When school comes around again on Monday, the first thing Severa does is find Cynthia.

It's not like she needs to find her for anything urgent. Things between them are still... awkward. Kinda. But if Severa hates anything, it's letting things stew to the point where they become unbearable so, better to rip that band-aid right off instead of just peeling it back. Heck, with a personality like Cynthia's, the direct approach is usually the best. Anything else just flies straight over her head.

Luckily, they share the same first period, so finding the dork is easy enough. Severa glances into the classroom, spotting the familiar head of pigtails in an instant. Owner of said pigtails is sitting all by her lonesome in a desk near the windows, scrolling listlessly on her phone. Her expression's not gloomy at the very least, because Cynthia doesn't do gloomy.

But it's pretty dang close.

Severa takes a deep breath and fixes her face. She hefts the item in her hand, feeling the comfortable weight settle the butterflies suddenly jumping around in her stomach. Cool, just play it cool.

But not too cool.

Like she has a few cares left to give.

But not that many.

Without a chance to second guess herself, Severa strides into the classroom and makes straight for Cynthia's desk. The other girl is so out of it that she doesn't notice Severa until she drops the lunchbox on her desk.

Cynthia starts, glancing up. "Hey, what's your prob-oh. Uh..." Her expression changes from surprise to something unsure, a little wary. She quickly stows her phone away. "Uh... hey, Sev."

Severa clears her throat. Playing it cool. "Hey," she says. And because her mind is drawing a big fat blank on what to say right after that, she unceremoniously pushes the lunch box towards Cynthia. "Here."

The wariness shifts, still there, but now it's mixed with a curious restraint. "Uhh," Cynthia pokes the box with a hesitant finger. "What... is it?"

"Lunch," Severa replies shortly. Or if she's being entirely accurate, hamburger steak, chicken katsu, takoyaki, some leftover curry, chocolate flan for dessert and enough calories and sugar to raise the dead from their eternal slumber. And if all the food just so happens to be Cynthia's favorites, well, that's just what was in her fridge at the time, duh!

Cynthia reaches out and pries the lid off. Her expression goes a bit funny when she sees the contents. "But... I have lunch."

"I've seen you eat enough to sustain a third world country, you can fit a second lunch in that void you call a stomach," Severa snipes back before she can stop herself and then mentally bangs her head against the wall. Well... crap. Crap, crap, crappity crap, that's not how any of this is supposed to go.

But Cynthia is grinning knowingly back at her, a silly, happy grin that's way too big and makes her entire face stretch and light up and look so dumb, so Severa shoves the whole box into her face just so she doesn't have to see it anymore. "Oh, shut up."

"I didn't even say anything!"

"Yeah but your dumb face did," says Severa, turning away so that she can storm off and salvage whatever remains of her dignity, but before she can, Cynthia reaches out and grabs her sleeve.

"Thanks, Sev. Seriously," she says, and there's something dangerously close to relief in her voice that makes Severa pause. "Thanks. And sorry."

Well, when she says it like that, Severa just has to stay now. "You're so weird," she mutters, taking a seat. "It's just leftovers, you dork."

Leftovers that she slaved away over at the crack of dawn to make in time for school, but not like Cynthia needs to know that.

"What are you even doing at school so early?" she asks, taking her compact out of her bag and snapping it open. The less she sees of Cynthia's stupid happy smile, the less risk she faces of doing something she'll regret later, like accidentally smiling back at her, gods forbid. "You're never on time unless there's a test or something."

Cynthia groans, and it's such a familiar sound that all at once, it feels like nothing's changed. "Don't remind me. I forgot to do the Lit essay over the weekend, so I came in early to try and bum rush it. Heroes was doing a surprise Forging Bonds event, and I spent all my time..." her words come to an immediate, screeching halt. "Uhhhh," she stumbles, having accidentally stepped on a land mine.

Hello, foot. Meet mouth.

"Doing other... things," she finishes lamely, eyes darting nervously to Severa, then to the lunch box. "Things that weren't... games. 'Cuz games suck."

There's an errant strand of hair working its merry way out of her bangs, and Severa tucks it neatly back into place as Cynthia watches on tenterhooks. Gotta admit, still looking good, considering most of her morning was spent prepping that monster of a lunch.

"Oh, I know what you mean," she remarks casually, still messing with her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Cynthia's head shoot up in disbelief. "It's such a drag getting all the rewards when it takes forever to grind the points, even after they said the updates made it faster. Pfft, yeah right. But hey, free summon tickets are always good."

A loud thump is the only response she gets as Cynthia's jaw unhinges and hits the desk.

