Deborah flashed the crowd a dazzling smile, but for the first time in a long time, she looked… uncertain? Nervous? Shy? They were all things rather unbefitting of the Dangerous Debutante, but it was as if all of the bite had gone out of her. She tried to calm herself. This was just another song in another setlist for another concert, and—no. No, this wasn't just another anything.

This song, although perhaps not her most iconic, was one she'd almost forgotten the meaning of because of how long it had been since last she sang it. Now, though, in light of her growing… whatever-it-was with Angela, she was starting to hear it with new ears.

This ain't for the best. My reputation's never been worse, so, you must like me for me.

We can't make any promises now can we, babe? But you can make me a drink.

"Dive bar on the East Side, where you at? Phone lights up my nightstand in the black. Come here, you can meet me in the back…" She reached out to the audience as she sang, but the one person she was imagining standing before her was nowhere to be found. "Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you! Oh damn, never seen that color blue. Just think of the fun things we could do…" Cause I like you…

Angela seldom attended Deborah's concerts. In the past, it was because she had no interest in Deborah or her music. In the present, it was because she was always busy with lab work. Deborah knew that and tried to respect it, but especially in times like this, she wanted nothing more than to see Angela's face in the crowd, more than anyone else's. There was a reason this song was on her setlist, and it wasn't just for a throwback.

I know you're busy, Angela. Your project is finally picking up the pace, so you want to be there to forge on ahead like the trailblazer we both know you are. But even so, sometimes I wonder and I dream that you might be listening to me…

"Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate."

But if it's too presumptuous to assume you're listening now, have you ever listened before? If you have, I sure hope it was this song you listened to.

"Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to call you friend? 'Cause I know that it's delicate."

Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?... Isn't it? Delicate…

ooo

Miles away, Angela sat alone in a quiet room. The only sounds were the scratches of pencil on paper, Bunsen burners bubbling in the background, and an old gramophone playing one of her new favorite songs. She always loved to listen to music while she worked, but she'd never looped a single song as many times as she'd looped this one.

"Third floor on the West Side, me and you. Gorgeous, you're a mansion with a view. Does anyone else love me like you do?"

It was the original recording of Deborah's "Delicate". Ever since the party on the boat, ever since the gala where Deborah took Angela home at the end of the night, Angela had slowly been making her way through Deborah's discography. She didn't have much, since Deborah spent half her time modeling and thusly only had half the time to focus on music, but she still had a few albums for Angela to learn.

Angela was all caught up now, but "Delicate" stayed with her longer and stronger than any of the rest of Deborah's songs. It was one of her most vulnerable pieces, and it showed a softer side to her that Angela used to only ever see in glimpses. Thanks to this song, though, Angela no longer needed to reply on glimpses. Now she knew for sure that under the spiky, silver armor, Deborah had a heart of gold.

"Long night with your hands up in my hair," Deborah's voice sang through the gramophone.

"Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs," Angela joined in, this was her favorite part. "Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share… Yeah I want you!"

While Deborah's voice swooped and soared, intermingling with a background harmony and all the layers of music that made up the score, Angela's foot tapped the beat and she chanted along with the singer.

"We can't make any promises now can we, babe? But you can make me dream…"

"'Cause I know that it's delicate! Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?… Isn't it?…"

ooo

The pleasant music was interrupted by a loud ringing filling the air. Angela jumped, both frightened by the sudden sound and irritated by its intrusion upon her otherwise peaceful night. Speaking of, it was… 2AM?! Who on earth was ringing her doorbell at—?

"Deborah!" Angela jumped in fright again as she finally answered the door.

"Oh, sorry!" Deborah held up her hands and stepped back from the threshold.

"No, it's not that." Angela tried to steady her breathing, resting a hand over her heart. "It's just… what are you doing here so late? Is everything ok?"

For a moment, Deborah didn't reply. She didn't know how to. Technically, yes, everything was fine. But also, it wasn't. Or else Deborah wouldn't have come calling at 2:00 in the morning after a concert night. But she wasn't in any danger, if that was what Angela was worried about. Although she certainly felt in danger… Not in a literal sense, but… Gah! It was all too confusing! Deborah couldn't even explain her thoughts and feelings to herself! How could she ever hope to properly explain them to Angela?! Things were not going the way she'd hoped or planned…

At last, though, Angela broke the silence, inviting Deborah inside and leading her downstairs to the lab. The gramophone was still looping.

"—you're a mansion with a view! Does anyone else trust you like I do? Long nights—"

Deborah's eyes widened. "You're… listening to…?" She pointed to the gramophone, finally at a loss for words entirely.

"Oh! Right! Sorry!" Angela cringed sheepishly, giving Deborah an apologetic wince before darting over to the gramophone and silencing it.

