A/N: I want to be clear I don't think makeup is "the enemy" or anything. I know it can be a common trope, but make up is just make up, the issue is with the things surrounding it in this story.

Waking up in the morning you pull off the borrowed night gown, clean up a little in the bathroom connected to your guest room, and get your outfit from yesterday back on. It feels awkward to have nothing more than a bar of soap and some shampoo to work with, but it's also refreshing to not have to go through the entire routine your mother had always insisted on.

Reaching for the door knob you stop. Something nags at you, gripping you by the throat and making it hard to breathe. You don't know why you should care, you don't know why you're hesitating, but this would mark the first time anyone saw you without makeup on in at least ten years.

You had no lotion. No cleansers. Just a bar of soap, and some shampoo. No one's checked your brows, no one's laid on foundation or even just a little slip of lipstick, and you have no way to do so.

It's going to be just your face on display. No mask. No look decided by your mother. No porcelain cast upon your skin to complete the look of the doll you were.

Just your face.

Your hand goes to your chest. Your bones feel too small for the space your heart needs. Your lungs are squeezing between your ribs, they have to be. Everything feels so tight and panic rises up in your throat. Each breath was a battle with the knot in your stomach and the sudden wave of nausea.

What did you care? You never had a choice, and this wasn't any different. You didn't have any of your things available to you, so you couldn't decide if you wanted to wear makeup or not. Not that you even knew how to apply it. All you ever did was sit there and let your parents do as they pleased.

We work so hard to make your face presentable, don't fuss.
You'd think you'd have more of me or your father in your features, how are you so hideous?
Don't mess up the plan, Doll.

You couldn't. You couldn't go out there like this, you didn't have anything on your face except skin and that wasn't allowed. You couldn't risk it, with your parents actions last night the Edward family had ample footing to request a rematch. If you weren't good enough -

If you weren't perfect it was all going to fall apart.

"Don't cry." You admonish yourself, holding the tears in and trying to force yourself to calm down. "If you cry you'll look even worse, so don't cry."

Breathing in deep slowly, and letting it out slower you forced yourself to calm down until you were almost dizzy from it. Izou wore makeup, but it would be rude to request he spare any of his for your sake, even if it felt like an emergency for you. You could repurpose part of your outfit and make a scarf to cover most of your face, but that would look out of place and you'd have to explain yourself.

Your only option was the worst one, but you had to do it. The Plan would break if you did, and you couldn't. Thatch and his family seemed polite enough, you were sure they'd forgive you for your appearance first thing in the morning, especially after last night. They had to.

Plus, you could assure Thatch that he wouldn't ever have to deal with your face without makeup ever again. Even if you might need some time to learn how to put it on yourself. Once you were in your new home you could return to your routine and everything would be fine.

He wouldn't have to replace you, you just needed to assure him of that. As long as you weren't discarded you could make it work.

Shoving down all your emotions, you turn the knob and head out into the hall. You have your plan and options settled, so long as you just stick with those it'll be okay.

Partway down the hall you can hear humming coming from the kitchen. Izou's sitting at the breakfast bar in such a way he can see down the hall, probably to keep an eye out for you. He gives you a warm smile and motions you to come along faster. Despite your desire to delay the inevitable, you won't deny Izou's request.

He looks away, keeping his attention back on the kitchen as you draw closer. You can hear the humming more clearly, and you're certain you recognize the song even without the words. You'd heard it at one of the parties your parents had taken you to, some sock bop dance event with a lot of older songs on the lists. You'd enjoyed the song because one of the lines about getting away from it all and being other places.

Not that you knew where Kokomo or any of the other places were, but the sense of disappearing on some remote island with your match always seemed nice. Thus had the song stuck with you, and you always noticed when it came on the radio.

Coming up to the breakfast bar, you pause, seeing Thatch in the kitchen, back to you and Izou, dancing to his humming while he cooks. He's wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday, the dress jacket draped over the counter, and his sleeves rolled up just a little so the cuffs are off his wrists. He's not dancing as much as you think he could, his movements limited by the food he was focused on.

You could see Izou side-eye you for a moment before he inclines his head to a stool, indicating you should sit. You watch Thatch for a little while longer before stepping around Izou and pulling the stool out enough to seat yourself. Despite your efforts to be quiet, the stool makes a sound against the hard floor.

"Mornin' brother," Thatch says without looking before returning to his humming and dancing.

Izou has a hand over his mouth, looking away from you as you tilt your head in confusion. You hear the front door open and see the brother who directed your father where to park last night come in. He looks at you in confusion for a split second before his face lights up and he waves.

You give him a small wave as he comes over to the bar. The shape of his face and the style of his hair give you a distinct impression of a pineapple, but you decide to keep that to yourself.

"Already part of the family, yoi?" He questions and Thatch's humming stops. There's a stillness in the air as the blonde looks past you. You follow his gaze to see Thatch who has turned enough to look over his shoulder looking back at you.

