Work Text:
Kei doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.
Or, well, maybe he does.
He had finally perfected himself. He works out, he wakes up earlier than everybody else, he studies, he’s never awake past half 10, he eats healthy. He was perfect. People praised him.
Complimented his body, told him he was a role model. He had declined his favourite sweet things so many times, people had stopped offering. He was perfect.
Sure, there wasn’t much he could do about his face— that was depressingly stuck the way it was created. Unless he raised enough money to invest in some major surgeries, he’d have to accept his unfortunate looks. He’s sure people were considerate of that, though.
And yet, after all his efforts, he’s sad.
When night falls, Kei’s thoughts swallow him. Thoughts of binging so many desserts that he wretches, skipping his work out for one day and never studying again corrupt his perfect mind. But he never acts on them, of course.
Could you imagine?
Tsukishima Kei—the previously unpopular wuss, going straight back to his roots? The scale balancing at an unsavoury number, the marks on his tests; no longer the best in the class, but back to the lowest?
He couldn’t even dream it.
There was a time Kei always did look back on, however. A time where he was healthy, and happy. A time when he focused on positivity, on his happiness. Not his appearance, not how others portrayed him.
He really, really wishes to go back to that. Because he’s sad.
He’s healthy, but he’s hungry. He has friends, but he’s alone. He studies, but he still feels stupid.
With this perfect mindset, his perspectives on others changed, too. Every person he sees on the street— he doesn’t think of their personalities, he thinks they look either ugly or pretty, fat or slim. And every day as he walks, he wonders what those same people think when they see him. He always suspects the worst. Fat and ugly, an anomaly disguised as a human being.
But he tries to be nice. Because he hates people who think like he does. He says thank you every time a classmate passes him a sheet, smiles at every stranger he judges, compliments somebody new every single day. Because no matter how hard he divides people into categories of their appearance, at the end of the day, it’s himself he hates the most. And he knows it well.
He doesn’t want to hate himself. But he feels so useless. He grieves every interaction with a friend that makes him feel the opposite; every laugh his witty jokes earn, every smile his compliments receive.
So why does he punish himself?
He knows what it would take for him to be happy again, to accept himself—but he can’t do it. Why? He doesn’t know. It’s a form of self torture, he believes. His hatred for himself is so strong, he feels it's his responsibility to punish himself for it, if nobody else will.
He thinks he’s unloveable, so he avoids any sort of romance. He appreciates the people he might want to get to know from afar, because he knows he’s not good enough. What’s the point? It would be an embarrassment to even try. Did you hear? Tsukishima tried to ask them out! Wow, I wish I had confidence like that.
Does anyone really think like that? He’ll never know. He’ll ruin himself before he gets the chance.