Once again thanks to Ryu_No_Me for the beta-reading!
Over halfway through the story now. I hope you enjoy!

For the longest time since the crash, quiet settled in the car. While the heating hummed and the storm raged on, the two occupants respected a soothing silence as all the new information settled. Luka remained curled in her seat, scarves around her legs and side against the door, while the jock sat back, hands clasped in her lap. Neither were really trying to get to sleep, both keeping their eyes open, if unseeing. Neither were expecting anything, but clearly they were waiting. The tealette's gloved fingers tapped gently against one another, while Luka stroked at the lock of hair on her shoulder, hidden under the blanket.

"I'm sorry," Luka started all of a sudden. "I wasn't very nice to you."

Miku turned to face her. "How so?"

"Just now, when you came out to me. And earlier. All evening. I haven't been very kind to you at all."

Miku hummed. "I can see why. You have a lot on your mind."

"That might explain it," Luka started lamely, voice meek. "But that doesn't excuse it. Just because I have a problem doesn't mean I have to share it."

At that, the jock shrugged. "It can help, though. Admitting a problem is the first step to solving it, but sharing one is the first in getting help."

Luka nodded. "I suppose..."

"Carrying a secret like that is difficult. If you needed someone else to know, I'm happy to help."

"Thank you." She sighed deeply, adding in a single breath, "You've been so kind to me."

"It helped, didn't it?"

"It did..."

The jock gave her a warm smile. "I'm glad."

Luka observed her for a moment, staring openly from just above the edge of the blanket. The jock grinned back at her, lopsided as always, the piercing glinting in her brow.

"I said such mean things, earlier," Luka whispered. "Saying you didn't care."

"Yeah, well..."

"You didn't deserve that," she went on. "I let my own insecurities get the best of me. My... My envy."

Her grin slowly fell. "Envy?"

"I didn't understand how you do it. I still don't."

"Do what?"

"You live for yourself. It's so clear. You wear what you want, you do what you want, you live the life you want and you smile the whole time because you mean it. You're happy just on your own and I don't get how you do it. Meanwhile I..." She choked up, averted her eyes, hands wringing under the blanket. "I started dating a stranger just to make my parents happy."

"Right. That's why you did it."

"You were wondering?"

"Well, I figured you had to get something out of it," Miku muttered. "Otherwise there'd be no benefit to you."

Luka sighed. "He fits the bill. He's..."

"He's who they want in your life."

"Precisely." She huffed, finally pushing the blanket down from her face. "I grew up knowing that they knew better. They knew that I needed the best grades, that I needed the best manners, that I needed to play the best songs. So I did. I've always done my best to be... To be the best. Whatever they said was the best way to do things. When I succeeded, they were happy."

Miku waited for a couple of heartbeats. "When you failed...?"

"I don't—" Luka shook her head. "Mother and Father always knew best. That is how it has been all my life. And, I suppose I did start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, there could be something wrong with that, but..."

She trailed off, the last words stuck in her throat. Her tears clung to her lashes, her hands to the blanket.

"When you grow up like that, it's hard to imagine anything different."

Luka nodded, which was enough to get the tears rolling. "I've been working so hard all these years to be the best. I am doing the best studies, I found the best boyfriend, and I'll continue to be the best daughter. And maybe, just maybe, when they finally find out that I won't be perfect, being the best could be enough. But every single mistake I make, every flaw I show... They'll remember it. And they'll hold it against me if they ever find out that their image of me is bigger than what I can become. So... I just had to be home. I had to be. I can't— I can't afford to fail."

"Right," Miku whispered.

"Look where I got us," Luka spat, picking up the packet of tissues with her gloved hands. She dabbed at her eyes so the makeup wouldn't smear, but only half-heartedly; the more she removed, the more tears fell. "Stuck in a snowstorm..."

The jock looked around for a moment. "It's not so bad, though. Relatively speaking. Worst either of us got was a nosebleed."

