Deimos only knew Mira because she always fell asleep before class started. Hell, she fell asleep wherever she was. In the Arts building, in the library, in the Visual Arts studios. If the room was warm or if she had a warm jacket on, she'd pass out. Even if she chugged down an energy drink and a coffee, she'd pass out. Yet, incredibly, she'd always wake up the moment class began, rubbing the slumber from her eyes and ripping her laptop out to tap down furious notes.

Another reason why he knew her was the way she dressed. Mira didn't look like a girl. She had short hair that on most days than not, would be shoved up into her signature red or black beanie, which made her look like one of those skateboarding assholes he always sees at the bus stop. She also wore exclusively male embroidered bomber jackets and baggy graphic tees. Her pants looked female, they were tight at her hips, but most of them were just as baggy as her shirts and she'd top off her whole look with some unisex converse or thick boots.

What Deimos is saying is, she looked like a little boy. Not the hot college guys that roamed around the campus but a short middle schooler that decided to buy clothes he could “grow into.” It was shocking for him personally when she spoke for the first time. Her voice was so, so soft and high-pitched. Her voice was like a bell, poignant yet subtle at the same time. It has gotten deeper over time though and Deimos has noticed she only reverts to high-pitched rambling when she's nervous. Which, once again leads to her masculinity. When she's tired, she has a raspy, low voice. It's actually mind-blowing how quickly she can click from girl to guy.

But then again, if it's just mind-blowing for her voice to change, when Mira comes to class in actual girl clothes, he should be dead already. When Mira wants to dress feminine, she dresses feminine. She still doesn't wear makeup, but she makes up for that fact by wearing adorable short, yet not revealing, dresses with remarkable thigh high socks. Her dresses can range from deep reds to pastel floral designs, but they all follow the same design by having just an inch of that bare skin between her dress and socks exposed that makes Deimos go insane. He didn't know why he was so invested in that patch of skin. He didn't know why he was so invested in her thick thighs in thigh high socks. And he didn't know why Mira only wore dresses once per month.

Thankfully, what was more frequent was her fluffy hair. What hid underneath all those beanies and hoodies was thick, voluminous locks. They flared out in every direction and couldn't be tamed with how many times Mira has ran her fingers through her hair (and yet again even that action seemed so masculine). Just the sight of her crazy bobbed look made her look more like a girl, and also made Deimos' eyes wander from his laptop to her.

But, if he's being absolutely serious, Mira meant nothing to him.

"Cute bralette."

Until now.

Today, Mira wasn't wearing a beanie. She was still wearing her signature graphic tee and high-wasted baggy pants. Her large glasses slipped down her flat nose as she stared straight at him. More notably, the bralette he was wearing.

At this moment, Deimos regretted all his life choices.

He should have never caved into Charles and Hayden's pleas. He should have never thought he could go to a party. He shouldn't have worn his favourite bralette tonight. Even if it might make him feel better, he should have fucking not done that. Hell, he shouldn't have gone to this university in the first place. God, he shouldn't have even left Greece. He shouldn't have even been born.

He was sure no one would barge in when he was changing. He triple-checked the fucking door to make sure it was locked. He was only just going to take off the bralette, shove it into his pocket and proceed to find Hayden to finally get wasted without worrying about flashing anyone.

But of course, out of everyone he knew, Mira somehow opened the locked door right at the moment he took off his shirt.

"I swear to god, if you fucking tell anyone I'm going to kill you," he finally spat back. A solid minute passed between them, with Mira pinned to the door and Deimos' hand clamping down hard on her wrist.

She glanced at his boiling stare, blinking slowly. She was fucking drunk out of her mind.

"I wasn't planning to," she said, her breath rank.

Deimos paused. From all his previous knowledge about her, she probably wouldn't. But, knowing that she was fucking blasted out of her mind did not bring him peace. Hotly, Deimos let go of Mira's wrist and shoved her against the door.

"Don't move," he threatened. Quickly, he slipped off his bralette, shoved it into his butt pocket and slipped on his shirt again. Grabbing his leather jacket, he noticed how Mira's half-lidded eyes stayed on his figure the whole time. Pausing, he stared back at her.

"Can you even walk in a straight line?" He questioned.

Mira slowly blinked up at him. “Of f-fucking course I can,” she slurred. Confidently, she straightened up against the door and took one step. Her legs crumpled and she fell straight to the floor like a doll. Hastily, Deimos caught her before she smashed her face into the rug and felt all her weight push down on her. For being so short, she was fucking heavy.

“Fucking hell,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, fucking hell.”

“I swear I’m not that drunk. I know what’s happening, m-my body isn’t keeping up,” she murmured into his ear. It sent shivers down his spine. She draped her body onto him, arms wrapped around his neck as he hoisted her up by the waist. Even though this was uncomfortable, this was probably better than having her parading around outside.

Deimos will probably just have to camp out here for the night until she falls asleep and hopefully thinks this was all a dream.

