-quick author's note! i posted this on LJ yesterday (insert shameless LJ promotion: xahhreee) and then i got to thinking how i should've made it kaisoo so...this happened lol

title: (plastic) beauty standards
pairing: kai-centric, side kaifem!soo
rating: PG-13; warnings: slightly graphic descriptions, thoughtfulness, irl social critiques, mentions of self-hate, sparks of (heart-wrenching) hope. 
summary: Jongin has no idea what true beauty is anymore. | 2760 w

The bright, green-tinted lights would blind his patient if she had not been knocked out with anesthetics an hour and a half before. Jongin, on the other hand, is so accustomed to the lights in his surgery room that he barely notices them anymore, or the zombified glow that his patient’s topless half sports because of them.

With practiced precision, Jongin pushes his scalpel into the pliant flesh of the patient’s nose. The unwanted cartilage rolls off cleanly and Jongin quickly disposes of it before continuing on with the nose surgery. The black marks on the woman’s nose indicate that she wants the bridge of her nose slimmed and for her overly flared nostrils to be toned down. Noting this, Jongin carefully takes the tip of her nose and swiftly pushes the bone of her nasal bridge inward to slim it. With a soft sigh and the hardest part of his job tonight over, he continues to slice off cartilage until her nasal passages look more closed. At that point, he uses his tip graft to fill in and create the perfect little sloped nose for the wealthy socialite.

Once Jongin is done, he looks at his patient, still very much knocked out, and definitely much more aesthetically appealing. Nothing in him stirs, not a single thing makes his lips even twitch up into a smile. He thinks about how sad this woman is, mainly because she looks so young, and must think that fixing her nose is the only thing she can do to make her pleasing to men, or other women. He then thinks about how awful it will be for her—because with beauty comes the burden of pestering and objectification.

Jongin stands to rip the rubber gloves off of his gifted hands.

Was it wrong of him to curse someone with beauty, even if it was the only thing they ever wanted?

~

Jongin spends absurdly long amounts of time looking in his bathroom mirror. He pinches at the little fat on his sides, he pushes his full but no longer meaty cheeks together with his hands, he tugs at his shorter hair that certainly complements his face better. Jongin isn’t sure why, but there is something uneasy there—in the mirror, and he always sees it. Something about his face, his jaw, his nose, his hair, his stomach. He hates it all. But at the same time, it is objectively appealing. He knows that. He is told constantly that he is “handsome”, “fine”, “y”, “attractive”—just about anything anyone could think of. His reflection mesmerizes him—Is that how the rest of the world views me? Who is that strange man standing before me, completely identical to me but in no way me?

Jongin can spot every flaw on his body. The slightly squinty eye, the small teeth, the too-pointy nose, the thin and bird-like lips…but it all adds so much to who he is. Otherwise, his reflection, ugly as it is, would be the same as any other handsome, brunette Korean man. Isn’t that what beauty is anyways? Being slightly less than perfect but embracing it confidently?

How absurd. Beauty is aesthetics, which demands symmetry and ratios—which implicitly means perfection in every way.

What did Jongin know about beauty anyways? He might be one of Korea’s most expensive and well-known cosmetic surgeons, but a sense of beauty was a skill Jongin lost long ago.

~

Jongin goes to absurdly great lengths to avoid his bathroom mirror. The time that picking himself apart and then putting it all back together consumes is time Jongin doesn’t want to lose again—not today. He has had enough of hating every feature on his too small figure and every dip of his fat face. So he resolves to trudge all the way downstairs every time he has to pee, because the mirror was a pull-out one—so he wasn’t forced to confront his demons and insecurities every time he needed to perform necessary bodily functions. But even then, Jongin can visualize every hideous feature on his body and face the moment his eyelids flutter shut to sleep. Peace is snatched from him as he fights to wipe away the taunting images of the lack of perfection on his own face. It is always like this—a constant battle between subjectively seeing himself as an ugly troll and knowing objectively that he is quite attractive.

Jongin lets out a frustrated growl before resolving that he would just be going another night with no sleep.

~

“You look tired Jongin. Have you not been sleeping again lately?” Kyungah sweetly inquires as she takes a seat in the cream colored leather chair before Jongin’s desk. Despite its aesthetic, most of Jongin’s clients find the chair to be incredibly uncomfortable—except Kyungah of course.

“I’m fine.” even the fakest of Jongin’s smiles have a way of lighting up the bleak white and mint green hall up.

“Don’t lie to me.” Kyungah clucks. Jongin’s smile tenses for just a moment, but he doesn’t think his most regular client sees it.

