You're sitting back in a chair, feet propped up in front of you and a magazine on your lap. It's from five months ago and the binding has seen better days, but idly flipping through gives you something to do. It keeps your hands and your eyes busy, and that's all you need. In the background, you can hear the ambiance of a cheap TV movie echoing off your laptop. A hurried conversation, a romantic scene, a sudden battle with accompanying music. It's all the same, but Shion seems engrossed. Can she see herself in the roles? A once rising star, now left in the dust. The two of you are in the same boat, much as it pains you to admit it.
Some time ago, she started coming down here between jobs for a breather. You can only guess that her schedule no longer lines up so easily with her unit partners'. You don't usually talk, of course. She watches her movies and you read your magazines and whatever else, and eventually she takes her leave. You have a silent, mutual agreement to let each other be, and if you're to be entirely honest, it's rather comfortable.
Shion pauses her movie. You blink. "Hey, Hikari..." she begins, and you don't think she's ever used your name before. "Tell me the kind of person you think I'd fall in love with." She's sitting on the floor, one hand resting on her knee and the other rising to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, expression unreadable. You don't know where she means to go with this, but you set your magazine aside and answer.
"Someone lively, right? With a lot of enthusiasm. She probably acts too." Aoi. You've just described Aoi, in a roundabout way, and it hasn't gone over her head. Her eyes turn to the floor and you realize, with a distinct sense of awkwardness and guilt twisting your gut, that she's fighting off tears. Your first real conversation and you've already made her cry. Unsure what you're supposed to be doing and not really used to comforting people, you throw the same prompt her way. "What about me? Who do you think I'd fall in love with?"
She looks at you again and her eyes are swollen pink rimmed green. "Someone...beautiful, like a butterfly, but also confident and mature." ...Ran? Her response takes you by surprise, which quickly fades into irritation. Of all people, why would she pin you for liking Ran? Maybe you did, once upon a time, but even if you used to be solid rivals, that time is long gone. She's already spread her wings and flown past you, over the horizon. This depresses and annoys you even further, like a stubborn itch, and you get up and move to leave when you realize that you have nowhere to go. You could step outside, but you can't leave school, and the only real place for you is within this room.
You sit back down.
"Honestly..." you sigh. Her eyebrows tilt in confusion but you've already begun reading again, worn pages laid on your lap spread open to an article about mascara. Heavy or light, and curlers? You've read it a dozen times already. You lift an eye to find her still staring, and sigh again. "You really think I have a shot at this point? I gave up years ago."
Silence. You flip a page to a colorful diagram of different kinds of boots. "...We're the same then," she murmurs. The comment is so plainly obvious you begin to get annoyed again, but resist the urge to do any dramatic display of it, much as you're tempted.
"Duh." You don't say anything more, and neither does she. The movie comes back on shortly after and you refocus on your magazine, resting your face on your raised palm. You're almost a bit disappointed, though you can't place why. It's not as if you're friends, right? Acquaintances at most, and even that's a stretch. But if things continue as they are, well, you wouldn't mind that. Shion isn't half bad. You guess.
And you can't think of anyone else who understands you as well.
