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It had been days since he actually had a complete meal. He wasn't hungry. He was just weak.
It was a Saturday. The week went as good as it could be. The usual things happen; his self-proclaimed friends annoyed him, his parents asked for help with something stupid and somebody almost died at some point beacuse; why not?
He woke up late. His parents went out to visit his grandparents early and let him sleep after he asked to. The millions of thoughts that assaulted his head the moment he woke up were; as usual, a headache. He sat on his bed and took his glasses off the bedside table next to him out of a habit. He could feel his body sulking and weak, maybe it was the fact that the amount of food he comsumed wasn't near the amount he actually needs, or the fact that he sleep until late last night beacuse he just couldn't get silence, or maybe it was the fact that he was still transformed on his male form. He went for the last option and in a second he was on his original body.
He looked down and saw how his breast was sighly inflated and his legs just a pinch heavier, he watched how his chest raised and fell and a wave of disgust and shame washed on him. He stood up slowy and raised his eyes up with a horrible mix of unknown feelings bubbling and fermenting within his insides. He walked towards the mirror in his room and just took a look at himself.
Kusuo questioned himself whether this was his real appearance or if he even knew how he actually looked like. He knew that on a logical angle it made no sense. How could he look human when he's not? He let his head fell to his left side, he analised his face, his chest, his legs, his feet and his hair. He hated every inch of it. Not only beacuse it didn't fit the way he felt, but also beacuse he didn't make sense.
His eyes were purple with no shine, his hair pink, his skin pale and his body skinny. He could alter it as much he wanned, but he wasn't right now. Somehow he looked nothing like his parents. Or his grandparents. Or even his own brother. His beautyful mother had dark black hair and dark eyes, his father had light brown hair and dark brown eyes, both have this sighly wavy hair that curls up at the ends. His brother has blonde straight hair that his dad said he took from a his grandmother, blue eyes that he took from his grandfather on his mother side. Then it was him.
He took slow steps towards the mirror, almost as if it was calling him. The more he looked at himself the more it didn't felt like he was looking at something real. His powers just kept changing his appereance, his eyes changed colors, his hair textures, and his body sizes. One second he could look like himself the next like somebody else, and he couldn't differentiate between. When he snapped out of whatever it was he looked nothing like himself, or maybe he looked like he should.
Light brown hair, sighly longer and with a similar hairstyle his dad has, his mother eyes and her same white skin. His body was male and sighly taller, just as skinny. A feeling of disgust and frustration hit him. He clutched his stomach, and it churned with the violence of a storm and threatened to make him vomit at the pain that his whole shacking body felt. This was him? This should have been him? Why wasn't he like this? Why was he so weird? Why did he looked like a poisnous frog and not like a normal boy?
Maybe beacuse he was no boy. Maybe beacuse he was no man. Maybe beacuse he was no real human. His hands pierced the sides of his stomach as hard as they could and he felt how his pajamas tore and his skin started to get scratched. Looking down he started taking steps backward in a panic, almost falling after tripping because of how fast he was going. With each step his hair grew darker and longer, it reached the floor when he touch the wall and it was as dark as ink.
He teleported a knife in exchange for his glasses and he had to use both hands to take all the hair and with his telekinesis cut it clean. He let his hands, hair and the knife fall. He stood there watching himself in the mirror in horror. His hair was the same length as always but it was this dark pink that made fun of him, he looked down and there was no black hair to clean or knife on the ground.
Was he going crazy? Were his powers failing? Both? None were good. A creature with his powers meant no good, even less a crazy one. The world could pay a price that it didn't owed just beacuse of his stupid desire to be made out of flesh and bone, to be nothing more than a human, to be tore apart and recreated as he should have been born like.
Kusuo fell on his knees as carefully he could, it still made the whole house shake. He sat on his knees and stayed in silence just hoping that it could reach him, even thought the thoughts of everybody in a 200 meters radio echoed in his skull like a church bell.
He had been asking himself the same question everyday since he saw himself for the first time ever; Why was he like this?
Why did god punish him with a supposed blessing and not with the normality of a curse?
What was his sin? In what did he fail?
Why bless him with a curse such as power?
He hated it. He despissed himself. Was he even a "he"? Or more of a "it"? Was he just a creature or a beast? He knew he never meant harm. He wasn't raised like that. But intention mattered in those kinds of situations where he would do it?
He started at his own eyes. No iris or shine stared back. Just plain unatural purple. No tears threatened to come out, he trained himself beyond that. His emotionless face writhed in the hope of forming a grimace that would show some emotion with no sucess.
His ring floated slowy towards his eyes and when it reached them he took it. With the germanium ring on he finally let his back lean against the wall with a big sigh. It was reasuring. Conforting. He could even say it made him feel better. It made him feel safe.
Silence washed on him and he understood that this was what he got denied when he was born.