escape
escape from reality
a slit on her wrist
soon followed by two or three
all covering both her arms and legs
until only a group filled with lies remains after she left.
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-trigger warning: suicide, self harm, bullying, harrassm...
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Standing in front of his body length mirror, the foreigner absentmindedly fixes his neck tie. His eyes stare dead at his own reflection, without really looking at himself. His eyes are wide open, but he's not focusing on what's in front of him.
He lets go of his tie and takes a step back.
The outfit suits him well, or so said his parents. The blonde doesn't completely disagree, the dark colour accentuates his fair skin, though maybe a little too much, and makes his eyes stand out.
However, he doesn't like the fact that it fits him that much.
It's almost perfect, and that is where the problem lays.
He moves a hand up to his arm and wraps his five digits around it with ease.
It's too thin to his taste. He glances down. His legs too are too slim to belong to a male such as himself.
‟Maman?”
‟Oui, mon chéri?”
‟What does 'faggot' mean?”
‟Faggot? Eh, I... I don't know.”
He wishes he hadn't looked up the meaning of the word later that evening.
‟So that's what it means...”
His hand lands on his pants that he pulls down a little in order to make it seem a little baggy. He however pulls it up almost immediately with a heavy sigh.
I don't understand how boys go walking around in baggy pants and still feel comfortable...
He straightens his blazer and takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with a whole new recharge of oxygen.
He forces a smile upon his thin lips and winks at himself.
Time to go.
He turns around and machinally walks out of his bedroom. He carefully goes down the stairs. At the last stair step, his mother awaits him patiently, fixing her hair very briefly.
‟Your hair looks good like that, maman.”
The woman hums and snaps towards her son, only noticing his presence now. She puts away her pocket mirror and smiles at Aoyama. The woman rushes to the blonde as soon as he reaches the last stair and pats his blazer as to smooth it out. She then lays her hands on his shoulders and pushes them down.
‟It will be alright. No need to feel so tense.”
‟I...” Aoyama moves his eyes off his mother. ‟I can't help it. I'm just so nervous, maman.”
