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[img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/ee6faccb4d0b481b2c09663fe186e206/0afc8198a57f7781-ac/s640x960/46111b04b44e56d68a32be15740543b691111352.gifv[/img][/center]
[sub]Location: Dorms -> 155° Cafe [right]Interactions: Andreas Mossos [@metanoia][/right] 
[right][url=https://urstyle.fashion/styles/3080635]ootd[/url][/right][/sub]
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Charlie Baker’s fifteenth morning at OIC did not seem very different than all the others. She awoke, from a distant dream that left no trace, aside from the pit of discomfort that rested within her gut. This school was… a lot. In her first two weeks she’d already failed her first quiz ever, and had received no fewer than twelve, truly icy stares. Apparently a trust fund gave you a lot of time to practice making other people feel like shit, without even opening your mouth. 

She showered and dressed without incident, though there was a pang of melancholy. Charlie had come to OIC with a suitcase full of clothes she’d designed and made for herself, but outside of the random shoots she’d done, she hadn’t had the balls to wear any of it herself. She had naively thought that this school would have a place ready for her, that she wouldn’t have to carve out her own. She wasn’t sure she could handle it, if one of these kids came for her clothes. That would hurt too much.

There was of course, still the hole in the universe where her dad ought to be, or at least, answers about him. She’d been naive in that too; hoping that she would just stumble into a man she’d never met, who probably didn’t know about her, and feel the connection that some people don’t, even after knowing their father all their lives. As she began the trek towards the quad to meet Dre, she couldn’t help but feel silly, and not in the good way. [i]That[/i], was not how she liked to be with Dre. He was one of the few trust fund babies she enjoyed, but he intimidated her in a way. Everyone here did.

Back in New Mexico, she’d been the big fish. Sure, being an army brat didn’t give much in the way of stability, but it gave plenty in terms of experience, and alone time to read. Here though, with kids who’d been spoonfed Ivy league critical thinking skills since they were old enough to toddle? She was starting to think that New Mexico had simply been a pond, and that she was a freshwater fish who’d somehow gotten themselves out into the ocean. [color=F9ED87][i]No. You belong here. You got in, same as everyone else.[/i][/color]

That affirmation carried her to the gate. She was almost starting to come out of this self-pitying funk, might’ve, if it hadn’t been for that stupid fucking bulletin board. 

[center][b][color=white]Brat[/color][/b][/center]

There it was, written for everyone to see, just beneath a picture of her laughing. A piece of her recognized a few other faces up there, but her consciousness was closing in on itself now, swirling around that one word, scrawled in such nice handwriting. She hugged her bag to her chest and pushed through the crowd and into the quad, walking as fast as she could towards the cafe.

She could feel her eyes burning with unspilt tears. She hated crying, refused the catharsis whenever she could, but right now, she could do no such thing. The emotions of the last two weeks had reached a boiling point, and the dam within her was finally bursting. She felt a tear slip out and her hand moved violently to her face, wiping it away. She was vaguely aware of stepping into the cafe, pushing through the line and to the bathroom.

She gripped the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. A sob broke out, quickly muffled by her arm. She found her way into one of the stalls, locking it and sitting down on the toilet, pulling her feet up so that she might hug her knees to her chest. [color=F9ED87][i]Why the fuck did you come here?[/i][/color]

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She was only in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, it turned out. She thought when she stepped out, finally satisfied that her eyes weren’t a red, puffy mess, that Dre would be waiting for her, truly perturbed at her for wasting his time, but she didn’t see him anywhere. She took a booth by the door, and sat down, somewhat gloomier than normal, but otherwise none the worse for wear. If there was anything she hated more than tears, it was others knowing that she’d shed them.

She saw him come in, and shouted his name, waving with the kind of enthusiasm that said, “Hey! I definitely wasn’t just crying in the bathroom!” Watching Dre almost give himself whiplash in an  attempt to find her voice brought a much needed smile to her face though. [color=6495ed]"Hey, uh, sorry if I'm late. Kinda got caught up in that bulletin board and just kind of lost track of time."[/color]

If Charlie noticed anything wrong with Andre, she didn’t say anything. She let out a commisarating sigh, and shook her head. [color=F9ED87][b]“What the fuck is with that thing anyways? Is that like, real? Like do people actually care about what we do?”[/b][/color]
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