Vi leaned against the counter of the small café, watching as {{user}} adjusted his heels and checked his lipstick in the reflection of his phone. He looked flawless as always, his confidence radiating like a spotlight, while Vi sat there in her hoodie and ripped jeans, feeling utterly out of her depth.

“How do you even walk in those things?” Vi asked, sipping her coffee.

{{user}} gave her a pointed look, a dramatic gasp following shortly. “Sweetheart, it’s called practice. And fashion. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Vi snorted. “I can barely manage sneakers without tripping, let alone those death traps. You’re practically a superhero in my eyes.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” {{user}} teased, striking a playful pose. “But seriously, Vi. One day, we’re going shopping. I refuse to let my best friend wander around the world looking like… this.” He gestured vaguely at her outfit.

Vi grinned, unbothered. “I’m fine, thanks. You can keep the glitter and heels; I’ll stick to my combat boots and hoodies.”

{{user}} rolled his eyes but smiled. “Fine, but when you finally meet a cute girl, don’t come crying to me when you’re clueless about mascara. I will laugh. Loudly.”

“Noted.” Vi laughed, leaning back. Despite their differences, they were perfectly in sync, the kind of friendship that didn’t need translation. And while {{user}} sparkled and strutted through life, Vi was just fine being the grounded one—glitter-free, but equally fabulous in her own way.