Chapter Text
Ena is a very reasonable person.
She was so, totally reasonable, which was why she’d ripped up the last seventeen assignments, and why her starving portfolio had been branded a capital C ‘cause for concern’ by the university arts department. Her intact rationale was also the reason why she’d been completely stuck on finding an interesting enough subject for the latest fabric study assignment- the one she needed to finish lest her prospects of graduating be put in any more jeopardy.
It was her fashion sense, of course. Vogue’s latest fashion week was just one stagnant atrocity after another, and Ena couldn’t take the eye-pickling torture that was google image search for more than an hour a day- how could she be expected to do a whole damn study?
She envied the rest of her class, most of whom had just paired up with someone from the textiles department and drawn their coursework pieces. Ena didn’t know anyone in textiles, and the teacher had suggested they draw something unique, so Vogue it was.
Worse still was her brother, Akito. Akito, who had chosen to go to the same university as her for no other reason than “it was the only one with my course- you know that. I’ve been talking about this for years.”
Hah. As if.
If it was right - which he wasn’t - his course, digital music production and street dance combined, was something that could be easily learnt at home with no debts and no regrets. He was completely capable of that; she’d seen it herself.
Of course admitting that would give him the upper hand and Ena, in all her good conscience, couldn’t do that. Instead, she told him to try Ireland. They probably had it there and he’d fit right in.
In the end, they’d agreed to live as far apart from each other as possible, rent prices willing. It wasn’t as though she was happy to still be near him, to run into his ugly mug once a fortnight on an unfortunate morning run (Airi’s idea) - nor did she enjoy living in such proximity that he’d sometimes offer to hang out, for old times sake -no, absolutely not. She hated his guts and nothing would change that. They’d always been this way, siblings locked in tooth-and-nail battle most fiercely fought through the unreported disappearance of the last slice of cheesecake just after midnight. It was always Ena who came out on top, marked by her winner’s eyebags and generous acne.
But Ena wasn’t heartless and she made up for it in pancakes. Akito, naive as always, thought he won with the pancakes but he was wrong. Dead wrong. Cheesecake, in Ena’s subjectively objective opinion, was superior. It didn’t matter that Akito preferred pancakes, nor did it matter that she’d always eat the burnt ones first. Ena just liked the crisp, blunt flavour of charcoal on a sunny morning. Was that so wrong? Charcoal was the flavour of winners, and Ena, with all her cunning reason, was always the winner.
It was just a fact; Ena Shinonome losing was a reality simply incompatible with life.
So why was it that, right now, she wanted to cringe up and die?
“Come to the party,” Airi had said, “be my emotional support, it’ll be fun,” she said.
It wasn’t fun.
Knowing the deep and traumatic history of Airi and Shizuku’s past party escapades, the tales of unintentional power cuts and, somehow, nintendo switch malware, Ena had come fully decked out and prepared for anything- pocket fire extinguisher included.
Apparently too prepared.
“Airi. I thought you said the dress code was ‘galaxy.’”
Ena frowned, a feeling of cold dread washing over her as Airi stepped out of the Ford, watching as her friend’s eyes scanned her outfit, hastily processing.
“It is! But, ah, I forgot to tell you.” Airi shuffled awkwardly in her casual attire, smiling sheepishly. “That was just a makeup thing.”
“Makeup?” Ena couldn’t help but echo incredulously, rapidly comparing the extravagance of her form-fitting, tastefully bejewelled and mildly expensive dress against Airi’s Friday crop-top and jeans. Mismatching socks. Curry lunch stain.
“Yeah.” Airi pointed at her pink glitter eyeshadow. “Shizuku said Saki wanted to keep things relaxed so they didn’t want to go all out with a big theme. We’re all just uni students after all. But,” she seemed to notice Ena’s cringing expression, “don’t worry! There’ll be lots of people there and I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”
Respectfully, Airi was a terrible liar.
“Airi…” Ena breathed. “Is it too late to go home?”
~ - ~ - ~
This was a disaster.
It was one thing to get a dress code wrong for a party, but a birthday party? And you weren’t the host?
Humiliating.
A hot flush of shame and self-awareness had led Ena to lurk in the darkest corners, behind the couch, right next to the bluetooth speaker. The music was loud and a bit obnoxious, but she would tolerate it. The last thing she wanted was to show Saki up.
