𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙁𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 || EDDIE MUNSON

Tender

WAKING up that morning Brandy was greeted with a polaroid camera in her face, "What are you-" She couldn't even get the words out before the flash blinded her. "Ugh," Brandy blinked rapidly.

"Happy eighteenth birthday!" Atta squealed as she plucked the photo from the dispenser.

"Mom are you serious?" She asked, rubbing her eyes. "It's six in the morning," the blonde groaned.

"And you were born at four forty-five AM," The older woman told her as she flapped the picture in air, hoping for it to develop faster. "Be lucky I didn't wake you up on the dot."

"My alarm doesn't go off for another twenty minutes." Brandy complained as she sat up in her creaky twin bed.

"Well I guess that's twenty extra minutes to get ready," Atta bit her lip with an excited smile, thumping on the door frame of Brandy's room.

"God," Brandy grumbled, as she padded to the bathroom. "That picture better be somewhere hidden!" She shouted as she closed the door. Brandy huffed, turning on the shower. This shower wouldn't be one that scorched her skin until she felt sterilized, or one to ground her from the troubles that seemed to drown her in her own mind. It was just a shower, and that was enough for her.

She took her time getting ready, it was stereotypical of her she felt. A teenage girl making herself extra dolled up on her birthday, she hated her birthday. For Brandy, it was another day. Another day where she was reminded of just how little she mattered to the whole world. One person in billions. So why should anyone care about an anniversary to remind her she existed? Like she and everyone around her wasn't already aware.

Nevertheless, she still took her time. She brushed her hair out while it was still sopping wet, putting some creams and sprays that her hairdresser had given her in it. Brandy scrunched her hair with a soft towel until she was satisfied with how much water had seeped out of the golden blonde waves.

Her make-up was done with precision, each brush stroke perfectly placed, every single dab of blush flawlessly set. She wanted to feel pretty, just for herself for once. Not to impress others, or appear to be decently dressed or desirable to those around her.

Brandy exited the bathroom, letting the steam roll into the air around her. The girl swung open her bedroom door, greeting with the sun creeping into her blinds. On her small mattress there sat a circular pale yellow box, wrapped shut with a powder blue ribbon tied neatly into a bow. The teen sat down on her bed, pulling the midsized box into her lap.

Brandy pulled off the ribbon opening up the box. A creamy buttermilk yellow dress sat inside it, folded neatly without a wrinkle out of place. Brandy exhaled with a smile, holding the article of clothing up to her body in the mirror. She bit her lip in excitement, slipping the silky tulle dress over her head.

It was a thin strapped, hardly dress code but she would manage. It had a smooth bodice, with a single long ruffle over top the of the sweetheart neckline. Just at the end of the waist line, the dress became pleated, similar fashion to a Greek pillar. It reminded her of the Mythos Eddie's class was studying.

She walked out of her bedroom and down the hall. The smell of bacon and pancakes pleasantly met her nose, Brandy sat down at the bar, her mouth salivating as she greedily looked down at the plate in from of her. There was another flash, met with the sound of a picture developing.

"Mom," Brandy groaned, a piece of bacon sticking out of her mouth.

"You just look pretty in your dress," Atta cooed.

"It's gorgeous," Brandy told her. "Where'd you get it?"

"Your great aunt Harleen made it," Atta said with a smile, pouring some syrup onto Brandy's pancakes. "Isn't it lovely?"