windfall | unfortunately, like a fool, i said, "it's not like i want to let you go"

unfortunately, like a fool, i said, "it's not like i want to let you go"

( continued from here! )

[ Denji stares up Aki's way, visibly annoyed, as she brooks another crest of colorless smoke invading her senses, slender tendrils ghosting over their heads, nearly transparent in the lamplight. This nicotine-addicted slag. Always with the insults… It means kissing! She kissed them! What other meaning could make out have? Still, she roughly erases what characters she was writing (she'd forgotten midway what the stroke pattern to one kanji was), decorating her report in rubber shavings. ]

I mean, you saw Emi-chan's stuff. A bunch of her dresses and skirts looked kinda itchy, but she had some grown-up outfits in the very, very back!

[ Instead of writing what she took, her pencil draws a series of doodles across the page: some peanut snacks, a bottle of tea looted from the mini fridge, a vial that she kindly labels as pirfume, and then the garment bag. ]

So I took one, since I don't got a whole lotta those. [ Most of her closet is filled with clothes from the secondhand store… and some secondhand straight from Aki's own wardrobe. For example, the tanktop she's wearing under her blouse right now. ] It's gonna make my rack look suuuper sexy on me, and then guys will be linin' up outside our apartment to take me on dates to the zoo and all that!

[ No, Denji doesn't know what the proper attire is for a zoo date. ]

…'course I'm not gonna go, seeing as I'm already taken. But you get the idea. What'd you get?

[ If she's remembering correctly, Aki's hands didn't look as full as her own walking out of the dressing room. Did she not take anything and now she's regretting it? ]

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[She's like an eager puppy. Like a pomeranian. Especially when her hair is a mess like this. Aki turns to face her, studying her face for anything else she may have missed. Just the zit, she thinks.]

Hold out your hand. [She uncaps the concealer, pulling the application wand from the liquid.] This is used to cover up stuff. If you get a zit, or red spots, this is what you use. ...Your skin is so smooth. [Said with a mix of surprise and annoyance as she really takes her in, seated this close. Damn teenagers who haven't been poisoned by alcohol and cigarettes and devil killings yet.] Anyway - You want to make sure it matches your skin color. And the back of your hand is a good match.

[She swipes the applicator across the back of her hand, examining the color before nodding.] See? It matches. You're darker than me, so the one I use wouldn't work. Get it?

[ Aki's the same as always. No outward difference in intonation between instructing her to hold her hand out and telling Denji to keep a devil off the backs of nearby civilians — objectively, she's treating the lesson as she does anything. So there's no reason for Denji's gaze to so keenly stalk what she's doing, the shine in her eyes making it look like she's witnessing the secrets behind a magic trick. The twist of the cap, a wave of her makeup wand, and — there it is. A smear of the liquid concealer gliding up the back of her hand.

Instantly, her brows raise. ]

Woahhh, it's sticky. And you're right, it's the color of my skin! How'd you do that?

[ She turns her wrist back and forth, watching the light shimmer off the streak with a sense of wonder. Then, she wipes her hand clean across her face, leaving a line dragging from one end of her cheek to the other. She doesn't even hit the spot where her zit is. ]

So I just put it on like this?

[...She should have known not to leave her to her own devices.]

No, not like that - You need to mix it into your... [Sigh. Aki frowns before leaning forward to grab her hand again.] Look. You can see it, right? Here. [She dabs a fresh splotch on her skin, beside the part where the previous one was all but wiped away.] You can see it's shiny, right? So you need to blend it in. Don't move your hand.

[With her middle and ring finger, she rubs circles over the concealer on the back of Denji's hand, blending it outward until the patch is only somewhat shiny, mostly matte in texture and faded into her skin.] Like that, you see? Now you can't see it anymore.