The birthday girl in question, thankfully, seemed to be fine. Aside from an introductory apology, Ena didn’t know her, nor had been aware of her existence until a week ago, when Airi had sent that first, now undeniably cursed proposition, but she looked happy.
She wore light-blue dungarees and had a unique meteor-esque design painted on her face in bright yellow, matching a few others in the room. Ena guessed they were friends. She was laughing with them now, cheeks rosy and seemingly completely alright.
That didn’t ease Ena’s guilt though. She was probably hiding her discomfort just to be polite, that’s what Ena would have done.
Airi had stuck by her initially, but something-something “Shizuku’s trying to nuke the fridge,” and just like that,
Ena alone once again.
She considered leaving then and there, but the next bus wasn’t due for another two hours and Airi was supposed to be her ride home. It was late already; the forty-five minute walk in the dark wasn’t an option.
Being alone was okay though. She could cower in the darkness, unnoticed, haunt the party rings bowl, and, most importantly, not catch too much attention. She had a detachable ribbon on her outfit, so she played with that absently.
It was just what she was used to. Despite being a digital micro-celebrity, Ena hadn’t been invited to any parties more intimate than a department-wide open invite, so Airi’s spontaneous one-plus-one-plus-one invite had been a bit of a big deal to her and she’d gotten too excited. And what had she done? Messed it up, of course.
That wasn’t very winner-like.
A selfish part of her wanted to go and talk to someone - maybe that person in the corner? She looked friendly, maybe a little scared, but she had two cute ponytails and a backwards cap with pink face paint, but…
She was too close to the action, clapping along to another girl’s radiantly passionate karaoke-turned-slam-poetry recital.
Ena refused to expose herself.
What she had done… Breaking the dress code. It felt like turning up to someone’s wedding in white. Maybe it wasn’t actually that severe, but thoughts do tend to get a little runny when you’ve been marinating in a corner, alone, clutching a half-empty party cup of blackcurrant and apple squash for the last hour and everyone else is having fun.
People are still showing up.
Some guy with purple and garishly blue-highlighted hair has just entered; he has some elaborate moon and star design stencilled on one eye and was, like everyone else, casually dressed. But behind him…
Ena almost dropped her cup.
Someone else, bouncy, nourished pink hair hanging daintily over a black gown cropped masterfully at the front with a white, starlike lace trim rolling small and intricate constellations across their body matched with gorgeous and impressing white heels and stockings, walked in nervously, and Ena couldn’t help but sigh in relief.
An ally.
There was an awkward moment of her watching them, watching them whisper something apologetically to Saki, who nods happily, and then watching them get approached by Airi, who..
Oh.
They’re looking at her.
Ena suddenly feels quite sheepish, looming wordlessly in a dark corner to hide the way her sequined skirt sparkles. She offered a shy wave, and the stranger reciprocated, a relieved smile on their face. They were quite pretty.
And now they’re making their way over.
Ena budged up, making way in her dank corner of shame for her fellow showboat. They nod gratefully, having acquired some squash for themself, and slink in with ease.
“You too, then.” She whispered, taking a moment despite herself to admire their outfit. It really was elaborate. It looked incredible.
The stranger hummed, they had a nice voice, and then abruptly cut themselves off. “Oh, no. I did this on purpose.”
“What?” Ena’s appreciation ground to a halt.
“Yup! This was very deliberate,” the stranger smoothed down their dress with one hand, not that there were any creases anyway.
“Somehow I doubt that.” Ena frowned, folding her arms. “You didn’t look so confident walking in.”
That made them laugh. “Had your eye on me the moment I walked in, hm?”
“Excuse me?” Ena cringed as her voice jumped an octave. It wasn’t fair. They had a nice laugh too, but it seemed, an insufferable personality to match. She decided to tell them. “You’re insufferable.”
“No, I’m Mizuki.”
Jaw dropping, Ena stared at them in wordless disapproval.
“Akiyama Mizuki,” Mizuki clarified with a smirk, as if that was what she needed to know.
One of her eyebrows was twitching as Ena responded, slowly drawling out the words while she processed the situation. “Shinonome Ena. I’d say it’s a pleasure but I’m honestly not so sure anymore.”