"No, no, it's fine, I just…" Deborah was subdued. "… I didn't know you listened to my music…"

"Well, ever since we became friends, I thought it high time I caught up on all your projects, since you've always been so kind as to listen to mine." Angela was suddenly unable to meet Deborah's eyes, helplessly gesturing to the notebooks resting beside the gramophone.

"You listen to me… while you work?" Deborah's heart fluttered. Angela nodded. Deborah swallowed.

Sometimes I wonder and I dream… are you ever listening to me…?

"It's my favorite song of yours." The doctor finally managed to force a few words out of her blocked throat.

"Delicate?" Deborah sucked in another breath.

"Yeah, I listen to it more than I care to admit," Angela laughed weakly. "Oh! I hope that doesn't sound weird or creepy though."

"No, not at all!" Deborah was quick to reassure the doctor. Although there were obsessive fans that listened to her music far too often for their own good, Deborah could tell that even though Angela was infatuated with the song, she was not at the "creepy stalker-fan" level yet.

Although, if it were her, perhaps I wouldn't mind…

"Come here, you can meet me in the back. Just think of the fun things we could do. Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share!"

"It's just such a lovely piece!" Angela said. Was she gushing, or trying to justify her obsession? Probably both. "And I can understand the feeling…" That was the real reason Angela liked the song. Sure, she liked to pretend Deborah was singing it to her, but even more than that, the simple desire to be loved for who she was, flaws and all, despite any bad reputation she might've had, was a desire she understood all too well.

"I wrote it back when I first started my music career," Deborah said suddenly. "It was meant to be a lesson, in a way, a reminder to not let someone's reputation get in the way of seeing them for who they truly are. I remember an old famous singer once said she feared that there were some beautiful relationships she might never have because her reputation would scare people away before they took the time to get to know her. That stuck with me, but I know I've lost sight of that lesson over the past few years…"

Deborah trailed off, ruefulness and regret in her eyes as she thought about Angela. It's funny how one can develop sheer hatred for another without ever having met them. Perhaps it wasn't Angela's reputation, per se, but in the beginning, Deborah had considered her a potential rival. She allowed that reputation to cloud her judgement. It was funny to think that, now, she was the one Deborah loved. Deborah still loved Ambrose, of course, but with each passing day, she found herself falling deeper and deeper for Angela.

Little did she know, Angela felt the same. She also used to let Deborah's reputation blind her to what kind of a person Deborah truly was. That was not to say reputation meant nothing, but some of Angela's fears about Deborah had only ever been in her head.

I was so frightened by you… for so long… and now you've proven to be my greatest friend! The doctor had indeed wanted to go to Deborah's concert, but with deadlines for grants at stake, the best Angela could do was listen to some of Deborah's old albums back at the lab.

ooo

It was then that Deborah confided in Angela. She loved music and modeling, but she didn't always love the people involved in it. There was always someone to impress, to suck up to. She always had something to prove and there was always someone she wasn't good enough for. It was an endless cycle of competition for ever-fleeting attention. And she always had to raise the stakes higher and higher, be more and more dangerous, just to keep that attention. Was it any surprise how and why she'd become so rotten over the past few years?

She certainly hadn't gone into the industry like this, but after just a few short years, she started to become the Dangerous Debutante, even though the Dangerous Debutante was only ever supposed to be a character, a persona, not the real Deborah Lavish. She didn't even know who that might've been anymore. She'd completely lost sight of herself and didn't even realize…

One event in particular had broken her. She used to be part of a friend group near the top of the social ladder. They were close to one of Vine and Vinyl Recording Studios' most powerful influencers. But even from the get-go, the group seemed bound to fail, at least for Deborah. They called themselves a "friend group", but in actuality, it was more like a very tenuous alliance, at best. Maybe there was some real love between some of the members, but not Deborah. It was only for social gain, as far as she was concerned, and getting close to the influencer, not the other singers.

She became so conniving, selfish, and backstabbing. She wasn't in it for friends, just fame. And she had no problem stepping on, or using, others to get ahead for herself. There was only room enough to care about Number One when everyone else was a rival. She was stuck in a rat race and didn't even realize it until her nails were broken and bleeding from how long and hard she'd struggled to claw her way to the top.

From her experience, no one in that group stuck together out of loyalty, just power. They all used each other. Granted, that was probably not the case for every singer, but it certainly was for Deborah, and it was not something she was proud of. That was why she'd become so cold, so hurt. To constantly have to prove herself only to have another singer one-up her the very next day was enough to drive anyone mad. But the nail in the coffin was realizing how little she mattered to all of them, including the influencer whom she'd tried so hard to woo in the first place.

Following a fight, she stormed out, and not a single one of them ever even tried to reach out to her. Not once, not ever. Instead, the world kept on turning, and that hurt, more than Deborah thought it would. They either didn't know, or didn't care, that she was gone. All that time and effort, the monster she became, was all in vain. After so long trying to impress them… it meant nothing.

