Taylor casts a quick glance at the girl sitting a few tables away from her, before quickly returning to her task at hand. It wouldn't do to get caught, even though she knows logically even if the girl looks up, averting her eyes should be enough to stop any further interaction. This isn't Winslow, where being caught looking means- meant trouble. Where simply being seen meant trouble, really. Throughout the whole of the bullying campaign, she'd kept telling herself that, at worst, it would continue until graduation, that she'd be free from the trio after.
Wishful thinking. She'd have been an absolute mess by then. Even now she keeps half-expecting the girl to catch her eyes when she looks up from the page, as her bullies have done so many times. She keeps dreading that she will scowl, or worse, smile, then get up and unhurriedly saunter to her table and then...
...Who's to know. Taylor knows what the trio, or any other girl from Winslow she drew would've done – granted, those were not the most flattering of images. It's why she never brought her hobby to school, much as it would have made it easier. They probably wouldn't have even destroyed anything, just took it straight to the principal – because God forbid a girl have a hobby. She doesn't even have to imagine the shit-storm. The last time somebody cared to take a look she was taken in for questioning. Sure, there was a murder and all, but...
Ugh.
They told her she'd get her diary back. They forgot to add the eventually part. Not that it matters with four of the girls who tormented her dead. What would she do with it, anyway? At first, her journal was meant to be a way of fighting back, a record of all the things that were done to her – so detailed in the beginning, yet eventually reduced to yesterday plus soda, as the bullying got so familiar as to become repetitive. And while the accounts of her bullying grew more and more sparse, fantasies took up the space left. Ranging from Miss Militia swooping in to save her, to a very elaborate tale of Sophia's truly unfortunate encounter with some Nazis in a butchery – author's own illustrations attached.
...She should have kept the whole thing separate, as she does now. No mixing up her stories with anything else – she tears the pages out nowadays. Oh, it got her an investigation alright, and her bullies were indeed punished. Taylor has to wonder if they would have faced any consequences at all were it just her diary.
Maybe it's better that she never gets it back. Any function it could have had is gone now. The police have seen it, only Sophia remains of the trio, and she's been barely paying Taylor any attention since... Madison. And whatever venting Taylor did through her art has only left her with an ashen taste in her mouth, now that those girls are truly dead.
In fact, every time she takes a pencil in hand, her bullies are the first thing her mind settles on. It's why it took her all this time to draw again – and only because she promised Ayano she wouldn't let her tormentors affect her life any longer. She... probably wouldn't have tried again had it not been for her friend, wouldn't have discovered how much she actually enjoys it when her subject matter isn't her bullies, when it's not anger that guides her hand.
The police can keep her damn journal. The only thing it's full of is bad memories.
If she's to start a new chapter in her life, it's only fitting she makes this aspect of her into something uncontaminated by her bullies. It'll be... nice, to be able to finally share it with someone. Dad hadn't even known before the police dug it out of her room, and his reaction was more or less what she had expected it'd be.
As for Ayano... she wants to draw her. What better way to reclaim a part of her life as her own than to do so by celebrating the person that has helped her to do just that. Also, she wants to draw her. Maybe a portrait, for starters. It'd be easy enough, her smile is the first thing she sees before her closed eyes.
...One day. She feels strange just thinking about it, even more so about asking.
She lifts her eyes to look at the girl again, and finds herself locking eyes with her model. It's just half a second before the other teen goes back to her book, but it's enough for Taylor's insides to turn ice. It's a considerable effort to simply look down to the sheet and continue her sketch instead of throwing all her things into the bag and rushing out of the library. But no, she will not bow out like she's been conditioned to. This isn't Winslow, and even if it were - she'd promised she would put that past her, and not just to herself this time. Were it just her to disappoint, well, she's done that so many times before, what's once more? Only, this time she would also fail Ayano. Her friend wouldn't think less of her, Taylor knows that, yet still the fear persists, seated just beside the desperate want to make the girl feel proud of her.
She's just about done needing a reference regardless. It's not like she's trying to draw her, she's just a model. Not like with the trio, whose faces are engraved into her memory. Actually... there. Done! Now for why she came here.