"I mean, I got a five-star Camilla on the last ticket, so maybe it's not all that bad." With a sharp snap! she closes the compact, barely keeping the smirk off her face as she turns to face the other girl. "Or were you talking about something else?"

Cynthia's mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. "I'm not- I don't- wait, you got a five-star on a free pull, seriously?! What's her IV's? Wait no," she shakes her head. "That's not what I wanted to ask."

But before she can go on, the door slides open. Their teacher, a sallow-faced Plegian man with unkempt hair and an eternal stick up his butt, trudges in. "Shut up, sit down, shut up," he barks, flipping over the class roster sheet and begins taking roll. "Reeds."

"Here."

Severa sits back in her seat, studiously ignoring the incredulous looks Cynthia keeps throwing her way with relish. Their teacher continues on, arbitrarily jumping around the roster until the last student is called. When he finishes a minute later, he flips the list over and shoots the class a distrusting squint. Or maybe that's just his face. He's got kind of that kind of face. The very punchable kind.

"We're getting a new student today," he grunts out without preamble, and a wave of surprised exclamations greets him. "Pipe down. You know the drill. Don't give 'em crap, don't make my job harder and everyone gets to pass the semester." Announcement finished, he strides towards the door and slides it open. "Get in here."

"Who transfers in their junior year?" Cynthia mutters, her earlier line of questioning forgotten in favor of the prospect of the new student.

"Who transfers in the middle of the semester?" Severa mutters back, right as Noire scurries into the classroom, dressed in her thick layers of scarves, coat, face mask and lensless glasses that makes Severa feel claustrophobic just staring at her. She's surprised the taller girl just doesn't melt into a puddle, because even with the AC on, it's still not that-

Hey, wait a second...

Severa does a double take in her seat. Noire?!

Said enemy-turned-rival-turned friend takes off her cap and gives a jerky half-bow to the class. "H-hello. I-I'm- M-my name is N-Noire," she says, stilted and next to impossible to hear. The only thing she's making eye contact with is the floor. "P-please, um, p-please treat me w-well."

There's an awkward pause as the class waits for her to continue. Noire continues looking at the floor, twisting her cap into a stress ball of cotton with her hands.

"Good talk," says their teacher after the pause becomes unbearable and wow, what a jerkwad. Severa bites her tongue and glares daggers at the back of his stupid, judgmental head as Noire turns an embarrassed red and curls even further into herself. "Now, you can sit... huh..." he eyeballs the class, scanning for a free seat.

Without even thinking about it, Severa turns in her seat and kicks the desk to her left.

Inigo jerks awake, blinking owlishly, wiping the thin line of drool off his face. "Yeah, hey, hi, wuzz happenin'?" His eyes land on Noire and he straightens, suddenly looking much more awake. "Well, helllllo. Who's the new face?"

"Don't even," Severa hisses at him. She takes out her notebook and scribbles down a number. "Here. This is Kjelle's number." She tears out the paper and stuffs into Inigo's hands the number to a local pizza joint run by an immigrant with the mother of all Russian accents. "Now beat it!"

"Sir, there's a free seat over here!" Inigo gets up, pocketing the slip as he moves to the opposite end of the classroom.

The teacher squints suspiciously in Inigo's direction and then shrugs, clearly not giving any damns this early in the morning. "Great. Sure. That's your seat now. Get going."

Noire turns to where he's pointing, catching Severa's eyes at the last moment. For a second, her brows scrunch in confusion, just before recognition lights up her eyes and she lets out an audible gasp.

"Severa!" All heads turn in her direction as Noire makes a straight beeline for her desk, stopping just in front of it. Her entire frame is vibrating slightly, and it's hard to tell if it's because of excitement or genuine joy. Maybe both. "I- This is-! Hi! I, umm," She takes a deep breath, and the vibrations stop. "Hi," she says again, a touch shyly this time.

The weight of twenty plus stares laser on Severa's back as everyone and their mothers focus on her corner of the classroom. A little disconcerting.

Play it cool, play it cool.

"Hey yourself," she says with a small smile, leaning back in her seat with a nonchalance that's at least 90 percent fake, but not like anyone can tell.

Okay, okay, that's pretty cool. What's our next move?

"Come here often?"

Okay, yeah, maybe not as cool, actually very much not cool, at all, why are you like this?!

Cynthia's stare is burning a hole into the back of her head, and she can already feel her cheeks lighting up like a spotlight because who says that even? Just, who? Come here often, really?!

