his picture was developing a little differently.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Maybe she was just getting a bad case of a crush.
That was no good.
Howl was very, very handsome, that much was certain. Sophie was only now admitting it outright to herself because he had been so attractive. The type of boy that turned heads just as much—if not more—than girls. The type that took care of himself, thought highly of himself, but his gentle energy and soft words told Sophie he might have thought highly of others too. She didn’t want to think that Howl was the type to be stuck-up or disregard others' feelings.
The crying girl before, though...
'Ugh.'
He was such a looker, Sophie normally would've written him off instantly for the hopes of anything. Friendship, acquaintanceship, and certainly and in no order, romance. Not because of any discrimination on her account, oh no. Sophie found she quite liked the idea of getting to know Howl better. But she knew that there were pictures in this world, and some people felt some things did not fit in their pictures. Plain girls being one of them.
And Sophie was not anything, if not plain.
She was not vain or superficial, she felt. She was not a cynic or a misanthrope.
Just a realist.
Sophie eased away from him as politely as she could manage, standing and bringing her camera and books with her. She wrestled her bag into her grip as well, not bothering with grace, nodding her farewell to the surprised looking young man.
“It was nice meeting you, Howl. I have to go now.”
She made to turn, heading to the bushes. She was late to meeting her friends anyway. Sophie had promised.
"Wait!"
Howl appeared next to her, his long, technicolored coat back in his grip, hanging loosely over his shoulder.
“Let me help you carry your things?” He asked.
Sophie gawked a little before naturalizing her features.
Boys asked Lettie to let them carry her things. Not Sophie.
...Except now, it seemed.
“I- okay...?” she agreed uncertainly, watching as Howl skillfully transferred her books and bag into his arm, maintaining his lovely coat in the other over his back.
Standing with just her camera now, Sophie watched him for a moment. He simply smiled at her. She was hesitant to return it, busying herself with moving the bushes aside so that he could pass through safely.
For a moment, she watched his back recede into the greenage. Was he a mirage? An illusion of her lonely mind?
'If he's a delusion, at least he's a nice one.'
Sophie followed after.
She walked alongside Howl through the campus grounds, holding her camera closely to her chest. The sun shone down warmly on the both of them, the pavement bright and the nature blossoming around the school in color.
Despite all the natural beauty, Sophie couldn’t help but notice that every other passerby was turning to gawk at Howl before looking questioningly at her beside him. Howl seemed to pointedly avoid the gazes...or perhaps he was truly that oblivious? Maybe he was used to the attention.
Sophie wasn’t. She suddenly felt like a log rolling along next to a peacock.
Howl decided to make small talk just then.
"So photography. You're joining the contest next month, then?"
Sophie smiles at that, nodding.
"Yes. I'm very excited."
Howl returns the anticipation.
"I'll be participating in the Textiles Division. It'll be nice to see a friendly face, Sophie."
Sophie falters a bit before covering up her lag.
'Friendly?'
"We're friends now?" she wonders aloud. "But we only just met."
"Oh? We can give you more time if you need it. But I'm all set."
Sophie laughs breathlessly. What a strange guy.
"You usually make friends this quickly, Howl?"
Howl thinks on it a bit.
"No. Not really. But you're different."
Sophie's lips seal themselves and she focuses on walking properly, her pulse quickening a bit.
Howl ignored the looks from passerby and walked her all the way down to the dining hall, setting her books down easily and pulling out a chair for her. Sophie couldn't help but feel affection, giving him a small “thanks” before easing into her seat.
“Join us?” she asked. Surely he hadn't walked all that way for nothing?
Howl looked at her regretfully, shaking his head.
“Sorry. I’ve got to find Calcifer.”
“Who...?”
"A good friend. I’ll tell you about him next time.”
'There will be a next time?'
Howl took off his coat, placing it on her chair before leaning in towards her.
"May I?" he asked, opening his arms to her.
"Ah," Sophie noticed. "A-alright."
Howl leaned in to give her a hug, pressing his lips gently against her temple before pulling away.
“I’ll see you later?” his deep voice inquired.
Sophie nods, not trusting her words and feeling her face become completely flush.
Howl smiles before pulling away. In a whisk of fabric, jewels, and cologne, he is down the hall, around the corner, and gone from sight.
Sophie is frozen in time, her thoughts racing before she finally turned to her friends.
They all stare at her in amazement. There are no delusions to be found.
“Sophie. Oh my god! Do you know who that was?”
Sophie thinks of the picture she’s made in her head so far.
No. She doesn’t know him.
But she wants to.
"That's Howl. He's a friend."
The following lunch period is spent with a certain kind of enlightenment that Sophie had not asked for nor really wanted.
“He’s a player. Honestly? You should stay away from him.”
“Yeah, total fuckboy.”
“Well I think he’s nice!”
“You would, Mirabelle. You always liked them pretty—”
“—Oh, shut up! I’m just saying he’s not that bad.”
Sophie frowned, looking at the table before facing her friends once more.
“How do you know...?” she asked.
They look at her curiously. “What do you mean?”
Sophie has no trouble repeating herself.
“How do you know that Howl is a bad person?” she insisted.
Her friends look at her as if she’s grown multiple, venomous heads.
“Sophie, do you live under a rock? Are you serious?”
Sophie shoots a dry look before sighing.
Another friend steps in, offering more information. “He’s not exactly a...bad guy...he just...there’s a lot of girls walking around with a chip on their shoulder because of him. He breaks hearts. Regularly.”
‘So it is a habit.'
Sophie sighs once more, quietly this time. Her friends don't seem to notice her disappointment and continue onward with the dastardly tales of Ingary's heartthrob.
“It’s almost like he makes a game out of it! Luring girls in only to crumple them up. He’s run through people in this school like tissue paper.”
“Correction: he’s run through people in all of Ingary like tissue paper.”
“He’s like a celebrity. Magnetic!”
"Pfft. That's being very generous—"
Sophie closes her eyes, tracing a finger on her lap.
So the eager looks, the questions, the closeness, the kiss...it was all routine. Not specialized or specified to fit a picture he had of her in his head.
But what if her friends were wrong? What if they didn't have the whole picture?
Or what if it was her who didn't possess the whole picture?
...Which option hurt less...?
'Stop it,' Sophie thinks.
No need to fret over someone she'd likely never see again. Howl had been lovely, yes, but perhaps he was another one to toss in her mental pile of photos to burn...? Well. Maybe that was too dramatic. No matter.
Sophie had a contest to win.
And she planned to.