[ Ah, Denji really can't see it. The blended spot gives the illusion of waxiness to her hand as Aki spreads out its coverage, hiding even the faint green of her veins. Usually when she's made to stay in place, it kindles this coiling compulsion to retaliate with force (especially, if it's someone creepy holding her down, which, truth be told, applies to most men outside of Makima) or ricochet herself far, far away. But watching Aki and her fingertips, manicured as they are — uniform, and not quite as sharp as her tongue, watching her slowly brush out her skin is…

She dismisses the word that comes to mind with a shake of her head, and, from the way she abruptly freezes, realizes that body language is kind of counter to what she wants. So very quickly, before Aki can make any assumptions: ] U-Uh, yeah! I'm seein' that I don't see it!

…But you're gonna keep going, right? I mean, do I just rub it in the same way you're doin', but on my face? I dunno how, so you better show me that, too.

[Okay, good. Denji gets the concept of blending. But she's still demanding help for her face, too, so Aki sighs and leans a little closer.]

Don't move, then. ...Your hair's in the way. [She pushes it back, swiping her palm back from her forehead, but it doesn't stay put, fluttering back down from how damp it is. Aki frowns and reaches for her own hair. She strips it from its high ponytail and stretches the elastic between her fingers.] This is just for demonstration. You should comb your hair better. [And with the hair band, she wraps up Denji's bangs and pulls them up and out of the way, securing the elastic so her skin is left clear.]

[...She looks kind of funny like this, but Aki doesn't pause to laugh at her. She was already freaked out enough at the idea of her making her look stupid, so no need to tell her that she does right now.] Okay, hold still. [And she leans forward to dab the applicator over the small zit near her nose, then a few other spots where her skin is reddened.] You just put it wherever your skin's looking uneven, or discolored... Get it?

[ Her eyelids had scrunched closed as Aki fussed with her bangs, sweeping a cluster of her stubborn hairs into a tie. Less a ponytail and more of a pony-tuft, it somehow manages to stand on end in defiance of gravity, rather than flop back. She's a few seconds from arguing back at her — Don't lie! There's only one way to comb hair! — when Aki tickles at her face with the cold tip of the wand, and an indignant sound skips out of her.

She wants to move, badly. But Denji forces her spine straight and focuses her gaze down the slope of her nose — at first, then as the concealer is dabbed elsewhere, she stares forward completely. The magazines she flips through are all obsessed about facial symmetry and balanced proportions; she's never seen that when she looks in the mirror, but when she looks at Aki that's all that takes up her vision. A long face, dark blue eyes, a mouth that always sits in a perfect line and never smiles at her.

…Oh, but there is one thing.

Though the case may be that Aki doesn't have any zits, she does have a dark lash dusting the peak of one cheek.

In lieu of an affirmation to her question, Denji says nothing before blowing warm air directly at Aki, dislodging the lash and making a few hairs framing her face brush back against her chin. ]

Got it.

[ How to use concealer to hide her blemishes or what was on Aki's face? Of course, she provides no explanation. ]

By the way, how do you know so much? You don't look like you put on a whole lotta makeup… or care about this sorta thing, ever.

[Denji blows in her face and it's not a rough enough blow to dislodge her concentration, but she does have to stop herself from smacking him upside the head or something. She still has no idea what she even did that for, but luckily before she can demand that Denji distracts her with a question.]

I used to watch my mother, I guess.

[The truth is, she couldn't say why she knows this the same way she can't say why she knows how long to cook an egg for a rolled omelet. She just does. She grew up with other girls, she had a mother at one point, she went to high school. At some point it was just as normal to know as it is normal to know how to put on clothes. Aki caps the concealer and begins rubbing the concealer with her fingers again, blending it into her skin until it's even across her face.]

It's just the sort of thing you pick up, after awhile.

[And the sort of thing that, sadly, doesn't really surprise her that Denji didn't, now that she actually thinks about it. Someone who never went to school long enough to learn about fiends definitely never had a chance to learn about something like make-up.]

...You didn't have a mom, right? I guess most kids learn from them first. But mine died before I ever wanted to put any on, myself.

