[team sonic] Lay a sympathy bouquet

[bluedreaming]

The first word is from here.
Title is from Deicide by Crystal Castles.



Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Yixing stands in front of the mirror, but the glass is cracked, the silver darkening to black as the coating wears off, his face, ghost-like, is all that remains.

"Mirror mirror on the wall," he says, but doesn't finish his sentence with his mouth, his fists do the talking instead, beating a stacatto pattern in sharps and flats until only shards of sound are left.

Breathe in, breathe out.

"Who's the pretty boy now?" the voice said, as bone connected with bone, the delicate socket of his eye crushed along with the ridge of his cheekbone.

Yixing didn't answer. It didn't even hurt, anymore.

I can't feel my face.

His reflection in the slivers of mirror, shards of glass is whole; the cracks underneath the surface are invisible, the skin smooth, whole and unblemished, because the right plastic surgeon can do anything nowadays, even work miracles.

"You're broken," his reflection says, the lips moving but no sound comes out, even though the words echo in his head, jarring his skull—

flung across the room, head colliding with concrete, a dull crunch and finally silence.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but eyes lie, and the cracked sockets holding them togther leech truths beneath the skin.

"You're still beatiful," a mouth had said, white teeth flashing behind red lips. Yixing looks down at his hands, anger painted in splatters across the skin. Their beauty isn't in the eye, but rather in the warm sticky smell of roses.

When people look at him, they see a lie, fashioned out of bone and blood and anaesthesia. A god of pain. Yixing smiles at the masterpiece scattered across the floor, sparkling in the dark like stars plucked, ripe, from the sky.

Deicide is in order.