9 ways to be beautiful
Title: 9 ways to be beautiful
Pairing: none
Rating: PG13
Summary: when society has wrecked you so hard that you've lost grasp on what 'beautiful''s supposed to mean.
1: Kevin can’t make out anything of what he’s seeing. The world around him is just a haze, a mess of colours, a fucking blur. He buries his head back deeper into his pillow, narrowing his eyes and trying to apply focus on certain objects in his room, as if it would help him see clearer and rid off the faintness he’s feeling right now.
His body is wrapped in blankets, in a warmth he can’t seem to be able to feel.
With his left hand, he feels about at his other arm.
Everybody screams at him for being too skinny but he doesn’t see, he doesn’t feel it.
Why can’t he feel the bones that are supposed to protrude out of his skin? Why does he still feel so heavy, as if he’s taking up too much space?
The giddiness is being a little too much to handle, so Kevin’s world turns black.
2: Jaeseop hasn’t stopped poring all over his books for hours. His hands are trembling, his coffee untouched, beads of perspiration streaming down his temples. Anxiety runs in him hard and he goes back to the same page every five fucking seconds, because he’s not sure whether he has absorbed every damn word. He just reads everything, whether is it highlighted keywords, or connecting words that put the sentences together. He needs to read everything and have it all 100% memorised.
He needs to be perfect.
It’s not even an A that he needs, it’s one hundred goddamn marks.
So he grabs a fistful of papers and crumple them, but not hard enough to tear them, and of course, he doesn’t dare to throw them away.
Perfect people can finish everything.
Perfect people can make it.
They say perfect is just a concept, and so Jaeseop wants to be a concept.
Nobody liked him as a human anyway.
3: Under Kyoungjae’s mattress lays a spread of his dirty treasure. From fancy flavoured lubes, to glittering jewelry, satin bras with their price tags still attached to them, computer parts. When he steals things, fueled by the most obsessive sense of adrenaline; his light footsteps carrying his heavy heart; he always actually manages to feel like a superhero.
He hides these things away, unable to look at them, because he can’t believe he has to resort to doing something wrong to feel right.
To feel good about himself.
4: Hoonmin has been running on the same treadmill, at the same speed, using the same incline, for four hours straight. His body is soaked in his own perspiration and it feels sore. When he pulls his arms back and forth when he runs, he knows he’s supposed to feel his muscles clenching; when his sweat trickles down the sides of his body, he knows he’s supposed to feel he’s worked past his breaking point.
But he doesn’t collapse. He can’t collapse.
Nothing is enough, he won’t ever be good enough.
Hoonmin doesn’t stop running for another hour, and another, and another.
5: Alexander crashes his lips against the girl’s lips and tries to lose himself in her beauty but all he can wonder as he kisses her is that if guys’ lips were just as moisturous, just as soft and tender on his; or if their lips were gonna be rough and crashing up against his, threatening to take away whatever sanity that’s left of him.
Not knowing what he’s doing, he slides up his hand under the girl’s shirt. Her skin is soft and supple, but what he tries to find is a body that’s more sculptured, a body like a man’s.
He tells himself it’s just his body that’s attracted, that It’s all just physical desires.
That he’s not a homosexual.
He keeps kissing her, but this time even harder, with a fear that he might be homosexual after all.
He doesn’t want to accept himself, because he knows nobody else would.
6: Kiseop is obsessed with the idea of committing suicide. In fact, one of the more recent fantasies he’s had is lying in a bathtub filled with water and shooting himself dead until the water mixes with his blood - until he’s drowning in his own pool of blood.
He smiles as he thinks of death, of how disappearing would feel so good, and how light he would feel when he’s dying, not as heavy as a burden anymore.
He runs his razor across his wrist, forming a long crimson slit.
7: Kibum smiles at everything.
When the wind slaps his face as he walks along a street, he smiles.
When his mother cries alone at night and thinks he cannot hear her, he smiles.
When he spends everyday working so hard he just wants to bleed out every damn molecule his body contains just so that it would hurt less and still doesn’t achieve what he wants to achieve, he smiles.
When he waits for rainbows after storms but they don’t show up, he still fucking smiles.
His smile is always strained though - they never reach his eyes.
But he’ll keep smilling, because it keeps the monster he hides underneath his mask from exploding back at the world that he hates.
8: Dongho doesn’t stop sobbing as he rams all his clothing into his bag, stuffs his money into his wallet and turns off his phone. At that moment, his head screams of how much rage he’s indulging in, of how much he hates his family and his friends, of how people never seem to be able to understand. Running out of the house, running until his heart feels like bursting out of his chest, running until he can’t even feel his legs down there anymore; he just keeps running away.
He tells himself he needs a break from all these expectations, all this pressure that builds up in him so fast that he doesn’t know how to contain it.
In truth, he’s just running away from himself, from his flawed self.
9: Soohyun sticks a finger down his throat, feeling whatever he has just eaten come up and out of his throat and into the toilet bowl. For awhile, he stares at his own vomit, dazed but reeling from all the sense of control he suddenly attained. Even when’s empty as hell, and already begin to ache and turn sore, he keeps purging, until blood comes out.
All this poison that runs in his blood, all the flaws that he has, all the mistakes he has made - they all vanish, just like this.
And for a fragment of a second, he forgets why he has hated himself all his life.
a/n: hate myself for writing this but just. yknow. trying to bring across a message that this entire fucking world seems to never get. or maybe they do, but they choose not to.
