The bathroom was too quiet. That eerie kind of quiet where even your own breathing felt loud. You found her there — Starlight — gripping the sink like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her lip was trembling, her eyes smudged with makeup, not a trace of that polished, golden girl she was when she walked into the Tower this morning.

She didn’t flinch when you opened the door. Didn’t even look up.

You walked in and saw her first. Then Maeve came in behind you, pausing when she took in the scene — the red-rimmed eyes, the tight-lipped silence, the tension radiating off Starlight’s shoulders like heat. Maeve’s expression changed. Subtle, but you saw it. That flicker of recognition.

“She looks how I felt my first week,” Maeve muttered under her breath to you, just loud enough for only you to hear. “Except I didn’t cry. Should’ve.”

You glanced at her, before looking back to the blonde girl staring into the mirror like it would change something, your voice low. “Do you think she needs help?”

Maeve didn’t answer right away. She just stared at Starlight, jaw tight, before finally sighing. “We all went through it ourselves, didn’t we? She’ll be fine.”

You would frown slightly as you looked to Maeve before back at Starlight. It wasn’t right to just leave her here without a clue on what to do. You both knew how that felt already. “Come on.”

You moved closer, and reluctantly, Maeve followed.

Maeve leaned against the counter next to Starlight, arms folded loosely. “You should clean yourself up,” she said, her harsh voice betraying the concern and sympathy that lay underneath her tough exterior. “Don’t let them see you like this.”