#shizuku focused
Summary: At this time of day the girl’s bathroom up on the third floor was always abandoned. That suited Shizuku perfectly, as she lingered in front of the mirror.
Contains angst.
Word Count: 500
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Shizuku’s hands rested against the two sides of the sink, the cold stark against her half curled fingers. The doors to the bathroom stalls were all varying degrees of open behind her, visible in the reflection of the mirror. At this time of day the girl’s bathroom up on the third floor was always abandoned. That suited Shizuku perfectly, as she lingered in front of the mirror.
Her own reflection stared back, cheeks flushed from practice and eyes tired from exertion. Well, not just from that.
The livestream earlier, remembering their comments brought a fresh wave of pain up her throat. They flashed over her head in the mirror, echoing everything her viewers wanted her to be. Laughing at her snack choice, disliking her dancing. They flashed past her eyes.
One stopped in the middle, larger and bolder than the rest.
“This isn’t the Shizuku I know.”
It pulsed over her forehead, impossible to ignore. It burned like a brand against her skin, stuck and refusing to let go even as she shook her head. Shizuku lifted one hand to it, her fingers swiping through only empty space.
Her heart sunk in her chest, a splitting headache growing. Even pressing her hand against the spot didn’t alleviate it, didn’t provide any relief.
This was who she was now, not even herself any longer. Shizuku wondered if the others saw it too, even as they offered to help. What did Airi think of her now? Now that she was just an empty shell, the hollow remains of the idol she once was.
Shizuku’s hand clenched, the expression in her reflection contorting violently. Her hand lifted from her forehead, forming a trembling fist over her head.
She could make it go away, it would be easy. One smash of the fist, and her image would be shattered. Those words, her own exhausted run down eyes, they’d be gone.
Shizuku’s hand shook even worse as she held it in place, calling her to follow through, to smash it. Her chest burned hot, painful and spiking. Who cared what they thought, certainly not her. What did it matter how she looked? This imperfect reflection, she wanted it to disappear.
Yet still, her hand remained lifted. She couldn’t do it.
Shizuku blinked a few times, taking a deep breath and seeing herself once again.
It did matter how she looked. It did matter what they thought. Making this one image vanish wouldn’t change that, wouldn’t erase her mistakes. It wouldn’t make her perfect.
She could already envision the headlines if she smashed a mirror at school, gossiping about the former idol who lost her mind. It would only damage the group worse, hurt Airi even more. Airi who had worked so hard to support her for all this time.
Slowly, Shizuku’s hand came forward. She brushed her fingers across her reflection, leaving fingerprints where the brand remained.
As Shizuku walked away, heading back up the stairs to rejoin practice, her hand pulsed in pain.
