Chapter Text
She hates him. Really, really hates him. Words cannot begin to describe the depth of ire burning in her chest whenever she looks at him.
Their paths cross for the first time when he’s 13.
She’s hazy on the details from the very start—she knows that it only makes sense that it’s hard to remember, but it still makes her wary. She dislikes the idea of there being a time before she was conscious. It’s out of her control. She never likes it when things exist out of her control.
What she does remember, though, is a crowd of children that was far too rowdy, and a familiar face along the sea of new ones. He’d been trying to hide inside the group, trying to blend in and be just another face, another number. Ordinary. She hates that word, too.
It made her skin crawl, being surrounded by all of them. They were dressed all the same, navy uniform blazers with a school crest at the left breast pocket and pressed white shirts underneath. Girls wore pleated checked skirts, boys navy pants. She felt a deep unrest, almost an incessant itching at how similar they looked to her, though the crest on her own uniform was different and the shades of navy were the slightest bit off from each other. She hated the feeling of being almost comparable to them, almost blending into the flock. It was disgusting.
She locked eyes with him for a fleeting moment before his passed over her with no note. She took offense immediately, because how dare he? What, he’d pay attention to WV’s idiotic showmanship with their tacky suit, but not her? She didn’t want to be associated with the throng. She was above that.
She weaved through the crowd—even though, really, she didn’t need to—and stopped beside him, pointedly not looking at him. He turned to look at her, a quick up and down before his eyebrows furrowed in realization that something wasn’t right about her. She tried not to smirk in the unease on his face, the way he shifted from surprise to recognition to fear and back to a faux neutral. He was a terrible actor. That made her feel a tiny boost of pride.
She knew what anyone else would see if she were visible. On the surface, two of him. Identical, save for the differences in uniform. Same eyes, same hair, though he had more of a dusting of freckles than she does. She bit the inside of her cheek. Of course he had freckles. He was allowed out into the sun much more than she ever was. He’d probably have an ego about it, too, if he knew. He was a disgusting little cuckoo.
He'd gone stiff beside her, silent and avoiding any acknowledgement. It made her hate him more. Of course he’d be so self-absorbed as to ignore her. WV had already poisoned him with their own special brand of coddling, playing sweet and making nice. And the other one? The other one had tried to frighten him, but it had done a terrible job. It may have worked initially when he’d been small and stupid, able to fall for the idea of a monster under the bed being an actual threat. Personally, she thinks that Antlers, whatever the hell they are, could actually do a better job at getting in his head if they’d think to adapt their strategy instead of doing the same thing over and over again.
He kept his head ducked and didn’t dare looking over. She wanted to reach out and smack him, force him to make eye contact and acknowledge her. She restrained herself. She didn’t and doesn’t need validation from something as pathetic as he is. It’d be hollow, meaningless praise, words meant to placate her. She isn’t a child, she doesn’t need someone to hold her hand and tell her how special she is like he does.
She lingered for a moment longer beside him, reveling in his discomfort. Good. He knew his place already, it seemed, and he knew better than to challenge her by speaking up or making a show of it all. She stepped away, disappearing into the crowd after enough silence to satiate whatever hunger roiled inside her had passed.
It brought her endless joy to see the way he became hesitant around mirrors all over again for the days that followed her first visit.