[ She tries to imagine it behind closed eyes: A dark-haired girl about the height of her knee staring up at a woman whose appearance is identical to hers as she pats out her face with a fluffy cushion. Asking questions, following the drawn contours blend across the edges of her jaw, up her cheeks. No, Denji doesn't have that experience, and because of that, she doesn't feel any true absence for it. Or she didn't, until this conversation. ]

Your mom… She was probably really hot, I bet. [ No homo. ] I remember always gettin' told that I look more like my old man than whoever lady I came out of. But I always hated hearing that — not that I wish that I looked more like some stranger I dunno… I just didn't like feelin' as if I owed the guy that part of me. Used to think that if I grew my hair out, folks would stop saying that crap, but then it'd just get in the way whenever I had a job to do. Gah, there's no winning!

[ Timed to her groaning outburst, she throws her hands back, braced outward, one of her legs suddenly stretching out from its crossed position and nearly hitting Aki's knee. For all that, though, her eyes are still shut. ]

Say… Do ya ever look in the mirror and kinda see her in there? Your mom? Or when you put this stuff on, does it feel like you're watching her do it again?

[She thinks her mom was probably attractive...? Aki frowns, but doesn't say anything as Denji continues on. Her annoyance fades into a type of pity, listening to that. Telling a girl she looks like her dad is probably an insult of some kind, but Aki can see it even without knowing the man. Her flat chest, ratty hair, wiry frame... She won't say it, but she can imagine it. A younger Denji pulling on her hair in an attempt to make it longer.]

[Maybe because of that she doesn't scold her for nearly kicking her in the knee, capping the concealer instead and rubbing her fingers together to blend out the make-up that's still on them. She glances up when Denji speaks again, then frowns. Considers just answering, No. But wouldn't that be a lie?]

I think about her hands, sometimes. [She sets the concealer on the table, closer to Denji's side.] I used to watch them the most. When she did her make-up or cooked or folded laundry. So sometimes I wonder if our hands would look the same, when I get older.

[But probably not. Because hers are stained with blood, and her mother's were... Clean. Neat. Trim. She stares down at her hands, her nails. Clean, neat, trim. Maybe it's just been too long since she saw them.]

...You could always put your hair up, if you wanted to grow it out.

[ Sensing that they're done now, she watches Aki seem to observe herself — or rather, her hands — anew. Denji rolls a kink out from her neck while her gaze bears downward at that same thing; there may be a few faded scars here and there, but to her, Aki has the kind of hands of someone who could have easily made a living modeling watches and jewelry on the home shopping channel. Long and spindly. Weirdly gentle, when she'd applied her makeup for her, but with enough strength to slap she and Power clean across the backs of their heads, to scythe her blade through the innards of a devil, to wrench the cord at Denji's chest and rev her back to life.

When she gets older, huh…

As if they both don't already know that Aki will never reach the same age as her mother when she died. But she doesn't point that out. Wouldn't have, even if Aki had given her the chance to before bringing up styling her hair a different way. For a moment, she can only blink at her, surprised by how relieved she is to have the distraction. Why, she doesn't know. ]

My hair?

[ Denji cups a hand up against the wild ends of one side, bouncing the strands. Unconvinced. ]

Ain't it too short, though? It'd just look like… [ Her nose wrinkles. ] A topknot. It wouldn't be a ponytail like yours.

[A topknot...? Aki frowns at the image to keep from laughing at it. She'd look so stupid with a topknot.]

Not like that. I meant, if you grew out your hair, you could just tie it up and keep it out of the way.

[Though... Is her hair really too short right now? Without asking she leans over and motions her to lean forward, reaching to grab at her hair and bunch it into a solid tail behind her. It takes a couple tugs to get every strand, but - ...Okay, she definitely doesn't have enough hair for this. Under her breath, she mutters,] Maybe pigtails...

Ah, hey...

[ She eyes her from an upwards slant, her head dipped to allow for her hair to be easily gathered, bangs obscuring much of her gaze. She's dubious, of course, but slightly less so from what she would have been before the older woman's earlier help.

As Aki's surmised, her choppy hair clearly isn't suited for anything more complex than a hair brushing.

...But pigtails? Seriously?