“Shinonome?”
“Yes, is that so odd?” Ena pursed her lips. She knew the weight of her name in the art world, but it was rare for someone her age to pick it up. Unless Mizuki was into the arts, which would mean they’d probably heard of her father. Looked up to him, maybe.
Something about that made her heart twitch.
Why was that? It had happened before. Lots of people respected her father’s work and, as much as she hated the thought of it, she did too. It wasn’t uncommon for peers to come up to her to talk after hearing that she was his daughter. They always wanted to see her work.
Of course, she disappointed them every time.
She should’ve made something up.
“No, no,” Mizuki chuckled again, taking a sip from their drink. “It’s just that it’s not such a common last name, isn’t it? I met another Shinonome recently, funny coincidence.”
It was with that same laugh that Ena’s sudden panic completely dissipated, carried away by the airy beats. Of course. Mizuki didn’t know her father, but there was someone else they may have met.
“That might’ve been my brother. He goes here too, unfortunately.”
Mizuki shook their head. “No, can’t be. The guy I met was ginger.”
Aha. Savouring her golden trump card, Ena held back a smirk. “Akito?”
Immediately Mizuki’s face fell into disbelief. “Wait really?”
“Really.”
“Impossible.”
All of a sudden, Mizuki was scanning her face. They glanced at their cup, then back at her, then back at the cup over and over. Rapidly. Just as Ena was about to ask them if they were okay, they leaned forward, warm breath brushing Ena’s cheeks. She could feel herself heating up from the proximity, and shoved them back before anything would show. “D-do you mind?”
“Sorry!” Mizuki raised their free hand in earnest apology. “It’s just- I thought this drink was non-alcoholic.”
“It’s squash, of course it isn’t alcoholic.” Ena gestured towards the drinks table, where any sign of anything even tangentially alcohol-related was very much absent. “What are you on about?”
Mizuki seemed to take a moment to process before responding in a low whisper. “But you’re brunette, aren’t you?”
“Last time I checked, yeah.” Ena flipped her hair. “If you’re wondering about Akito, our mum’s ginger and I guess he got unlucky.”
Unlucky. She didn’t really believe that anymore, but it was something she’d always said. Really, she envied her brother from escaping the looks of their father, having inherited talent, something far more valuable, instead. But as she watched Mizuki’s cute shock morph into amusement, she momentarily forgot all the baggage and instead felt whole for the first time in a while. At her brother’s expense, of course. But what else was new?
Hold on. Cute?
That was new.
Ena discovered many more new things over the next hours. It had all felt simultaneously like a day and ten minutes, but she had relished it all.
Learning Mizuki’s smile, the way they had just one defined dimple; the way their eyes sparkled with excitement when they told a story; the way they gestured so wildly they’d almost spilled their drink. Ena had caught their arm instinctively for that, and had regretted letting go after.
It was odd.
Ena was not a loser. Both by nature and in character.
But, as the time passed, she found herself completely losing track of their surroundings, focusing only on their dorky yet charming grin and melodious voice. Likely out of mutual nervousness, they’d talked mostly about nothing, from favourite drink flavours (Mizuki was a heathen), to themed cafes, and even a little on music production. It was fundamentally unproductive but it made for an effective escape from the situation. Sure, their faces were both partially obscured by the general darkness of the designated party pooper™ corner, but Ena found herself not minding as her eyes had adapted, able to notice even the sparse freckles dappling Mizuki’s faintly blushed face. They were pretty. Has she mentioned that already?
It was only when the lights dimmed and the room turned silent for cake that she remembered where they were. Naturally, Ena and Mizuki both joined in the celebratory happy birthday song for Saki, and hung around in respectful quiet as candles were blown up, but as soon as Airi switched the lights on again, Mizuki twisted to Ena.
“Hey,” they rested their cup on a table, once again absorbing Ena’s attention with a soft whisper. “I’m gonna dip. This party is nice and all but I feel awkward as hell in, well, you know,” they gestured to their outfit before continuing, “care to join me? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t, just-”
There was a plastic clink as Ena sat her cup next to theirs, caught their eye and smiled. “Where do you have in mind?”