v. "Ugly."

Humans are blind creatures. They are always searching for something that will fill their emptiness, to feel happy, to love themselves, to feel that they’re worth something.

Humans are blind creatures. They spend almost all their lives looking for that one thing. Sometimes it’s makeup to hide all of their small insecurities, and other times it’s a new person spread out of their bed sheets every night, someone that’ll be forgotten the next morning.

Humans are blind creatures. So often they lust for something they don’t have, yearning for things that they’ll never call their own.

Humans are blind creatures. So blinded by their envy that they never see the good in themselves. They measure up their failures with other people’s triumphs; measure their flaws to other people’s talents.

Humans are blind creatures. Jongin was exceptionally blind.

In the second grade, Jongin was allowed to walk home from his ballet studio all by himself, a task he proudly took on to earn his ‘big boy’ entitlement. It was a short walk from the dance studio to home, around the block, down the street and through a small park, something that should have been simple. In Jongin’s life, things were never that simple.

As Jongin skipped alone through the quiet park, he didn’t notice the heads that turned as he walked by, dark eyes following his every move like a predator watching its prey.

“Hey kid, are you lost?” Another kid’s voice called out to him. Jongin naively turned in its direction. “Yeah, you kid. Come over here for a second.” It was a lanky middle school kid dressed in a loose baseball uniform and a smirk that sent uneasiness up Jongin’s spine.

The older drew himself to his full height, his friends hovering around him like a moth to a light.

“Kid,” The older kid spoke as he scanned Jongin over once. “Where are you parents?”

Jongin looked up at him, eyes big with wonder and awe. He had never spoken to an older kid, especially not one that was on the baseball team. Older kids never paid attention to the younger kids. They were so tall, so brooding and so cool.

“M-My mom’s at home.” Jongin stuttered quietly.

“Oh? Interesting.” The older mumbled, squatting down to Jongin’s height, a little close for comfort. His pale finger pointed down to the pristine white ballet slippers Jongin had forgotten to take off after class. “You dance, I see. Ballet, is it?”

With a small smile, Jongin nodded bashfully.

A burst of noise rippled through the empty park as the old kid’s laughed at him. Jongin stood there bewildered; he couldn’t see what was so funny.

“Ballet dancing is for little girls. Are you a little girl?” The ring leader of middle schoolers taunted him.

Innocent Jongin shook his head, shrinking away from them in shame. He wished that the ground would open up and swallow home, or that he was back home with his mother.

“Go home ballerina boy.” The kid sneered at him, pushing him backwards.

Jongin toppled over his own feet with a squeak. He finally collected himself before picking himself up and running away for the lot of boys, their mocking laughter echoing in the abandoned park.

The bullying never seemed to end. It continued for weeks on end, every day getting a little worse, but Jongin refused to tell anyone. He could handle it himself, and his mom was tired with her own issues to deal with his. He didn’t want to be a burden any longer; he swore he would get through it by himself, like a big boy.

Yet a month later, the problem wasn’t resolved.

The bullies had found a new use for Jongin, their own personal punching bag. It seemed to go along well with his tiny, weak body, and his lack of complaints made it even easier for them to control him.

This week, they decided to find new uses to their baseball bats.

Jongin closed his eyes tightly as they pummeled him into the ground. He knew every hit would be another bruise he would have to cover up, so he tried his best to push back all the pain he felt so they wouldn’t hurt him more for opening his mouth.

But the pain suddenly stopped. There was a hard noise, like a thwacking sound, and a voice, a different voice. It wasn’t scary or sly like the middle schoolers but was kind and soft, almost comforting to his injuries. It wasn’t until Jongin hesitantly opened his eyes he realized it was directed at him.

“Are you okay?”

It was another boy, one around his own age. He wore the same baseball uniforms as the others, and had his cap turned backwards, sitting on top of a crown of soft, dark hair. The stranger’s eyes harbored kindness instead of darkness.

There was a baseball bat gripped tightly in his hand. The boy’s arm was trembling after the recent exertion, and Jongin blinked in disbelief. He could see the other boy’s running off into the distance.

The boy wiped his baseball bat clean of whatever had stained it, and extended his fair arm out to Jongin who was still laid curled up on the floors in tears. His bright eyes stared at him through his dark bangs. He was beautiful.

“I … I’m fine.” Jongin spoke quietly, taking his hand.