The beer case on the table hasn't been torn into yet, nor does she catch any trace of alcohol in her breath from this proximity. Her cheeks are the same light, neutral tone as the rest of her. This tells Denji one thing: Aki isn't drunk. So this is a fully sober suggestion...

Snorting, she muses, ] Should I give it a shot?

[ Suddenly, wedging her own fingers past the fist Aki has curled at her crown, she starts to rise and pad back to the bathroom. In the first place, she wants to look at how she looks now with some "highlighting." ]

[Why does she sound so perturbed by the idea? Aki pulls her hands back, watching her rise up and head to the bathroom. She's a teenager, isn't she? Aren't pigtails normal for that age...? Not that she ever wore them, herself, but still... Frowning, she turns back around and reaches for a beer, breaking one free from the plastic rings and snapping it open.]

It's just an idea, if you wanted to... [She raises her voice so Denji can hear her, but eventually trails off. Wanted to what, look more feminine? It'll take more than that. She dresses like a hoodlum and her chest is flatter than you'd expect, since she wears such loose clothing... Calling out again, she adds,] If you stop cutting your hair yourself, it might grow out to a more even length.

[ Pigtails aren't abnormal for a sixteen-year-old, but she's not trying to look her age. She wants to be mature and dependable, but still sexy and cool, but also someone Mister Makima can flirt with when nobody's watching because she's just that irresistible to him. She wants to rock badass steel arms at work, then share a nice dessert with the guy she likes. She wants to look like she has the whole package.

…Which she's loathe to admit, in a way, means that she wants to look a little more like Aki. Is that too much to ask? ]

If I don't cut it, nobody else will unless I cough up some serious dough, [ she hollers back through the open door, snapping an elastic around one cinched part of her hair before moving on to the next. Appearing to miss the point that, if she wants to change how she presents, it may need a little more investment on her end. One that doesn't involve saving up to eat a bunch of beef cutlets.

Denji stares at herself in the mirror, hands curled around the edges of the sink as she leans forward to examine her face. Her hair is whatever, but her skin's creamier at least, the unevenness around her nose and cheeks neutralized by the pigment of the concealer. She can't even make out the pimple.

But despite her satisfaction, she doesn't come out yet. Rather, she shuts the door, turning to look back at the garment bag she'd so happened left inside the bathroom earlier. Unzipping it bares open a silky sheer negligee that Denji immediately smooths a hand over to iron out any wrinkles and gnarls visible to her eye, from the lace bodice to the cool, watery material of the skirt. Being from the closet of a pop idol, it's rather tame in design, though no less luxurious.

To Denji, though, it's nothing more than a beautiful dress.

After about ten minutes, she leaps out of the bathroom with uncontainable excitement, her hands planted at her hips and the hem of her skirt fluttering like a superhero's cape. It should be noted that the chest of the outfit is slightly sagging down Denji's chest from a lack of mass to fill the cups in. ]

Ba-bada-duuum! Hey, hey, hey, so whaddaya think? [ She glances down herself, sheepishly, fiddling with the cord of her starter, trying to keep it from crosswiring with the trusses of the outfit. ] This'll knock Makima right off his feet, yeah?!

Edited 2024-06-16 20:30 (UTC)

[Denji spends her time in the bathroom and Aki, for once, doesn't scold her for it. She drinks her beer and turns on the TV. Ignores the holler about how it's expensive to cut hair. It really isn't, she could argue, because it's a part of grooming. If she had neater hair, maybe people would respect her more, and then maybe she would earn more money, and then maybe she could get more haircuts. ... lWhat is she spending money on, anyway? Aside from the few times she eats out or Aki refuses to buy her smut at the convenience store, it's not like she has many expenses. She watches the droning news and sips her beer, turning a disinterested eye toward the bathroom when she parades out...]

[...only to nearly spit her drink out at what she's wearing.]

You - That's what you took...?! [The shock is obvious, more so than the color that springs up on her cheeks. What the hell does she think, that she can go on a date in that...?!]

You know that's - You dumbass, those are pajamas. [Correcting herself because Denji probably doesn't know what "lingerie" means.] He'll be knocked off his feet, alright - And anyone else who might see you prancing around in underwear. You can't wear that outside!

