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Literal or figurative, it made no difference in the eyes of some.
“Oh hey! We’re back!” a male voice called as they walked toward their respective beds and unmade beds (Sylvia was probably awake now) inside their shared room at House Moir. The two roommates turned to greet who had spoken but were stopped by something standing near them — with red hair that stuck straight out behind him, almost like a squirrel tail. “What’s up, yo?”
Rosenbrock’s friends took another step away from him, while Sylvia stood stock-still for a long moment before her stomach gave way under its own weight… and she fell over into a coughing fit. “…Oh wow,” she choked out after he came around to her side to help pull her upright once more; there was definitely an air about Rosenbrock that made people nervous. It wasn’t all his fault, though, considering just how far above-average his abilities are in battle.
He and Sheason are kind of enough of a package deal where if you add them together on an island full of monsters, I’m pretty sure everyone would either flee for the hills or freeze solid from sheer terror.
But his choice of attire didn’t really match this attitude — then again when did anything ever match up against this guy? “Wah…” she wheezed, catching her breath and turning to face him fully. “I dunno what kinda drugs y’all musta been smoking to think makin me walk across a mountain in those shoes is cool, but thanks. They still look brand new.”
She handed him the sole shoe left at her feet before accepting one of his two hands upon touching them, giving her the briefest opportunity to observe his skin and nails beforehand without being rude and staring directly at them. Oh, and then there was also the little factoid about how both pairs of glasses always appeared so much larger than normal humans should be wearing in spite of his relatively small frame.
It added onto all the other facets making this man intimidating, to say the least, especially combined with his strongman status in the game. One couldn’t even begin to guess his age based purely on looks alone since he seemed frozen somewhere between child and manhood despite only having twenty years on her.
But all these thoughts vanished inside her head as soon as she glanced over at the sleeping figure on the bed that came next to hers: A very adorable bunny girl with sleepy green eyes whose name would be revealed to both of them in due time, which meant she could now look forward to whatever breakfast plans he might have in mind for the day.
Like right now, for example… or wait, no. That didn’t come anywhere close to solving her current issue, as her mouth filled with saliva once more and her body twitched out of reflex, unsure whether to bolt out of this room in panic mode or get comfortable because sleep had begun taking control. “Shiiiiiittttt.”
“‘Scuse me,” Rosenbrock said with a strained chuckle before motioning for her to take off her own shoes to be returned to the hallway closet before returning himself. He slipped his own footwear back into place by feeling before clearing his throat. “Yeah, yer lucky ’cause ya haven’t seen us train yet.”
Sylvie found herself thinking about how things like this happen all the time — all that running around the village must’ve conditioned Sheason into some kinda hero physique or something along those lines. He seemed big enough already, even without realizing most of what went into those muscle-like panels.
When she compared his build to what Rosenbrock looked like though, it was hard not to think of him as some sort of beastly creature. Plus, there’s the whole aspect of their telepathy abilities. Given everything I saw today, I can see why the professors keep encouraging them to meet and chat before moving ahead to the real trials.
He walked towards her bedroom door with deliberate steps, opening the door to reveal the living spaces in question while speaking quietly. “We don’t use any furniture and barely cook here — it sucks, right? Luckily we got an hour’s walk outside before or after class each day.”
Hmmm. I wonder what the guys do all week long.
Despite his previous comments, she began to grow increasingly curious with every passing step closer to the bathroom; Rosenbrock stepped further into the doorway until finally greeting her with a wide grin. “Heyyy, that’ll show yer what our time at home is actually like.”
By this point, it became clear that her fear of whatever he’d see awaiting him hadn’t materialized. And seeing how she practically bolted to go get the toilet seat cover ready to wipe the front of it down while cleaning up any mess made during her short restroom stay, it appeared that this girl was easily the best housemate someone with such an inclination could wish for.
With this thought fresh in her mind, she followed suit by approaching his direction to see whether he was done or needed assistance once more.
“How’s that?” he asked out loud after putting the lid on.
In reply, she smiled sweetly with her face hovering behind the partition — quite possibly the first time she’s ever caught anyone doing this in public; perhaps her soft spot was working extra fast on this occasion. The smile fell from her lips as soon as she heard what he just uttered next: “…at the party last night, I noticed you trying to avoid me as much as possible…”
Suddenly, the tips of her ears burned red and a chill ran through her entire body, leaving her feeling hot enough to sweat even under her outfit. No, please let me not have been that obvious! she begged silently for a second or two before gaining control again, stepping away to pick her way across the bedroom.
Now more than ever, it was becoming apparent that keeping this guy completely ignorant of her secret sidekick persona until later was a terrible idea. What would the consequences be if Sheason found out earlier and started spilling everything to the rest of the dormitory, her friends or family or neighbors, or whatever else might hear?
What would the aftermath be afterward, considering nobody expected somebody like her to live out in public anyway?
How far would they gossip about it within their group of peers? Even though this world wasn’t exactly anything like Earth as far as social rules went, being able to hide your sexual proclivities should never really hurt in normal circumstances unless everyone felt entitled to know things about another person’s personal life for no other reason but mere curiosity.
Being unable to do so meant exposing yourself to ridicule, abuse, or worse, and the sheer thought alone gave Sylvie pause every single time she was reminded of it.
But the reality of having one hell of a hidden identity still remained as dauntingly large as ever, especially with her lack of exposure to people since getting cast aside and forced to abandon everything she knew back home…
On top of which, were rumors going to spread as rapidly online now that everyone has a smartphone to instantly disseminate them to all and sundry? Where are these posts or statuses coming from, anyways? Would Sheason, or someone who could tell others, discover her presence when searching on Google or Twitter?
Facebook? It couldn’t be, not yet — her network of followers wasn’t even up to the hundreds yet. Let’s wait another couple of months. Hopefully, then, nobody will guess…
She paused, catching sight of a few drawers against the wall containing several dresses and tops, among various shoes, belts, and other accessories — none of it revealed in the least bit. Her hand froze halfway between them and Sheason’s bedside table. Then came the words ‘why’ and ‘now’.
Finally, it hit her straight to her core — for the very first time, she had a chance to wear something special for somebody, and even better than that, a guy who mattered to her dearly. Someone who seemed so different from any male figure she’d experienced to date, although perhaps she just couldn’t recognize it yet…
Unwilling to miss this opportunity forever, she closed her eyes momentarily, clasping both hands around the drawer handle tightly, closing her senses off from the rest of her mind. It only took seconds for her body to tense and her heartbeat increase into overdrive; within moments, adrenaline coursed through her veins from head to toe, numbing her fingers slightly and threatening to make her tip-toe her way to the dresser.
Afterward, there were barely even seconds to spare before she brought herself fully present at the moment, opening her eyes and staring straight ahead at the piece of clothing in her palm.
Even as she slowly unfastened the clasp, she kept her emotions bottled tight inside, knowing full well that the act of trying to conceal what she was feeling wouldn’t help matters here. Instead, she opted to simply focus on making sure she put one foot in front of the other and got dressed without fuss or worry.
The End