He has such a soft touch, and his smile was warm. Jongin felt an unusual thumping in his chest, and he shied away from him, retreating his hand quickly back to his side.

The pretty boy laughed at Jongin’s cute actions before reaching for his face and gently tilting it, lightly brushing tears from Jongin’s watery eyes.

“Don’t cry anymore,” he told him, “I’m Taemin, your new best friend.”

After their first encounter, they became inseparable.

Growing up together in a quiet neighborhood, Jongin and Taemin were constantly together, more so than any best friends could be.

We’re just best friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be, Jongin tried telling himself, although he wasn’t convinced himself.

It took all of Jongin’s will to swallow down everything he felt when he was with Taemin, feelings that he couldn’t even understand himself, and out of all of the feelings he had towards Taemin, there strongest one by far was envy.

Taemin was grateful and gentle and beautiful, in Jongin’s eyes, everything he wasn’t.

One day in particular always lingered in Jongin’s mind, the first day of high school. It had come quicker than the either of them could’ve imagined, and paranoia had been eating at him.

No matter how many times he checked himself over in the mirror, nothing seemed to be right. His hair looked out of place even though it was combed down to perfection, his uniform looked wrinkled and didn’t fit him properly, nothing was right.

There was a horrible churning in his stomach, an ache that made his head spin. Looking in the mirror now, all Jongin could see was a blur of facial features, until he couldn’t see himself anymore.

All he could see was grotesque forms where his face should’ve been, and somewhere in the mixture, sad pitiful eyes, not like Taemin, not beautiful.

Ugly. Have I always been this ugly?

High school is when Jongin especially felt like nothing.

When he walked down the hall with his best friend beside him, it was as if he was invisible, blind to everyone else. Taemin had always been the more beautiful one.

Heads turned whenever Taemin walked by, people always eager to talk to him, everyone adored him, worshiped him almost. Even the light that shone through the corridors looked brighter whenever Taemin passed it by, and confidence was another add-on to his stunning looks.

Jongin could never feel that way. His confidence had deteriorated through years of believing he was only a shadow of everyone else, especially of Taemin.

Jongin didn’t see the way that the other girl whispered about him and their loving gazes followed his every move, or the way that he seemed to glide instead of walking, every movement a dance. He couldn’t see the beauty in himself.

And he couldn’t see that Taemin could see it, a soft sigh on his lips and colour added in his cheeks every time Jongin was around him.

Jongin was blind to his beauty, blinded by his envy.

“I wish I could be more like you.” Jongin told Taemin on a daily basis.

“Why would you want to be more like me?” Taemin would answer back, always confused.

“Everyone loves you, everyone thinks you’re beautiful.” Jongin would always say.

Taemin eyes trailed over the other’s attractive features. “You’re the same, you know.” 

Jongin always failed to realize the truth in Taemin’s answer, and continued to despise every inch of his body.

“What we you do if we could switch bodies for a day?” Jongin asked abruptly to his best friend who lay sprawled out on top of his bed. Sunday nights for the both of them had been kept the same for years, after dance practice, they’d stop off at the little bakery on their way home, and Taemin would sleep over at his house.

“Where do you even get these questions from, I swear, you’re so weird sometimes.” Taemin mumbled through a blueberry pastry he had shoved halfway in his mouth.

Jongin shrugged nonchalantly. “I was just wondering. Would you switch bodies with me for a day if you could?” He asked again, this time, a little quieter. He was ashamed to wanting to know the answer a little more than he should.

“Yeah, sure I’d switch bodies with you. I always wanted to know what goes up inside the little messed up head of yours.” Taemin said, playfully shoving his friend’s arm.

“I’d give anything to be you for a day.” Jongin said blissfully, trying to play it off as casual talk.

Taemin rolled his eyes. “You sound like a middle schooler in love.” This time, Jongin was the one to hit Taemin.

“Maybe we could switch places for a week, huh? I don’t think the people at our school would even notice.” Taemin told him, and Jongin paused for a long time before a smirk slowly made its way onto his face.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Taemin woke up the next morning to the sounds of a distant humming coming from downstairs. He knew his parents had left for work early in the morning and Jongin definitely never woke up so early, that house should have been quiet.

Groggily, he rolled out of bed, stumbling blindly down the stairs, only to see his best friend sitting at the kitchen table, as perky as ever.

“Jongin?” Taemin questioned, squinting to see the clock hanging on the wall above them.

6:00.