But Noire just lets out a small giggle like it's the funniest joke she's ever heard. "Not as much as I'd like," she teases back and somehow, coming from her, it sounds infinitely more natural and not at all dumb. How even. "This is so lucky!" she says as she settles down in her seat. "I didn't think there'd be anybody I knew when I transferred but then... here you are!"

"It's gotta be the dumbest luck, that's for sure," Severa agrees, before rapidly firing off questions one after the other. "But forget about that, what are you doing here! Did you move recently? Is that why you're joining mid-semester? Where do you even live? We can probably catch the bus together if you live close enough, but I gotta check the schedules first."

Noire opens her mouth to answer, but before she can respond, there's a little cough from behind Severa and Cynthia sticks her head out from over her shoulder. "Hey there, hi!" she gives a short wave and then thrusts out her hand before Severa can stop her.

Almost instantly, Noire's posture goes from decidedly excited to decidedly nervous, but if Cynthia notices, she either ignores it or just doesn't care. "Sorry to interrupt! I just wanted to welcome you to the class before Sev steals you away. Cynthia, at your service!"

Recognition flashes in Noire's eyes and she glances to Severa as she reaches out to gingerly shake the proffered hand. "Your arch-frenemy of all things fun and nice?"

"More like nosy pain in my butt."

Cynthia gasps, mock-offended. "Wow, this is slander, and I will not stand idly by as- wait, how do you know that?" Her eyes narrow suspiciously. Noire shrinks back even further, and Severa decides now's the time to cut this little conversation short before Cynthia stumbles onto something potentially incriminating.

Like how she spent an entire Friday after school kidnapping a stranger, becoming friends with that stranger and then forcing said friend-stranger to play video games with her.

Wow, when she puts it like that, it really does sound bad.

"I told her," she says, cutting in between the handshake with a chop. "Noire's a friend." She gives Cynthia a look, one that hopefully the other girl understands as back off.

Too bad the art of subtlety is lost on Cynthia. "Oh, wow, you made a friend? Good for you, Sev! I was starting to get worried! Anyway, Noire, is it?" she asks, pointedlyignoring how the look in Severa's eyes changes from back off to you are so dead later. "You already know Sev, somehow, so do you maybe wanna grab lunch with us later? We can give you the laydown of the school and all that fun stuff!"

Severa scoffs. "Excuse you, but I can do all that perfectly fine. Without you."

"Aw c' mon Sev, don't be a spoilsport! The more, the merrier!"

"Yeah well, you can take your merrier and shove it up your-"

"I-I don't mind!" Noire quickly interjects before things can escalate. "B-but I have to buy s-something from the cafeteria. I didn't pack anything."

"That's cool! We'll be waiting here, same seats!" Cynthia exclaims cheerfully before Severa can even get an offended word in edgewise. When Noire turns away, Cynthia leans over to whisper in Severa's ear. "I want all the deets while she's gone, no outs or take-backsies."

Just great. Severa tries not to groan as Cynthia smugly settles back into her seat. Hopefully, she'll choke on a takoyaki ball and knock herself out before they get to anything too incriminating.

Hopefully.

Turns out, takoyaki is pretty hard to choke on, just her luck.

"So lemme get this straight," says Cynthia, but it comes out more like "Th'o 'emme gess thrai't," since her mouth is full of food. It's a small miracle that she can even make semi-coherent noises at the moment. She swallows thickly and stuffs another mouthful of food down her gullet. "She's XxSplit_Witch420xX? The same XxSplit_Witch420xX who, for the past few weeks, kicked your butt in a video game and turned you insane?"

"I did not turn insane, stop putting words in my mouth," Severa mouths sourly around the straw of her juice box. Watching Cynthia eat pretty much killed any sort of appetite she had. It's like watching garbage disposal at work. Betrayed by her own cooking, what is this injustice.

Cynthia gives her a hard look, one that just screams yuh-huh. "Uhhhh, hello? Who's the person who maxed out a credit card not on clothes or shoes or cosmetics, but on gacha. Gacha, of all things." She pops another takoyaki ball smartly into her mouth. "By the scientific definition of a Severa, that makes you either a doppelganger wearing her skin or insane."

"So I maxed out one credit card, so what? It was already like, near the limit anyway. It's not like I spent $240 on orbs just to gift them to someone else!"

Cynthia pauses long enough in her shoveling to out an impressed whistle. "Wow, Noire did that?"

"She told me that she doesn't spend her allowance on stuff other than games, so it's not that big of a- Okay, I see what you're trying to do here, and you know what?" Severa snaps back, standing up and chucking the juice box into the trash as Cynthia smiles all too innocently back at her. "We're done here. Goodbye forever. Hope you get fat."

