New Year, New Y(o)u(i)

Exams are done. Grades are in. Students are either celebrating or writing out their wills. Recovering delinquent Yui Sagara is fixing her own reflection with a mean glare. If the crimson eyes burning a hole through her skull weren't hers, she would've started puffing out her chest and balling up her fists — part of her still wanted to, but it was stopped by the understanding that she didn't have cash to spare for fixing broken mirrors. Even if she did, trying to pummel her problems wouldn't help.

What problems? What had her so worked up? Was it her exam scores? No, she passed, and that was all that mattered.

Was it the fear that she would lose everything? Not this time. Even with the reason she had to worry, she was trying to place the faith she didn't have in herself with her friends.

Was it having to move? It bugged her more than it should and made her feel more trapped. It definitely wasn't helping anything, but it wasn't the root.

No, what bothers her so much is just her. She leans in as her fingers prod around her face. She pulled down her eyelid to check underneath, stuck out her tongue, examined her teeth, and made minuscule adjustments to her hair. The snow-white locks are now long enough to touch her shoulders; today, some of it has been tied back with a bow. Even with the effort she had been putting in it still retains a sense of messiness despite her attempts to clean and style it on her own. Her gaze shifts from the growing mane to the ears, now slightly obscured by it, rubbing one of the empty lobes between her fingers. There was a pair of earrings in the shape of cat paws sitting in her schoolbag, so far unworn. It sat there with the makeup palette Hailey had gifted her, barely used.

This is stupid. Who's even gonna notice?

A few people come to mind, but that does little to comfort her. It wasn't actually about whether anyone would notice; it was about why she cared whether or not they did. Nothing about being here preening made sense to her, and it made even less sense why she was struggling so much. Even if some prick was confident enough to comment on her poorly applied blush, pummeling them would fix that problem.

But it'd just show nothing changed.

Underneath it all, she was still Yui. Nothing she did would change that, and she didn't want to. But it meant there was nothing she could do to escape the idea of Yui — the assumptions and expectations. Not the ones others kept or her own. No one would think much of Hailey, Sally, or even Hoge deciding to braid their hair and try on some new eyeliner. They wouldn't think anything of doing it. But it would be weird for Yui. Those weren't Yui things. She didn't care about any of that stuff. They didn't fit her. She was messy and vulgar, and the only reason she knew how to do things like cook was because she probably would've starved by now if she hadn't learned.

A low grumble escapes, and she shakes her head. A hand goes to yank the ribbon from her hair but is stopped in its tracks by a sudden interjection.

"Sagara-san, you've been mumbling in the mirror for seven minutes now. Would you... prefer to talk?"

Yui's eyes drift to the side, inadvertently scowling at the slightly flickering sight of her classmate, Hoge Nyoro. Instinctually, she wanted to interrogate the class president on how long she was here and why she didn't say something earlier, but the answer was evidently too long, and there was a decent chance that she had tried to catch the delinquent's attention before now. It wasn't like she could pretend she expected privacy in a school bathroom in the first place.

"I- it's nothing, pres. Nothing worth talking about."

It obviously is something, even if it wasn't something Yui thought she could succinctly convey and was too mentally exhausted to try. Of course, Hoge wasn't about to let a chance to endear herself further to a peer slip through her fingers just because it involved navigating teenage angst.

"It is worthwhile to discuss any issue, especially one concerning a classmate."

"Whatever." Yui audibly groans and shakes her head. The only thing that keeps her from just walking out and leaving is the fact that she'd feel bad about blowing Hoge off. Still, she didn't even know how to explain her problem if she wanted to. "Ugh, do you think I'd look good in lipstick?"

It was about the best the delinquent could do to communicate what was up and how she expected the class president to react to the question would do a better job at explaining it than she ever could. So far, that response was more flickering. Hoge had put together that it must be something about Yui's appearance that was bothering her — she had watched her eyeing her reflection up for at least seven minutes, after all — but she hadn't expected such a direct question. It takes several agonizing seconds of silence between them before she formulates a response.

"That depends on the kind you use, Sagara-san. I believe that a matte pink or a cherry red would look nice on you, but cyan would compliment your eyes if you want to try something bold."

Yui's eyes narrow, and she steps closer to scrutinize Hoge. That was not what she was expecting. Not just apparent affirmation but recommendations when she should've been questioning why Yui was even asking.

"This some kind of joke?"

"No, I only—"

"Forget it. I shouldn't have asked."

She shoves past Hoge and storms out of the bathroom before Hoge can respond or try to stop her, though both looking and feeling more flustered than she was angry. Whatever was going on with her could wait until after she had her things packed. Or, if she was lucky, the class president would just forget the whole interaction, and she would forget the strange thoughts she was having.

Unfortunately, they were going to be roommates, so it would be difficult to just walk away the next time she had questions.