Work Text:
Leaving the house without makeup is not an option for Cheryl. If she were someone else, someone like Betty who brags about how they don't need to wear makeup, maybe she would feel differently. But she is not someone else, she is Cheryl Blossom, and even if her life has fallen apart she will still keep the control she has over her classmates, her cheerleading squad, herself, and she will not think about how she will feel if she loses that too.
Unfortunately, makeup is something that has to come off, because Cheryl will never be the person who doesn't wash her face at night. One good thing about this part of her routine is that it marks the beginning of her alone time, when her parents don't bother coming into her room and she doesn't have to be anything for anyone. It gives her a small spark of happiness as she climbs the stairs and shuts herself in her room.
In the bathroom, she admires her work one last time, turning her face at different angles in front of the mirror. It reassures her that the makeup has served its purpose, that it has in fact made her look beautiful and polished and intimidating, and that she can get rid off it with satisfaction.
She starts with broad strokes, running the makeup wipe over her face to get rid of the foundation. She should really look into getting more environmentally friendly ones, throwing away so many of them can't be be good for the Earth. As she thinks, the foundation comes off, along with the pink glow from the blush.
The eyes are next, the black smears from the eyeliner and mascara contrasting against the shimmery eyeshadow. Cheryl works carefully here, scolding herself when she presses too hard on the eyelid's delicate skin. She's pleased when she's finished and her eyes don't look red, because she's had enough of seeing that when she looks in a mirror. Crying means weakness, and weakness is something she can no longer afford now -
She stops herself, because if she doesn't think about it she'll be fine, everything will be fine.
Her lipstick is the last thing to go, the bright red color already having begun to smear onto the makeup wipe. She does always feel a little regretful getting rid of it, because red is her color, it's what makes her special. It comes off easily, obscuring all the other smudges on the wipe.
She looks up to examine her face and make sure it's completely clean. She can't risk leaving anything behind to ruin her complexion. In the dim light of the bathroom, her reflection seems to have shifted, and if she unfocuses her eyes it's like she's looking at him again -
Don't think about it, she reminds herself as she rubs lotion onto her face so maybe it won't be as wrinkled as Nana's when she's old. She forces herself to look at the mirror again. Her reflection seems distressingly plain now, and there's nothing to hide the sadness that seeps out of her. It's fine though, no one can see her here. She's alone, and it's fine.
She moves toward her bed, flinching when the floor creaks underneath her. No one hears, so she continues, diving into her bed and pulling the blankets completely over herself. There. No one can see her, and she doesn't have to think about the outside world until tomorrow. By then, she'll be prepared to face it again and be Cheryl Blossom. She will keep going like this and everything will be fine.
It has to be.