ғᴏʀᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ; ᴜᴋɪʏᴏ

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ukiyo 

(noun

living in the moment detached from the bothers of life 


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THE WOMAN in the mirror runs her fingers down the front of the glittering gold dress. There are no straps holding it up, just a tight bodice that seems to hold all of her body up, her organs begging to burst right out of her skin just to get some air. There's a slit that runs up the right side of her leg to the very top of her thigh. If she moves the wrong way, it'll show everything she should be hiding. Her gold heels feel too high. She stares at herself in the mirror. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face until it stops short just below her shoulders, tickling the bare skin there. Her eyes are surrounded by shimmering gold eyeshadow and liquid eyeliner that she desperately wants to scrub at with her fist, ruining it all after almost an hour of trying to perfect it. Her lipstick is just a bit darker than the colour of her skin.

Everett Ramos stares at herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her feels nothing like her.

If she could only rip her skin off and hide away for the night, let somebody else wear her body, pretend to smile at everyone she sees. If she could just let her skeleton breathe. But, she has no choice. She has to go out there, act like this party is where she wants to be, and put on her best show because Jackson isn't giving her any other choice.

A man in a suit appears behind her in the mirror. He wraps his arms around her waist, fingers trailing along the glittering gold hugging at her middle, sucking in all the parts of herself she'd want nothing more than to hide. His coffee-coloured eyes drink in the sight of her before he starts to pepper gentle, warm kisses to the bare stretch of skin along her neck.

"Are you ready?" Alex asks her. She could just sink right into him, hide away in his hollow casing until she's ready to finally appear to prying eyes. How can she go to this event when she could barely keep Meredith alive? She doesn't deserve to drink and be merry to raise money for their outpatient wing.

Alex notices the lack of a smile on her lips and stops his kissing to stare at her in the mirror. He likes this dress. She can tell by the way his hands won't let go of her, how his eyes trail over her time and time again, how he seems even brighter than before.

"What's wrong?" His hands stop on her waist, holding her in place. His chest is warm on her back.

She shakes her head. "Nothing." But her voice shakes and she refuses to meet his eyes in the mirror. His grip tightens on her waist. "I don't feel like the same person since the storm. I don't really feel like a surgeon anymore. I don't know how to get that back."

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