“I can’t trust you,” he hissed.

Mira sighed, another hot breath sending shivers. “Y’know, I’ve seen you in lingerie before.”

He paused. “What?!”

“One time before class, you were in the lecture hall alone and you took off your hoodie and adjusted your straps,” she slurred. She sighed and rested her head on his chest. “And then when we were doing our final exam I saw it again.”

Shame overcame Deimos like a tsunami. Nausea twisted and pulled at his guts. He was going to pass out of sheer embarrassment. He thought he was being careful. He was always being careful. He’d never take off his hoodie without checking if anyone was there. He’d never…

“I think it’s pretty cool, personally,” Mira said suddenly.

Hotly, Deimos glared at her to see any sarcastic smirk. However, there was just the redness of her cheeks and a goofy little smile.

“Bralettes are super cute and great for flat-chested people like you and me,” she laughed. “Well, then again, I do have boobs if we’re going to argue about it.”

He wasn’t going to argue.

“I could never pull off a bralette though, all my clothes don’t suit bralettes. The reason to wear them is to show them, and I don’t have anything deep-cut to show them,” she mumbled. “But then again, neither do you and you suit them so well?”

Deimos just stared at her.

“How many bralettes do you have? I’ve only got a red and black one,” she asked, tipping her head to the side.

“Thirteen.”

Another dazzling smile blossomed on her rosy cheeks. “Woah, dude! That’s sick! Do you have any other lingerie? Like babydolls? Lace bras? Garters?”

Deimos didn’t need to tell her anything about himself to her. It was none of her business and in her drunken state, it was probably easy to switch topics to something completely different. He didn’t need to tell her shit. They were strangers.

But Mira was the first stranger to act so positively.

(“God, guys wearing lingerie? Fucking disgusting.”)

(“They’re probably faggot perverts.”)

Deimos swallowed thickly and breathed through his nose. He wasn’t in high school anymore nor Greece either.

“A few babydolls and bustiers…” He murmured softly. “And girdle and garters…”

“Holy shit, dude!” She chuckled happily. “That’s fucking rad! I could never pull of such tantalizing clothes.”

Deimos was amazed she could even use the word, “tantalizing,” without stuttering.

“I think you definitely could,” he said calmly.

Mira blinked at him and laughed again. “Nah, dude. I still wear underwear I bought in middle school. I’m the epitome of not sexy. You though? Yeah, you could totally pull those all off.”

“You look really great in thigh highs though,” he said a little bit too quickly. Heat blossomed on his cheeks but Mira looked unfazed.

She laughed and thanked him. Where the hell was this conversation going?

“So, got panties to match the bras?”

Deimos wanted to bury himself alive knowing the fact that his body flared up in response to Mira saying, “panties.” She still looked at him innocently. This whole talk felt innocent as if they were two girlfriends chatting about just another normal thing. A conversation that Deimos envied for most of his life. But now it’s happening.

“Y-Yeah…”

“But what about your…package?” Her laughter was bubbly. Naïve.

“There’s websites online.”

“That’s so cool,” she giggled again and again. She was so incredibly excited by this it made his organs twist. “Do you buy all your stuff online?”

He nodded.

“No wonder they’re always so pretty,” she sighed. She rubbed her eyes and groaned. “God, fuck, everything is spinning.”

“How many cans did you have?”

“Too many,” she groaned. She paused and recollected herself before giving him another dopey smile. “How long have you had such a hobby?”

For a moment, the conversation was just about to switch into something new, but yet again, Mira was fixated on his fucking secret.

Yet half of him wanted to keep talking to her. And that half was way more vocal and excited.

“W-Well…I’ve always liked feminine things when I was little, but I started collecting lingerie when I was seventeen.”

“What other feminine things did you like when you were little?”

“Toys, socks, d-dresses and hair pins,” he muttered softly. He hasn’t told anyone this but his older sister. He felt dizzy.

“I totally get it. I was in love with action figures and baggy sweaters,” she snickered. “Hey, I totally own a few boxers and boxer-briefs.”

Boxers probably looked cute on her.

“Is it because of the designs?” He chuckled.

“Absolutely,” she sneered. “I’ve got one with pineapples and bananas on it. Another has donuts and pizza.”

He laughed. Mira laughed with him and relaxed against his side.

“I hope you don’t feel ashamed of liking what you like,” she said, her voice clear and serious. “I think it’s pretty fucking rad and you probably look awesome.”

Deimos tensed up when she stared up at him, her cheek resting on his jugular and lips so close to his.

“…Thanks,” he muttered.

She smiled. Out of all the scenarios that could have played out, this one seemed the most improbable: both of them sitting in the middle of an unfamiliar bedroom with music and a chorus of a million people pulsating in the background talking about lingerie Deimos specifically wears. And the central theme: Mira was genuinely intrigued.

“So,” she muttered after a long period of silence. “Are you wearing matching underwear?”