dsmp oneshots 2

just jokes

𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯

☆

punz blinks at his reflection in the mirror, observing how his clothes sit against his body. they look bad, objectively. he looks bad.

he's put on so much weight recently and just generally stopped caring about his appearance so much - probably a result of being in a happy relationship. the blond has been so much happier recently, but physically he can see how he's gone downhill.

they're falling out of their honeymoon phase, too, which is a perfectly good explanation as to why they aren't kissing as much and having sex so often, but punz has still found a way to convince himself that he's at fault for his worsening appearance.

he can't bear to look at himself some days, so it's no surprise to him that his lover would want to keep a safer distance.

he can't help but constantly worry that he is soon to be broken up with, though maybe it will be good for him as it will motivate him to get back into shape and start caring some more.

he glaces over at the door as it pushes open, his boyfriend stepping in.

"hey," foolish greets half-assed, his attention on his phone as he crosses over the room and drops down onto their bed. it used to be punz's bed, and foolish had the room down the hall, but they've gradually just adapted to sharing this one, and using the other for storage.

"hi," punz looks back at the mirror. he smiles at his own reflection, wondering what foolish sees whenever they share happy expressions, and has to hold back a grimace at how awful he looks.

"watcha' doin'?" foolish hums in the tune of that girl in phineas and ferb. the couple had watched the kid's show together a few weeks ago for a laugh, and foolish has clung to the saying ever since.

punz glances over at foolish right as the brunette drops his phone down to the side and looks over at him. he smiles, and punz speaks so he won't have to smile back, "just looking at myself."

"yeah?" foolish hums, tilting his head to the side. his gaze dances over the blond, and punz absolutely despises the feeling of being perceived. he hates that he's being looked at and that he can't pick apart every little thing that his boyfriend is thinking about him.

punz looks back at the mirror, wondering what foolish could be looking at. maybe his fat stomach, or the awful roundness of his thighs, or his uneven stubble, or his acne scars, or his dirty hoodie. "yeah," he confirms.

"you look pretty."

"do you think?" punz asks, gentler than he intended. the words come out soft, surprise seeping into the corners of each syllable.

"yeah, pretty ugly," foolish jokes, smiling amusedly to himself.

punz knows it's a joke, and he can pick apart the amusement in his lover's voice, but that doesn't stop the way that his heart shatters between his ribs, crumbling down and piercing his lungs. the playful words leave him breathless and broken, and his stomach coils in a burning self-hatred that he loathes almost as much as himself.