Chapter Text
WHAT IF BFDIA 18 WENT A DIFFERENT WAY?
Lower than light, hunched over a bathroom faucet, both a salty liquid and a watery liquid drip to white ceramic. Drip drip, dripping to their inharmonious union. Outside is dry - for night is tired too, and no weather is bothered. Inside is not; it's moist and uneven and irritating, claims the subconscious. Inside is a broken gateway of a waxy cuticle; inside is a torn epidermis; inside are the terrified paladin of palisades. Cut, calloused fingers keep digging further, and further, much to the shame of Leafy. Now...usually she would hinder her unconventional picking; make that direct decision to discontinue, but tearing herself apart gives so much relief! One way to get rid of a problem is to break it apart. So even if Leafy's hands are tipped with blood and her face is a lineless mosaic - it helps!
Leafy shakes herself out of it. Now facing the mirror, she heeds to her actions. Crying, sobbing defeatedly. Because of an insignificant man! Oh, why did she care about him in the first place? He never cared! He never would! And- and she's bleeding because of him! Dolt- clod- what an idiot! Stop- nobody, no one, should do this, would do this, nor approve!
Loathing and loving - what, is that all she can oscillate between? Is it really that difficult to think about people at a normal rate and affection? ...Apparently so.
Those eyes..charm is all they radiate, but tears sully them. Leafy turns on her tap and splashes cold water everywhere. Washing excess imperfections right off. Cleansing her of her misdeed. Returning the glory of a smiling Leafy. On the list of most honest people, Leafy's mirror is the closest second! It constantly reminds Leafy of her amazingness - what a lovely and humble mirror! Always there even through every sky-high ascension and drop. Right now is one of those drops...but it's fine. Strong, resilient, stubbornly alive: Leafy will prevail no matter what emotional or generally mental or sometimes physical burden is weighing her down! Yes! Even if- no, this chain of thoughts is getting unlinked.
Wait..her eyebrows! Fuck- she accidentally scrubbed the sharpie off! Distancing from the sink with a shameful grunt, Leafy exits her bathroom and hurries to find any inky, black pen. People haven't noticed, but Leafy draws on her eyebrows as it's her same damned hands which pluck the hairs off. Yes, she hates that habit, it makes her a pathetic girl, but she can't stop oddly enough no matter what she does. The bald patches are abnormal in the bad way, so Leafy covers them up. Even though a plug has been provided for the whirling, weeping spews of urges, it's only a limited amount per a limited time needing restock at a place Leafy hates. For that she's frugal - and that's a good thing! Good thing out of bad things.
Scuttling past mounds of...much to Leafy's displeasure, and yes she will eventually clear, misplaced items and smears, Leafy winds around her piles until she reaches her bedroom desk. During weeks that are either bad, really bad, okay-but-not-alright, unkay, horrible - just negative in general, during those weeks Leafy's living space is always reflectant of her mind. A mess. Nobody likes a mess. Leafy's home can be an exception! Just hers though, as she's justified in her inabilities, while for others it's likely something else. She's going to basically refresh the whole place and restore its usual sterile, exemplary state. Once she can. Right now she's struggling to find a pen neath everything. Sometimes objects love to hide, but Leafy's always a better seeker. Always. She is; she'll find a pen, any pen, to redraw her brows.
Acquired! See, she is the better seeker! It's a whiteboard marker, with a chisel tip, in the colour black. Pretty much exactly what Leafy wants! Perfect!
Pride elevates her and her hand, a pleased chuckle as Leafy meticulously follows her muscles. An expert in the field! Of drawing eyebrows, Leafy's had plenty of experience, so she knows by heart how to create both the functional and aesthetic!
...That's not a good skill. Any skill is a skill, it's always good to know anything, but isn't this skill a shameful one? No- no, it just means she'll be good at cosplaying and alike. With a great pen and a great being comes a great result: fabulous guise there!
What joy from a very basic, routinely task - though remember it takes much precision and other talents - for Leafy is short-lived.
Likely something to do with her bedroom...colourful like a frog, comfy like a cotton plant, yet its mard took the pointer of Leafy's emotional scale and flips it opposite over far on the other side. When had she ever felt the greys of black-white feelings? Every and all either makes her feel positive or negative. It's tiring. And this room doesn't help. But she doesn't have enough energy to help the room to help her. But every smiling spoil steals her smiles. But she can't do anything about it. But- uproot the spiraling thoughts before rumination turns to rot! Yes the house is spaciously cramped and designed beautifully with flaw but-but-but she already well damn knows. There is no pointing repeating what you don't want to learn.
These issues can be dealt with when it is time. Leafy knows this. She knows. She knows she knows. Never has she underestimated herself; when she is doing better everything will do better and everything shall be done.
This house? It's amazing: private like a booth, rural like a gypsy, expanding perfectly to forest space as a polite child of a one-night-stand. Leafy must remember that home is only hell when it's a sprawled mess.
It's now come to realisation Leafy hasn't done much at all today. Thinking about this is a horrible feeling though... She only brushed her teeth, ate breakfast and then the day sort've paused there. There are people who do less, so she is doing better than most, but she has standards and being like this is barely tolerable to herself. The only key moment Leafy can remember off today is having a mental breakdown & pulling episode simultaneously. Or is pulling her eyebrow hair off part of having a breakdown? She definitely does it more vigorously when her thoughts are spiraling - a feeble coping - but she also has experienced plenty without any plucking. And the opposite: being fine but still doing it because it's a subconscious guilty act. Like right now. Stop picking on the edges of your skin, Leafy. This is unacceptable for such an arrangement of atoms.