Taylor opens the - textbook, apparently. Mom's old books are heavy, but those are about literature. This monster must be about as lengthy as the thickest of them. Maybe it's the pictures, it'd better be pictures after all the time she spent on tracking down a book with hand-drawn images as opposed to the 3D in all the new, more easily available anatomy books. Not that useful for her needs.
Thankfully, this one seems like just the sort of aid she needed. It's not exactly easy process to copy the images like she needs them, but it still looks better than her old works do just by having a solid reference.
As she's nearing completion, the girl begins to look up at the clock every few minutes. She doesn't want to miss a bus home. It's already getting dark and her home is, admittedly, not situated in the best of neighborhoods. Looks like she'll just have to finish this at home. Hmm. She'll bring money for the printer next time. She could scan and mail the desired pages, but the printer at home is... Dad usually sets whatever he needs to print before making dinner, or some other time-consuming activity. More often than not he'll still have time to watch the news before having to worry about leaving the printer unoccupied.
She snaps the encyclopedia closed with a thud, and with the trained haste of someone learned in the art of throwing all her possessions into a bag to quickly get out of class, the teen sweeps all her belongings into her bag while already standing up-
"Excu-" -to promptly crash into something with entirely too little give.
Taylor finds herself knocked back into the chair with her baggage all finding its way onto the floor. She blinks, confused for a second, before taking in the sight before her. A tall, handsome boy stands before her, looking a little thrown off by being walked into, with his bright eyes still widen. Huh, no wonder she got thrown right back – somebody's been working out.
"I'm sorry," he says, before crouching to gather her scattered possessions. "Here, let me help."
...That's different. People usually just laugh when she drops her stuff. Not Winslow. Right. No, wait!
"Oh, that's alright, no need-" she begins as she, too, drops to the floor. Too late to scoop up her drawings before him.
"There. Again, I'm sorry, I just wanted..." The boy trails off as he takes a look at the pages he's holding. "...Uh, to uh-"
Taylor tugs the pages out of his grip, before stuffing them in her backpack and turning back to him to force out a- "Yes?"
It's like watching a person reset, the way his expressions snaps back in focus again.
"Oh, right. I wanted to ask if I could use the book. The librarian told me they just have this one copy."
Ah. They do, and it's a read-only to boot. A pity, but it probably costs a few of her monthly allowances, so.
"Of course." She looks away from his searching gaze. "I just- I was about to go, so- I need to return it first. You know, clear my card."
"Sure. Mind if I come with, then?" Yes. No.
"Go ahead."
"Thank you. Say, were those your drawings?" He begins as they start making their way to the reception.
The girl shoots him a wary look. It should be... pretty obvious, she'd think, what with her pencils and pages and- everything.
"Yes. Why?"
"-Nothing, it just reminded me of a friend of mine. He's pretty into that sort of stuff."
"Really?" The question slips out before her thoughts can catch up with her.
"Yeah. We're in a- club, of sorts, and everyone gets to pick a movie every now and then. And on occasion he'll bring something... different."
The girl barks a laugh.
"I'll bet."
Different. Right. Yes, she can see how picking a movie like that would be different. She made Dad watch one such with her. Once. Must be fun having a friend who'd stick all the way through and then come back for more anyway. She wonders if Ayano will want to watch her own specific movies too. She wonders if she's the kind of girl who would like someone to hold her watching such a movie...
...Anyway!
"...Got any recommendations?" She says hastily, rushing out the first words that come to her mind.
"You- ahahah!" He scratches at his neck, looking away as he laughs. "Sorry, but I actually make a conscious effort to bleach that stuff from my memory."
"Oh."
"I... could give you his profile on PHO? I think he'd like it to have someone to talk those over, actually."
Taylor wavers. Isn't this exactly the sort of stuff she wants? To reach out to people? The boy seems genuine enough, but she's seen enough superficial charm to know how it means nothing, and not enough authenticity to make it apart. Then again, it's not like she'd be really meeting him or this friend of his, so it should be safe. They'd just write, swap a few titles, and then maybe they'd meet, or maybe not, if he turns out to be just another fake.
But isn't that always a risk? What if she had not let Ayano in?
"You know what? That'd actually be great."