Short Stories

Brittle Beauty

Brittle Beauty:

She was diagnosed with long-term depression, anxiety disorder, and anorexia. She didn't talk to people easily; she got frightened if they even made a certain movement. She was so depressed that she refused to leave her room; eventually her parents knew something was wrong so they dragged her to the nearest rehab center. She had been here for two weeks and she already hated it.

The only thing that actually kept her in a better mood than usual was talking to the skeletons. At least that was what the other patient's who could form words called them. These people were diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, and they look almost dead. They were so skinny and fragile that it seemed like it was an effort to breathe. She felt sad for them, and that was a good sign, supposedly, because now she was feeling some emotion.

And there was a certain skeleton that caught her eye. They talked a few times and in those few times she had gathered that his name was Harold and that he was a quiet lad, though he talked if spoken to.

One day at lunch he stumbled over and sat next to her, he looked shaken up and sad. His green eyes were lifeless and had dark circles around his sockets, and his skin was pale and thin. She asked him what's wrong and he replied with, "My friend is dead."

It turned out that his long-time high school friend was here too, she didn't know for what, but she didn't want to ask. He kept mumbling over and over again how it was his fault of his friends' death and how he wished he could die too.

As he was ranting she immediately blocked it out, not wanting to hear foul words. So what she did was gently wrap her arms around his upper body and softly pushed him toward her so his head pressed against her collarbone. She kept murmuring kind words in attempt to calm him down, and eventually he stopped rambling on how it was his fault and fell quiet.

But that only lasted so long, then he started talking about his weight and how hideous he was. That pained her greatly. Sure, she didn't really know him, but that doesn't means she didn't care.

"No," she protested, trying to cut him off, "you are a beautiful person that has great value and worth." He immediately shot the compliment down by mumbling that no matter what she said he wasn't good enough, no matter what. Though she didn't back down, "You are perfect, scarred or not. You are perfect, damaged or not." He still didn't believe her.

"You are a work of art," she said after a moment of raking her brain to see if she could come up with something that would change his mind. When he heard her words he was quiet for a moment, digesting the words she said. "Are you sure about that?" he whispered, "You barely know me."

"True," she replied, "but that doesn't mean you aren't beautiful."

The fact was that at that moment in time in the hospital he did not look beautiful. You could tell that he was once beautiful, but now that his life was drained away from his body when he was diagnosed with anorexia did a number on him. Now people just see him as a walking corpse. Except her.

She sees him as a brittle beauty.

And he sees her the same way.

A/N: I got the inspiration from the story 'vitreous'. I suppose it's kind of like a one-shot between Harry and Atlas, though she doesn't act exactly the same as she does in the original story. Kind of like my own version. :) I hope you like it :)