Pretty Hurts
“The truth is not always beautiful, nor beautiful words the truth.”
― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
There’s a light drizzle of rain in the air as Jongin steps out of the cab and onto the street. His steps are quick on the wet pavement as his feet take him the same way that they’ve travelled one time too many. They stop in front of an old building, tucked away on the grim side of the city, hiding the secrets of the people that shelter themselves inside. He walks through the same dirty doors, the peeling words spelling out “motel” on their surface, and he heads to the elevator. The place smells like it always has: of cigarettes and pain.
He finds himself in front of another familiar door, with the rusted number ‘3’ placed in the center, and a brass doorknob. He doesn’t knock or even announce himself, and simply lets himself in. The door is never locked, and he knows it never will be.
The room is illuminated dimly by an old lamp resting on a night table, and it casts a sickly-yellow, pale light over the figure in the bed. He drops his coat on the floor and approaches the bed, taking in the mess of protruding bones and skin stretched too tight on the body that lays there. Jongin would have thought him dead if not for the faint irregular rise and fall of his chest. But then again, God wouldn’t be so merciful.
Upon hearing him enter, Sehun moves a bit and glances up at the other.
“Jongin?” he moans out.
“Of course it’s me, you idiot. Who else would be so out-of-his-fucking-mind to follow you here?”
He gets another moan in response and decides to leave conversation for another time. First he needs to clean the other up. He kneels on the bed, right next to Sehun’s head, and brushes aside the bangs sticking to the others forehead with a thin sheen of sweat. There are dried-up tear tracks down his face and the eyes that look up at him are glazed over and unfocused, the same way they always are when they find themselves in this place.
“Come on”, Jongin says as he pulls Sehun by the arms into a sitting position. "Let's get you cleaned up."
Ignoring the raised toilet seat when he enters the bathroom, he quickly prepares a bath and strips Sehun of his clothes, before guiding him in. Jongin cleans him as best as he can with an old towel they keep under the sink (they're regulars to the room). The sight of Sehun naked should bother him; the way his hipbones jut out excessively under his skin, or how he can count every single rib and vertebrae on his body would disturb even the most experienced doctor, but the sight is simply a mirror to Jongin. There is nothing new to see.
He guides Sehun back to the bed and let's him collapse onto the mattress with the towel still wrapped around him. He goes back to the bathroom to collects Sehun's clothes. They reek of vomit and cigarettes, so he simply throws them into the trash and goes back to the bed to find Sehun already fast asleep.
Jongin takes a moment to glance around the room. He sees snack wrappers that promise only one hundred calories and countless other cheap treats thrown across the floor, and it disgusts him just to see them. He knows where they’ve ended up, and he's disgusted and mad and frustrated at himself for craving them, and even more mad at Sehun for tempting him. He knows it's wrong, so so wrong, that he thinks this way, but he can't help it now; it's ingrained into his head and it brings stinging tears to his eyes because he can see how fucked up he is, yet does nothing to change it.
Taking his own shirt off, he throws it aside and lies down next to Sehun. He wraps the younger in his arms and buries his head into the crook of the other's neck, regardless of how uncomfortable it is because of the lack of any cushioning fat or muscle . And there, he cries, and whispers for forgiveness, for all that he could have prevented but didn't, and for all that he had brought upon the poor soul next to him.
Sleep calls at him through broken sobs drowned in sickly pale skin and he welcomes it, hoping that it doesn't release him ever again.
++++
Jongin wakes up and it's still dark outside, but now, there's a lack of a body next to his. He knows why.
Dread, mixed with a sharp sting of guilt, settles over him and he closes his eyes as he tries to push it to the back of his mind. He shifts and turns to face the bathroom door. The light is on. He can hear the tap running, left flowing in an attempt to drown out the other noises coming from inside.
He turns again and tries to go back to sleep.
Minutes later, Sehun clambers back onto the bed and curls into him once again. Jongin throws an arm around his waist and pulls him close. Sehun's throat looks puffy and swollen, and there's water around his mouth when he presses a chaste kiss to the hollow of his collarbone and nuzzles his head into Jongin's neck.
Jongin doesn't sleep anymore that night.
“It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Kreutzer Sonata
In the morning, Jongin goes out to buy Sehun a new set of clothes and breakfast for the both of them. He returns with a simple white t-shirt and shorts, and a single pastry for the both of them to share.
