Author's Note: 

This is connected to the comics by the same name, "Stupidly Beautiful," I've also made. The comics, however, focus more around the polyamorous relationship between Mira, Deimos and Kalmin. This (very long) series will focus on Mira and Deimos' relationship before they meet Kalmin. But don't worry, we're going to get to Kalmin! 

Also, please check the tags before every chapter, this is going to get mature pretty fast. 

(Also sorry for the short chapters, there's a character limit and I've written this to my liking, and way before even thinking about posting it online.) 

- - - 

The first time Mira saw him, it was in the lecture hall.

It was the middle of the day and her coffee high from that morning was a distant memory. Her mind was out of whack, going a million different directions at once since she was juggling six courses, and the deadlines for projects and exams for each course. Midterms were inching closer and closer. She hadn't gotten enough sleep in months, functioning on three hours that day and four hours beforehand. Mira had the brilliant idea of going to the lecture hall early and sleeping for the half hour before class started, so at least she'd wake up in the place she needed to be in. So many factors of her fresh new university life made her delusional, so she expected that what she had seen was just a figment of her imagination. It's happened before, so obviously what she had seen had to be unreal.

She didn't see a lace bralette strap.

Of course she didn't see a lace bralette strap. Even if it was thick and pitch black against fair skin, she didn't see a lace bralette strap. It was impossible because it meant the owner of that really cute bralette was Deimos. The kid with the wild black hair. One quick google search of his name and one would know exactly his type of character. Fear and terror. He wasn't melodramatically infamous, but the rumors about him were vicious. Gang affiliation, faculty feuds, mafia connections, the list goes on. He certainly looked the part with pitch black clothes, pulled-up hoodies, ripped jeans and malicious glares. Mira has seen firsthand how scary he could be by accident. One time he bumped into a man, and the man proceeded to dump his coffee over his head. One second later that man and his buddies were on the concrete ground with Deimos' knuckles bloody.

So, no, she didn't see a bralette strap.

She didn't watch him take off his hoodie and pick at the straps. She didn't see the black bralette underneath his thin white shirt. She didn't see him adjust himself before zipping up his trusty black hoodie back on.

Yeah, she's just hallucinating because she's tired.

Thankfully, the lecture hall was enormous and the doors didn't creak, so Mira immediately turned around and went straight for the nearest instant coffee machine. That day her hands were shaking holding her second helping of coffee. She had spilled some on her hand and cursed loudly. But all that energy went away when she walked in for the second time after rehearsing the perfect casual scenario in her head a few minutes outside the door. She was just another classmate, holding coffee in one hand and holding her phone in the other. She did not see a bralette and did not come in earlier. She'll just casually enter, clearing her throat to alert her presence so he wouldn't embarrass himself and adjust himself in front of her (again), and look at the various photos on her phone. She would be subtle. Subtle.

And it worked. She coughed on cue, saw Deimos' nasty stare and proceeded to play with her phone until she made it to her seat, which was the row in front of him right in the middle. She had passed him by the steps since he sat on the end, and from the silence and lack of violence, he didn't know she had entered in before and witnessed something that kept her up at night weeks after.

Studies in Asian Art History class was never the same.

Mira's life after that day was never the same.

She went through all the five stages of grief.

Denial. For a solid week, the week of midterms and project deadlines, she denied ever seeing anything. She didn't look up online what bralette he wore and give him a metaphorical pat on the back because it was super cute. She didn't do that.

Anger. After midterms were over, she was mentally and physically exhausted to the point where everything pissed her off. Her neck and back were in constant pain, she was rethinking her life choices, she hated that everyone was so happy-go-lucky and she despised the fact that she was so hyper aware of Deimos' presence. He was always in the Arts building in her favourite spot where all the plugins and couches were. He was always in the library in the secret spot with nice wide windows. He was even in the Visual Arts building sitting in her favourite, favourite loveseat that was so fluffy and velvety and cushiony. He even went to the Tim Hortons to-go place at the same time she did. And it infuriated her. Why the hell does he keep popping up? She just wants space and peace and quiet. She's been trying to forget what she's seen!

Bargaining. She's debated if she should just walk into traffic. She's thought about going to church. She's even thought about just…talking to him about it? Millions of scenarios went through her mind day after day that all boiled down to two simple things. Either she has to kill herself to forget or confront him about it. But the thing is, Deimos and her share one class together. No way in hell can she just say, "Hey, I saw you wearing a bralette one time, what the fuck was up with that?"

Depression. Deimos wasn't completely in all the fault for that. It was a mixture of another vicious month of due dates and exams coming up, except this time it was Finals. The end of her first term of her first year in university. She had made solid friends in her other classes and dreaded next term without them. And half of her was going to miss seeing Deimos in class. At one point, she had come to the conclusion that he was pretty cute. And seeing him in Asian Art History, wondering if she'll ever see a flash of lace lingerie again, was such a weekly routine for her.

Acceptance.

