[center][img]https://cdn.donmai.us/original/38/c6/__ichinose_shiki_idolmaster_and_1_more_drawn_by_hungry_clicker__38c6d42bbc6bfadb31501c2ff4fc7d67.jpg[/img]

[color=a50b5e][h1]Axelle Leroux[/h1][/color][/center]

From the cell phone half-tucked underneath her pillow, a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjUPVKEN9tI]nearly-silent ringtone[/url] went off next to Axelle's ear, signaling the end of her six hours. As she was gently roused from her beauty sleep, Axelle had the same thought she'd been having all night still echoing in her mind.

[color=a50b5e][i]I need to get to bed...[/i][/color] She thought again, then blinked a few times.

. . .

[color=a50b5e][i]...You are in bed, ma cher.[/i][/color]

She stretched out all of her limbs, taking in the faint chirping of her alarm, and the smell of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls which always lingered in the room. As she swiped to turn off her alarm, she checked her phone while she slowly shuffled over to the fridge.

[h1]6:01 AM[/h1]

[hider=Uncle Jacques I.C.E. (1 unread)][i]Friday, August 18[/i]
[right]Why is mother suddenly interested in my life again?[/right]
Even the worst mothers in the world are reminded that they gave birth at least once a year.
[right]But it's August.[/right]
Midlife crisis?
[right]That's a riot.[/right]
Well, it seems like a pretty prestigious school, yeah? Seems normal she'd be interested.

Plus, it's an all-girls school that's in the same city as the Guides du Canada headquarters. Lucky you.

[right]You've done your research, Nosy Jack. But I'm not really a girl scout anymore.

Also, I meant what I said. I'm done dating.[/right]
You're 18. You'll meet someone.
[right]I'm 18 and done, uncle.[/right]
[i]Monday, September 11[/i]
[right]I'm sorry I can't be there with you. Bring her some flowers for me, too.[/right]
Will do. Don't apologize, I know you're busy.

Enjoy your new school, hun.
[right]♥ xoxo[/right]
[i]Thursday, September 21[/i]
It's your first day, so don't be late and knock 'em dead.[/hider]
[hider=Unknown (1 unread)][i]Tuesday, September 12[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.

[i]Wednesday, September 13[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.

[i]Thursday, September 14[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.

[i]Friday, September 15[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.

[i]Saturday, September 16[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.

[i]Sunday, September 17[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.

[i]Monday, September 18[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.

[i]Tuesday, September 19[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.

[i]Wednesday, September 20[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.

[i]Thursday, September 21[/i]
Daily reminder that you're a piece of shit.[/hider]
[hider=BookClub][i]Showing all messages from this user (Axelle the Rose)[/i]

[i]Monday, September 18[/i]
[right]Oh my. I've become part of Romi's flower garden.

But am I the pretty kind of rose, or the thorny kind?[/right]

[i]Wednesday, September 20[/i]
[right]I'm watching Ouija videos on YouTube. It's hard to tell what's real and what's fake.

Please don't say it's all fake. You'll make Romi mad.

Well, basically, the rules are: don't use it in your home or in a cemetery, don't use it alone,
don't ask stupid questions, be respectful, keep your hands on the planchette at all times,
don't leave the planchette on the board unattended, and always end the session by
placing the planchette on "Goodbye," or the spirits might follow you home.

End the session early if: the planchette starts going through the alphabet,
counting down, making figure 8 patterns, says "yes" when asked if it's an
evil spirit, identifies itself as "Zozo," or says that it has no name.[/right]

[i]Thursday, September 21[/i]

[right]Also, NEVER EVER burn the board, even if something goes wrong. That will just make it worse.

Please tell me if you find anything else. I want to do this right.[/right][/hider]
[hider=Mother][i]Friday, August 18[/i]
It's your mother. This is my new number.

[i]Friday, September 1[/i]
Even though you're 18, you should call me every so often. Don't be a stranger.
[right]Yes mother.[/right]
Good girl.[/hider]
[hider=Camille][i]Saturday, May 14 2016[/i]
Sup, Birthday Bitch? ♥
[right]Bein' gay, you? ♥[/right]
Omg same ♥

[i]Tuesday, November 8 2016[/i]
I'm CRYING
[right]*pats* One more year and we can all move to Canada together.[/right]
Oh God yes please take me away. I'll pay 100% of the rent.
[right]We're splitting it.[/right]
You're an angel T~T

[i]Monday, December 12 2016[/i]
I heard about what happened. Do you want to talk about it?
[right]No[/right]
Okay. I'm here if you need me.

[i]Friday, August 18[/i]
I heard you'll be changing schools, is that true? I'll miss you ♥
[right]I'm sorry I forgot to call you. I'll miss you too.[/right]
At least you got to move to Canada after all.
[right]LOL

I'd take you with me, but it's an all-girls school.[/right]
Momma gotta keep you safe from the boys
[right]Naturally[/right]
Stay safe Lexie ♥
[right]♥ ♥ ♥[/right][/hider]

[color=a50b5e][i]That girl's seriously up earlier than a retired Green Beret,[/i][/color] Axelle thought apathetically. [color=a50b5e][i]Her behavior is appalling, but her dedication is... something.[/i][/color]

She yawned, and turned her phone's screen off. Then, she quietly opened the fridge, took out the small, foil-wrapped tray that held today's batch, and set it down gently onto the small countertop that the school's faculty had the gall to call a "kitchen area," as it had been labeled on the brochure. Next, she clicked on her small portable oven—a gift from her mother, and no doubt an attempt to tickle her nostalgia, as her favorite birthday present had been an Easy-Bake Oven from her father. With the oven preheating, it was time to jump in the shower.

