A daydreaming cynic's fall from decency

“You're not really a college student, are you?”

The question immediately wakes Yuuya up from her heavy dead sleep. An intense throbbing pain in her head immediately follows, forcing her eyes shut again in hide of the glaring lamp above her. The tragically irresponsible young cynic found herself in a small private lounge, with no recollection whatsoever of how she got there. One minute she was standing on gangly legs outside the blaring neon sign of SALT, feeling terribly out of place and frankly, like an absolute fool, and the next she was sprawled out on a sweat-reeking sofa with her dingy black top sloppily left on top of her naked chest. As her cloudy vision gradually returned, the room revealed its true chaotic splendour, with dozens of empty bottles on the small table in the middle, her fishnet tights hanging dejectedly from the ceiling fan - only God knows how they got up there, and a white powdery substance caking the table and floor, as well as some sprinkled on Yuuya's ruffled skirt. Bit by bit, the bizarre scene acquainted itself to her. And on a face smeared with lipstick, messy black hair taped to her wet alcohol cheek, and a mixed cologne of pine and sweat, Yuuya's rosy lips break out into a smile of sincerity and absolute content for the very first time in her life. Not a smile out of happiness, of course not, nor out of ill will, just out of pure and utter fulfilment. A smile that, if not on the messy face of a deranged, hungover high-school student, would be considered wholesome. That's right. I'm not really in college, as if that would've mattered anyway, Yuuya thinks to herself, staring at the ceiling with wide glossy eyes. I lied. I am a liar. And I'm eternally tarnished with sin and indecency that won't disappear no matter how many times I wash my skin, or pray to the heavens above, or beg Father for absolution, or blame my tool of a mother for my unforgivable ways! Because sin, unlike petty stains or words, is eternal. It may be forgotten by men, but never by God. So look at me, heaven. Look at me! Look at how I've desecrated the body bestowed upon me by God! Interrupting her triumphant inner declaration of indecency, a head suddenly peeks in out of the opened door, and they blankly meet eyes for a good 5 excruciatingly awkward seconds before he breaks the silence;

“Um. We're opening up,” the head belonged to a pale, lanky young man with a goatee and scraggly, messy dark hair reminding Yuuya of an unmowed lawn.

She remained silent in her completely frozen, revealing position on the couch, stalely looking back at the increasingly nervous man by the door. For some reason, his words didn't make sense to her at all, and Yuuya had absolutely no idea what he meant or wanted from her.

“Opening…?” Yuuya only manages to mumble, blinking slowly.

“Yeah, it's eleven a.m,” he responds, but seeing Yuuya's confused expression remain, he adds;

“Opening time, you know…”

Yuuya, being the tight-lipped girl that she is, only responds by letting out a quiet “Oh” and blushing so strongly that her face could be mistaken for a tomato. The man glances down at her separated legs, then up at her mess of a face, with almost a consoling look in his pale eyes before hastily closing the door. She blankly stares at the door for a few seconds.

Stupidpieceofnoisyshitinterruptingmyshortmomentofglorywhodoeshethinkheisactingallhighandmightyjustbecausehe´snotspreadinghislegsforhornystrangersinarundowncrapbarwhocaresabouthimanywaytheoldhipsterprobablylivesinhismother´sbasementstillandhasn´ttouchedawomaninhislifesodon´tlookdownonmeyoupieceofvirginfilth!

Quicker than even Yuuya Hibeki could comprehend herself, the spiteful words piled up in her brain until they filled it up completely, drowning any trace of previous positivity. The words “hipster” and “virgin”, along with the typical “stupid”, “shit” and “filth”, were definitely in there, though. Somewhat begrudgingly, Yuuya sits up properly in the couch and slips into her top again, her head and back throbbing painfully in a sadistic competition to see which hurts the most as she does so, and she removes some messy hair from her face with a weary expression of fully realizing the hangover she now had to deal with. Thirsty. So incredibly thirsty! The burning sensation of the mystery liquid remained on her tongue, reminding her of her monstrous thirst. Yuuya groans and wobblily stands up. As she adjusts her skirt, she notices faint, red streaks on her left thigh. A sharp coldness knotted her stomach. Thereafter replaced with the cold conviction of a job well done.