Jongin never woke up this early. He usually didn’t wake up until there was 20 minutes before school started. Something was wrong.

“Hey Taemin.” Jongin smiled over in his direction, neatly dressed in his uniform. He was too formal looking, his hair wasn’t the usual cute shaggy mess it always was, and the bags under his eyes seemed to have suddenly disappeared. He didn’t look like himself.

“What are you doing up? You had homework or something?” Taemin murmured through a yawn.

Jongin shrugged his shoulders. “I just felt like waking up earlier than you today.” He replied it in a sickeningly sweet tone. It gave Taemin shivers. Something was definitely wrong.

“Are you okay? S-Should I call the doctor?” Taemin said as he walked over and placed a hand on Jongin’s forehead to check for temperature. It was normal.

Jongin laughed in a voice that wasn’t his own, a fake laughter that had Taemin cringing. Why is he acting like this?

“Of course I’m fine. What would make you think I was sick?” Jongin announced, bringing a mug up to his lips.

Taemin’s eyes fluttered down into the mug to see a thick milky substance.

Banana milk.

Taemin thought back to a time when they were younger, children walking home from practice. Taemin had generously decided to bring his favourite drink for his friend who happily took it without a second glance, a tiny bottle of banana milk.

He learned back then, as little Jongin threw up at his feet after complaining about an upset stomach, that Jongin and dairy products didn’t mix very well, and swore never to let him drink anything like it again.

“Jongin, what are you doing? You’re going to get sick drinking that!” Taemin yelled at him, trying to pull the mug out of his hands.

Jongin turned around to keep the mug out of his reach. “What are you doing? This is my favourite drink.”

Taemin frowned as he saw Jongin quickly chug down the rest of it, obviously unsatisfied with how it settled in his stomach, and sighed out loud.

This was going to be a very strange day.

Jongin’s strange behavior did continue for the rest of the day, much to Taemin’s frustration.

In gym class, a course neither of them was particularly fond of, Jongin pushed himself twice as hard, almost to his limit. Taemin grumbled as he sat at the back of the classroom, a spot where they would usually sit together.

In drama class, all he did was smile and look cute, persuading everyone with his adorable actions. It ****ed Taemin off.

In the cafeteria, he didn’t even bother to hang out with his usual friends; he sat with his friend’s.

“Jongin, you should sit with us more often!” Kibum exclaimed after chatting with him the entire lunch period without pausing. “You’re too cute, almost like Taemin. I swear, you two are exactly alike.”

Jongin smiled bashfully in response, making Kibum squeal with delight. He had always been a fool to cute things.

“What’s up with him?” Sehun whispered over to Taemin, annoyance in his tone. Jongin had been so busy talking with the others he had barely uttered a word to either of them. Sehun was frowning in frustration with Luhan pouting at his side.

“He’s just having a moment or something.” Taemin replied in a dull tone, poking lifelessly at his lunch. “It’ll pass over soon.”

Sehun sighed out, and the three and continued to watch Jongin’s performance.

The week moved forward and Taemin thought that hopefully Jongin would too, but he didn’t. It only got worse.

Jongin was always over at Taemin’s house instead of his own, always around him too often, even for a best friend.

He woke up every day at the same time, early in the morning, his cheery and bright appearance that contrasted his lonely, tired eyes. He drank the same milky drinks every breakfast, telling Taemin he was perfectly fine, even though he could hear him emptying his stomach’s contents in his locked bathroom before school started.

He even insisted on wearing Taemin’s clothes every time they went out together, using the same excuse every time: “There’s nothing wrong with borrowing some clothes, right?”

Taemin wondered why he wore his clothes, because he never looked happy in them. He saw Jongin standing in the mirror, tugging and pulling and stretching the clothing as if it didn’t fit him well enough, and then skipping back out as if nothing at all had happened with red puffy eyes.

Little things like these bothered Taemin only a little, mostly out of concern; it hurt him to see Jongin acting so defeated.

Other things pushed him on edge.

When Taemin walked into his English class on Friday afternoon by himself, he realized it had been almost the entire day without seeing Jongin, and knew that something had to be wrong.

Jongin was in class, right at the front of the classroom, smiling and looking happy. Taemin knew that Jongin hated English class; why he had decided sit where he was deemed a mystery to him. The constant babbling of the teacher had made Jongin doze off on more than one occasion, so he opted to move himself beside the window. It hadn’t helped on his concentration, but daydreaming was better than sleeping through the lesson.