[ Could be because of Aki actually entertaining her and her jabber for most of the evening, talking her through writing a report, helping her carry things while her hands were full, teaching her how to put this concealer stuff on… But Denji had hoped that when she revealed her big showstopper outfit, she'd hear something — more supportive than this. Something nice.

Denji scowls at the ground. Irritation's an easier emotion to express, to latch on to, than disappointment. ]

Duh, I took it! Emi-chan's rich. [ Or her dad is, anyway. ] She's not gonna miss one lil' dress.

[ Which is what it is. A dress. ]

You're… You're just an old, booze-brained hag! Don't act like you know crap about what's popular with girls my age. I see 'em wearing stuff like this all the time in the streets or — or, like, on TV.

It's not a...

[Before she can finish, Denji is spitting all sorts of insults at her. Old, booze-brained, hag. Each one is a little sharper than the last without actually holding any spice to it. Flustered, Aki knows. But she also pities her a lot.]

[...She'd look beyond stupid, if she showed up like that. Aki gets to her feet, setting her beer down on the table.]

You said you want to look grown up... But that doesn't look grown up on you.

[If anything, it only accentuates that she's still a stupid kid. Aki motions for her, brows drawn and lips flat. Pulling open the door to her bedroom, she heads inside, clearly expecting Denji to follow.]

Come on.

[And inside, she pulls open her closet. Beside the row of uniform shirts and jackets are various casual clothes. And yes, she's taller and wider than Denji, has a larger chest, but surely there's something in here she can wear. She starts digging through the articles, tugging out a few random ones and tossing them out onto her bed. ...And one that she pauses at before flitting past, rolling her eyes. Himeno gave that to her and she never wore it. It was way too small. He never had an eye for fashion, anyway. That's not something she would ever wear.]

[ Continuing to wallow in the injustice of Aki not immediately jumping to pat her ass, she stands there without following for a solid five seconds. The moment she hears a closet open, though, her nosy self is right there sitting on her bed, scouting each piece of clothing that Aki delivers into her orbit. ]

I don't see how your clothes are more grown up than what I've got on.

[ Ignoring that Aki hasn't even given Denji permission to wear any of her clothes yet, she takes turns pressing whatever's nearest to her chest — there's more than plenty she could play with pairing into an outfit unique to her, but it's the sweater that eventually goes over the negligee.

…While the soft knit covers the obscene amount of skin she'd had on display, it noticeably doesn't go with what she's already wearing. Her skirt is also still peeking out from under, the faint curve of her ass visible through the ultra-fine material. Then, she tugs on the long button-up as an extra layer over the sweater, which helps to hide her back, but doubly makes her current attire look overly stuffed. Slipping off the bed to finally snoop inside Aki's closet herself, probably in search of socks or something, she peers past the woman's arms — ]

Ooh, what's that?

[ — and snatches out the very outfit she'd just passed over. She examines it, looking over the blouse from front to back. ]

I've never seen you wear this before.

Being "grown up" isn't about showing more skin, you know.

[But then Denji is getting up and Aki turns her head to hear the squeak of the bedframe. She blinks in surprise at how she's assembled the clothes she tossed on the bed, the multiple layers that make her look so much wider than she is for once, but then her hands are shooting into her closet and yanking that out. Aki grimaces.]

I've never worn it.

[So, that answers that. There's even a clothing tag still on it.]

It was a gift. ...You need a longer skirt, people are going to be able to see your panties in this thing. [She tries to pull down the negligee to cover her ass a little more but it's about as helpful as patting air over the offending area.] This one's too short. You can't wear it to the movies. [Especially since she'll be sitting down.] And take those off, you can't just layer things backwards like that. You're not going to Harajuku.

[ She swats backs the hands that are fussing with her skirt length, sending her a miffed look as she heads back to the bed: ] Why haven't you worn it? You giving me shoddy goods or something?