Deborah was left alone again, replaced by someone newer, younger, prettier, brighter, and shinier. It didn't matter how long Deborah had been there, the new kid was better, so that was it. She was already old news. Forgotten. Irrelevant. The new kid was the only one anyone cared about anymore. Not Deborah. She'd forgotten the most important rule of their industry: You gotta leave before you get left!

But perhaps she deserved it, because she certainly hadn't valued any of her coworkers any more than they valued her. That was what happened when she lived in a world where everyone was replaceable at the drop of a hat, and she was raised to see everyone as a potential threat or enemy to her current status. She became a monster, forever stuck on high alert. Maybe getting kicked out of the kingdom was her karma.

Honestly, if not for Ambrose, who was the one of the first people she ever felt like she didn't have to compete with, who knew where she may have ended up? He'd actually come to her first, using her as a model for a statue he wanted in his study. In the beginning, she'd tried to woo him just to keep his attention because attention meant modeling jobs which meant money and success.

But as time passed, Ambrose stuck around just because he started to like Deborah. He saw something in her worth sticking around for, and for once in her life, Deborah had someone who wasn't going to leave or replace her at the first sign of someone prettier. That was why she'd been so desperate to keep him as close as possible. Then along came Dr. Jekyll. Now Deborah felt just as protective of her as she felt of Ambrose.

ooo

"Oh, Deborah, I had no idea you were so overcome!" Angela's heart ached for the singer. Of course, she imagined Deborah's life wasn't as easy or glamorous as it seemed, but to hear how deeply these emotional injuries cut her showed Angela just how ugly it could really be. Even if Deborah was just as much to blame as anyone, she was still clearly hurting, and it broke Angela's heart. Living in constant fear of attention and affection being taken away after one minor mishap was no way to live. Angela knew that, too.

And even more than that, Deborah had to confront all of this within herself. She had to look in the mirror and see all the ugliness. That couldn't have been fun or easy either.

"The fact that you're aware of it now… doesn't that mean you're already better than you used to be?" Angela asked. "You're one step closer to being the person you want to be. You already were able to admit this to yourself, so…"

Silence reigned between the two, then the barest of smiles flickered across Deborah's face.

"I see… I have never thought about it that way before. Incredible, Angela, you observe it from a different perspective."

"Ah, no, it's nothing incredible." Angela rubbed the back of her neck and laughed sheepishly.

"Even so, allow me to show you my gratitude. Because of you, I feel a little better… my little angel." Deborah rested a hand on Angela's shoulder, smiling. Angela looked up into her eyes, surprised by the gesture. The moment she did, though, she felt her stomach twist.

Maybe Angela's life looked nothing like Deborah's, but she could relate to the fear of being abandoned, forgotten, unwanted, betrayed or replaced, both in the scientific community and everywhere else in her life. She also knew what it felt like to feel unworthy of love, and yet terrified to live without it. That was why she, too, used to desire Ambrose so deeply. He was the only friend she'd ever had in her entire life. She didn't want to lose that to anyone, least of all someone whom she used to assume could have any friends that she wanted. But now Angela knew better.

Deborah was just as lonely and hopeful, just as desperate for true companionship and yet seemingly equally unable to find it. Deborah was not Angela's rival, Angela regretted ever thinking that she was. In truth, Deborah was just as insecure as she was. Like Deborah, Angela used to fear that nobody would ever love her for her, except Ambrose.

It already felt unbelievable enough that someone as glorious as Deborah would give the time of day to someone as boring and plain as Angela, but that was exactly what happened. And in time, Angela started to fall for Deborah, too. How could she not, though? Once she looked past Deborah's reputation to see the human underneath…

Sometimes when I look into your eyes,

"D—Deborah…"

I pretend your mind!

"I… I…"

All the damn time!

"I think…I… think…"

'Cause I like you!

"I li—, no, love… you…"

Deborah's hand fell from Angela's shoulder, her face completely blank.

"D—Deborah? Please… Please, say something! Y—y—you're making me really nervous right now… I'm sorry if I—"

"No, don't apologize!" Deborah didn't even remember speaking, but she heard her voice, and then suddenly, her lips were pressed against Angela's.

Yeah, I want you!

Then it was Angela's turn to go rigid, but just like Deborah, after a few seconds, she came back around. Suddenly, she was kissing Deborah right back, passionate but gentle. It could only be described as delicate. New, tender, uncertain and shy, but devoted and so madly in love. Through one another, they'd come to realize that they were indeed possible to love, and now, they didn't want that love to stop, not now, or ever, like a song played on an endless refrain…

A few minutes later, Deborah's recorded voice emanated from the old gramophone once more. Deborah, meanwhile, held Angela close, unable to use her actual voice for the song because her lips were still pressed against Angela's as they slowly waltzed the rest of the night away.

Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?

Is it cool that I said all that?

Isn't it?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?

'Cause I know that it's delicate.

Isn't it?

Delicate…