Next time, she's going to put rocks or something into the takoyaki. Maybe that'll get Cynthia to stop being so nosy.

But before Severa can put a good twenty paces between her and Cynthia's insufferable smile though, the door slides open and Noire rushes in at an anxious walk-sprint-shuffle, throwing nervous glances over her shoulder. When she spots Severa, pure relief crosses her face, and she makes a straight beeline before ducking behind her.

"H-help," is all she says in a distraught tone suitable for a POW in a concentration camp. One hand clutches desperately at the fabric of Severa's uniform, turning part of the sleeve into the world's worst stress ball. "They're- they're coming."

"They?" Severa asks, even as she angles her body so that she puts herself squarely between whatever's coming from the door and Noire. The door slides open again, this time with a resounding bang. The taller girl lets out a yelp and ducks down even further as two figures suddenly descend on their desks, like buzzards drawn to a decaying carcass.

"- and the club is recruiting right now-!" says the shorter one.

"-and the fates have chosen you-!" goes the other one.

"-if you're interested, why not think about-"

"- methinks this meeting to be a fortunate alignment of the sky and cosmos as one-!"

"- we just need a warm body, any body!"

It's all just a yellow and blue blur of noise and colors and enough sensory overload to make someone puke, oh gods. Severa draws herself up to her full height (which, she notices, still comes a little short of Noire, who's practically doubled over to hide behind her, and c' mon, that's just unfair) and opens her mouth wide. "QUIET!"

The blurs of noise instantly still, allowing the ringing in Severa's ears to die down and her to focus. "Marc. Owain," she says in a deceptively calm that has the respective blurs turning different shades of white. "You have five seconds to explain why you two are already harassing the new girl, and more importantly, my friend, before I turn both of you into paste. And so help me, if your first words start with warm body then..."

"It's not like that!" Marc hurriedly chimes in, the self-elected spokesperson as Owain bobs his head in agreement. Thank Naga for small favors, at least. If it were Owain explaining, they'd all be here until they died of old age as they waited for him to start making sense. "We saw her staring at DnD club poster and thought maybe she wanted to join. We weren't trying to harass her or anything, promise! Also, hey, sis!" He gives a cheery wave to Cynthia, who returns it with a thumbs up since her mouth is still full. "And hi potential new member!"

He twists his torso to an impossibly ninety-degree angle to wave at Noire, who flinches and ducks further. "I'm the head of the DnD club here at school, and despite whatever you may have heard, DnD does not support Grimanic rituals of any kind at the current writing of the Player's Handbook. But you're welcome to see for yourself if you're interested!"

"For we can sense in you, a kindred spirit, a fellow practitioner of magicks most foul and fulminating!" Owain chips in. He puts a hand over his face and cocks his hips in a way that Severa never, ever needed to see, good gods. "The darkness within stretches like an abyss and the abyss welcomes all who gaze into it!"

Cynthia pokes him in his puffed-out stomach, and he lets out a somewhat girly giggle before clamping his mouth shut and deflating. "And we kinda need one more person to join, or the teachers said we're going to have to disband the club."

The only impression Severa has of DnD is a bunch of sweaty nerds locked up in their parent's basement playing make-believe like a bunch of children, and what the church has to say about it coughSINcough. Blasphemy aside, the parent's basement part already sounds like the definition of cringe to her. "Wow. Tragedy. You know, there are easier ways to commit social suicide than joining your nerd cult." Severa pauses. "Wait, no, I take that back. Joining you losers is definitely the easiest way out, my bad."

Owain bristles a bit, but Marc just waves her words away, like water off a duck's back. "I keep tellin' ya, just one session to see what it's like and you'll be changing your mind. And we don't play just DnD!" He says half-addressing Noire now. "We're technically branded as the game club, so we got board games, tabletop RPGs, you name it! Heck, we're even doing some mobile games if they have a multiplayer feature, like Dragalia Lost and Fire Emblem Heroes!"

Noire suddenly perks up. "D-did you say... Heroes?"

Like a shark sensing blood, Marc moves in. "Heck yeah! Do you play?" he asks, just as Severa blocks him off before he can stick his nose in any further.

"Haha, nice try, ya lil' Grima-spawn." Gods, it's like staving off a pack of starving, slobbering hyenas. Severa crosses her arms and glares. "Still not interested. And even if she were, she can just play with me instead!"

Owain, who has his mouth open to retort, blinks and closes it. "Uhhh, since when do you play Fire Emblem?"

"Since when do you play games?" tacks on Marc, looking bewildered.