“What is it for you today, Kyungah darling?” Jongin switches the topic naturally. His eyes unabashedly roam her skimpily clothed body—Kyungah is an extremely confident and ual young woman, just a year older than Jongin himself. He looks at her more trying to figure out what she could possibly want to improve her looks than actually checking her out. He has already seen her completely , so this view is nothing new to the surgeon.

“My waistline is too box-y.” Kyungah whines and Jongin nods understandingly, even though he’s thinking about how he thinks her waistline is small enough for him to wrap his fingers around.

“So rib removal then?” Jongin tuts. The young woman gives a single nod of the head.

“Tell me the price after I look stunning! Then I won’t care if I have to pay every little penny I have in my bank account for it!” Kyungah squeals a bit. Jongin smirks slightly.

“Don’t worry too much about that. Your Brazillian lift was literally five times as expensive as this will be.”

~

“Jongin?” Kyungah murmurs. She’s still drugged up from the anesthetics, and Jongin is honestly surprised she can speak at all.

“Yes Kyungah?”

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”

Jongin freezes at this question. He knows what Kyungah wants to hear, but he doesn’t know if he agrees with it. He tries to remember what she looked like before all the surgeries…but it’s no use. With the surgeries? Jongin doesn’t know what plastic beauty standards are, and even if he did, do they align with his own ideas about beauty?

What are his “own” ideas of beauty anyways? Are they actually his, or a result of being force-fed ideas of beauty through media and advertisements his whole life?

“I’m not really sure. I mean, you are appealing but…it’s hard to articulate right now.”

There is one thing he does know though—he has no idea what true beauty is anymore.

~

Jongin generally avoids alcohol because of the amount of calories it has in it, but soju can’t be too bad, right? Whether that is true or not, Jongin finds himself downing bottle after bottle of the bitter, water like substance. Drowning his self-loathing thoughts this way is unbelievably effective. Jongin feels like he’s floating on a cloud of blissful pleasure and even laughs whole-heartedly at his miseries for the first time in he doesn’t know how long. The weight of the world is lifted off of his shoulders.

Then he looks up the nutrition facts of a bottle of soju. 540 calories. 540 empty calories in his body that will add to his ugliness. And not just a simple 540—no, 540 multiplied by 3.

Jongin is practically running to the bathroom to throw it all up. And once he’s flushed the toilet, he pulls out the mirror and thinks about how much lovelier he’ll be because of that.

~

Kyungah is playing the piano for him. Her fingers fly across the marble keys and the music fills Jongin with a lovely feeling of peace. He stares at the back of her head and thinks about all that makes up who she is. The stray hairs coming off of her perfectly brushed hair. The dimples that make her face dip when she laughs or smiles. The slightly round chin she has. Her big eyes. Her quirky and upfront attitude. Her insane talent in so many different areas.

“You’re really something, Kyungah.” Jongin murmurs. The piano slowly dies before the plastic surgery fanatic turns to the surgeon himself. He’s laid out on his lounging room’s couch.

“What do you mean by that, Jongin?”

“You’re very genuine. And someone I’d like to hold on to.”

Jongin is greeted with Kyungah’s high-pitched squeal and her female form jumping on top of him. Jongin lets out a grunt before wiggling out from under her.

“What the hell, Kyungah, calm—”

Jongin doesn’t have time to react before the older is embracing him tightly. His heart pounds unexpectedly.

“I know you’ve been through so much. Hell, if I’m being honest, I don’ really know, but I can see it sometimes in your eyes and face. The way you’re always tired and how your smile slopes down. I know it’s hard for you to say sentimental things, Jongin, but I just want you to remember I will always be here for you.”

Jongin’s face heats up hearing his patient’s kind words. No one had ever observed so much about him. He pulls away slowly and for the first time since meeting her, Jongin sees Kyungah as the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. They stare at one and other for only a couple of moments before Jongin leans in and steals a kiss from the other.

His whole being is on fire and he wants more. But…he can’t shake a single thought from his head.

How could a princess feel such a way about a toad?

So Jongin just smiles softly, and Kyungah giggles at the gesture.

~

Jongin stuffs the dry pastrami sandwich in his mouth, despite his body’s instant gagging reaction. He has to eat. Even though starving himself was great for his looks, he can’t do it again. His doctors would have his head (and his surgeon license).

“Don’t eat if you don’t like it, Jongin.” Kyungah tuts as she nibbles on a pan-fried grilled cheese with tomatoes.

“No, no—I like it.” Jongin insists after gulping down water to help get the food down. “Besides, I appreciate that you’re treating me for lunch. It doesn’t happen often.”

Kyungah puts down her sandwich with a twinkle in her eye that Jongin has never seen before. He can’t help how lovely it makes her—seeing her be a real woman rather than a plastic doll.

