Гибель | Lookism

➽Prologue

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Advice - Alex G

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╰┈➤ ❝ String the sinner by his wings ❞

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There'll always be something that makes (Y/n)'s life miserable. 

And for the last few years, he's come to the conclusion that he himself is the cause of the misery. He doesn't want to live, but he doesn't want to die either. It's as if he's stuck in this sort of loop, a cicle that deteriorates his mind and being. 

(Y/n) has lived traveling, his father worked in journalism and was often traveling with him. His mother has never been in the picture, his father used to tell him that she was a bad, bad woman. . . He'll never forget the fear that would flash across his father's eyes when his mother would be mentioned. 

Sooner or later, he had found out his mother had gone ahead and abused his father when (Y/n) was still just a baby. Scars littered his father's body from the year he spent suffering in an abusive marriage, his mother was to be in jail until she rotted. . . supposedly, the abuse only covered a third of as why she was there, the rest is what (Y/n) never had the guts to ask his father about while he was young.

They've lived just about everywhere, (Y/n) has never been able to settle and make proper friends. Anyways, none of them clicked to begin with, so why worry about friends? He's lived through many experiences, he's familiar with poverty, abuse, homophobia, bullying, the black markets, illegal interactions, gangs, you name it. He has picked up many languages, he has many experiences, and he has many scars to prove everything he has gone through.

The world is not a nice place when you decide to look under it's pretty cover and lies, there are many beauties to it, but humanity's evil outweighs all of it. 

Though. . . . . . There were some- beauties out there. . .

Dmitriy, this gorgeous Russian he met during one of the exchanges he did while with his father, when he was still alive.

Stupidly platinum blonde hair, tall, broody and a scar that slashed his left eyebrow around the end along with bottom lip. (Y/n) never cared about him too much, he always seemed bossy, noisy, god he just wanted him to fuck off from his desk some days. Then he got to know him after a ridiculous bus incident in which both of their buses had crashed, leaving them both waiting at the bus stop at an absurd time at night. 

He hasn't fallen harder than that, Dmitriy's embarrassed smile as he shoved at his shoulder in an attempted to tell him off for how he thought he was unnecessarily adorable when stuffing a granola bar into his mouth. The same granola in his mouth as he muffled curses and tried to scoot to the farthest end of the bus seat. They had hit it off in silence, Russia was a very homophobic country after all, Dmitriy's father was particularly very homophobic so they both sort of. . . played around when it was late, running off from parties together, quick kisses in the library when (Y/n) would stay up at night to just indulge himself in reading, "study" sessions in which they said they'd meet up with the smart kids to study but rather went out to a local café. 

(Y/n) swears that Dmitriy was the one, his closet was glass and (Y/n) couldn't help but find him endearing under all his tough, ragged layers. The stupid promise rings they used from old candy rings being their agreement for a future together, away from the hatred.

That is, until Dmitriy's father had heard rumors about them from the younger kids. Dmitriy had suffered a heavy beating along with his mother those weeks, in which each night his father yelled at him to promise over all that he wasn't gay. That he wasn't a faggot. The tears Dmitriy shed for those two weeks still wretches (Y/n)'s heart, unable to console his lover proper without feeling the gaze of people on them, all suspicious of them now.