Work Text:
Here he was again. Izumi stood in front of the mirror with his shirt open and face expressionless. Here he was, barely able to even muster the strength to feel anything at all. It was a dull throb of disgust and anger as he looked himself over. His body was the most important thing he had, the thing that gave him any value or worth. It was what he had lived for, for so many years, looking good for others. And he was ruining it.
He could remember, stern voices from long ago. Chastising him for what he ate, how much he ate. Reminding him consistently that a model needs to maintain their figure, that a dancer can't just eat what they want. Who would want to see a fat little boy, after all?
Maybe time had twisted these words to be crueler than they had truly been. But still, the effects had stayed with him, even until now.
It felt like a fight to keep himself how he dreamed of being, how he knew others wanted to see him. He struggled to hold himself to the ideal image in his head. No matter how many calories he managed to shave off, it never felt like enough. It always looked wrong, he always felt wrong. He felt himself, body too big. He would work harder and harder, but it always felt too big. And he could feel the eyes on him.
Pressing his hands over his stomach, Izumi felt shame creep up his spine, a hot prickle that made him wince. It was too much. He had let himself get away with too much. He berated himself, always angrier at himself than he had ever been with anyone else. He had to be perfect.
And this was far from perfect.