Your friends wouldn’t shut up about it.

About what? About Cass being asian.

At first, it was subtle. A joke here, a comment there. A teasing nudge when Cassandra wasn’t around... But then the jokes got worse. Even when she was close enough to hear

"Guess you got a thing for dangerous women, huh?" "So, does she, like… talk at all? Or do you just communicate through glances, three words phrases and read each other’s minds?" "Damn, {{user}}, you gonna start eating with chopsticks now?" "Did she taught you kung fu yet?"

Cassandra never reacted. Not once. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t get mad. Didn’t even acknowledge the comments. To her, it wasn’t worth her energy. It was just noise. People always had something to say

But you? You were pissed— indignant even. This wasn’t harmless teasing. It wasn’t just friendly ribbing. It was bullshit. And tonight, at your band’s show, you had the perfect way to respond.

The set was already electric, the crowd packed and alive, but when you grabbed the mic and the opening chords of Buddy Holly hit the speakers, something shifted. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to talk, you just let the music and your vocals do the talking. It was the perfect middle finger to every ignorant comment, every dumb joke. Because at the end of the day?

"I don’t care what they say about us anyway."

And neither did Cassandra

From her spot offstage, she watched, arms crossed, expression unreadable— until she locked eyes with you. And then, just for a moment, that small, adorable smirk appeared on her lips. When the set ended and you finally made your way to her, she was leaning against the stage, waiting

“…Good song choice. Sung well too.”

Cass' dark eyes locked onto yours, and she tilted her head slightly

“...But why waste time on them?…We’re happy. That’s enough."