☆Ife☆

As a result, you’d never put much care into your clothes. Get something that fit enough to be able to comfortably move, try not to think about how your body looked different or sometimes just wrong, and move on with your life. Preferably it was on sale or at a thrift store so you weren’t breaking the bank for something that thinking too hard about made you feel… icky.

You’d gone years getting away with just not thinking about it. It worked pretty well, and if asked about your lackluster sense of style, you could always use the excuse of saving your wallet.

But now your wallet was 6’2” with gorgeous white hair and shimmering red eyes, and she could read you like a book.

So when you were walking through an indoor mall at the heart of Linkon, zoning out at window displays while listening to the quiet patter of rain on the roof, she noticed immediately.

“Is there something you like?” Sylus asked, shifting the bag in her hand from the jewelry shop you two had just visited.

Well, Sylus had visited. You had trailed next to her like a lost pet, too unsure in your own taste to look at anything Sylus didn’t point out first.

(The store was far below her usual price range, but she said she’d wanted some more “low-key” pieces for when she was out with you and could potentially run into people you know. The “budget” jewelry’s prices still had you seeing stars, though.)

“Hm?” you hummed, taking a moment to process what she’d asked. “Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m good.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked back at the window display. Mannequins displayed soft feminine styles, sundresses and long, flowing skirts and shoes that looked equal parts gorgeous and dangerous.

“Let’s look around,” she said decisively, turning toward the entrance, and you could rarely tell her no when she did this, moving with confidence and purpose you envied.

You followed her inside and looked around. It was one of the mall’s higher-end stores, and you suddenly felt self-conscious about the simple shorts and t-shirt you were wearing. You felt out of place.

But you wanted to try some of these styles. You wanted to feel flowy and pretty. It just… didn’t feel possible. You wouldn’t look right, you were certain, and the last thing you wanted was to look ridiculous in front of your girlfriend.

But then Sylus turned to you, a small smile on her face and eagerness in her eyes as she gestured forward.

“Well? Go on, kitten,” she said, in that way that made your heart stutter for a moment.

“Um, I’m not really sure what I’m looking for,” you admitted, looking around at the intimidating mannequins and racks. “I’m no good at this, you’re the one with the sense of style.”

You looked her up and down. She wore dark slacks and a red blazer over a black turtleneck. A silver necklace glittered around her neck, complimenting the silver rings on her hand. Her long, silvery white hair was draped over one shoulder. She was, in every sense, the embodiment of class and style.

Sylus’s smile ticked downward at your comment, and she opened her mouth to reply, but a saleswoman walked up with a bright smile.

“Hello! Can I help you with anything?" she asked. Before you could say anything, Sylus stepped forward.

“She’ll need a dressing room, please,” she said, nodding down at you. Your face pinkened, but the woman simply nodded and kept her bright smile.

Oh boy.

A short while (that felt like an eternity) later, you were in the dressing room. Sylus had opted to sit outside to let you change, tipping you off that she’d sensed some of your discomfort and wanted to let you have your own space.

You were glad for it, but it would have been nice to have her in there with you. You were just standing in front of the mirror, staring at yourself with a frown, before a gentle knock shook you from your thoughts.

“Everything alright, sweetie?”

“Yes!” you replied immediately, practically throwing your clothes off and grabbing the first dress from a hanger.

It was a beautiful shimmery pink dress, with thin straps and floral designs. It was beautiful. But when you shimmied into it and looked at yourself in the mirror, doubt gnawed at you. Was it too girly? Not girly enough? Did you do it justice?

“Are you dressed?” came Sylus’s voice again. You sighed and opened the dressing room door, stepping out into the secluded hall where Sylus waited.

You fiddled with the fabric for a moment before forcing yourself to look up at her, and were surprised to see her staring at you with wide red eyes, her lips slightly parted.

“Um. What do you think?” you asked meekly. Sylus blinked a few times before her expression settled, but the admiration never left her face.

“You look beautiful, kitten,” she said, as if it was a known fact, like the sky being blue or Mephisto loving gems. A simple and clean truth of reality.

Leaning back and forth, watching the fabric sway around your legs, you weren’t so sure.

“I don’t think I look right in it,” you said carefully. “I’m… not sure I’ll look right in any of these. Maybe we can just go?”

Sylus’s smile faded and her brows furrowed.

“I won’t make you try anything you don’t want to, sweetie, but why do you say that?” she asked. “When we were picking dresses out, you said this one was your favorite. I can always get it adjusted if there’s something about it you want to change.”

“The dress isn’t the problem,” you said quietly.

She hummed and thought for a moment, before ushering you back into the changing room. This time, she followed you in, closing the door behind you. Sylus reached forward, resting her hands on your bare shoulders and letting them trail down your arms before settling on your waist. You fought not to shiver under her touch.

“What’s this about?” she asked gently. You bit your lip, trying to think over your response, but before you knew it, words were spilling out and you couldn’t stop them.

“I just don’t know what I like when it comes to fashion. I never explored it because nothing ever felt right, and it always felt like there was some expectation on how I should dress because of- just, whatever. Like, because of how my body looks, or because I like women,” you explained, wringing your fingers. “I want to express myself more, but I don’t know how, and whenever I try, I just feel ridiculous. And it’s hard because I look like a background character and you look like… you.”

“I look like… me,” Sylus repeated, raising an eyebrow. You sighed and gestured to her.

“You know, you always look so amazing. It doesn’t matter what you wear. Suit and tie, dress and heels, hair up, hair down, you make it look effortless,” you explained. “And I love it, a lot, but I just don’t think I could ever match up to that.”

Your face heated up as your rant came to an end. You’d really just said all of that in some dressing room, responding to a simple question. Embarrassment crept at your throat, but Sylus just shook her head fondly.

“First of all, thank you for the compliments,” she began, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But don’t ever call yourself a ‘background character.’”

With a small sigh, you leaned forward, resting your head against her shoulder.

“Supporting cast?” you suggested with a shaky laugh. Her chest rumbled with a small laugh and one of her hands came up to rest in your hair.

“The main character, in any feature,” she corrected. “And I seem the way I am because I feel comfortable, sweetie, not because of some fashion superpower. You just need to find what makes you happy. If that’s jean shorts and a t-shirt, fine. If that’s dresses and heels, there you go. But you have to give yourself the chance to experiment, or you’ll never find what you love.”

You pulled away, looking up at her.

“What if I never find out, and I’m just always doing something different?” you asked. You pointed to the pink dress you wore, then a black lace one that was on a hanger to be tried on later. “What if one day I’m all pink and one day it’s black? And then I don’t like either of them and I go back to my jean shorts?”

“Then I’ll buy you all the jean shorts in the world,” Sylus replied with a shrug. “Are you implying I’m broke, sweetie?”

“No, never,” you laughed, reaching up and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “But I’m implying that you might be stuck dealing with an indecisive mess that can never figure out how to express herself.”

This time, Sylus’s kiss landed right on your lips, gentle but fleeting.

“Every day ‘dealing with’ you is a blessing,” she said quietly. “Experiment all you want. Be indecisive. As long as it’s you, and you feel like you have the freedom to be yourself around me, I’ll be happy.”

The words settled in your chest and left you even more head-over-heels for her, if such a thing was possible. With a nod and a quick wipe at your eyes, which you hadn’t even realized were watering, you confronted your stack of clothes with renewed determination.

This time, Sylus stayed in the dressing room, watching you try on each dress and gently getting information out of you about what you liked and didn’t like, making sure to compliment you with each comment and suggestion.

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