SCARS

Dimly Lit Hearts

Calypso hesitated at the threshold of Vi's room, taking in her surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The room was a stark contrast to Powder's cluttered haven. It was small, with walls stained from years of wear and a single, cracked window that let in a sliver of moonlight. The sparse furniture consisted of a rickety wooden chair, a small table with uneven legs, and a single bed covered with a patched quilt.

On the table, a dented old lamp provided a soft, warm glow that cast gentle shadows on the walls. Next to it, a few personal items were neatly arranged: a small, chipped cup, a worn-out book, and a photo frame with a faded picture of Vi and Powder.

Vi's room was not unclean; it was clear she took care of her space despite the obvious signs of poverty. The floor was swept clean, and the few items she possessed were organized with a kind of meticulousness that spoke to her nature.

Calypso stepped inside, her eyes lingering on the simple decorations that gave the room a sense of personality. A poster of a Zaunite boxer was pinned to the wall, its edges curling from age.

As Calypso took in the details, Vi moved further into the room, her back to Calypso. She casually pulled off her top, revealing the well-defined muscles of her back. Calypso's breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she quickly averted her eyes, staring intently at the floor.

Vi, now wearing a loose shirt, turned back to face Calypso. She couldn't help but notice the blush spreading across Calypso's cheeks and the way she was studiously avoiding looking in her direction. A small, amused smile played on Vi's lips.

"You're free to change for bed," Vi said, her tone light and teasing. "Unless you plan on sleeping in that."

Calypso looked up, her blush deepening. "Oh, well... I don't actually have any clothes to sleep in. But I'm always comfy," she added with a forced smile, trying to appear nonchalant.

Vi's gaze traveled to the leather straps and buckles on Calypso's trousers and corset, and she made a face. "No way." She walked over to her small trunk and pulled out a pair of soft, loose pants and a clean shirt. "Here, just trust me."

Calypso hesitated for a moment before accepting the clothes with a grateful smile. "Thank you."

Vi nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. "Yeah."

Calypso turned her back to Vi and quickly changed into the borrowed clothes, savoring the softness of the fabric against her skin. When she turned back around, Vi was already lying on the bed, her eyes half-closed, but she opened them to give Calypso an approving nod. Vi's shirt was practically a dress on Cal and swallowed her figure up.

"Looks good on you, Cherry," Vi said with a smirk.

Calypso's reaction to the compliment was almost immediate—a sharp intake of breath, her cheeks flushing a deep red visible even in the dim light of the room. She looked down, a bashful smile tugging at her lips as she fiddled with the hem of the borrowed shirt. Vi's heart skipped a beat at the sight, the realization that her words had made Calypso nervous, sending a thrill through her.

For just a moment, Vi allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, Calypso felt something more for her too. She watched the blush spread across Calypso's cheeks, the way she seemed almost shy under Vi's gaze. It was a fleeting, delicate hope, one that she clung to even as doubt began to creep in.

Vi was jolted from her thoughts by a sudden, unexpected movement. Calypso, with a running leap, jumped onto the bed beside her, landing on her stomach with a soft thud. She turned to face Vi, giggling uncontrollably.

Vi blinked, her confusion evident. "Why'd you do that?"

Calypso's laughter only grew louder at Vi's bewildered expression. "I was never allowed to jump on my bed at home," she managed through her smile. "My parents were so strict about it, ever since I was a kid."