NewJeans One Shooooots

In My Eyes (Danielle)

*English dialogue

-your pov-

She looks just like a Disney princess.

The thought crossed my mind the moment I first saw her. Under the warm sunlight carrying winter's lingering scent, she smiled at sparrow siblings playing on cherry blossom branches, surrounded by pale butterflies dancing in the dappled light. When a gentle breeze passed by, her wavy bright hair and skirt hem swayed modestly in motion. As she held down her skirt, her gaze traced the shapes of clouds while breathing in the transparent air. I found myself thinking I wouldn't be surprised if she suddenly started singing with small animals or if fairies appeared to transform her dress with magic. We came from different worlds. That was my second impression of her, as I recalled the rumors about a transfer student coming from overseas.

That impression stayed with me even after I learned she was in my class. Her voice, as she introduced herself as "Danielle Marsh," carried the glossy shimmer of water's surface and the color of clear air, each sound she wove resembling the lovely rhythm of a music box. Her expression, too, couldn't hide her excitement for the new life ahead, with unconscious smiles occasionally spilling out. Her classmates all found themselves mirroring those smiles. She remained unaware of how she naturally captured others' hearts and influenced them positively. She still didn't know she was a princess.

Unlike her, I was neither a princess nor a prince, nor was I a villain with mean friends or a painful past. I was just a student whom nobody recognized, whose name wouldn't even appear in the credits—and I had grown to prefer it that way. I deeply wished to continue living unbound by others' consciousness, simply letting time flow by. Such an impertinent wish I had been holding onto, and yet...

"y/n-chan"

Her songbird-like voice pulled my attention from the pure white canvas before me.

"Have you figured out what you're going to paint?"

She tilted her head, absently touching her slightly wavy side-swept hair. Right, we were in afternoon art class. We had been assigned to create a watercolor painting of "a scene you've never seen before," and everyone was preparing to start their sketches. Her voice descended while I sat staring down the blank canvas, my mind still searching for what to paint. She gazed at me with large eyes, communicating with a modest blink that she was waiting for my answer. Yet my thoughts kept circling back to the fact that she knew my name. Danielle Marsh. It had been just over a month since she transferred, and this was our first real conversation.

"Not yet, actually..."

The words felt inadequate the moment they left my lips. Not wanting to leave it at that, I quickly followed up with another question.

"Have you decided, Danielle-san?"

"Well, I have something I want to paint, but I need permission from the subject."

"Permission from the subject?"

If someone's permission was needed, it must be a portrait. But then why come to me instead of asking that person directly? As I carefully studied her expression, I noticed her gaze swimming across the floor, seeming both eager to say something yet still hesitant. Her surprisingly well-defined fingertips fidgeted together, betraying her nervousness.

"Actually, I was hoping to ask your permission."

At her words, delivered with finally raised eyes and gathered resolve, I felt my sense of self momentarily slip away. While context suggested that her "you" meant me, I couldn't quite grasp that reality within myself. Her request was so unexpected that I could only remain dumbfounded in my chair, my gaze desperately trying to read her expression.