𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐬

♡︎6♡︎

(A/N: I was in too much of a rush and didn't get to check for any spelling errors so sorry! Also it's taking a little while for the Bakugou birthday special chapters I'm sorry hopefully they'll be up soon this week)

I hoped so bad that the guys never, ever came to visit me at work. This was my wish the next day as I stood in front of what had to be the most awful mirrors in the world- they showed three angles simultaneously- trying on the bajillionth outfit for Nemuri. I looked ridiculous.

We were behind some large flowered screens at the back of the store, so at least people walking by on the street outside couldn't witness my humiliation.

"These clothes seem to fit you well," she said, adjusting the flowing top that hung a little too low in the front for my taste. I was used to the high neck of a T-shirt. And I always thought jeans were meant for comfort. These jeans felt like they were attempting to hold my thighs in place.

"This is why models are so tall. Because clothes look good on tall people. It's completely unfair."

"Okay, I think I'm done playing dress-up forever. Which ones do you want me to buy?"

"Well, that's up to you, Y/N. Which ones speak to you?"

I coughed as I got a big whiff of the incense she had lit for this "experience." I waved my hand through the air.
"Not a single piece of clothing spoke to me."

She placed a finger on my forehead. One thing I was learning rather quickly about Nemuri was that she didn't understand the concept of personal space. Not that I had a lot of personal space in my life, but generally strangers granted me that much. "Find your center. Feel your aura," she said, her finger still on my head.

"Neither me nor my aura know how to pick our clothes. Which ones do you like?"

"Okay. That's very practical of you. We are never fair judges of ourselves. An outside observer is much more likely to accurately tell us what looks the best on us." She studied all the clothes I had tried on.

A movement to my right caught my eye and I looked over.

"Mama Night, how old is this soba?" Momo, the girl with the really high black ponytail who had referred me to Nemuri, walked out from the back room, holding up a container and tilting it so we could see the noodles inside. I didn't even know she was there. "Oh. Hi, Y/N. Cute outfit." She pointed at me with a pair of chopsticks.

I tugged on the bottom of the uncomfortable shirt, wondering if it was see-through. The material felt so thin. I didn't want them to see my boobs, that's quite embarrassing. "Thanks."

Nemuri looked up in surprise. "Momo. When did you get here?"

"Just now. I came in through the back door." She plopped down on a red circular ottoman next to the mirrors and lifted her chopsticks with the noodles.

"I'm not sure how old that food is. At least a few days."

Momo sniffed it then put it in her mouth.

Nemuri started separating the clothes I had tried on into two piles. "To buy now." She pointed at one pile. "To buy later." She nodded toward the other.

Then she looked at the outfit still on my body. The mirror in front of me assured me the top wasn't see-through, but it felt so light. And it had a flowery pattern on it. I could confidently say that I had never worn anything with flowers on it before. Well, maybe when I was five.

"And to wear now," she said, referring to the outfit I wore.

"Uh... I don't know that my aura is ready to jump right into flowers."