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Mizi and Sua stepped into the too-dim room, their names having been called next for the K-Pop club’s festival performance. Sua’s legs gently trembled underneath her in a similar fashion to a frozen doe, though no one noticed because all their eyes were on confident and charismatic Mizi. Mizi held herself with a false air of superiority, somehow managing to twist it to look endearing and admirable despite the trait being insufferable. Her hair was tied into one long piece near the top of her head, and some front pieces strayed out. The outfit Mizi was draped in carried a more provocative implication than what Sua was comfortable with—She did not want others to lay lustful eyes on Mizi, and hated the idea of her Mizi being reduced down to only her physical form. Though, she knew lamenting never fixed the men and women divorcing Mizi’s personality from her appearance. All she could do was let her be to find her own way through life like everyone else.
Sua forced herself to shake the bitter feeling off and start their introduction. The audience cheered as the music, a song beloved by both girls, began to play from the overheard speakers. They went through their custom choreographed dance, moving in and out of sync to provide visual interest.
Sua’s worries dissipated quickly after she fell back into the familiar routine of the dance they’d practiced many times. Her steps sank firmly into the floor, as her shoulders were dipping and climbing with the rhythm. Performing provided one of the few times she knew exactly what was happening, a feeling that was oh so foreign to her. Footwork and hand motions blended together into a smooth flow, bending with the melody of the upbeat song. Her smile burned bright, leaving left only her needless cares about the routine she had practiced enough times to do perfectly in her sleep.
But, upon sliding her foot in front of her to step sideways, Sua’s left foot caught underneath a loose floorboard. She tried in vain to stop from falling, but the kinetic energy she had already generated was far too much. The side of her head connected with the stage’s flooring—cold hardwood slapping against her soft skin. Pain radiated through her skull in frequent and bone-rattling waves. Her shoulder ached with the signs of a bruise soon to come to fruition, and blood began to pool in her mouth from a newly-made cut on the inside of her cheek. She screwed her eyes shut tightly, praying it was enough to stop her tears from pooling too noticeably.
The crowd watching had begun howling with laughter at her fall. A few boys in the front rows stood up to poke and prod her stiff body on the floor. Every touch of their fingertips sent electric bolts of pain straight to her nerves. Noises collided with each other at such a rapid pace Sua could no longer keep up. Voices, clapping, laughing, jeering, and her circulation all culminated into one jumbled mess that left her mentally clawing for any glimpse of quiet. She failed to keep her eyes from spilling out tears as her head exploded in bright colors of pain. Everything was too loud, and her body felt too big and too small.
Eventually, she could make out the familiar sounds of the stage manager stomping over to shoo the boys away. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the floor, quickly inspecting her now-open eyes for signs of concussion. When he deemed her fit enough to avoid receiving first aid, he motioned for the two girls to leave the stage and clean themselves up.
Mizi gently took Sua’s hand, and they walked behind the curtain quickly. She allowed Mizi to lead her wherever, not caring where she went as long as she could sit down. The tears that filled her vision were clouding her ability to properly understand where she was being taken. Her hand was guided to a tall chair, so she sat. In front of her laid the tall mirrors of the dressing room. She could see a disheveled and dirty version of herself staring ahead of her. Her previously perfect and smooth makeup was smudged and melted from tears and hitting the floor. Her nose welled with blood not yet fallen; and her hair was no longer in its original clean plait, strands now frizzing and falling from their place. Mizi stood behind her, assessing the sight.
Leaning forward, Mizi whispered a phrase common for her, “You must always remain beautiful.” Her voice carried neither malice nor condescension—only a gentle flicker of comfort, a similar kind to one a mother would give to her startled child. Mizi took a dampened cloth and wiped the blood from Sua’s face. The warmth was uncomfortable and sticky, but she allowed it, only because it was Mizi administering the discomfort. Once the blood no longer stained her pale complexion, Mizi began re-doing and touching up Sua’s makeup and brushing on concealer to cover the bruise forming on her exposed shoulder. Mizi’s comforting touch lingered on Sua’s face as she examined her work. She gently shook her head before carefully untying Sua’s bandana, folding it, and setting it gingerly on the counter.
Mizi took a few steps to a rolling caddy full of hair care tools nearby, then deliberately gathered some items. She cradled the supplies in her arms, and brought them back to the counter in front of Sua. She draped a towel over Sua’s shoulders and began misting cold and sharp water on her hair. Mizi dragged a comb diligently yet fastidiously through Sua's short, black hair, but not slowing whenever she flinched from the pain. After detangling, Mizi applied some slightly scented borage oil at the roots of Sua’s hair and began massaging it in, toweling any extra off. Finally, she rebraided the hair and tied the white silken bandana back on.
“You look beautiful again.” Mizi said quietly, content with her work. Her eyes lingered over Sua’s face for a short while, before she pecked her forehead, and draped her arms over the other girl’s shoulders. Mizi’s breath on her neck was rhythmic and comforting—a reminder that Mizi was alive and real. The two stayed in the bittersweet embrace for a while longer, both enjoying the other’s presence.
Sua’s heart ached, but she never dared the thought of expressing it. Time and time again, her appearance was put before her emotions. But she would stay quiet forever and always, because her love for Mizi was so firmly woven that no mistake or oversight, however compounded, could ever fully fray the threads.
She knew she would later find herself content with the arrangement once more, because her Mizi thought her beautiful, and decided to preserve it.