Chapter Text
Teto’s life wasn’t hers. It hadn’t been for a long time. She usually lived in the haze because it was more fun to watch someone else perform than to do it herself. It stopped being fun when her father had forced her into a million exhausting rehearsals and other obligations. She felt as if she were a shadow of herself, especially compared to that little five-year-old who had been so stoked to perform.
She still loved how her music would make people smile when they were having a bad day. The connection that everyone made through something as simple as some chords and a melody (and choreography when it was a live show). She couldn’t even blame her fans for how they saw her when the agency forced her to present that image. Every now and then, parts of her true self would peek through the curtains, like when she performed “Machine Love” live for the first time. But those moments were fleeting.
But now… She hated the repetition. She hated how much energy it took from her just to do a simple rehearsal, let alone other things like interviews, recordings in the studio, or photoshoots for whatever company was using her as an advertising prop. She hated how much pain she was always in. It didn’t matter what she did because her father would always get angry anyway. Most of all, she hated herself. Because no matter what she did, she knew she’d never live up to the impossible standards set by her father and the fans that she truly did adore.
Can they even see the person beneath all of the glitter and frills? It was a question she asked nearly every day.
Teto sat at the vanity in her “bedroom,” if the merchandising museum and wardrobe with only the bare minimum accommodations could be called such. She stared at her reflection, wondering where the hell the bright little girl had gone. She would have spiraled had the mirror been a full-body one. Her stomach hurt. Just like everything else always did.
“Tets!” her father’s booming voice called, the same demanding tone he always used behind the nickname. “Get down here, you’ve got a photoshoot today!”
“Coming!” she called in reply, sighing. “I just need to finish my hair!”
“You'd better get done with that quickly then.”
Do you want it to look perfect or not? She thought bitterly, frowning at the face staring back at her. She’d already covered the bags and the scars from… times she didn’t have time to reminisce on at the moment with makeup. Makeup never covered her freckles, but the fans thought it made her cuter anyway, so it was fine. The hard part would be putting on the outfit that she’d been provided with.
Maneuvering herself into the lacey white dress was an art of patience and a lot of shimmying. She carefully tied the big pink bow on the front, adjusting the rose adorned to it so it wasn’t crooked. It matched the rest of the roses that the dress was adorned with, particularly on the chest area.
Bang, bang, bang!
She jumped. It was her father.
Can’t I just have this for once? Please?
“You’ve dawdled around enough for two days, come on!” The door flew open, as it always did when the man thought she was taking too long. Teto was quick to cover her chest, though there wasn’t much there. It just felt so violating.
“I’m trying not to damage the dress I was provided,” Teto said in defense of herself.
They won’t even start setting up until eleven. She had wanted to remind him of that part, but wasn’t in the mood for a scuffle.
“Well, you should have gotten up earlier then!”
“Can I please just finish getting ready?” the girl asked desperately, pulling the rose adorned top up a little.
“Are you getting attitude with me, young lady?”
“I just asked a question.” That earned her a hard fist to the face.
“Whatever,” her father grumbled, turning to leave again. “You have seven minutes, and then you better be down.”
“Yes, sir,” the young Chimera mumbled meekly, rubbing her cheek that was almost certainly going to bruise later.
Her stomach hurt.
I guess it’s an ibuprofen day.
She finished snapping the back of the dress before going to the bathroom. She rummaged through the cabinet, finding the aforementioned bottle, which rattled a bit when she grabbed it. She poured out two of the red tablets, popping them into her mouth so she could force them down her throat. She poured out a few more (three or four, maybe?), which she placed in a ziplock bag that went into her rehearsal bag. She was due for another studio session today, so she’d need another dose later.
She pulled on the white stockings that had accompanied the dress, then laced up the blush-colored platforms. She always had to fumble with the ribbons of these kinds of shoes. Thankfully, they laced up easily, and she was swinging the duffel bag over her shoulder in no time.
“Get in the car, Teto,” her father told her, barely glancing at her as she passed him in the foyer. It seemed like she would be getting the silent treatment today.
Her stomach hurt.
Here we go again.
Seven years prior…
Teto had been backstage, grasping the pink microphone adorned with a heart, anxiously awaiting her first show. She loved the sparkly pink dress, adorned with little white stars, and the white bow that made up the waist.
“Dad!” she cried, twirling around just to see the skirt flow. “Dad! How do I look?”