Sehun mutters a small thanks when he hands him the clothes, but gives him a hard look when he spots the little box that holds the breakfast.
"What's that?” he asks as Jongin sets the box on the bed.
"You know what it is."
"I'm not hungry."
"I wasn't asking you. And we're both gonna eat it. No ‘but’s."
Jongin makes Sehun sit on the bed and takes out the delicate looking pastry, breaking it in half and giving the bigger part to Sehun, because he knows that the other hasn't eaten properly in days.
He tries to set an example by taking the first bite. The moment it hits his tongue, he can taste the large amount of sugar the pastry contains and the flavor overwhelms him. It feels like cotton going down his throat, (he would know, because he's eaten it before), and it settles like lead in his stomach. The rumble it gives is proof of how hungry he is, but the warning bells are already going off in his head, screaming at him of how many carbs and calories that single bite must have had. He thinks of how many pounds he will gain if he keeps going, and it's a struggle to bring the pastry to his mouth again. But he does, and he finishes it eventually.
Sehun sits there watching him with a worried look on his face, but Jongin just gives him a small smile and looks at him expectantly, so Sehun does the same.
He can see the emotions playing on Sehun's face as he eats. First the slight almost-embarrassed enjoyment of the pastry, then the disgust as he swallows and closes his eyes in an effort to keep it down. The taste is not bad and the pastry is fresh, baked just that morning, but Jongin knows it's not the flavor that disgusts him, but the fact that he's eating it.
When he's done and sure that it won't come back up, Sehun looks up with a faint smile and Jongin feels one of his own forming. He cups Sehun's face with both hands and tenderly kisses his forehead.
"You did so good, baby. So good. I'm proud of you... Of us."
++++
They're sitting in the bathtub and warm soapy water surrounds them. The last remaining bubbles are fading away and their skin is starting to get wrinkled, but they don't care. It's rare for them to have moments like these so they try to enjoy them. Jongin knows that this is just a fleeting thing, and that soon they will have to face the world again and the pleasant feelings they have right now will fade like the suds around them. Soon the cravings will start again, and with them, his mood swings and Sehun's anger bursts as well.
But it doesn't stop them from hoping.
Hoping that one day they will go out and eat a full course meal at a good restaurant on a proper date. Hoping that they won't count calories or care about how many carbs the food has; that he won't feel the disgust clawing up his throat after every bite or see Sehun running to the bathroom afterwards and returning with bloodshot eyes and a swollen throat. He hopes for all these things. But for now, they can't have them.
So he just sits there and simply enjoys the feeling of Sehun's body on his, listening to the little sighs he gives when he rubs a spot on his side.
"I'm sorry for bothering you again," Sehun says, breaking the silence. “I know you don't like coming here and finding me like… that. But I panicked after the fifth bag of chips. And then I- I couldn't stop um… you know. I collapsed after there was nothing left to-"
"Shhh... I know, baby. I know. But it's okay now. You're okay for now, and thats all that matters. Just... call me before coming here, not after, okay? I hate finding you like this."
Sehun doesn't answer and just nods weakly as he turns around and rests his head on Jongin's shoulder, looking at some imaginary point in the distance.
They both know that soon they will have to get out and get on with their miserable lives again, but it never hurts to dream. And for people like them, whose lives are based on how well their bodies tell lies and fool the world, dreaming is all they have left.
“You are imperfect, permanently and inevitably flawed. And you are beautiful.”
― Amy Bloom
It’s when Jongin steps out of the motel that he notices it: a large banner perched on top of an abandoned building, advertising the latest jean collection for men from Vogue.
Sehun is lying in the middle of it. With a flimsy shirt covering his torso, he's seductively spread across the middle of a large bed, showcasing the jeans. He looks absolutely flawless. His skin is not the sick, almost-translucent shade he's used to seeing, but instead it's a perfect healthy pale. There’s a soft blush on his cheeks and no wrinkles to be seen; there are no dark circles under his eyes or abnormally prominent collarbones. He's the perfect model.
A dark chuckle escapes Kai's lips as he looks at it. It tastes like ashes, and burns a part of his soul. It's the cruelest of ironies that to stay 'beautiful' they must do such horrible things.
His phone beeps and his manager's number flashes on the screen. He opens it and there's a text message reading, "Photoshoot at 3:00pm today. Don't be late.", and all he can think of is how he really shouldn't have eaten that pastry.
fin