Welcome to MY World

What. The. Heck.

"With cereal?" Ben's eyes widened. "Weirdo."

I handed her the jug, still untouched and filled to the rim because as it turned out, early birds did get worms. A bit of the juice sloshed onto the table when I set it down.

Ben wasn't done being a critic. It was one of those mornings, where the world won't be just until everyone gets their dose of constructive criticism, minus the constructive part. "The American is looking at you with disgust, you cereal abuser!" He made a sweeping motion towards Reagan, who raised an eyebrow at being dragged into the daily dosage of drama. Mistaking consternation for abhorrence, he continued. "Just look at that repulsed look!"

I smiled at this exchange. It was nice to see them be so comfortable around each other. When I first introduced the two parties, it was like putting a bomb next to a match. The tension thickening by day until it capriciously explodes in a mushroom cloud of discomfort and deafening awkwardness. Although according to some account, the bomb exploded the second the match was within radius.

Reagan is not easy to befriend. Her talent at noticing the tiniest misery and detecting the slightest insecurities no matter how deeply hidden they are is intimidating. Being exposed and raw in front of someone you don't know is never easy, but after the dreaded judgment never struck, they loosened up. Reagan saw but never judged, because to do so would be hypocritical.

She understood Victoire's struggle with beauty, the objectification and hate. Not to mention dealing with the negativity of people pinning looks on genetics and nothing more, unable to look past the surface. She empathize with Aspen's skirmish with the need to live up to parent's legacies. She wasn't a stranger to Ben's conflict with being 'normal' and constant uncertainty of sexuality.

And most importantly, she understood me. The difficulties of being an orphan. While everyone have their own battles to fight, and my life is considered paradise to many, there is nothing worse than the empty feeling in your chest when you see toddlers clinging onto their mom, wishing you had someone to ruffle your hair. The selfish desire of wishing you weren't the second priority when something happened. The pain of knowing even though you are loved, when it comes down to it, 'dad' and 'mom' will always choose James, Albus, and Lily over you.

Reagan understood, because she experienced. It was like her own pain had cried out for companionship, awakening the emotions we keep buried deep down. Maybe that's why people shy away from her.

As cheesy as it is, I'm glad she has us, and that we have her.

"Stop frowning!" Ben turned this critical eye onto the unfortunate girl while Aspen slumped with relief. "You are warranting premature wrinkles." He waggled his fingers and rested his other hand on his hips, channeling the epitome of disapproval. "Not that you'd care with your facial cleaning routine. I recommended three creams and five potions. Have you even touched them?"

Reagan scowled into her oats at the mention of her acne. It wasn't like she asked for the zits and pimples to pepper her forehead. Ben never ceased to tell her about it either.

"And to think I worked up all that courage to ask you about your beauty tips!" Ben gasped dramatically and began to launch off into his tale. We all knew his 'tragedy', having heard him recount it numerous times in front of the fire place in the common room, theatrically draped over an armchair, the story stretching with more and more exaggeration through each account.

It didn't matter that we were all present, or that we had to hype up him twenty three times before he had the courage to talk to Reagan, he told the story each time we ran out of things to say. At first, we tried the 'prevention through incessant small talk' tactic, but soon we all gave up and let him have his limelight.