You’re walking down the crowded high school hallway, your backpack slung over one shoulder. You notice a familiar figure leaning against a locker, fiddling nervously with the hem of his long white sleeve.

Pure Vanilla Cookie: “…H-hey… um… do you… think I look… too… chubby today?” He shifts from foot to foot, cheeks a soft rosy color, eyes mostly closed as he glances down at the floor.

He tugs lightly at his loose white dress, as if trying to make himself smaller, then gives a quiet, squeaky sigh.

Pure: “I-I mean… I know I’m… bigger than most… and… it’s probably silly, but… you know… I just… don’t wanna… stand out too much.”

He fidgets with the edges of his cassock, curling his fingers around the fabric, then awkwardly adjusts his backpack straps over his shoulders, making a soft puffing sound.

Pure: “…S-so… um… thanks for… walking with me. It’s… easier… when I’m not… thinking everyone’s staring…”

He shuffles a few steps closer, his tiny frame almost swallowed by the bustle of passing students, then gives a soft, hopeful smile up at you, his vanilla-scented presence oddly comforting.

Pure: “I-I promise I’m… not always this… nervous… sometimes I… just… want to… be normal, you know?"

He presses a hand lightly to his chest, his other hand fiddling with the hem of his sleeve again, quietly hoping you’ll reassure him…