"Since none of your beeswax, that's when." No way in hell she's doing a second retelling of just how she got into the game, and especially not to the dork squad of all people. "Point is she doesn't need to play with you losers if she wants to have fun, right?" she finishes, looking at Noire.

The girl in question jumps a bit at being addressed directly. Her eyes dart nervously for a second before she says haltingly, "...I-I, uh, that's...right?"

"Okay well," Marc takes a step closer, undeterred in his quest of disrespecting personal space. He peers over Severa's shoulder to try and catch Noire's eyes, even as she turns to block him with a glare. "If you want to just play with Severa, that's cool and all. But once in a while, wouldn't you like to, ya know... play against people who actually know how to play?"

…

What.

WHAT.

Something between a gleeful snort and a horrified gasp escapes Cynthia's mouth as she sprays bits of food everywhere, before promptly choking on a piece of katsu, of all things. Owain reaches over to pound her back, but Severa doesn't notice. She just ever so slowly turns to Marc because he can't have said those words, could he? Not to her face. Not without a death wish.

"Come. Again?"

"I mean, I don't wanna brag but, heh," Marc continues on glibly, either unaware or pointedly ignoring how the atmosphere in the room drops to below freezing. "Tier 21 Great Summoner right here, if you know what I mean. Severa's gotta be like what, Tier 17, Tier 18? At the very most." He buffs his nails exaggeratedly on his shirt. Who even does that any more? Little pricks that's who.

Noire gulps audibly, eyes darting between Severa's stormy expression and Marc's genial smile. "She, um... sixteen point...five?" she squeaks out.

Marc makes a low, pitying sound. "Oooooooh, my condolences."

"Okay, that's it!" Severa smacks her hand on the desk, taking a menacing step forward as Marc takes a step back. Sure, the way his expression changes from smarmy to downright terrified is a bit satisfying, but you know what would be even better? Pounding his smug little grin into the cold hard ground of defeat.

She jabs a finger in his face. "You think you're better than me just 'cuz you play a little more? Well, news flash, loser, it doesn't! All that does is make you sound pathetic because you bet your stupid butt that I can take on any of you losers and win!" A sudden flash of inspiration hits her, and she swipes her phone off the desk and opens up the app. "Fight me. Me and Noire versus you two losers."

Marc blinks, the smarmy look finally being replaced with an incredulous stare. "Wait, what?"

"W-w-wait, what?" squeaks out Noire.

"You heard me buster," says Severa, briefly waving off Noire's frantic headshaking. She can deal with the fallout after they've won and she's pounded their faces into the ground. "Arena match, no pair-ups, no items. And if we win, you losers have to stop harassing my friend to join your lame club, got it?"

Marc frowns, the pensive expression looking out of place with his typical happy-go-lucky attitude. He turns to Owain, and they converse briefly in hushed whispers with for a second before he nods and sticks out his hand.

"And if we win, your friend has to join in on one session to see if she likes it! Deal?"

Noire makes a strange keening noise. "I-I don't think..." she stutters. "I mean, w-we don't have to do a-anything so drastic or..."

"Deal." Severa grabs his hand and shakes, even as Noire makes the strange keening noise again but more strangled this time. Eh, probably just nerves. Not like they're going to lose, what with how good Noire is and how much better Severa plays compared to when she first started. Plus, even if they do lose (which they won't) there's no chance that Noire will actually want to play DnD. No way. Games are one thing. DnD is just... eughh.

"May the best players win!" Marc says, sharing an obnoxious grin with Owain as they plan the victory parade in their minds. They have no idea the rude awakening they're in for, and Severa is soooooo looking forward to that reaction.

"Likewise," she says, grabbing his hand and shaking vigorously, and if he winces a bit at her grip, well boo-hoo.

No way are they going to lose.

They're losing.

Losing.

How.

HOW?!

"Noire, wait, that's the real trap! Don't step on-!" Severa's warning cuts off into a frustrated groan as she watches Noire's unit step on the foreboding yellow tile. A brief flash and her paladin's HP burns down to a nice, fat zero. "Noire, what are you even doing?!"

"S-sorry! I..." Out of the corner of Severa's eye, the other girl shifts uncomfortably in her seat as she tries to stammer out an apology. "S-s-sorry. I'm t-trying..."

"Less trying, more doing!" Severa cuts her off with a growl, smacking her hand on the desk for emphasis, and the other girl jumps. Gawds, this is looking bad. This is looking so, so, so, sooooo bad, which is saying something. At least they managed to win their first game, through a combination of dumb luck and Marc's overconfidence, but that had been ages ago. Now, Marc and Owain are actually taking her seriously, which should be gratifying but... it's just...