"I suppose that's true."

"And we could have an honest conversation or two."

"To what end?" Luka croaked. "No matter what, soon enough we will be rescued. I will have to return to being the very best, all day, every day, while everybody around me can continue living as they see fit..."

"I guess you could start planning your independence," Miku offered. "I guess in this way, getting married to Gakupo might be perfect; once you're his, so to speak, your parents won't be able to control you anymore."

Luka shook her head. "It's not so simple."

"No?"

"They're always in my head," she whispered, almost a hiss. "Every little thing I do, every little thought I think, I wonder how they would react. Is this what they would want for me? Is this in their design? Sitting here in this trench coat, scarves around my legs? They..."

"What does your design look like?"

"I don't know. I don't— I don't think I can dare even imagine."

"Give it a shot."

Luka looked at the jock, eyes waterlogged, cheeks damp, hands clenched around a soggy tissue. "I don't—"

"If you could wear anything, what would it be?"

Luka sniffled a bit. "I don't know..."

"Tell me you want a tattoo!"

"I don't want a tattoo!" she scoffed.

"You want to wear roller-skates 24/7!"

"What? No!"

"Crazy piercings everywhere!"

"No!"

"Alright," the jock said. "What do you want?"

"I..." Understanding dawned on her, and she averted her eyes, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. Fist tight around the tissue, she admitted, "I'd like something cozy, I think."

"Yeah?"

"I just want... I've always wanted to put on a hoodie. One without a zipper, that is slightly too large..."

"That sounds awesome."

The taller woman glanced at her cautiously. "You mean that."

"Sure! Oversized clothes are great. I'd be lying if it didn't make up at least a quarter of my own wardrobe."

Luka chuckled, incredulous. "I'd like to wear pants instead of dresses... And I'd love to tie up my hair. And have slippers with little faces on them."

Miku smiled. Softly, so she wouldn't jostle her, she whispered, "Sounds like you always kind of knew what you'd want for yourself."

"...Perhaps."

"Any ideas on what you'd want to do with your hair?"

"Oh, I don't know... A simple braid, at least."

"Never had your hair braided?"

"It is unbecoming," she quoted, a slight sneer in her voice.

The jock rolled her eyes, yet her smile remained gentle. "Turn around, if you want."

"Wh—"

"I can braid your hair if you'd like."

Luka froze, considering the jock in front of her. She was grinning her lopsided grin, but it was so confident, so reassuring, she nearly caved. Before she could even open her mouth, however, Miku held up a finger.

"First, though, I'd need to wash my hands. I've been nasty all evening. I got blood and boogers everywhere."

Luka chuckled, watching her rifle through the boxes at her feet. Soon enough, she stumbled upon a bunch of baby wipes.

For a handful of seconds she watched the jock meticulously rub at the dried blood splat on her wrist, before going to her palms, the backs of her hands. While she worked, Luka set aside the tissues, then slowly, still a bit hesitant, sat in the middle of her seat and turned her back to the tealette.

Eventually, she heard a clap, followed by the sound of two palms rubbing against each other.

"Alright. Just a classic braid?"

Luka nodded.

"Know how to do one?"

"No."

"I'll show you. Just let me get it started."

With one slow, deliberate motion, the tealette ran her fingertips from under Luka's ears down to the middle of her neck, gathering all of her hair, freeing several locks from under the trench coat. Luka froze at the unexpected touch. Back straight, she counted her breaths as the jock started gently combing the strands with her fingers.

"Just need to divide it into thirds," she said.

"Very well..."

Eyes wide, Luka waited while the jock divided her hair into three even parts. Deftly, she started the braid at the nape of her neck, passing the rightmost bunch of locks over the middle one, then the left over the new middle, then the right, and so on. She worked with quick, practiced motions, and Luka could only try to imagine them, feeling the gentle tugging at her scalp.

"You can turn around now, if you want."