Her father looked at her, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Absolutely wonderful, Tets. You’ll do great.”
“I’m gonna make everyone smile!” The little Chimera beamed, her red eyes wide with the innocence only such a young child could possess. “I’m singing my favorite song, right?”
“That you are, darling,” her father replied, smoothing back her red bangs that had started to fluff up a little. “Just go out there, and sing like you’re meant to.”
“Okie dokie!”
The stage lights were still off, which left her in momentary total darkness. Her dad gave her a little push, causing the girl to stumble through the curtains. Still, she made it on stage not long after, the blinding lights hitting her senses like a truck. Or a train. However the saying went.
Teto grinned, wiggling her feet a little. She’d been in smaller shows and contests before, but this was different. This was her debut as an idol! People had come from everywhere just to see her perform.
Fear gripped her for a few seconds, but she pushed it down. This was fun! She liked to sing! To make people smile!
“Hi everyone!” she gushed, waving at the crowd shyly. “I’m Kasane Teto! Wh- Who wants to hear me sing?” The crowd cheered, seeming to have either ignored her stuttering. Or maybe they thought it was part of the “bit”. She was five years old, after all.
The music started up. She started singing, a big smile plastered on her face. “One, two, three, tap your feet! Such a classic melody!”
Teto was singing the InStatic theme song, since it was among her favorites and easy to memorize. As she sang, she found that the cheers kept coming from the crowd, which caused a weird fuzzy warmth to light up her heart. A good weird, she was sure. It encouraged her to keep singing, louder as the song went on. By the end, the crowd was enthusiastically singing along with her.
When she finished, thunderous applause and loud cheers erupted from the crowd. It made her feel good about herself. She’d managed to make everyone there smile.
“Dad! Dad!” she cried as she skipped through the backstage door, and then jumped up and down in front of her father. “How did I do? Did you see how many people there were?”
He’d been looking at a clipboard of some kind, a strangely serious look on his face. Then he saw Teto, and his expression lit up.
“Yes, dear,” the man chuckled as he lifted her off the ground into his arms, holding her close to him. It was her favorite kind of hug to get from her father. “You were fantastic! Just as I knew you would be.”
For a moment, just that precious moment, Teto felt as if the world was as it should be.
Present
“Alright, hon,” the photographer directed, carefully assisting her in moving behind the flower pot she was posing with, “I need you to lean your head into the roses.”
“Like this?” Teto asked, suppressing a grimace from the strain on her tucked-away wings, as the flowers assaulted her vision.
“Exactly like that,” the woman praised, stepping back to fix up the cameras posed in front of the backdrop Teto was currently crouched in front of.
The Chimera relaxed a little. It was fine. Just a few more minutes of sitting like this and she’d be done. Well, not entirely, but the most painful part would be.
“Hon, I’m gonna need you to suck your stomach back in a little.” The photographer gazed at her, expression serious. “We can’t have you being too… chubby in the photos.”
Looks like you’re gonna need to lose a few more pounds.
Her stomach hurt again.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Teto apologized, immediately tensing slightly.
She held her breath through the shoot, eyes trained on the roses her face was planted in. And then the wall past the photographer when she was asked to look at the camera.
“Alright,” the photographer said, after what had felt like hours. “We’re finished here. Thank you for coming out!”
“Of course,” Teto replied, trying to be as polite as possible, with her patience thinned. “Have a good day.”
“You as well.”
From there, the rest of the day was a blur. Hours in the recording booth, barely wheezing the melody out by eleven pm. Which is when her father finally took her home. The comment made by the photographer earlier in the day still lingered in her mind, though.
Am I fat? I thought I was getting better.
Her stomach hurt. And the thought of the food that she’d scarfed down just an hour ago, her only thought having been to the fact that she wouldn’t be allowed again for hours (possibly days) made her nauseous.
I need to get it out.
Her mind went fuzzy, as if she were in some kind of trance. She couldn’t remember what she’d done between the thought and coming back to in front of the toilet in the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Her stomach hurt.
Acid came flowing up and out of her mouth like the world’s most disgusting river. And it just kept coming. Her throat burned with the acidity of the vomit. Her eyes pricked with tears. It hurt. She hated this part. She hated throwing up.
But… beauty was pain, wasn’t it?
No one cares unless you’re perfect.
And perfection meant having a perfect body too. And so the cycle started once again.
Am I even a person beneath all of the glitter and the lies?