Body Checks in the Mirror (Tim x Moby)

Shower Time

Moby is gone.

Tim is sitting alone on his bed, staring at the pile of clothes before him, the disgusting, dirty, pile of clothes before him. There are no thoughts that can be worded, it's all... something. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, steam started to rise from the droplet of water and Tim took a step in.

The water tripled down wall and rested on the shampoo bottles to drop onto the shower floor. He stared at his disgusting feet, bones, and veins protruding from them as water droplets hit his toes. He looked at his half-broken toenails as his mind brought himself pity. He couldn't believe himself. He moved closer into the rain to his thin legs that held no purpose. That couldn't carry him anywhere, that will not carry him anywhere, that he refuses to carry him anywhere.

He stepped closer, the water droplets hitting his hips and droplets coming down from his disgusting penis that was attached to his body. It was useless, it brought Moby no pleasure in their most vulnerable, it was a freeloader, a disgusting, gross, flaccid, freeloader. This gift he was supposed to be giving to others brought nothing. Nothing at all.

He got his whole body under the shower and his ribs cried in pain. His body reminds him of the sins he has committed, the things he has done to himself and will do to himself over and over again. His body is the greatest reminder of his weaknesses. Although those craters are not physically deep, his heart valves have tasted every bit of it to break.

He grabs shampoo and rubs it into his hair, nails digging into the scalp. He must get the sweat out of his hair, must get the grime out of him, everything out. Circles, circles, repeat, repeat, repeat. Tim must at least try to be pretty to make up for his disgusting heart.

Rinse, rinse out all the grime he has brought upon the clean. Don't let the good build-up from him become rotten, don't let it happen again as it has always done before. Circles circles circles.

He grabs the conditioner and puts it at the ends of his hair. He now must sit, wait. He grabs an exfoliating towel and starts scrubbing his body. He must scrub deeper. Over and over again, his sins must be scrubbed off, not from the skin but to every vital organ of his body. He must break himself out to be clean again, he must do it.

He remembered how at that moment with Moby he felt pleasure, so much happiness, as their bodies danced up against one another in this harmony, his mind garden flourishing with flowers that he couldn't even describe, and during that entire time Tim forgot how to hate his own body. But when he came so did the awareness of sin.

Tim remembers doing a video on sexual reproduction. He remembers doing "research", and through every article he read and every video he watched they never described this feeling. This sinful feeling, this guilty feeling, this horrid feeling. It brought out loneliness that will cut him deeper than any blade will allow him to than he will allow himself to.

His skin burns with red passion from scrubbing as he looks back on the day that brought him to this guilty moment he remembered what Moby told him, what Moby reminded him of, and what Moby learned.

"You don't want to get better," Moby's beeps echoed through Tim's mind.

He pulls the exfoliating towel off of him and looks at his body. Moby knew he was right, Tim knew he was right. Tim dances on the rim of death's lake and sobs that his feet are getting muddy. But as he continues to dance and dance and dance he grows happier and happier, waiting for the tide to rise.

He rinses his hair, trying to rinse those thoughts out. All these thoughts out, every thought out. But when he turned off the shower the cold air surrounded himself. The loneliness struck him more, the garden is wilting. All of this loneliness.

He falls to his knees with a thump and holds himself as he sobbed, his head touching the floor. Each sob deep from his chest in hushed strings. Through every sob, he repeated a mantra.

"I'm pathetic, I love you, and I'm pathetic!"

Minutes that felt like years passed as Tim drowned in his own water glass, praying that there will be an end. Once the sobs slowed down to some pity, he wrapped himself in a towel and stepped out to his room. The moonlight reflected around but there was a spotlight to a particular part on the floor.

The pile of disgusting clothes was full of sin. Tim stepped over it with light feet as he held his guilty stare to it. He turned a lamp on this dresser on and put on loose clothes. All of his clothes are loose. As he stared at himself in the dim mirror his eyes widened to the sound of his parents arriving home.

Tim exited his room and went downstairs to greet them. When his eyes met theirs he was held speechless. A pit in his throat grew.

"Hello, Tim" His mother smiled as her eyes peered at him, "Did you and Moby come up with any new video ideas?"

Tim felt his mom's stare piercing him, she must've known, she knows what they did, she knows that he committed sins that are unworded in confession.

"We... We couldn't come up with any ideas and Moby had to leave early." Tim stammered as his heart raced with every fiber in his body.

"Hm," She looked away, "Shame."

Tim looked to his father who was staring directly at him. Although his parents were out while Moby and Tim danced, Tim knew that his parents knew. They knew what a disgusting whore he was, what sins he committed, and how he will repay them in the firey pits of the inferno.

And Tim loved every bit of this suffering

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hey the first time i tried to publish this it didn't save sorry so i had to rewrite it in like 15 minutes soi sorry if this doesn't make sense

hi acl

also sorry to burst the bubble but i don't actually ship tim and moby at this point I'm rly j writing this to procrastinate on writing my actual main story sorry :/