Luka obeyed, finding her hair pulled over the wrong shoulder, but seeing it made her gasp.

It was braided partway down; the jock had only done as much as needed so Luka could turn back around without damaging the work done. The rest of the locks hung freely in the jock's hands, the even divisions resting between expert fingers. Her nails were short, trimmed to a smooth, even edge. However, she was so close it was impossible to miss the slight scarring on her fingers, her dry cuticles, the callouses on her palms and healing scabs on her knuckles.

"Here's how you braid," Miku started with a wide grin, her eyes always returning to Luka's; one pair was awestruck, the other amused. "You always have a middle strand, right? Right now, it's this one..."

Luka watched with wide-eyed fascination as the tealette continued to work down the plait, pushing the strands to and fro without ever losing track. The ever-growing result awed her even more, and when Miku finally reached the end, she pulled an extra hair tie from the pocket of her jacket and tied it up as if she had done it a thousand times.

"And there you have it," she whispered. "A braid."

Luka removed her gloves so she could run her bare hand down the length of hair. "I never thought..."

"It's nice, right?"

"It's wonderful..."

"You have beautiful hair."

Luka looked up, finding the jock already staring at her. "Thank you."

"It's a shame you can't do what you want with it," the tealette went on. "Braiding is... It's the first thing kids learn to do with hair. You never did much more than tie a ponytail, did you?"

"Never."

"And? What's it like, having this little victory for yourself?"

Luka inhaled shakily, clutching the plait. "It's... It's mine."

"It is."

"It's amazing."

The jock grinned. "Just keep chasing these little moments. Eventually, your whole life will be made of these little things, and that's when you'll be living for yourself."

"But my parents—"

"They're not here," Miku assured her, her hands clasping over Luka's. The taller woman tensed at the touch again, but the jock went on, saying, "They're not really in your head. They can't see into this car. If you need a night to just be yourself, no holding up appearances and no acts, then you can. Right here, right now, learn what it's like to have something just for yourself. Get addicted to it."

Luka nodded slowly, eyes downcast. "I... I think I might."

The tealette smiled gently. "You think of anything else we can do while you're here, just let me know. Tonight, you're free."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all. If we can make one good thing come from being stranded in a snowstorm, then by all means, let's."

Luka sighed deeply, holding her hair close. "Thank you."

"No problem. It's the least I can do."

"I—" Luka caught herself, quickly pushing herself back so she was once again pressed against the door.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," she confessed, finding new tears perching on her lashes. "I feel like, if I start talking, I might never stop..."

Miku looked around, her grin back in full force. "We got all night."

Luka considered her for a long time, hands tightly grasping the braid. The jock stared back, her expression warm, gentle. Face illuminated by the lights, hair messy, mismatched gloves in her lap and the smear of blood still on her lip, the tealette was unabashedly open, welcoming.

"Seriously, if you want to tell me your dream life, down to the smallest detail, I'll listen," Miku assured her, leaning forward just slightly.

She breathed in deeply once, twice, then she whispered, "I think I'd like to try riding a motorcycle?"

"A motorcycle?"

"Yes. They're not very safe, but..." After a moment, she closed her eyes, shook her head, then said in a firm voice, "They look like so much fun!"

"They sure do."

"Have you ever ridden one?"

"Nah, not useful for my work," the jock admitted. "But they do look liberating."

"They do," Luka muttered. "It's also pretty cool, I think?"

"It is!"

"And..." Luka chuckled. "It might sound stupid, but..."

Miku waited, patient.

"I'd like to go eat fast food?"

At that, the jock grinned. "Fast food?"

"I've never had any!" the taller woman exclaimed. "There are so many different kinds and all I've ever heard all my life is that it's disgusting and it'll send me to an early grave but—"

"Oh, hold on!"

With that, Miku leaned over her pile of tools and snacks and drinks, sifting through the bags and boxes before summoning the grease-stained brown paper bag Luka had seen before. With nothing more than a smile, Miku extended it to the other woman.