Pairing: none
Rating: PG13
Summary: when society has wrecked you so hard that you've lost grasp on what 'beautiful''s supposed to mean.
1: Kevin can’t make out anything of what he’s seeing. The world around him is just a haze, a mess of colours, a fucking blur. He buries his head back deeper into his pillow, narrowing his eyes and trying to apply focus on certain objects in his room, as if it would help him see clearer and rid off the faintness he’s feeling right now.
His body is wrapped in blankets, in a warmth he can’t seem to be able to feel.
With his left hand, he feels about at his other arm.
Everybody screams at him for being too skinny but he doesn’t see, he doesn’t feel it.
Why can’t he feel the bones that are supposed to protrude out of his skin? Why does he still feel so heavy, as if he’s taking up too much space?
The giddiness is being a little too much to handle, so Kevin’s world turns black.
2: Jaeseop hasn’t stopped poring all over his books for hours. His hands are trembling, his coffee untouched, beads of perspiration streaming down his temples. Anxiety runs in him hard and he goes back to the same page every five fucking seconds, because he’s not sure whether he has absorbed every damn word. He just reads everything, whether is it highlighted keywords, or connecting words that put the sentences together. He needs to read everything and have it all 100% memorised.
He needs to be perfect.
It’s not even an A that he needs, it’s one hundred goddamn marks.
So he grabs a fistful of papers and crumple them, but not hard enough to tear them, and of course, he doesn’t dare to throw them away.
Perfect people can finish everything.
Perfect people can make it.
They say perfect is just a concept, and so Jaeseop wants to be a concept.
Nobody liked him as a human anyway.
3: Under Kyoungjae’s mattress lays a spread of his dirty treasure. From fancy flavoured lubes, to glittering jewelry, satin bras with their price tags still attached to them, computer parts. When he steals things, fueled by the most obsessive sense of adrenaline; his light footsteps carrying his heavy heart; he always actually manages to feel like a superhero.
He hides these things away, unable to look at them, because he can’t believe he has to resort to doing something wrong to feel right.
To feel good about himself.
4: Hoonmin has been running on the same treadmill, at the same speed, using the same incline, for four hours straight. His body is soaked in his own perspiration and it feels sore. When he pulls his arms back and forth when he runs, he knows he’s supposed to feel his muscles clenching; when his sweat trickles down the sides of his body, he knows he’s supposed to feel he’s worked past his breaking point.
But he doesn’t collapse. He can’t collapse.
Nothing is enough, he won’t ever be good enough.
Hoonmin doesn’t stop running for another hour, and another, and another.
5: Alexander crashes his lips against the girl’s lips and tries to lose himself in her beauty but all he can wonder as he kisses her is that if guys’ lips were just as moisturous, just as soft and tender on his; or if their lips were gonna be rough and crashing up against his, threatening to take away whatever sanity that’s left of him.
Not knowing what he’s doing, he slides up his hand under the girl’s shirt. Her skin is soft and supple, but what he tries to find is a body that’s more sculptured, a body like a man’s.
He tells himself it’s just his body that’s attracted, that It’s all just physical desires.
That he’s not a homosexual.
He keeps kissing her, but this time even harder, with a fear that he might be homosexual after all.
He doesn’t want to accept himself, because he knows nobody else would.
6: Kiseop is obsessed with the idea of committing suicide. In fact, one of the more recent fantasies he’s had is lying in a bathtub filled with water and shooting himself dead until the water mixes with his blood - until he’s drowning in his own pool of blood.
He smiles as he thinks of death, of how disappearing would feel so good, and how light he would feel when he’s dying, not as heavy as a burden anymore.
He runs his razor across his wrist, forming a long crimson slit.
7: Kibum smiles at everything.
When the wind slaps his face as he walks along a street, he smiles.
When his mother cries alone at night and thinks he cannot hear her, he smiles.
When he spends everyday working so hard he just wants to bleed out every damn molecule his body contains just so that it would hurt less and still doesn’t achieve what he wants to achieve, he smiles.
When he waits for rainbows after storms but they don’t show up, he still fucking smiles.
His smile is always strained though - they never reach his eyes.
But he’ll keep smilling, because it keeps the monster he hides underneath his mask from exploding back at the world that he hates.
8: Dongho doesn’t stop sobbing as he rams all his clothing into his bag, stuffs his money into his wallet and turns off his phone. At that moment, his head screams of how much rage he’s indulging in, of how much he hates his family and his friends, of how people never seem to be able to understand. Running out of the house, running until his heart feels like bursting out of his chest, running until he can’t even feel his legs down there anymore; he just keeps running away.
He tells himself he needs a break from all these expectations, all this pressure that builds up in him so fast that he doesn’t know how to contain it.
In truth, he’s just running away from himself, from his flawed self.
9: Soohyun sticks a finger down his throat, feeling whatever he has just eaten come up and out of his throat and into the toilet bowl. For awhile, he stares at his own vomit, dazed but reeling from all the sense of control he suddenly attained. Even when’s empty as hell, and already begin to ache and turn sore, he keeps purging, until blood comes out.
All this poison that runs in his blood, all the flaws that he has, all the mistakes he has made - they all vanish, just like this.
And for a fragment of a second, he forgets why he has hated himself all his life.
a/n: hate myself for writing this but just. yknow. trying to bring across a message that this entire fucking world seems to never get. or maybe they do, but they choose not to.