Zero presence.

You walk toward me hesitantly from a distance, clutching your own sleeve tightly.

Wearing an ill-fitting uniform that looks like a hand-me-down and thick horn-rimmed glasses that make your eyes look small.

My only friend!

Birds of a feather—I'm just like you. But still... at least you have the looks. You're pretty. I wonder if you even know how you look... You probably don't, which is why you act like that.

Long eyelashes, a rather slender frame, and the way your mouth curves when you smile.

Ah... perfect.

If—and this would never happen, but just if.

If the day comes when you tailor your uniform to fit... take off those glasses... and start making yourself look beautiful—

Wouldn't you just abandon me?