"Here!"

"What...?"

"Something I got on my way to the party. I'll admit, it's probably kind of cold and stale and honestly, maybe a bit disgusting at this point, but the fries last forever, you know?"

To both of their surprise, it only took Luka a second before she released the braid to gingerly accept the bag.

"What is it?"

"Half a burger and some fries. I was eating with some pals but then they had to go real quick, so I figured I might eat the rest at the party or something. Completely forgot when I saw the buffet there."

The crisp sounds of the bag filled the space of the car as Luka opened it, peeking inside as if the contents might jump out and bite her.

"Never even had a burger before?"

Luka hummed, barely allowing the tip of one finger in the bag so she could open it some more. "Perhaps. Brioche bun with himalayan rock salt, kobe beef patty, truffle shavings, foie gras poêlée—"

"That ain't no burger!"

"I would like to hope so: it wasn't very good."

Miku barked a laugh. "Well, I guess there's a reason why fast food often uses burgers; they're kind of hard to fuck up if you have decent ingredients."

"And a decent sense of taste..." The taller woman mused as she pulled out a small folded packet. "This is it?"

"Yeah. But I was honestly thinking about the fries; that thing is probably rank by now."

She nodded, handed it over to Miku, who promptly chucked it into the empty bag, which now clearly served as a trash bag. "That's fair."

"After we get out, I'll treat you to a real no-bullshit, salt-of-the-earth fast-food joint."

At that, Luka paused, her eyes darting up to the jock. "What?"

Miku shrugged. "Why not?"

"I'm not..."

"What, I don't fit in your parents' design?"

Luka gulped, the paper bag crinkling slightly in her grasp. "I can't— I'm sorry."

Miku merely shrugged, her grin still easy as ever. "We'll talk about it later, no pressure. Try the fries first."

She blinked, returned her attention to the bag. There, at the bottom, waited a cardboard container half-filled with fries, the other half littered throughout the bag. She selected one, pulled it out, then stared at it, her hand trembling slightly.

"I didn't have time to get to those, if you're worried about cooties," Miku said, though her tone wasn't mocking.

"I'm not worried about cooties."

"In case you thought the gay was contagious."

Luka chuckled, faint, somewhat bitter. "I kiss Gakupo on a near-daily basis; I don't think that would be a legitimate concern of mine."

The grin fell. "You actually..."

"Of course we kiss," she said matter-of-factly. "We have to keep up the illusion, after all. Didn't you say yourself you could barely tell?"

Miku averted her eyes, a blush dusting her cheeks. "Right. Sorry. I was just poking a bit of fun."

"It's fine," the taller woman said. "I didn't respond very well when you came out to me."

"Ain't an excuse."

Luka smiled, just a bit, before delicately biting down on the fry.

Miku watched her eat, the blush slowly disappearing. When the silence stretched on, she mumbled, "They're much better when they're hot."

"I can easily believe that," Luka said, rifling through the bag to pick up another fry. This one, she ate without hesitation. "They are... Somewhat addicting though."

Miku leaned forward, her grin back. "Aren't they? Sprinkle some extra salt on them and they're to die for, you know? And you can use ketchup, mayo..."

"I don't care much for ketchup," Luka said confidently before picking out another fry.

"You had ketchup?"

"Of the luxurious kind."

The jock snorted. "If it was anything like the burger you mentioned before, then it probably wasn't even real ketchup either."

Luka laughed, playfully jabbing the fourth fry in her direction. "I think I'll accept that loss; this is enough culinary exploration for today."

"I'll bet." Miku said with a grin. "So, your thoughts?"

"These probably aren't my favorite thing ever, but I can confidently say that I've been missing out."

"So, think you might reconsider going out for lunch one day?"

Luka froze. "I... I want to."

Miku waited, smile gentle. "You want to."