[ The button-up's drifting off her shoulders, along with the other layers, to make room for trying on the top. It looks fine to her: no gaps in the threading, no weird bent to the delicate trim of the collar, no noticeable defects. Well, even if those things were present, she'd probably still wear it… There are holes in her socks right this second, even. She's not exactly a picky dresser. ]

Look, this one's almost as short as what I've got on! [ Her exclamation's precipitated by the sliding on of the blouse over her gown. The tag bulges at her collar, itching her the back of her neck, but, otherwise, it's a good fit. Aside from her indignation about one little thing — ] How's this more grown up, huh?!

Because your chest isn't sticking out, for one.

[Aki snaps it a little too harshly, frowning at the way Denji pulls the whole thing over the lingerie. How does she not understand that she can't show that much skin...?!]

And this is way less short - look, it goes down to... [She tries to tug on the hem of the skirt a little but ends up simply sliding it down further, huffing as she pulls it back on her hips.] You're so damn skinny - Look, this is way more mature. See how it's not made of silk? This is something you could wear anywhere. The other one's for the bedroom, not a date.

Hey, are you tryin' to cop a feel down there or what?! Harassment, much…

[ Comes her ever-timely swamp of complaints. The constant pulling at the back of her skirt only makes the front of her clothes hug uncomfortably against her bust before returning back into place whenever Aki lets go. It's annoying. ]

So, wait, you're telling me all these things on the bed are what you would wear to impress Mister Makima? These are just what you usually wear most days… Does looking mature really have nothing to do with sex appeal?

[...Are the things she picked out not good enough?]

[Wait, hold on. No. This is Denji. She has no idea what she's talking about. Aki clears her throat, stepping back to let Denji adjust the clothes.]

How many women do you see walking around looking mature and sexy? [She pauses, frowning in thought, trying to think of someone to explain the analogy with.] I mean - You think Makima is hot, but you've only ever seen him in a suit. So it's not always about what you wear, right?

[...What's annoying is that the outfit actually does look cute on Denji. Way better than it would on her. Ugh, and since she's smaller, it's not quite as revealing a hemline... but the neckline of the shirt is a little low. Maybe she can get a tanktop?]

It's better to just... dress casually. You don't want to look like you're trying too hard.

Those models in the magazines —

[ Denji starts to point out after Aki poses her clearly rhetorical question, but she quiets down as she continues on with her explanation, a despairing scrunch deepening her forehead. Her mouth half-open, like she's having her very belief system questioned and dismantled. It's true, though. She really has never seen Makima outside of a suit.

In a gloom, she collapses back-first into the bed, arms spread, its springs creaking as her body weight joins the mountain of clothes. She stares emptily at the ceiling. ]

Man, I don't wanna look like I'm trying too hard… I want Makima to like me. I mean, I know he does. But even more. The kinda 'like' where you just can't get the other person outta your head.

[ Adults like Makima and Aki have other things to think about besides romance, she gets that. She sees the utility bills, how much gets budgeted for groceries each week, the house chores and upkeep, the work matters that get brought home. Is it strange to want something that ruins all that for a person? To color everything in markers from the walls, to the ceiling fan, to the bathroom tiles, all to reserve a single person's attention just for you?

But maybe that's too…

Rolling on her side, she waves Aki over so that she can ask: ] D'ya think it's better if I just go in what I always wear instead of your stuff after all?

[She's so convinced of this... It's not even like she's trying to talk it into existence. She really, truly believes Makima likes her.]

[God, to be so stupid. Aki leans against the head of the bed, looking down at the mess of her clothes. She's going to wrinkle some of them... But she honestly seems down right now, so she won't nag her right now.]

Probably.

[Maybe that was part of why she never wore that outfit Himeno got her. It just wasn't her style at all. Why would she wear something like that...? Is that how he wanted her to be? Fat chance.]

...Wouldn't it be better if the person who liked you still did even if you look like shit?

[They've both seen each other like shit, so Aki feels comfortable commenting on that.]

Even if your face was covered in zits and your clothes were all torn up and shitty... You should find someone who likes you even when you're like that.

[She sounds stilted as she says it. This is such a weird pep talk to give to someone like Denji.]

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