Tw: panic attack, thoughts of worthlessness, self deprecation, and mentions of "fixing" someone's appearance. This is kinda a heavy chapter, so, read with care, comment if I missed any warnings
The spray of warm water against Roman's skin was a feeling he had not realised he had missed this much. It had only been about three days since Roman had last showered, but Roman felt his body relax into the heat in a way he hadn't in a while, even since the last time he'd showered.
Scrubbing himself, he felt good again, whole, in a way he hadn't since before the dreams had started.
Truthfully, the dreams have helped him in a way. It had been what was keeping him going these past couple of weeks.
Before that, Roman had begun pondering his existence, his purpose.
Who was he besides a depressed theatre student with crippling ADHD? Outside of being in performances?
No one.
Except, the dreams had given him a purpose, a sense of creativity he hadn't felt in a while, an inspiration to create he hadn't had for a long time.
But, what was he outside of that? Roman shook his head slightly, scrubbing his face with his cleanser. He rinsed, wiping at the feeling of tears pricking his eyes. He was such an idiot.
Who was he? Why was he here? Was his only purpose to plagiarize his own dreams? Was he... worthless?
Roman felt himself shaking as he silently sobbed, falling to his knees harshly, knowing they would most likely bruise later.
Placing a hand on the floor, he tried to ground himself, sucking in shuddering breaths. His hair fell in front of his face, obscuring his vision, but he didn't care, he was trying to focus, he just needed to focus.
He just needed to calm down, to breathe. But... he couldn't...
Roman let himself fall further, to curl within himself, letting the water hit his back, sobbing loudly.
He was glad he had turned on the bathroom fan, he was glad of the hiss of the shower, he was glad no one could hear him. Or... was he?
Was he glad that no one could see him now, that no one could help? That no one was there to tell him that, yes, he was worth something, that he had purpose?
Roman sobbed even harder, the sound turning silent as his lungs tried to release air it didn't have.
He couldn't believe he was so stupid. He really thought that this was real, huh. He thought that he had actually cared. But no! This was all just for attention!
Gods! It was always just for attention!
He was doing this so that the others would help him. He chuckled to himself, panting softly as he tried to regain his breath.
"You're such an idiot..." he muttered, looking up, combing his hair out of his face. "You're so stupid, why- why would they care?..." He stood shakily, turning off the shower.
Opening the shower curtain, he looked out, grabbing his towel with numb fingers. He made his way towards the counter, resting his hands on it, looking up at himself in the mirror.
His eyes were red and puffy, his lips quivering uncontrollably. He sobbed into the sink, looking up at his face once more. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, his beautiful face, curled into a grotesque configuration of sadness.
Gods, why was he like this!? His hands let go of the counter, curling into fists as he angrily glared at his reflection.
"Shut up..." he growled, dragging his hands across his eyes, drying them. "You're not even pretty! If you're worthless you might as well be beautiful!"
He thought, taking a deep breath in. He calmed his breathing, looking stoically at his reflection.
He had to be a Prince. He had to be perfect. He had to be...someone worth something. And he knew he wasn't that, but...he knew how to pretend to be.
Turning on the faucet, he splashed cold water onto his face, taking a breath. Carefully, he dried his face, studying it in the mirror. He studied every error, every blemish, calculating carefully.
Opening his cabinet, he pulled out his concealer, untwisting the top and with a breath, he applied it.
He applied it to his eye bags, his blackheads, no matter how few they were, and to every mole and freckle.
Blending it carefully, he soon couldn't see any of them anymore, only a smooth, clean surface. And that...that was something he could work with.
He contoured and highlighted, adding blush, filling his brows, there wasn't much he had to do, being born almost perfect, but, there were some things he had to fix on his own.
The ends of his eyebrows needed to be sharper, his cheekbones weren't very pronounced in this lighting, his neck and collarbone needed to be more prominent.
He just... it needed to be better, and so he'd make it perfect.
So... yeah- this was a hard chapter, and I hope that you're all ok after reading this. I just wanted to make sure that I actually represented what it felt like to be in Roman's shoes, and I hope I did it justice. Bye until the next chapter.