His face is so red it's impressive.

"Izou." His voice doesn't break, but Izou's composure does. He's laughing so hard he's doubled over and gasping, as Thatch turns to look at him, a strained grin on his face. "You were supposed to warn me!"

"She was so quiet, I didn't even notice her." Izou stops laughing long enough to answer Thatch before practically cackling with delight. "The way you ca-ca-called her bruh-brother though!" He stammers, laughter taking him over. His demeanor was very different from last night, but it seems just as natural for him.

The blonde reaches out a hand as he sits beside you, ignoring Izou and Thatch. "Marco, the only sane brother in this whole house, yoi." He says with an easy smile.

You give your name, but your hesitance in taking his hand has him pull it back, his smile growing wider. "Ah, Pops always says it's rude to extend your hand to a pretty lady. It's best to let them initiate it, in case they're not comfortable, forgive me."

"No, I - sorry." You stammer, still trying to sort out the way he so easily complimented you.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he assures you turning his attention to Thatch, who is back to his breakfast work, grumbling softly under his breath. "I've no idea how someone like Thatchy boy here got such high compatibility with a beauty like you. He's a big lug, and you're -."

"You want eggs, or charcoal for breakfast, bird brain?" Thatch snaps, cutting Marco off. The blonde laughs and then shrugs, drawing his fingers over his lips, pantomiming zipping them shut. "S'what I thought."

"You'll have to forgive them, Miss Kakusho," Pops' gravely voice carries softly from behind you as he works to the end of the breakfast bar and sits. He's so tall it almost looks uncomfortable for him, but he reaches down and lowers the stool so he's more in-line with the counter. "They show their love by giving each other hell, and someone getting matched is a rare event."

"It's... fine." You manage to reply. "It's, um, endearing."

Newgate grins as Thatch sets a cup of coffee down for him. He looks at you, only the slightest tinge of pink left in his cheeks from earlier.

"What would you like to drink this morning? We have tea, coffee, juice and water."

"Tea, please, would be nice."

Thatch smiles. "I have a nice breakfast blend, it'll help you wake up a bit."

"Oh, uh..." You pause for a moment, realizing you've become the center of attention inadvertently. "Just chamomile, if it's not too much to ask. I'm not supposed to have caffeine."

"Bad heart?" Marco prompts. "Ow!" The blonde exclaims when his dad boxes him over the head.

"Don't be nosy like that, brat." Newgate admonishes.

"It's okay, it's nothing like that though." You reply, giving him a soft smile. "It was just never allowed, that's all."

"Chamomile tea it is." Thatch says kindly, going back to his cooking. There's a soft silence that falls over everyone. It feels a little awkward, but you're not too bothered by it. People had always reacted a little uncomfortably when you mentioned something you weren't allowed to have, whether it was chocolate, alcohol, caffeine or deep fried foods.

"Alright, breakfast for two ungrateful brats," Thatch says, setting plates down in front of Izou and Marco. "The best dad," he says with a devious grin setting a plate down in front of Newgate who grunts at, what you imagine, is some sort of inside joke.

"And for the lady who looks even prettier today than she did yesterday." He declares, setting a plate in front of you with a couple small pancakes with fruit on top of them, over easy eggs, hashbrowns with diced bits of vegetables and ham in them, and two slices of toast.

It looks and smells delicious, but you weren't really focused on the food, so much as his words. You couldn't help it, and you looked up from the food to Thatch's bright green eyes, and asked a question you wouldn't normally consider voicing.

"I do?"

Thatch tilts his head for a split second and then smiles, his cheeks going a little red. "Yeah, you do."

Your breath hitches and your eyes burned and the tears spilled down your cheeks before you could even hope to stop them. You'd been so worried about it, so worried about so much, especially after your parents got themselves removed like that. You slept in a strange bed, in a strange home, with people you didn't yet know, and you had no idea if the simple fact that you wouldn't be able to follow that damnable routine to the letter was going to mean it all fell apart.

You hadn't cried for years, but something about the way he said it just shattered everything. It was so genuine and nonchalant, and there hadn't been a single moment since Izou first noticed you that anyone had even so much as flinched at your appearance.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, wiping your face and trying to get yourself under control.

"It's alright," Thatch says, you hear a strange tone in his voice. Looking up a little you take the handkerchief he's holding out to you. It's hard to see his face through your tears, but he keeps talking. "I... don't really know what to do when a lady cries, but you don't have to hold anything back cause'a me."

You clean up your face with the cloth and give him a sheepish smile. "This was perfect, thank you." You take a moment to compose yourself, and fold the small cloth up before setting it aside. "I should, um, eat, I think. Before it gets cold."

"Even cold, Thatch's cooking is delicious." Izou says, eyes on his own meal.

"Yeah, a good meal'll have you feeling better in no time." Marco adds, offering a bright smile before returning to his own breakfast.