"But I can't."

After another pause, Luka quickly shut the bag and pushed it towards the jock.

"It's ok, you can finish those."

"I can't."

"Luka..."

"I can't do this," she breathed, shaking. "If I keep doing this—"

"They'll never know."

"But I will!" Luka shot back, dropping the bag and retreating to her corner, blanket already pulled high. "If I start with braids and fries..."

"By starting small, you can make a life that's your own."

"My own...!" Luka shook her head. "What was I thinking...?! I start with fries and braids but eventually I'll start—"

"Start what?"

Luka glared at her for all of a second before her expression melted into bitter remorse, her eyes finding the paper stuck to the windows. "I can't afford to dream. I can't get addicted to it. I can't do it."

"Sure you can," Miku whispered. "You only have one shot at life."

"I've already lived all of it for my parents," she hissed. "I can't start making my life anew now, can I..."

Miku sighed, rolling over the top of the paper bag. "Sure, I guess the best time to plant a tree would have been twenty years ago. Still, that only means that the second-best time is right now."

Luka shook her head. "This is how it starts, isn't it. Little things."

"Exactly."

"First I'll be eating fries and learning to braid and eventually I'll be admitting that I don't want to marry Gakupo, I don't want to be a doctor, I don't even—!" Luka rolled into a ball, pushed against the door. "I can't do this. This will ruin my life."

Miku gently scooted closer. "Sure. It might ruin life as you know it. And I'll admit; I don't think I can imagine how absolutely, pants-shittingly terrifying of a thought that must be."

Luka peeked out of the blanket to find the jock sitting as close as she could, her expression sad and earnest.

"I can't lose what I have," Luka whispered. "I can't bear the thought."

"That's fair," Miku conceded. "But..."

"What?"

"I guess I hate to think of you living someone else's life, you know? Gakupo won't be your husband, he'll be your parents' husband. Being a doctor won't be your job, it'll be theirs."

"If it's what it costs for their love..."

"I'll be blunt: conditional love like that isn't love to begin with." When Luka only stared, Miku timidly added, "You said yourself that they have an image of you in mind. That's what they love. It's not you. And you said yourself it's way bigger than anything you can hope to be."

Luka gulped. "They give me shelter, support..."

"To keep you forging on in a battle that you know is lost from the start," Miku said, her words slow but meticulously enunciated. "You know this."

Luka averted her eyes. "I have to, though. I have nothing else...!"

"You have yourself. And really, from start to finish, that's all you'll ever really, truly have, you know? If you're not living for the one thing that'll stick with you until the bitter end, then you literally can't live with yourself, in a way."

Luka choked out a sob. "I can't."

"You just did that, though. At least two times, tonight. You have a braid. You consumed the forbidden junk food." Luka only cried, quiet, so she added, "Imagine curling up on a couch in your favorite oversized hoodie after a long day, how great that could be. Flying down the highway on a motorcycle. Waking up every morning to go to a job you adore."

"I can't."

Miku hummed. "I'm pretty sure you can."

"I shouldn't."

"You have to."

"And why should I?" Luka snapped. "Who are you to tell me these things?! Who the hell are you, thinking you have the right to give me these ideas that will ruin my life?!"

Miku held the angry stare without flinching. "I'm nobody, I guess. Just someone who sees that you're miserable and it's rotting you from the inside out."

"And why do you care."

"Guess I'd hate to see you rotten through and through. You deserve better than such a fate. And honestly, if you're going to marry my pal, well, so does he."

Luka flinched, retreated back to her blanket, all anger lost from her expression.

"Sorry if I'm pushing so hard," Miku whispered.

"I'm sorry for snapping."

"It's fine. It's hard for you."

Luka shook her head. "I'm not making it easy for you, either."

Miku chuckled. "See? This is what I mean... Deep down, it's obvious you're a kind person. But..."