Noire's playing like garbage.

The first mistake Severa chalked up to nerves. That had been ages ago. Now, all Noire has are excuses, because she can't chalk up accidental inputs, obvious trap tiles and sending her healer on the first turn into the lava pit as just nerves because who does that? Just who?

People who are losing, that's who. Which is them, right now, good gawwwwwwdss.

With a frustrated grunt, Severa moves her knight into the chokepoint, hoping to rally some sort of final resistance. Psh, resistance, yeah right. Might as well give a band-aid to an amputee and tell 'em to walk it off. "Noire, you're up. Don't screw this up for us!"

Twenty seconds and no movement on her screen later, she frowns, tapping her phone impatiently. "Um, hello, sometime this year, please?"

"Uhh, Sev..." Cynthia gestures vaguely to her side. There's an oddly trepidatious note in her voice, like she's watching a ticking time bomb about to go off. "You might wanna, errr, cool it a bit, yeah?"

"Talk down to me one more time, and I will never cook for you again, I swear," Severa growls, finally looking up from her screen to glare daggers at Cynthia. Who's... not looking at her but staring off a little to the side. Actually, Owain and Marc are staring to her side as well, looking strangely panicked. "What are all you bozos staring at?" she asks, glancing over to the side and-

Oh.

Someone is sitting in Noire's chair, but it's not her. The person sitting there is a marble statue, completely frozen in place and whiter than a sheet. One hand is outstretched, halfway to the screen, a faint tremble in them that would've been obvious to Severa if she had looked up anytime before.

"I-I... I-I'm..." Her eyes are wide, but whatever she's seeing isn't in front of her. "I-I-mmm... c-c-can't... s-s-sor-..."

It takes a second for Severa to recognize the emotion in Noire's voice.

She sounds terrified.

"Time out." Without even a second thought, Severa grabs Noire's hand and wrenches her out of the seat, towards the exit, completely ignoring the concerned noises from the others. Noire limps along without a sound of protest, save for the strangled whimper that makes it feel like someone's stabbing her heart. Her hands are like ice.

Severa pulls her along, down the hallway, mind running on autopilot. Faces and noises pass her in a blur. There's something burning and hot and guilty welling up in her chest, choking down the weak apology on the tip of her tongue.

Funny how just a minute ago, all she cared about was winning no matter what. Now, all she wants is for the ground to come up and swallow her whole or for the school to suddenly implode on itself or maybe-

Hey, newsflash, jerkwad. It's not about what you want! It's about what you need to do and right now, what you need to do is shut up and fix this mess, fix it NOW.

Thankfully, the woman's bathroom is relatively empty, except for a few freshmen chatting by the sink, but one look from Severa has them dashing for the exit faster than they can blink.

Without a second thought, Severa shoves open a stall with her shoulder, mumbling a half-hearted apology when Noire flinches at the sound of the door hitting its hinges. Carefully, she helps the taller girl sit down on the seat before moving back a respectable distance.

Noire doesn't even seem to notice- she just hunches over and wraps her arms around herself like some sort of security blanket and something about the sight forces Severa's mouth open before she can even think of what to say.

"Noire why didn't you say something?" The burning in her chest makes the words come out shrill and harsh, even to her own ears. She runs a hand through her hair, pulling hard when it tangles. "I didn't... if you had just said something I would've...!"

Noire lets out a ragged gasp, and it's like a cold slap across Severa's face.

Wow, nice going, idiot! The voice in Severa's head is full of scathing venom. Ya done trying to make this about yourself? Because you sure aren't making it better!

Severa takes a breath, closes her eyes, squeezes them shut. She kneads her brow, hard enough that her fingers start to ache and protest at the abuse.

I'm trying.

Try harder.

Severa opens her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles and gawds, when's the last time her voice ever sounded so small and pathetic? Not good enough. She swallows and tries again. "I'm sorry," she repeats, meaning it with every fiber of her being. "Do... do you want to be alone, right now?"

There's a tense pause. And then Noire surprises her by wordlessly shaking her head, trembling hard enough to make the glasses dangle precariously off her nose.

"Okay." Severa takes a hesitant step forward, and she takes it as a good sign that the taller girl doesn't flinch away from her presence. Baby steps. "Then is there anything I can do to help right now?"

Noire starts rocking back and forth on the seat, nails sinking into the pale skin on her forearms and it takes all Severa's restraint to not reach out and stop her. "C- could you, mmm," she bites her lip, trying to force the words out but failing. "C-c-could y-you..." Her frustration is almost palpable. "S-s-sor-..."

