an institution for troubled children

dinner time at the institution

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

༄ؘ ˑ

bad hates his stupid body.

it's wrong, and it's annoying, and he wants to know what he did to be cursed to a life in skin that isn't his.

he goes to dinner, solely for the reason that he hopes his friends will be able to distract him from his horrible feelings. he doesn't even feel like eating, he just needs something to smile about.

"hi," he mutters quietly as he plops down into the seat beside skeppy, leaning his face against his palm as he does. he receives a few greetings around the table before they all fall back into their conversation. bad attempts to try and catch up on what they're talking about, frowning as he just gets increasingly confused.

"what's wrong?" skeppy asks him, poking his leg under the table.

frustrated, bad moves his leg away, mumbling a quick, "nothing."

skeppy squints at him suspiciously, "are you sure?" he wonders, tilting his head to the side as he looks the brunette up and down. "you look sad."

"i'm not, i'm just tired."

"oh, okay," skeppy chirps, offering the brunette a smile before turning back to the group conversation.

for a moment, bad allows the interaction to make him feel even worse, but then he's quick to remind himself that it isn't skeppy's fault that he wasn't able to tell bad was lying, and he can't hold that against the ravenette.

he pokes at skeppy's leg under the table, much like the other had done to him, and skeppy immediately turns back to him again, still smiling, "yeah?"

"i lied," he admits to the ravenette, forcing out the confession before he can second guess his actions, "i am sad."

skeppy shifts fully to be facing the brunette. he frowns, almost sympathetically, "what's wrong?" bad, not sure how to even begin to describe his turmoil, just shrugs. "have you eaten dinner yet?" skeppy asks.

"no," he answers honestly, gaze flicking over to the long food counter.

"why don't you have some?" skeppy suggests. "it might help you feel better."

bad shakes his head against his palm. "i feel all grossed out with myself," he admits, quiet enough that the others wouldn't hear, "i feel like i'd be sick if i ate."

"sometimes feeling as though eating will make you sick is actually a sign of hunger," skeppy says. bad shrugs. skeppy bites his lip: it's not often that bad reacts so uninterested to one of his facts. "is your mind telling you lies again?"

"they're not lies," bad mumbles.

"okay, one, they are lies, you are a boy and you look like a boy and that is that," he says sternly, which admittedly does actually make bad feel a little better, "and two, you have to eat something."