The mirror in my bedroom gave me a brutally honest account for why Cliff wanted me to 'doll myself up'. My lips were horrendously chapped, my ponytail could hardly be called a ponytail anymore, Kirk's Iron Maiden t-shirt wasn't very flattering on my lean ballerina figure at all and there was a blotch of lime juice over the crotch area of my sweatpants. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I took off the shirt and tossed it onto my messy bed to settle some of my disgust. It was high time I stopped using the 'all my best mates are guys' excuse to look sloppy and gross. I was a ballet instructor, for god's sake. If my 4th grader students ever had to see me like that...
I pulled on my hair band and let my curls spring free. They weren't as bouncy and glossy as all the other times I put some effort into my appearance, but they'd do. The charcoal spirals softly framed the sharper features of my face, and it gave me hope for looking pretty again. I stood in front of my mirror for a few moments, relaxing my posture a little so the slightest bit of belly fat pushed against the waistband of my sweatpants. Lost in wonder, my fingers shakily began to trace the protrusions of my ribcage, my head fell to the side as I gazed at my reflection.
It almost bewildered me, how the brutal honesty of a mirror could torment me so much.
A sigh was about to rise up from my chest when someone flung open the door to my bedroom. I shrieked from the fright it gave me, and used my hands to conceal my bra.
“There you are,” he nonchalantly stepped in, holding a bottle of beer in one extended hand.
My hands fell back down to my sides as I glared at Kirk, ignoring his beer offer and walking around him to shut my door, “knock, motherfucker. Knock!”
He pulled his shoulders up in an innocent shrug, his eyes totally oblivious to my semi-nude chest, “so you've suddenly reached the age where we pretend I haven't seen your Dora The Explorer knickers? Finally growing up on me, huh?”
“I'd actually love for us to pretend I've never seen your SpongeBob briefs. Having a Squidward where your bulge is supposed to be doesn't exactly leave much to the imagination.”
He muttered a whatever, shut up, but the pink flush in his cheeks simply couldn't go unnoticed. I made my way to the closet and pulled the sliding doors apart.
“Pick out a dress for me,” I plead, finally accepting the beer when he neared me.
He promptly started going through each hanger and I took a seat by my little wooden desk. For some reason Kirk was always all too eager to pick out clothes for me. We usually took casual digs at each other, but whenever Kirk dressed me, I could expect sincere compliments throughout the day at the most random of times. I was concentrating intensely on not jabbing the mascara wand into my eye when a flowy, summer dress fluttered through the air and landed on my bed.
“That one will make Cliff want to give you another hug, looked like you were enjoying the first one a lot.”
My body twisted in the seat, face scrunched up as my eyes narrowed in on him, standing uncomfortably in the center of the room, “excuse me?”
“The window in the kitchen? You know people on the outside can see through it, right?” His bottom lip quivered a bit, as it did every time he tried his luck at sarcasm, and his eyes refused to meet mine.
“Now that's just fucking weird. Am I supposed to feel shameful over hugging one of my best friends?”
“Feel whatever you wanna feel, I guess...”
I huffed out a strained breath before picking out my hoop earrings, “let's not do this today, please. It's our last day together for 2 whole months.”
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27 bandshirts || a metallica fanfic
Fanfiction"I'm not the most natural person, Dove. The only time my hands know exactly what to do is when they're holding the body of a guitar. That was up until they had the opportunity to hold your body too. Kind of like a Stratocaster, every var...