Say, the only reason she had a mental breakdown in the first place is due to...
...
For the first time in a while, Leafy took a walk outside of her comfort zone: the forest she lived in. Things were a little better, not really, but bearable enough to breathe the shared air of outdoors. Good feelings. Everything felt great. Just strolling along and lightly exploring. Permeating where her presence marks. Permeating? Doesn't that have negative connotations? Spreading then. Like butter on toast. And the walk tasted just as delicious- until it quickly didn't and everything went awry and all good accumulated was thrown out the window. HE was spotted. Walking, but not the same as Leafy. To insult him is an action wrung so dry that it'll just waste Leafy's precious thoughts to think. No insult denies though that he was there, and his mere presence was disgusting enough to ruin Leafy's whole walk. Which then every bad memory of him flooded inwards and crashed. Every slab of concrete and array of trees descried, every drop of water and stack of bricks descried, every little thing and big thing descried: everything witnessed the immediate shift and the immediate tears. Where then Leafy fled fast to meekly refuge neath a random craft shop. But the store didn't save her.
Afterwards she somberly retreated home, but so did the feelings. Past every bush they were following she supposes. It was a long journey out and a long journey back, yet didn't remove her chaotic collage.
Time is spent coping, battling urges by sheltering with music. Sounds sharp enough that with their metallic cut sparred the small metal of a gun a knife holds.
There she lies in bed, Girl Anachronism playing. Up next is A Hundred Sleepless Nights.
To clear her mind she thought going out again would help. As the only reason before it absolutely did not was because she espied Firey. At this hour of night she knows he would be asleep far away in his rotten house, so she can properly enjoy the actual pleasures of Yoyleland!
.. Unfortunately it did not. Whether that was because Firey's appearance was still affecting her or something else she doesn't know, but she wondered around the fields until she saw The Weak Trembling Fortress.
Watching them made her guts churn.
Rocky! Such a sweet little fella! Not many like him, but he isn't so bad. Leafy sometimes relates to the outcast-ness he has going on. Emphasis on sometimes. Yes, it's true she sees him in good light, but still as inferior. It's not cruel to say she's better than him, right? She's achieved more than him and is doing better than him. It's fair.
Yellow Face. She doesn't know much about him, but there's always an opportunity to be the closest of friends! Later. Or never. Something about him being happy made her feel sour.
Bomby. Same with YF, she doesn't know much about him. She pities him though, for Firey can so easily ignite him and destroy him, with absolutely nothing on himself. Something about that is so disturbing for her.
Golf Ball.... She. She wants Leafy dead. She doesn't treat Leafy well. And the only thing she excels better at than Leafy is academic intelligence.
Nickel! Oh- she's changed her opinion of him much...but, at least as of now, she thinks he's cool! Humorous and chill, only problem is that they're not close, but that can easily change if he just talked to her more! Should that happen? ..Would it happen? Is she worth- there's better people to focus on. Like F- nevermind.
It makes no sense Leafy is jealous of them. Having so much joy- in a group? She- she can have that. She can, and she'll - they'll - her and her group, will have a better time than them. They're eliminated contestants anyway. Least liked from the viewers. Why must such a visceral knotting wring her?
Great. Now the memory of Firey has returned. Leafy's so tired, even if she didn't do much today.
Why does her brain have to do this?
She..
She misses him. All the great times they've shared.
Maybe it was right to fear getting close to him.
Leafy always has so, so, so, so much fear that her friends are actually not her friends and hate her. So much fear that her 'friends' never wanted her existence. That they- ow!
Her eyes! Augh- they burn! It aches so badly! Rubbing them helps rid the reason they burn, but then they sting and that's so annoying.
Leafy wipes her face and temporarily exeunts her bed to apply eyedrops. Replace the liquids coating her sight.
Where was she? Oh. Yeah.
Now Firey hates Leafy, and she too. He's moved very low on her niceness chart.
She wants to love him, but she can't. Can she? What?
Someone of such kindness deserves someone kind back.
He's kind. Was. There's his problem. He's a horrible person now. Is that melodramatic?
He treats others fairly well, so he's still a good person. Maybe he just doesn't think Leafy is as worthy anymore?
Underneath her glamorous display dress, is crippling fear. Which only Firey knows.
So, if he knows, he can act on that.
Why would he do this then?
...
He hates her.
Leafy's still...tethered to him. She feels sick and furious and so undeniably annoyed about him, but would drop all those feelings in a heartbeat if he shows he cares.
There are thousands of nights where she held such an abhorrence against him, even on the days where they were close, but mostly more now that he's betrayed her.
Yet..randomly...that disdain shall scurry and the only thing left then is an old love. Love nevertheless.
So sweet, so distant, so coldly warming. It only makes her feel even more sick.
Firey's disgusting though. He reeks of death. He's a player to too many games. He does as fire does; everything is pyre.
Leafy wonders what Firey is thinking about her. Probably the same as she does. They've always been mutual; sometimes positively, sometimes not.
...And moisture just entered open wounds. She's cleaning up now.