You don't quite smile as you eat, but the food is delicious, and the company isn't so bad. The brothers eventually start talking about their businesses. No one's ignoring you, even if you're not being prompted into the conversation itself, there's still the occasional glance in your direction to check on you. Izou makes you a second cup of tea while Thatch is eating, and Marco asks if you want water, all while they're talking numbers and schedules with their father.

You don't even have to say anything, just nodding or shaking your head as needed. When everyone's done Thatch takes your empty plate, giving you a warm smile.

"Good, right?" He prompts and you nod, a small smile slipping across your lips.

"Miss Kakusho," Newgate prompts. "I would like to discuss some things with you in my office, if you're up for it."

You nod, getting up from your seat. "Yes. You let me rest and I had a delicious meal besides, I appreciate the considerations."

"This way then." He says, starting away from the kitchen. "Thatch, let Marco and Izou clean up."

"Yeah, Pops." Thatch says, tossing Marco the rag he was using and pulling on his jacket before catching up with you and his father.

As you ascend the stairs to the second floor you look over Thatch. "You didn't have to wear the same thing again."

"Ah, yeah, I know." He admits, scratching the back of his head idly. "I'd love to say I was trying to make you feel more comfortable, but I just kind of... panicked this morning, and put it on without thinking."

"Panicked?"

Thatch clears his throat. "Slept through my alarm, wanted to be sure I got breakfast going in time."

You consider pointing out that he had said there wasn't a set schedule for breakfast, but you didn't want to pry any further. Whether it was by accident or design, it was a nice sentiment.

Newgate opens the door to his office and lets you and Thatch in first. There's a couple couches around a table, and a desk with chairs by it further in. Thatch guides you to the couches, and apologizes for sitting next to you. It's obvious once his father sits across from you that both men would not fit on a single couch together comfortably. There was ample space for you and Thatch, however, so it wasn't uncomfortable.

"Do you know what your parents did last night?" Newgate questions and you shake your head. He raises a brow a little, but his tone isn't accusatory, it's curious. "You apologized for them."

"I did." You agree even though it hadn't felt like much of a question.

"Do your parents have a habit of being like that?"

You look down for a moment before looking back up at Newgate. "My parents believe that everyone thinks as they do," you say carefully, it's difficult to speak ill of them, even though you want to. "When that isn't the case, things often end poorly. Last night just happens to be the first time they left without me."

Newgate considers this for a moment. You can feel Thatch tense beside you. You're not sure what has him angry, but your parents often have a negative effect on people's emotions. At least you're certain they didn't insult him, or even his father, directly, but you'll be surprised if either one of them wants to see them again.

"Your parents had made an assumption about me Miss Kakusho, and it was incorrect. I'm sure that they're well aware of that considering how the evening went. But that is between them and I, and I won't allow it to negatively effect you and my son's chances of success." He explains and you nod.

"In that way I want you to be able to have a say in how things progress. You're welcome to stay here, at my home, and move into Thatch's place in the next week or two. Things have been difficult enough and this would help ease the transition, much as it could be eased. You are, of course, welcome to move into Thatch's place immediately, as it wouldn't take long to adjust the apartment to accommodate the both of you." Newgate takes in a deep breath, and you can tell he's not keen on what he's about to say next, so you brace for bad news.

Maybe they're going to put you on some sort of probation, or demand some kind of restitution from your parents. Your mother might actually kill you if you cost her money at this point. At the very least, you were certain you weren't going to be kicked out yourself.

Instead, it's some of the best news you've heard since last night. "You're also welcome to return to your parents, if you wish, but I will not force you to return home. Frankly, I won't force you into any of these choices." He reiterates. "My intent is to make you as comfortable as possible, no matter what you decide."

You weren't particularly thrilled to be making your own choices, but in this case you knew that of the three there was one you most certainly didn't want.

"I do not wish to return home." You say pointedly. "But, all of my things are there."

"We can secure those for you." Newgate offers.

You shake your head. "My parents wouldn't-." You pause, pressing your lips together. Newgate and Thatch both give you a moment. "It would be difficult for anyone else to know..." You trail off again. You aren't sure how to explain that your vile parents were likely to make any attempt at retrieving your clothes a nightmare for everyone involved.

Alternatively, the idea of suggesting you simply buy new clothes was far too much of you to ask. It didn't matter how much money Thatch or his family had, or even if they were willing to do so. It was simply too much to ask or accept.

"Miss Kakusho?"

"Yessir?" You respond almost automatically, looking up at Newgate.

"Do you have your own room?"

"I do."

"Would it be unreasonable for us to simply take everything from that room?"

"... It would not."

"Is there anything of sentimental value you'd want to have specifically?"

You shake your head. It feels hollow to admit that you don't have any positive emotional connection to anything in that house. Your parents didn't let you keep anything that wasn't approved. None of the farewell gifts and trinkets from your classmates survived.

The cold pit in your stomach loosens your lips, and you murmur your next words softly.

"There's nothing of any value in that house."