It was Finals and Mira was assigned to sit right behind Deimos in an unfamiliar classroom where the desks were uncomfortably close. When the exam started and everyone was hurriedly trying to finish, Mira had seen a flash of baby pink.

Her eyes zoned in on the nape of his neck exposed. The professor asked him to pull down his hoodie and revealed his raven black, wild hair and long light olive neck. Just for a moment, he stretched and his hoodie slipped lower than expected, showing off a pink cotton strap. Thankfully, everyone else was absorbed with their test that they didn't see it.

But Mira did. Deimos was wearing a bralette.

After Finals week passed with a whirlwind of all-nighters, panic attacks, pills and tears, not only Mira but the rest of the university population let out a long sigh of relief. Which was then fueled with the absolute urge to party.

Mira usually never attended such crazy events before, but after the shitstorm she went through for the past month and then some, she decided drinking away all her problems would be the perfect solution. She had friends that would take care of her and friends that would party with her. The party wasn't advertised all over the university so she didn't need to worry about it being too crazy, but it was advertised in all her classes to classmates she was at least comfortable around. The hosts had their own place, were well off financially, and the area was safe and secluded. The situation was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

So that night after a little pre-gaming at a friend's house, her crew and she drove up to a house pulsating with life. Cars were lined up in front of the mansion and people seemed to ooze out of the nooks and crannies of the place. Pink, purple, blue, red and green light poured out of the windows, and the music vibrated the soft ground as Mira approached. Classmates greeted her at the door and tossed her an unopened can. She sipped happily at her bubbling drink and took in the sights and sounds inside, amazed at the sheer size of the mansion and the amount of people that came. People were dancing in the foyer and living room, couples were flirting and making out on the stairs, groups were playing Mario Kart, circles were playing card games and in the kitchen a group of boys were playing beer pong. So many other subsections of people were doing so many other things the deeper Mira wandered along, like how one room was dedicated to vaping parties and another had snacks for the potheads. Mira found herself on the various pockets of couches playing games, cheering for her friend, Dede, who was a beast at Smash. She had her fair share of playing Mario Kart and lost epically on Rainbow Road.

The hours blended together and on her fourth can of whatever, she had gotten the courage to dance in the foyer. It helped that they played songs she was familiar to and she sang along to them. Classmates she barely spoke to became best friends as they bonded over their dorky dance moves and horrible singing. She even bumped into the hosts of the party, Charles and Hayden, and earned a whole song's length of their time laughing at Hayden's magnificent twerking abilities.

Afterwards, Hayden ended up joining Mira on the hunt to get people to play some movie drinking games. When they rounded up a solid group of ten amazing and talented people, Hayden unlocked one of the rooms into a boss-ass theater where they proceeded to get spectacularly wasted watching Home Alone. With a new reinvigorated energy in her since Mira was fucking gone, she ended up playing Truth or Dare with Hayden and her movie group. Somehow they ended up playing by the railings looking down at the foyer where every single person in that group embarrassed the shit out of themselves to the dancing party below. A girl and guy had to switch clothes and parade around the house, a boy was forced to throw toilet paper like streamers down on the cheering crowd below, a girl froze her bra and screamed in horror when she clipped it back on. With Mira drunk, she felt so much freer and open and adventurous to the point where she gladly chose dare in this stupid game, which lead her to making out with Hayden in the washroom. A peck led to a deep kiss and that deep kiss led to Hayden swiping her off her feet and into the washroom. Simple equation. Simple results. Mira had a one-track mind at this point. The bottom line was that she was having fun. After four strenuous months of studying, studying and studying, making out with a hot guy should be a requirement. It's been forever since she's felt the warmth of another and whatever if she barely knew him.

In that moment, he was everything she ever needed.

Eventually, Hayden did leave her after Charles called about an emergency happening in the downstairs bathroom, and whispered in her ear to go to his bedroom on the third floor with the key he slipped into her hand. Drowsily, Mira complied and stumbled up the stairs, found a locked door and unlocked it, and tumbled in.

This was her third time seeing him.

However this time, Mira didn't just see a strap.

Deimos was standing there, shirtless for the exception of a black, shiny bralette. It was one of those pieces that mostly consisted of the strap material making the framework of the bra, and a sheer, translucent material that covered over the breast. This one bralette, however, had black roses to cover his pink nipples.

Mira's eyes racked down Deimos' slender yet firm, inverted triangle figure. He looked good with that bralette. Her eyes wandered to his hips and she wondered if he had matching panties. However, in an instant his hips moved and he surged forward at her. Shocked, Mira was yanked deeper into the room while Deimos slammed the door shut. Boisterous laughter passed by. If Deimos had hesitated for any second longer, Mira wouldn't have been the only one who knew of his secret.

Thankfully and unthankfully, she still was.

Deimos' stare was blistering on her skin after the group passed. It dripped of malice and it took Mira by surprise so much, she ended up blurting out something spectacular.

"Cute bralette."