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay. Take your time." Severa crouches down, kneeling on the floor as she tries to catch the taller girl's eyes. "Breathe, Noire. Please."

Noire squeezes her eyes shut, takes a deep, shuddering breath. Then another. "C-could you just... t-talk?"

"Talk? About what?"

But Noire has her eyes closed again, and Severa's mind is drawing a blank. The earlier voice in her head is gone, replaced with a yawning silence. Nothing is coming to her right now. It's infuriating.

Noire whimpers.

"My favorite color is red," Severa blurts out. Okay. Okay. That's something. Now to keep going. "B-but I tell everyone it's lilac because... because of something stupid I did when I was a kid."

Noire's only response is another shuddering breath. But it's something, at least. Severa continues, entirely unsure where she's even going with this.

"I... I wanted to get my hair dyed red because I'd been watching some matches of the old Whitewings before my mom joined, and their captain was like, the coolest ever? But Mom and Dad said I was too young to dye my hair, so I threw a massive fit and did the next best thing. Took a red paint can from the garage and dumped the whole thing over my head."

Something between a snort and a hiccup escapes Noire's throat. That's got to be a good sign, right?

"Dad had to give me a buzz cut afterward because it wouldn't wash out. He was sooooo mad, not just' cuz of the hair, but because it left a permanent stain in the garage too. At least Mom thought it was funny. Red's her favorite color too."

Noire's mouth moves silently for a second. "M-mine's g-green."

It's so quiet of a statement, but the fact that she's responding is enough to make Severa's heart leap in her chest. "Green's a good color too," she murmurs back encouragingly. "Goes great with red."

...Which is only valid around Christmas time but that's beside the point.

"I'm pretty good at cooking," she admits after a short pause as she tries to think of another topic to talk about, "but I don't have a favorite food, I think. Well, that's not true," she recants. "I like sweets, like a lot. Except for cake. Can't stand it after I turned eight, ugh."

Noire takes another breath. They're coming out slower now, less shallow and more firm. "Wh-what, umm, w-what happened when y-you were eight?"

Severa stiffens. Ooooooooh, boy. Hadn't meant to let that tidbit slip but too late now. Then again, she kinda set herself up for that one too. She bites her lip, debating whether she should- should...

Aw, screw it.

"You remember how I told you my mom was captain for the Whitewings before she retired, right?" At Noire's hesitant nod, Severa continues. She knows she's speaking fast, but if she takes a moment to slow down, then she'll chicken out and then the words will never come out.

"Well, right after I was born, Mom announced that she was quitting the team and it was kind of a big deal in the sports world because they were right on the verge of heading to the championships. But I didn't know, and Mom didn't say anything because she didn't want to make a big deal out of it, ya know? I just thought it was neat that every birthday we got to go to some sports charity event and people would give me presents." She snorts. "Looking back on it, I shoulda known that the owner of the Whitewings wouldn't throw a birthday party just for some snot-nosed brat. The guys loaded, but not that loaded."

As far as deflections go, it's definitely one of her weaker ones. Even Noire seems to notice because a stilted second later, she asks, "S-so, how did you find out?"

Severa shrugs. "On my eighth birthday, some jerk reporter came up to me with a plate of cake in her hand, and you know when you're that young, and someone offers you a slice of cake, you take the cake, no questions asked, right? So here I am, stuffing my face with cake, thinking I have a new best friend, and she goes and gives me this big phony smile. And she asks me straight up, right then and there, how it felt, knowing that my mom could've nabbed the gold if it weren't for me ruining everything?

She doesn't know why she's even telling Noire all this. No one, not even Cynthia, knows the full story, just bits and pieces. Even now, after all this time, the memories bring a bitter taste to her mouth, making the words fall gracelessly from her lips like stones. She focuses on digging her nails into the folds of her palms, letting the little stings of pain ground her. In and out, in and out.

Just a scratch.

"Guess she was salty that I ruined her fantasy pegasus-ball league maybe," Severa says, staring down at her hands. "It's... whatever. I don't remember a whole lot of what happened after I shoved the cake up her nose. Except for some crying. And Mom yelling. And... yeah." She lets out an explosive breath. "Long story short, birthday's suck and we don't go to team fundraisers anymore."

In and out.

In and-

Severa blinks, caught suddenly off guard as a pair of arms wrap around her shoulders and pulls her in and squeezes tight, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Just enough to feel warm. Another second to realize that's -oh.

Just as quickly as it happens, Noire pulls away, looking her straight in the eyes. "S-Severa, t-that's- that's horrible! I-I mean, what an awful thing to say to a child!" Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to express her feelings. "I-I'm so sorry you had to go through something like that on your birthday of all days. That's... it's just... it's not fair!"

