[30-day writing challenge] diamond
diamond
fem!lu han/yixing
pg-13
1930s shanghai!au, angst
warnings: implied prostitution and substance abuse
you're beautiful, no one can deny that. but it's an unreal sort of beauty: delicate, fragile, ethereal. unattainable, and so very tempting (to be destroyed, corrupted.)
you're smiling, but are you really happy? with the way you're living, the different masks you put on each and every time, the different behaviours you adopt with each persona.
isn't it tiring? aren't you tired of all these personas, keeping them apart, keeping them in check? (your mind is split apart, carved into different facets like a diamond, each face another personality.)
you are lu han, part-time model by day and cabaret singer by night. a sweet face and an even sweeter voice; pretty, shy lu han, bright red cheongsam and soft crimson lipstick, the soft-spoken girl lonely businessmen always request for as a companion for the night.
(sometimes, i wonder why you don't take a stage name. like how zhongda calls herself chen, how junmian calls herself shouhu, how zhongren calls herself kai, never mind that their names don't make sense because at least they have this false name to hide behind.)
you are lu han, the devil's spawn behind the heavy curtains and bright lights on stage. throwing tantrums and laughing fits out of the blue, breaking down in a corner one moment and wreaking havoc with shixun and zitao the next. temper and moods fluctuating like the spikes of a heartbeat, unpredictable and dangerous.
(is it because you are afraid of losing yourself? because, darling, that has already happened a long time ago.)
you are lu han, well-known among the social circles of the rich as the escort to hire, to be seen with. sweet, innocent lu han isn't so sweet or innocent anymore, not after a few mouthfuls of liquor, a few rounds on the dance floor, a few whiffs of opium. lithe body and porcelain skin already tainted and stained with the dark of human desires, a pretty little plaything already broken beyond repair.
(try as you might, you will never be able to separate these personas from each other, will never be able to fully take each mask off. because they're a part of you, see, each and every characteristic they have already deeply ingrained into your very soul.)
you are lu han, tired and haggard, shadows painted indigo and cobalt beneath your eyes and into your sunken cheeks, filling in the hollows of your face with darkness. thin, manicured fingers pinching a cigarette shakily, because its toxins have no effect on an already poisoned body. inhale, yixing, exhale, i'm dying. face wiped free from the thick make-up, tiny frame draped in just an oversized shirt, so very open and so very vulnerable. inhale, yixing, exhale, save me.
(smile for the camera, darling. the lights haven't dimmed, the final curtain call is yet to come: this little show you're starring in isn't over yet.)
fem!lu han/yixing
pg-13
1930s shanghai!au, angst
warnings: implied prostitution and substance abuse
you're beautiful, no one can deny that. but it's an unreal sort of beauty: delicate, fragile, ethereal. unattainable, and so very tempting (to be destroyed, corrupted.)
you're smiling, but are you really happy? with the way you're living, the different masks you put on each and every time, the different behaviours you adopt with each persona.
isn't it tiring? aren't you tired of all these personas, keeping them apart, keeping them in check? (your mind is split apart, carved into different facets like a diamond, each face another personality.)
you are lu han, part-time model by day and cabaret singer by night. a sweet face and an even sweeter voice; pretty, shy lu han, bright red cheongsam and soft crimson lipstick, the soft-spoken girl lonely businessmen always request for as a companion for the night.
(sometimes, i wonder why you don't take a stage name. like how zhongda calls herself chen, how junmian calls herself shouhu, how zhongren calls herself kai, never mind that their names don't make sense because at least they have this false name to hide behind.)
you are lu han, the devil's spawn behind the heavy curtains and bright lights on stage. throwing tantrums and laughing fits out of the blue, breaking down in a corner one moment and wreaking havoc with shixun and zitao the next. temper and moods fluctuating like the spikes of a heartbeat, unpredictable and dangerous.
(is it because you are afraid of losing yourself? because, darling, that has already happened a long time ago.)
you are lu han, well-known among the social circles of the rich as the escort to hire, to be seen with. sweet, innocent lu han isn't so sweet or innocent anymore, not after a few mouthfuls of liquor, a few rounds on the dance floor, a few whiffs of opium. lithe body and porcelain skin already tainted and stained with the dark of human desires, a pretty little plaything already broken beyond repair.
(try as you might, you will never be able to separate these personas from each other, will never be able to fully take each mask off. because they're a part of you, see, each and every characteristic they have already deeply ingrained into your very soul.)
you are lu han, tired and haggard, shadows painted indigo and cobalt beneath your eyes and into your sunken cheeks, filling in the hollows of your face with darkness. thin, manicured fingers pinching a cigarette shakily, because its toxins have no effect on an already poisoned body. inhale, yixing, exhale, i'm dying. face wiped free from the thick make-up, tiny frame draped in just an oversized shirt, so very open and so very vulnerable. inhale, yixing, exhale, save me.
(smile for the camera, darling. the lights haven't dimmed, the final curtain call is yet to come: this little show you're starring in isn't over yet.)