Minako, needing to lay low after a bad battle as Sailor V, runs into a garage to take cover and lick her wounds.
Except there’s someone else in there. Another teenager with shaggy blonde hair and a big black eye and no where else to go but in the shitty old truck she stole.
They share eye contact for a full minute, wondering if the other is going to rat them or start something, and then Minako smiles and says “You look like shit”
and the other teenager pauses, laughs, and responds, “Says the asshole who looks like she got fucked by a truck” before opening one of her car doors and offering Minako a can of lukewarm soda
eh?
EHHHHh?
EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?
mmmm nope, can’t see it.
???
???!??!?!
????
DID YOU
FOOZE?????
YOU DID
FOOZE MY WORDS LOOK AT THIS IT’S LIKE YOU WERE IN MY HEAD AND THENN YOU DID THE THING WITH THE ART AND
GESTURES WILDLY OH MY GOD
Being a superhero was nothing like the movies.
Mina sucked the coppersweet taste from her split lip, and ducked into an alleyway where she left the super behind and kept the girl, her clothes rubbing uncomfortably against the accumulated bumps and bruises.
She couldn’t go home. When could she ever? Home was just house to her, most days, and her recoveries were often spent limping along the city streets, the yellow tinged streetlights casting a glow on the rich purple galaxies of her bruises, on the red canyons of her cuts.
But tonight, it began to rain, the drops cold and heavy against her jacket, her bangs sticking to her forehead and mixing with the sweat of her efforts. Disgusting. Necessary. Sort of like the gel-sticky blood, still green on her hands in spots, a Pollock painting on which she had never bid.
The chill began to surround her. She dug into her pockets, but found no money there to fund an hour or two in some diner, sucking down coffee and drying out.
She saw a door to her left, and forced it.
__
Haruka tried to stretch out as much as she could on the bench seat. Life wasn’t as miserable as it could be, she supposed, as she unwrapped a hostess snowball and took a bite of it, white crumbs trickling down the front of her shirt. She had an old truck, from before they made separate seats. She could sort of lay across it, if she curled up like a shrimp. Coach pretended not to notice that she came to school at 7 to shower. Her truck had a lockbox in the back, for her clothes and cup-o-noodles. Her boss paid her under the table and told her she could park in the garage at night for warmth, as long as the security guards didn’t notice.
It was hardly paradise, but it was hardly the worst things had ever been for Haruka, and so she was happy enough to eat her snack cake, and slowly read her comic book by the light of the tiny promotional keychain flashlight. It was still better than home.
She tried to nestle into a more comfortable position, only to have a shock of pain go up her arm. She shouldn’t have picked that fight today. Well, she shouldn’t pick fights most days. But today she was on the losing end particularly, and her black eye and her sore shoulder bore testament to that.
Someday she’d get it right. And she’d have her own little apartment, and a cat, and a wife to come with that loved her and called her pet names and kissed her on the forehead.
She was dwelling in this quiet dream when she heard a loud bang.
She was not sure whether to hide or fight, and, as it turned out, she did not have much of a choice at all. The girl saw her, and their eyes locked, assessing each other.
In the other’s eyes, they each looked quite pathetic, one small, with a chip on her shoulder and a split lip, the other gangly with a tormented look in her big black eye. They were both blonde, and hungry, and both carried the weight of sadness with them like an overfilled backpack.
“You look like shit.” Mina said, breaking the silence.
“Says the girl who looks like she got fucked by a truck.” Haruka said, unable to add much else.
They regarded each other for another moment, and Mina held out a cigarette she had tucked behind her ear. Haruka gave a small sly smile, opened the truck door, and offered her a lukewarm orange soda.
Rhio's Tunglr Stuff 