R16. But It Does

Summary: Tiffany loves and loves and loves — oh she loves so much. But isn't it a bit redundant to love someone who your affection bounces off of like a rubber ball?

Note:
WARNINGS: implications of bullying, eating disorders, descriptions of suicidal thoughts and explicit symptoms of depression.
so this shot turned out very sad and dark. very angsty, so be prepared. i promise no happy endings and take no accountability for broken hearts! please consider the warnings carefully.

A/N: Hello, dearies, been a while ey? Damia here! Quite sad I return to y'all with such an angsty post, but I suppose we all to have have our dose of pain sometime. Also, to the requester, I hope this suits your fancy. You said 'inspired by' so I wrote what it inspired me to do and I hope you aren't disappointed with how the storyline turned out. Thanks a lot for reading and if you feel like the things listed in the warnings are too much, then no worries! I'm working on another request that should be done soon and it's much happier and not to mention this whole crew of authors writing for y'all's enjoyment! Go go, Power Rangers ~! I'm the pink one!

♡ Damia

Tiffany always thought that beauty was in the eye of the beholder. She’d been sure that being pretty or handsome as adjectives were purely subjective. Each person saw differently, through different eyes. And it wasn’t like looks were all that mattered. Or so she told herself.

But slowly she was coming to doubt her optimistic view on the matter. Because oftentimes, all these people with their own subjective views had the same exact view; thus solidifying the same opinion objectively. So, if most people thought a certain trait was beautiful, then objectively speaking it was a fact. If no one thought otherwise, why wouldn’t it be a solid fact?

So Tiffany wasn’t beautiful. Oh, she had tried to be beautiful, pretty, cute, ladylike — and yet none of her efforts ever came to bloom. Puberty had been mean to her, leaving her face dotted with acne scars, body lumpy with odd curves and crooked teeth making her smile less than pleasant to look at. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to change her appearance, but after all the fruitless effort, it just didn’t feel worth it.

To cover her spots and scars she had to use a lot of expensive foundation that left her looking cakey and creasy. Plucking, or even waxing, her uncontrollable, bushy eyebrows hurt like a . The pink braces hardly made her ugly smile any prettier. Her hair was too uncontrollable and long to wear open, so she always settled for twin braids that were supposedly fashionable but for some reason got her bullied. (Her parents said it was because they were jealous. Tiffany wasn't so sure.)

At one point she figured that it didn’t matter if her face was ugly, it was all about the body nowadays, right? So she started working out and dieting. Maybe a bit too hard, she realized once it was too late, when she found herself in the hospital at the end of a feeding tube.

So Tiffany settled for being ugly. And she tried her best not to let it bother her. She was perfectly fine alone, by herself. Maybe it was better this way. It probably was. If people were so shallow as to make a judgement simply on her appearance, she didn’t want to be their friend anyway. Starting college wasn’t so hard when she had no expectations. The fragile friendships she’d formed in highschool dissolved by the first month of classes, so nothing was distracting her from studying. No one had an interest in making friends with her, so no social events were holding her back.

But there was only so much loneliness she could take. Did she look so repulsive that she wasn’t worth talking to? Was she really so unimportant that her existence was invisible? It hurt her to her very core. All she’d ever wanted was to love and be loved. She was filled with love to give, heart almost bursting from the spaces between her ribs, but with no one to give it to. No one wanted to receive her pure, unfiltered loving, because what? The source of it didn’t suit societal aesthetics? It made her crumble. Under the weight of her own feelings, she was slowly losing her strength.

Each night Tiffany cried a little before going to sleep. She would drown in memories of high school, unpleasantly awkward and bitter-sweet. She’d remember her first love, the beefy senior quarterback that was way too typical and yet so perfect. She’d recall her heart’s frantic pounding when he was near, the dreams she had of holding his hand and of him holding her. Then she’d remember confessing to him. She’d remember his stunned, wide eyes that soon turned into indignation, then flashed with poorly concealed disgust, until finally clearing into a sneering sort of apology. She’d remember his condescending chuckle and the nonchalant way he brushed his hand through his perfect quiff. But what really stuck in her mind, like a leech blood from her, was when he’d walked away without saying anything to her. He just simply turned his back, as if she wasn’t worth his time. And she was left standing there, alone, all alone.

She would dream nightmares of the time she almost died in her own hands. She’d remember the awful things she did. But she wouldn’t regret it. No, not at all. Oftentimes she yearned to go back to that time, to do it properly this time, finish the job once and for all.

But then, as if answering all her wailed questions, came an angel. An angel going by the name of Kim Taeyeon. She was an exchange student from South Korea. They met in the university’s Korean Language class, where Taeyeon’s program required her to be and where Tiffany tried to learn her estranged mother-tongue in. The two girls had been classmates with no interaction for about a month until the professor gave quite the assignment.

“I want you to read a short story, sing a song or give a brief speech in Korean by Friday two weeks from now.” That would’ve been fine, if not for the rest of the requirements. “You will be doing this with a partner. Form groups of two so that there’s one exchange student and one local.” Now, this was the problem. Tiffany had no friends in this class (or anywhere, for that matter), hell, barely had even had any interaction with her deskmates. It would be so embarrassing to go and ask someone to work with (and get rejected), but it would also be embarrassing to