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“Pfffft, look! Awh, he wants to be a girl~”
“Hahah~ why do you look like that?”
“Akiyama? Mmm… he’d be so cute, if it wasn’t for that.”
“Isn’t it a little weird for you to be wearing that?”
“You’re not one of those people, are you?”
“Akiyama…? Oh, you should avoid him, he’s one of those..”
“Euughhh… you’re just a disgusting man! Pervert!”
“Things like you don’t deserve to live.”
Cold hands curled up into tight fists. Mizuki Akiyama stared into the mirror, with a few small pink bows stuck on the sides by her sister. Not a single light, other than the glow of a beautiful woman on the pink-haired girl’s phone, lit up the messy room. Tiny boxes and organizers filled with makeup and accessories lay abandoned on the cold wooden floor, like useless dolls that used to give joy to a child somewhere- hurled across the room. An enemy to Mizuki.
The typically cutesy girl, whose eyes were now cold only the most crude resentment, trembled as she stood in place; feet planted into the ground, unable to move.
“I’m not...”
Her Their vision began to blur, into small watery blobs of a now monotone world.
She They couldn’t bear to finish the sentence. How could they?
“I’m not pretty, or cute like a girl. Hell, I don’t even look like a girl!..” She They murmured, each breath a shaky petal in the wind. That low voice… it didn’t feel like theirs. It could never belong to her them, right..? “I probably just look stupid. Wearing all of these cute accessories and clothes….”
The pink-haired person in the mirror glanced at the glow of their phone to the side. So much for distractions. A model sat on the screen, all beautiful… She looked cute. With a soft face and skin clear as glass… a smaller body, an hourglass, skinny….
Beautiful.
Like how a girl is supposed to look.
…Right…?
“Ahah… she looks adorable….” They mumbled, their tone tangled in apathy and envy. “…I wanna look cute like that, too..”
But they never could. Right? Or- maybe just… one more try….
Just one more chance to finally be who the person you were years ago wanted to become.
“…I don’t want to disappoint her..!”
Mizuki shifted away from the mirror, and turned their her body towards her closet.
….
The result of the outfit itself was adorable. A light, blush-colored skirt that went down to the knee with a large bow at the back and frilly straps—paired with a fitted, white ruffled button up that was tucked into a skirt. Under the collar was a tied white and pink ribbon, which Yuuki had delivered from overseas. One of Mizuki’s favorite accessories.
Mizuki Akiyama, dressed in a girl’s dream wardrobe, walked back up to the mirror. She radiated excitement, because who wouldn’t be ecstatic to see the cutest girl ever in the mirror?
….
The result of the outfit itself was adorable. But the clothes were wearing Mizuki. They didn’t.. fit right. More so, just like…
A man who puts on girl clothes, and pretends to be a girl in front of you.
…At first it was a held back breath, their constricted throat. Each and every breath, shallow and shivering as if it was their last. Then a muffled whimper. Quiet, but filled with despair. Mizuki’s eyes burned, attempting to hold everything back, and their face scrunched up. ‘I don’t want mom to worry about me again…’ they’ve whispered to themself, countless times- again, and again, and again.
The tears were streaming now. Winding down their cheeks like autumn leaves in a creek.
Like autumn, when flowers begin to wither. Particularly, the impatiens walleriana..
All those people.. They were right. I am disgusting…. I shouldn’t be like this. It’s weird.
“Shut up… I'm happy with being a gir-….” They trailed off.
But it’s true. I don’t talk to anyone because of this, it’s why no one likes me. Maybe if I were normal…
“I said shut up…” Their head started to become fuzzy.
Mmm~ but what if they found out? They’d hate me for it..
“They’d nev-!” Mizuki gagged as they felt something thick, like bile, in the back of their throat. It burned. Their eyes, and their stomach both burned like hell….
..Ah.
Shit.
….
Moments blurred together and passed swiftly. Mizuki Akiyama kneeled on the bathroom floor, knees meeting cold hard tile. Their vision was like static and blurry edges, while the remains of their thrown up dinner became long gone- flushed down the toilet. It’d be so convenient, if all their problems could be rid of that easily, too.
They let out a long exhale, their chest loosening.
“Haah… what’s with me..?” They cleared their throat, their voice low, raw, and unrefined. Untrained. “I’ve been doing so well!- These things never get to me~….” Their voice faded, and strayed from the false playfulness. Ugh, how foolish. So much for avoiding everything. Running away, like a coward.
“Fuck this… I don’t even look ‘cute’ at all….” They let out a short, bitter laugh and backed up. I’m just putting on the cutest things I find, and pretending to be a girl. I’m lying to everyone. Mizuki’s back pressed against the wall. The paint grabbed and scratched at the cotton of the ruffled blouse they had been wearing. “I just…” They pulled their knees to their chest, hugging them like a lifeline.
“I just want to be accepted….!!”
Rather than a hushed mumble, it came out as an ugly sob. The place where acceptance and being loved met the simple desire to just be who you are, at your core. The chaotic war zone between the two deep yearnings. Yet, no one can have everything they want, hm?
“This body isn’t mine, so why should I take care of it?”
In the midst of the ugly and writhing war, Mizuki Akiyama, whose whole life had revolved around wearing cute things for fun, had felt everything, yet nothing at all. The unsightly girl’s boy's things’ hands met the scissors.
“Things like you don’t deserve to live.”