Tossing her shirt and underwear carelessly onto the floor of the bathroom—who cares, nobody would see her do it—she clambered into the shower and turned it on. She shuddered as the cold water hit her skin like a bucket of tacks—but, the sound of the shower turning on was less harsh if the water hit her, rather than the floor of the tub. She was less likely to wake up her roommate this way, and it did a great job of waking her up, anyway. Washing her hair was also an ordeal—but, long hair was a woman's pride, or so her mother had said once—or half a dozen times—who's counting? Still, she tried to finish her shower as quickly as she could... which was still about 30 minutes. Axelle was the kind of girl who got through the day at her own pace, even if said pace was slower than 24 hours per day.

[color=a50b5e][i]Wups,[/i][/color] she thought as she toweled herself off, realizing that she hadn't brought a change of clothes with her into the bathroom. Living with a roommate was going to be an adjustment for sure. Quietly, she turned off the bathroom light, peeked out from behind the door to make sure Stormy was still sleeping, and quickly began cobbling together something to wear. [color=a50b5e][i]Something I won't die of embarrassment in, but don't mind if it gets dirty... Oh no, I'm taking way too much time thinking about this![/i][/color] After she finished raiding her clothes drawer and closet, she swiftly sneak-dashed back into the bathroom to continue her self-care routine.

Before she knew it, it was seven, and she could hear Stormy getting up. Finally, she could dry her hair properly with the dryer while Stormy got coffee from the best coffee shop ever. That place had the good stuff: fair trade, no slave labor—oh, and it tasted good too. After she finally emerged from the bathroom, she flicked the lights on and looked for Stormy, but found nothing but a messy bedspread and an unlocked window. [color=a50b5e][i]Why doesn't she use the door like a normal person?[/i][/color] she thought dryly. She shrugged, tore the tin foil off the tray, and put the warmed-up cinnamon rolls in the oven.

While she waited for them to bake, she looked around the room that was to be her new living space. Stormy had already made herself at home, taking over all of the walls and some of the ceiling with her posters. As for Axelle, she had brought barely anything. On her nightstand, there was a single display case with various pins and awards from her days as a girl scout. Or, at least, there would be, if she could muster the courage to take it out from her stack of boxes, which were still in the closet. [color=a50b5e][i]I'm sure a girl like Stormy would think it's lame,[/i][/color] she'd thought every time she considered it. Then, there was her cassette audio diary—even [b][i]more[/i][/b] lame. She had some vinyl records, but if Stormy caught a glimpse of those, Axelle probably wouldn't be able to stop her from peeking into the other boxes. Finally, and most unfortunately, she'd probably never get her hands on any of her volleyball trophies until after her mother's funeral.

By the time Stormy was showering, the cinnamon rolls were starting to brown. [color=a50b5e]"Oh, you're looking cute today,"[/color] Axelle whispered to the half-dozen cinnamon rolls, lined up neatly on the tray. [color=a50b5e]"Poke~♪"[/color] She stuck a toothpick into one. Yep, they were done. She slipped on her oven mitt, took the rolls out of the oven, plated them, and put the plate in a small box she'd acquired from a bake shop. [color=a50b5e]"Crap, makeup!"[/color] she suddenly realized, scrambling for her purse. She didn't have time for much; just a little bit of this, a little bit of that... she had to stop herself from humming the song.

As Axelle "finished" her makeup, there was a knock at the door. "Can you [i]PLEASE[/i] say something to your roomie about all the noise?" the twin-tailed brunette at the door demanded, right about the time Stormy emerged from the shower and began singing her lungs out. [color=a50b5e]"I'll say something to her,"[/color] Axelle replied quietly, smiling sweetly as she closed the door on the girl.

At Stormy's prompting, Axelle checked her phone again and read the newest message.

[color=a50b5e]"I spent all night researching, so I'd be a little miffed if she cancelled because of a light drizzle,"[/color] she replied matter-of-factly, though she'd been against the idea at first.

Slowly, she gathered her things. Purse—check. Strawberry and creme frappuccino with cinnamon rolls—check and check. Book bag full of girl scout cookies—check, check and check. She wouldn't need her textbooks. Despite her resting "daydreamer" face, she was actually laser-focused during class, and had a fine-tuned "this will be on the test" radar. Her phone had Google, a calculator and a notepad, and that was more than enough. [color=a50b5e]"Lead the way, [i]ma cher[/i],"[/color] she said to Stormy, smiling warmly. [color=a50b5e]"For the coffee,"[/color] she said routinely, handing Stormy about $15 CAD.

As the carpeted floor of the dorms gave way to tile, Axelle's heels began clacking loudly on the floor.

[color=a50b5e]"Oh!"[/color] she exclaimed, remembering something. [color=a50b5e]"I promised the neighbor I would say something to you about your loudness."[/color]

[i]Beat.[/i]

[color=a50b5e]"So, I'm saying something,"[/color] she says matter-of-factly.

...and, that was the end of that conversation!

Sure, Stormy was loud, and a bit of a party animal. One would think that being around her would be like being at a loud party 24/7, but a loud "party of one" was a bit different. As long as she wasn't being pressured to drink or be boldly social, Axelle didn't mind being around that type of atmosphere, even though it didn't really suit her demure, poised-but-playful wall flower bit. Her stance on Stormy's antics seemed to be "as long as you make it home, I don't see a problem with it."