Will I be scared? Teach me how to be strong...

The days that she went in for art supplies were always the worst days, she mused.

Going into the village always left her feeling anxious, and even though Kiyoshi had offered on several occasions to go and purchase the things that she needed, Siran had politely declined. She knew that she needed to force herself to be around people, or she knew that she would forget how. That self-knowledge never made the visits any easier. She always drew stares, though lately she’d noticed a bit more control over her pheromones than in the past. Still, people took notice when she walked by- women with a jealous gleam in their eyes, and men with a desirous one. She’d walked down the street with a mousy demeanour, not meeting anyone’s eyes. That had really been her mistake, she supposed, because that had been when she’d run into
Wednesday Sage.

The girl with the vivid pink hair and blossoming pregnancy was one who had always terrified the much quieter Siran. The younger woman had insisted on dragging her out to lunch, in her campaign to socialise her friend’s quiet friend. Indeed, Wednesday had done most of the chattering at the café, seemingly oblivious to the heightened anxiety and distress. Siran had been anything but oblivious, miserable about the fact that she was losing her battle to control her body’s natural response to her own silent terror. And then, there came to be one phrase that shattered any control that she might have had.
“Not to mention, Ewwie finally got into Sam’s pants. Took him long enough.”

The distress that swamped poor Siran’s mind was uncontrollable. It wasn’t that was jealous- of course, some small part of her was. She wanted to be the one sharing that intimacy with Sam. She wanted to be the one who would wake up, wander down to his garage, and greet him with a smile that said she enjoyed waking up with him every morning. She loved Sam, how could she not be slightly jealous of Ewan? Yet it was that very love that was causing the bulk of her distress. She wanted Sam to be happy, wanted to see him smile- even if she wasn’t the reason for such an expression. She’d been pursuing him quietly- against her better judgment. But what could gifts and letters do, in comparison to human contact? She wasn’t able to be in his presence to joke with him. She couldn’t give him a sneaky kiss, hold his hand, or come into his garage and perch on his bike. Siran couldn’t be positive that she would ever be able to do so. Her hands crept up to cover her ears, even as the oblivious Wednesday continued to chatter about how adorable boy love was. The distress was overwhelming. She could never compete with Ewan.

Without her permission or her intent, the men in the restaurant had all begun to stare at their table. They were outraged, some of them coming to rub her back reassuringly, to promise that all would be well. Even the pink-haired Sage had begun to notice the odd events that were taking place. That was when silverware began to fly. She’d managed to squeak the other girl’s name, before the pregnant one developed metal skin, helplessly watching dinnerware bounce off of her skin. It wasn’t long before Wednesday was physically tossed out of the restaurant. More distressed than ever, Siran had fled, trying to ignore the worried pleadings from the male patrons, calling that she needed to return. She hadn’t even remembered to grab her bag from under the table. No art supplies, after all.

It was now a few hours later, and Siran was still curled on her cottage’s floor, nursing on the half-consumed fifth of whiskey that had been placed between her bent legs, on the floor. All of the emotions were still swirling in her head, and she’d never felt more confused than she did right now. She wished she could blame it on the alcohol. How could she be grateful to Ewan, and yet hate him at the same time? It was ridiculous to think that Sam wouldn’t take on lovers. It was probably fairly normal, and just because she couldn’t didn’t mean that she should be so angry that someone else had. Yet it went deeper than anger, rooted beyond jealousy. The Armenian girl was terrified that she’d never be good enough, and having to compete with something tangible when she was not….it made it hard for her. Sam should choose Ewan. It would make sense, it would just hurt.

She didn’t want that to happen, though. She still stubbornly wanted to be the one to capture his heart at the end of the day- assuming that it was still up for grabs. But how? She couldn’t do more than she was right now, and she was just too tired to even continue her efforts. Maybe she would take a break. No contact for a week or so, just to pull herself back inside her skin. She had enough colouring books and hot dogs. There was no need to leave her cottage for any reason. There was no way she could let Sam know anything more about her distress than he already did. He’d feel guilty, and sad. She only wanted his happiness.

So Siran picked up the Disney colouring book, and opened it to the least romantic page available, and steadily began to colour the tricky pattern of Chip’s base.