“Well, the reason is because…I have decided that I am perfect now!” Kyungah announces joyously. Jongin’s face twists with confusion for a moment.

“Please, Kyungah, be more explicit.”

Kyungah leans over the table a bit, her (plastic) s peeking out of her silky tank top and her full (plastic) lips pulling into a little smirk.

“I’m perfect. My body. My being. So…I don’t need plastic surgery anymore, Jongin.” Kyungah leans back in her chair again with a little giggle. “Wouldn’t you agree, Jongin?”

Jongin can’t stop the words before they leave his mouth.

“You could use a little chin shaving since your face is so round. Also, whoever did your double-eyelid surgery before you switched to being my client botched it, so you should probably get that redone.”

Kyungah looks like she is going to cry and Jongin realizes that he just perfectly played into enforcing outside stereotypes of beauty onto someone else. Kyungah is absolutely gorgeous, and wanted to believe just that—but Jongin shot down any pride she might have built up in a split second.

In his own defense, Jongin speaks about beauty strictly objectively.

But what is objective in terms of beauty? Is there a scale for how beautiful for everyone in the entire world? Obviously not.

“You are a cold, malicious bastard.” Kyungah hisses. “The only reason I got all of this is because—you know what, it. Pay for your own lunch, Jongin.” Kyungah shouts before slapping down enough cash to pay for her food and storming out.

God, Jongin knows he’s ed up when the ache starts in his chest.

~

“Kyungah? Kyungah, please let me in.” Jongin begs at the front door of Kyungah’s enormous estate. Being one of Korea’s most loved actresses has its perks.

“Leave.” Kyungah says calmly from behind the door, not opening it. Jongin is shaking as he tries to force the door open.

“Please, Kyungah. Just two moments.”

“I’m going to call the police Jongin.”

“Kyungah!” Jongin shouts and after a moment of silence, he hears the actress sigh and unbolt the door.

Standing before him, in a bathrobe in her underwear is his most wonderful friend.

“What do you want?” Kyungah’s lips are pressed into a flat, unamused line. She means only business.

“Please…I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Really Jongin? Because generally when someone tells you that they finally love themselves, you don’t tell them no, I think you’re wrong.”

“I…I just view beauty differently than most.” Jongin sputters. “Beauty is all about perfection. Isn’t perfection supposed to be objective? But beauty…beauty is clearly not.” Kyungah’s look dissolves into one of pity and Jongin is curious as to why.

“Look, Jongin. I know you might feel like an expert on this because it is your whole life, but let me give you a little bit of wisdom. While beauty might have partly to do with that weird face ratio or how long your legs are, it’s mostly to do with how one views themselves. I didn’t get plastic surgery after plastic surgery to have someone tell me I’m gorgeous—I did it because I wanted to look in the mirror and not hate every fiber of my being. That’s why what you said upset me—I asked my question rhetorically. Some people are blessed enough that they can simply learn to love every aspect of themselves, but I am weak in that way. This is how I’m meant to look. This is what makes me happy and why I love myself.”

Listening to Kyungah makes Jongin’s heart swell. He doesn’t even realize that tears were coming to his eyes until Kyungah wipes away the first tear that spilled over.

“That’s it. That’s what I’ve been searching for.” Jongin breathes. Kyungah’s face lights up with a smile and Jongin feels the romantic feelings rising in him again. “Kyungah—I need you. I see that now. You’re unbelievably beautiful, inside and out. Please, accept.”

Kyungah’s smile slips away and she looks away. Jongin thinks he hears his heart crack.

“I…I can’t Jongin. You’re too self-destructive and moody. I love you so much, but after lunch today…I know that you’re going to hurt me. So let’s just be friends…okay?”

Jongin is mindlessly nodding and hugging Kyungah before he gets into his car to drive home.

~

The whole world is bleak. Jongin watches the world fly by him day in and day out. He continues to perform his plastic surgeries, seeing less and less of Kyungah every day. He figures out she is dating through her Instagram. He drinks until he can’t see that night. Even though Jongin drinks much more frequently, he somehow retains his figure (oh right, he throws all of his meals up nearly every day).

Jongin understands true beauty. He sees it everywhere he goes, and it mocks him constantly. Despite finally obtaining the answer he wanted, Jongin can’t see himself as attractive anymore. Not after he proved to be so ugly on the inside. Not after his envy starts to eat him alive. And definitely not after wishing so much unhappiness on a woman he held so dearly in his heart. But…only blackness lives in his heart now.

And as Jongin grasps at the last drop of soju in the green bottle and the blackness begins to settle in his mind too, he wonders how beautiful it would be if he

never

woke

up.