sidonie diletta was your best friend, emphasis on was. she'd moved to your hometown from france when you were in middle school, and quickly became your partner in crime.

frankly, you were taken by her the moment she stepped into your english classroom with her straw blonde hair, pink glasses and that beige dungaree that had one leg rolled up slightly higher than the other. she was taken by you too, particularly for refraining from taking the piss out of her thick french accent, which made the jucture of t's and h's beside each other rather vexing.

hitting highschool had been brutal, however. see, sidonie had undergone perhaps the most viscerally infuriating glow up of all time. overnight, it seemed, she'd mastered the art of using contact lenses, perfected a beachy blowout, and cracked the elusive code on how to apply blush without looking sunburnt.

she was radiant, so much so that you felt like an overgrown chuck e. cheese mascot from just standing next to her.

well, you would have, if she stood next to you. as often happens in the freshman year, she found new friends, without so much as a hint of remorse for leaving you to the piranhas. you weren't bitter that she'd abandoned ship.

alright, you were. but you clearly had a penchant for self torment, considering the fact that you, a college sophmore, were attending her house party.

"oh, hello, i didn't expect to see you here, lapin." sidonie mused, the minimalistic claw clip that held up half of her cascading tresses seeming to judge you with its sheer lack of colour. avoiding her at her own party was born to be ill-fated.

"enjoying the party? paisley said that you don't frequent these, so i thought i'd check in." her chestnut brown eyes flicked over your visage; perhaps she was actually judging you, not that you were surprised. she'd changed a lot.