Before Taemin had a chance to question him, the bell rang telling students it was time to take their seats. He made his way to his seat, but he finally figured out why Jongin had chosen to sit where he sat.

It was his seat.

He grumbled, dragging his feet over to an empty desk near the back of the room. Class soon started, and the supply teacher that was in quickly made her way down the attendance list.

“Kim Jongin.”

The class remained silent, teacher waiting for a reply, and Taemin turned his head to give his friend a confused looked. Jongin stayed quiet.

“Lee Taemin.”

“Present!” Two voices answered at the same time.

Jongin cutely smiled, oblivious to the giggling and whispers of the other students, as the teacher looked at the both of them with confusion written on her face. 

Taemin sighed out, frustrated. He was sick with Jongin’s behavior, he just wanted him to be normal again, like his best friend.

This has to stop.

‘We need to talk.’

Jongin patiently waited in the abandoned hallway like his was instructed to, Taemin’s voice echoing inside his mind. It was silent, a hallway no one bothered to go down, but he liked the silence. It gave him time to sort out his thoughts.

The silence came and went, as it was cut off by the sounds of heavy footsteps making their way towards him. Jongin looked up to face Taemin’s unamused expression.

“What’s your deal?” Taemin growled out at him, words bitter and harsh. Jongin noticed the anger in his usually gentle eyes, a look he was unaccustomed to and didn’t want to get familiar with.

“A-Actually, I have to go. I need to practice for an upcoming recital …” Jongin let his sentence trail off seeing Taemin’s stern expression. This wasn’t a confrontation he could escape from.

“This prank isn’t funny anymore.” Taemin hissed out at him.

Jongin blinked innocently, faking a cute smile like he had done with everyone the past week. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” He frowned as he saw it didn’t have the same effect on Taemin.

“Don’t try that on me. You’re taking my clothes, you only eat what I eat, you’re copying me every move. It’s like you’re trying to steal my life!” Taemin yelled out at him in a fiery tone he hadn’t intended on using.

Jongin blinked his slightly teary eyes in reply. “D-Didn’t you say that you’d switch lives with me if you could? I … don’t want to be Jongin anymore.” He spoke softly.

“Jongin, that was a joke. You’re not making any sense.” Taemin spoke impatiently, trying his best to read him. He could see there was something wrong, he knew there was. “Jongin, tell me what’s bothering you. I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand? I already told you, I don’t want to be Jongin!” Jongin snapped back at him. “Taemin, look at me. I hate myself. I hate the way I look, and the way I act, I-I just …” Jongin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I just want to be like you.”

The hallway fell silent. Neither of them said anything for a long time.

“Jongin …” Taemin softly spoke back up, gazing into his distressed eyes. “You’re beautiful, more beautiful that I could ever dream to be. Please stop acting like this. I just want my best friend back.”

It was like a flashback, Taemin reached his hand and gently wiped his tears away, tears he hadn’t even known had formed. Instead of pulling his hand away like times before, Taemin rested it on the side of Jongin’s face, trailing his thumb lightly across his cheekbones.

Jongin felt it again, the unusual thumping in his chest, like the first time they had met. He felt his cheeks heat up, and immediately moved away from him. Something wasn’t right; he wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Lying, he was lying.

“I have to go.” Jongin mumbled as he ripped himself away from Taemin.

“Jongin, wait!” Taemin called out to him, sadness lacing his voice, but the other boy had already rushed down the hall.

Taemin didn’t see Jongin the next day, or the day after.

It wasn’t until he made his way over to Jongin’s house after school he realized what the issue was.

“Missing.” Jongin’s mother sighed out on her front porch.

Taemin blinked twice, not processing what she was saying. “W-What?”

“He’s been missing since school ended a couple of days ago. I-I thought he’d be over at your house for a couple nights or something, but when I called your mom this morning …”

He couldn’t hear anything she had said afterwards, his pounding head blocked off any other thought.

He littered the streets with missing signs, he bombarded Jongin’s phone with texts and calls, he spent countless nights lying awake and thinking about him, but none of them brought him back home.

Jongin was gone.                    

---

a/n:

Hey there! (^//w//^)/ <3
HUGE thanks for HappyPistachio the best editor in the world because ...

Long story short, before this chapter was edited, it was HORRIBLE (which is why it took so long in the first place "orz). 

Thank you to all of my current subscribers and commenters, and thank YOU for reading! <3