𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 | 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝗺𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬 ✵ 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚

Warning/Disclaimer: fluff

A/N: For this one-shot I want to talk about a realization I had not long ago with a friend. we were talking about our elementary and middle school days when we realized that our tomboy/not like other girls phase was just a reason to hide our heavier build (we were the only diversity in our class) and also to avoid hearing our name in the ranking debates of the prettiest girls in the class (tomboy = instant last place without unnecessary debate)

i think you guessed it but this time the reader is not inclusive, it works with anyone except the ladies entering the Japanese beauty standards (sorry if you feel excluded but I needed to describe the reader for this one)

Words count: 0.9k

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Everyone has their fears, their nightmares that we wouldn't tell anyone. But there is a fear that is said to be universal, omnipresent in our adolescence. The fear of shame.

"Mitsuya? Peh-yan told me you were looking for me?"

No one wants to be the person you point at with mocking smiles, the person you pick last for a stupid team or the person who has to reassure themself that they are not the subject of every whisper they perceive.

To protect ourselves, we create our character, one representing only our qualities and, above all, one capable of blending into the mass.

Unfortunately, for Y/N to blend in the mass that a typical Japanese school represented, wasn't possible; at least that's what she had been told. One would think that in the middle of boys with superhuman stature and more tattoos than attendance, a girl with thicker arms and a longer torso wouldn't stand out that much.

Well, you're right, she wouldn't stand out unless you decide to focus on her.

"Yeah, come in here."

"It's late, isn't time for the president to close the door of the handcraft club?"

"I know, but I have something to show you."

Y/N's character took her some time to perfect. It was crucial to find the right combination to avoid the usual mockery of middle schoolers but also the ones on her 'imposing figure that every classmate seemed to think is necessary to point out every morning.

That's how she chose to behave like a tomboy. A personality accompanied by a style that allowed her to present her complexes as only accessories required for her character.

"Mitsuya, it's late. You don't want to go home? You'll show me tomorrow."

Closing the door behind her, Y/N joined Mitsuya at the back of the class that served as the handcraft club's residence. She knew very well that if she didn't give in now, the boy would find a way to make her give in later.

"It's not perfect but..." he extended his creation on the table "I want to have your opinion before adding the finishes touch."

On his work surface was a purple Vichy dress with a flared skirt and small lace details on the sleeves. Y/N couldn't prevent a small smile at the sight of such an adorable piece.

"Do you like it?" Grinned Mitsuya, patiently waiting for her feedback.

She adored it. But her character couldn't. They would mock her. This kind of dress was for smaller- cuter frames.

"It's not my style... but I've heard girls in my class talking about how cute it is."

The boy stared at the dress for a few seconds. He brushed away a piece of thread that had gotten lost on the skirt before lifting the dress by its shoulders to lay it just above his friend.

"I think it would look great on you" Y/N took a step back, surprised by his words. "And, I asked you if you like it not if it was your style."

She pushed the dress away.

"I'm not like other girls, I don't wear dresses."

He brought the dress closer.

"You didn't answer my question."

She ripped the cloth from his hands to stand in front of a mirror where she pointed out the inconsistency that, in her eyes, was blatant.

"Don't you see? It wouldn't suit me. I'm too- too big for that and... it's not for me. That's all."

Y/N finished her speech with her gaze fixed on its reflections. The dress was beautiful. It was really beautiful.

"How can you say it's not suited for you when I drew and sewed it especially for you?"

Mitsuya gently removed her hands from the fabric. He took the dress by the shoulders to perfectly align it with the girl's figure.

"I saw you admiring that dress in the storefront last time."

He confessed, his voice shy at the idea that she would realize the constant attention he was giving her. But seeing her fight her tears, he chose to leave his own feelings for another time.

"You don't need to have a certain morphology to like girls' stuff. If you want to put on a purple Vichy dress because you like it, put it on. It will fit you perfectly because you wanted to put it on."

Y/N turned her back on her reflection in search of a mocking smile from her friend. There was a smile on his face, indeed, but one that offered only kindness to warm her cheeks.

"Your dress is beautiful, Mitsuya."

"Thank you, it took me some time but it's definitely worth it if it pleases the muse who inspired the dress."

That wasn't the kind of compliment that her character was used to hearing. That one was much sweeter.

"Stop..."

"I speak only the truth." He dried the tears that had sneaked on her cheeks "So? Would my muse do me the honor of trying on her dress?"

Her complexes may have blended well into this tomboy character but it could only be in that of Y/N that they could be seen for what they truly were, perfect imperfections.