The taller girl isn't shouting, per se, but Severa figures it's the closest she'll come to hear Noire raising her voice. That and the sudden hug alone is enough to derail any train of thought. "Y-yeah, well," she shrugs again. "It's not that big of a deal anymore. I got over it so..."

But Noire just vehemently shakes her head. "Y-you shouldn't have to get over it in the first place," she insists with a surprising amount of fervor. "It's not your fault and anybody who says otherwise I'll... well..." she trails off, thinking hard and then suddenly brightens. "I-I'll tell them otherwise!"

The image alone of the taller girl politely, but firmly, talking back to the same jerk reporter and not backing down, all for Severa's sake, is enough to make her laugh with just how absurd it looks. But she can't. Not with the sudden warmth flooding her chest and spreading throughout her body.

Not your fault.

"Thanks, Noire," she squeezes her hand, hoping to just get the message across and judging by the small smile she gets in return, message received, loud and clear. "Really. Thanks. I know you're right, but... it's just nice to hear someone else say it too, you know?" Severa gives her a small, reassuring smile, before gently nudging the taller girl with her shoulder. "Seriously, though, thanks for the pep talk and all. But hey, last I checked, I was supposed to cheer you up, not the other way around."

At that, something in Noire's face shifts back, and she ducks her head. "O-oh, umm, right. T-that's okay." She raises her head and gives Severa a smile that's frozen and stilted. "I'm feeling much better now. See?"

Severa meets her gaze evenly. "Are you?" she asks. "Because it's okay if you're not."

There's a silent pause. Slowly, the rest of the smile slips off her face.

"No," she admits quietly. "I'm not. But I think... I think I'm getting there."

"Then that's okay."

Because honestly, it really is.

Silence stretches between them, not exactly awkward, but not comfortable either. Outside, Severa can hear the sounds of the school as everyone goes about their everyday life, letting the two have their own little bubble of the world.

"I'm sorry," Severa says again after the last of the laughter outside bubbles away. "For pushing you over the edge like that." At Noire's protest, Severa holds up her hand. "You don't have to tell me why it happened or anything. I just wanted you to know that I'll never make it happen again. I swear. Just let me know if something makes you uncomfortable, and I'll stop."

She means it, and maybe Noire can hear the promise in her voice because her face cycles through a slew of emotions before settling on something hesitant and unsure. "You... you won't get mad at me?" she asks in a small voice.

"I promise," Severa says, meaning every word. Taking a chance, she reaches out a grasps Noire's hands in her own, cheering inwardly when the taller girl lightly squeezes back. "Sure, I'll probably complain and moan for a bit, but complaining is what I do best. Ask Cynthia, she'll agree with me, but only if I'm not in the room," she says and smiles when Noire lets out a small chuckle. "Besides, I'll get over myself. It's gotta happen sooner or later, anyway. Better sooner."

Noire giggles again, before ducking her head down again. When she looks up, there's a curve to her smile that's both grateful and relieved.

"Thank you, Severa." She squeezes her hands again, and some of the warmth returns. "I'll... I'll remember that. Thank you."

"That's all I ask." Whatever is between them, it's still a little shaky, a little hurt. But at least, it's getting better.

And Severa's not going to stop trying until it really is.

With that, Severa gets up, wincing as the feeling returns to her legs with the vengeance of a thousand pins and needles. "So, what now?" she asks. Honestly, she's expecting something along the lines of skipping the rest of the day or hiding out in the nurse's office until school's over. Something along those lines.

"I wanna win."

Severa stumbles. Oooookay, well that's... the exact opposite of what she was expecting. "Uh, what? I-I mean, you do?"

Noire looks away to the side and Severa realizes that she's not talking about the game, not entirely. "I want... I want to win. I don't want to keep running away from... from this every time things get hard." She bites her lip before rushing out, "I'm better than that. I... I know I am."

Maybe Severa's rubbing off on Noire more than she thought. Maybe. Or maybe, Noire's much stronger than anyone gives her credit for. Either way, all Severa can do is let out a huff of a laugh and shake her head because welp, looks like they have to find a way to win now. That'll be a challenge.

Good thing she's too stubborn to back down from a challenge, ever.

"Alright then," she says, helping Noire to her feet as the seeds of a plan begin to sprout in her mind. It's a stupid, crazy plan, but hey, maybe stupid crazy is just what they need, who knows.

"Let's win this."

A/N: Just imagine that they live in Japanamerica, where the doors are sliding and the spoken language is English