"I just can't do it. I'm sorry. I've long accepted that I'll never be happy. If I dare dream small then I'll start dreaming big and my life will turn into outright misery. It's easier to just... To let things happen. To let people choose for me."

The jock sighed. "I guess I can get that."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. For what it's worth... You've been really brave tonight. You tried a lot of new things. I'm proud of you for that."

Luka looked up from the blanket, tears in her eyes. "You mean that."

"Yeah, I do. It wasn't easy, I could tell. You were scared to death half the time. Yet you did things anyway."

"Is... Is that what it takes to live life on your own terms?" Luka asked. "Constant bravery?"

"Yeah. It gets easier, though. Every time you win you learn what you're capable of, and every time you lose you learn where your limits lie."

"I can't bear the thought. To accept to lose?"

Miku looked at her for a moment. "Guess it's a question of perspective, really. I don't really think I lose much when I don't get my way. I always learn something. Meanwhile, for you, it looks like you're constantly at the risk of losing absolutely everything, while victory is always, always just a little bit further."

Luka gulped. "I suppose there's truth to that."

"Can I ask one question?"

The taller woman hesitated, gulped, nodded.

"What would it take for you to start living your own life?" Miku whispered. "If it took being totally isolated from the whole world with a stranger to even try all these little things?"

"I... I don't know."

Miku nodded, then retreated into her seat. Luka watched her as she adjusted her blanket, the jock's expression eerily neutral. When she went as far as to pull her gloves back on and settle in her seat, eyes closed, the taller woman tensed.

"I suppose..." she started, barely relaxing when Miku opened her eyes again. "I suppose I had always wanted to be saved, somehow."

The jock hummed.

"But life doesn't work like that, does it?" Luka whispered.

"It doesn't."

Luka nodded, new tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.

Miku whispered, "It's something you need to do yourself."

"There's so much."

"Then there's a lot you'll need to do."

Luka shook her head. "I wish it were easier."

"How could it be easier?" Miku asked. "As long as you let them stay rent-free in your mind, even after you have the financial issues figured out, you'll never be free."

"Is there a solution to that?"

"Therapy, I guess."

"I can't do that."

"Is it unbecoming?" the jock asked, with a hint of a sarcastic sneer, though her gentle gaze said it wasn't directed at her.

"That's the least of it."

Miku sighed. "They're ruling over you. As long as you let that happen, you'll never take a step forward."

"I know, I know. I've always known," Luka groaned. "I think I just need help."

"Help?"

"I think I hoped that Gakupo might help me. But he has so many of his own problems; he doesn't have the time or the energy to push me in the right direction, like you have."

The jock frowned. "Right. I guess."

"And..." Luka inhaled deeply. "I'm so afraid of accepting the help you're offering. If I were to meet with you for lunch, if I were to take that step, then..."

"My offer still stands."

The taller woman chuckled incredulously. "After all I've said to you, after being so difficult?"

"Sure. I get that it's a bit of a leap of faith, and you're standing on a really tall precipice. If you need someone to hold your hand to take the plunge, then I can be that someone."

"Why?"

"Guess I'm a bit of a goody-two-shoes. I like helping people," she muttered.

Her words hung in the air. The howling of the storm was so far away, it could barely be heard. Miku was the one staring ahead through the newspapers against the windshield, while Luka took in her features, her eyes darting from the glimmering piercing to her neutral expression. The grin was gone, her eyebrows settled, yet there was a timid blush on her cheeks.

Luka scooted closer.

"I think... I think I would like the help," she whispered, all wrapped into her blanket. "I'll get scared a lot, I'll change my mind a lot, I'll probably fight you a lot on things, but... "

Miku turned to face her, the blush brighter, but she didn't reply.

"Please don't leave me behind," Luka added. "I don't know if I could ever repay the favor, or make it up to you in any way, but... I think I've already gotten addicted to it, and I can't bear to let this chance go."

Finally, the jock smiled.

"Alright."