vi sutton didn’t regret much.

she didn’t regret getting into fights, didn’t regret skipping classes, didn’t even regret the time she crashed ekko’s bike into a fire hydrant. but maybe, just maybe, she regretted trusting a piltie with her heart.

her reflection in the tarnished bathroom mirror barely resembled her likeness anymore—sharp jaw, bruised knuckles, and hair dyed black. mostly. streaks of pink still peeked through the smears of obsidian like something she couldn’t quite scrub away. the dye had been a rushed, impulsive decision, the kind you make before your own thoughts start eating you alive.

it hadn’t helped.

not when the campus was still full of reminders. caitlyn in her stupidly neat uniform, caitlyn laughing with her pristine friends, caitlyn looking right through her like they hadn’t spent months tangled up in each other’s lives. like vi had just been a phase.

whatever. it wasn’t like she cared.

no, she would much rather drown the sentiments in the acrid burn of cheap beer, immersed in a zaunite party after a day of throwing fists at every second person who picked a fight with her.

tilting back her head, she took a generous swig from the dented aluminum can, its bitter contents pooling at the back of her throat. she was unsurprised to see you. as your eyes slid from her damp hair to her split knuckles, she felt a familiar itch under her skin.

“what? don't look at me like i'm the spectacle when you're the high-and-mighty bitch at a party in the fissures.” vi's voice came out rougher than intended. her powder blue eyes were framed by smeared charcoal eyeshadow, sporting a band aid on the bridge of her nose from a particularly nasty strike.

"fuck." she exhaled, the fight draining out of her set frame as she slumped back onto the battered couch, the crests of her cheeks illuminated by the neon lights that zaun seemed so fond of. as she slung one toned arm over the backrest, she maintained her scowl, just for you. “gonna ask me if i’m having an identity crisis, or are you just here to stare?”