On the first day of fic list, Lexist gave to you, some fiz and ozzy fluff!
What a day. And not a good one, really. I had to do a swimsuit photoshoot, which is common enough, I suppose, but this time, they wanted me to take off my cockscomb. Get your mind out of the gutter. That's what you call a jester cap. They had decided that it clashed with the colors of the speedo they had me in, as if anyone would really care.
I told them that's fine, I had other caps in my bag, because I'm a professional. I even had one the sane shade of green they were having me model.but they refused. I outlined section A, clause 8, in my contract with them where I reserve the right to keep my cap n bells. But it wasn't there.
Turns out, they paid Mammon extra to remove it. Then this b- I mean witch came out of nowhere and pulled off my hat. Of course, they were all shocked, and the photographer began snapping pictures of md. Needless to say, I killed them all. Now mammon is pis- angry. He's angry with me
But more than that, I'm angry with myself. Because they were right to stare. They were right to want to expose me. And mammon has always been right. I'm broken. I'm one bad day, one particularly sneaky paparazzi photographer, one slip up in a dance routine, one mistake away from being ruined. When I had my horns, before the accident, they were beautiful. Blitzo's dad said he loved me more just because of them.
Everyone always had so much to say about them, and they still do. But they're fake, and I'm a fraud. There's a few people online who have caught on, with clips in high definition where I would do a flip and my so-called horns would move with me in a way they shouldn't, but it's gained no traction. People only see what they want to see. Not the truth.
I slip into a hot bath and take a deep breath. Knowing I have to, I pull off my cap and set it beside the oversized tub before submerging myself completely. Warm and comfortable, I don't want to come back up. But there's nowhere to go if I die, since I'm already here. So lift myself up and sigh as I break the surface.
"Fizzy? Are you here?" Calls a comforting voice. I quickly pull my cap on.
"Im in here!" I call out and winxe at my voice. It's even croakyer than usual.
"There yiu are, Froggy. How was the shoot?" He asks as he walks in and then furrows his brow.
"And why are you wearing that in the bath?" He questions. I sigh because he knows EXACTLY why I'm wearing it. I sink lower into the water as he sits beside the tub.
"Shoot was fine. I ended up killing everyone there, so it could have gone better, but I'm fine." I say with a wave of my hand and a chuckle in an attempt to make the whole thing more lighthearted.
"Fizzy. What happened." He asks in a very serious voice.
"You know, I love it when you take that tone with me-" I say, sitting up and leaning in for a kiss.
"No, not right now." He says gently but firmly pushing me back. Dang it.
"Why? Not in the mood?" I ask, and he laughs.
"Baby, do you know who I am? I'm always in the mood, but right now, I'm more concerned with you. Because you are not ok." He says, and I feel bad for the concern in his voice.
"Th-they pulled my hat off and tried to take pictures. Mammon changed the contract. I think he's getting tired of me." I respond, and Ozzie is fuming, literally.
"THAT SON OF A-"
"OZZIE, it's not him. He's right. I'm broken-" I sob, and Ozzie leans over the lip of the tub to hug me.
"No, no, no, Shh shh its ok, fizzie. You're not broken. You're better than he ever was, and I've known him since the dawn of Hell. You're funnier and more successful, and unlike him, you're beautiful on the outside and the inside. He has neither. " he whispers, rubbing my bare shoulders comfortingly.
"No, I'm not. I'm not enough for him, I need to be better. I have to -"
"Is he your boyfriend? Or am I? Because you are more than enough to me. You're perfect, Froggy. I love you. Not the brand, not the title, not the creepy sex dolls I have to keep cranking out. You." He says, and gently he pulls the cover off my horns.
"I love every part of you. You're not broken. You're strong." He whispers and kisses my forehead.
"Thank you," I whisper back and hug him tightly, wrapping my arms around and around and around him, never wanting to let go.
"Now let's go get you something to eat and then I'm going to call mammon and triple the prices on anything that bitch tries to get me to sell for him." He declares, picking me up and carrying me out of the bathroom.
Ozzie is wrong, I am broken. But that's OK, because it's only on the outside. I'm still Fizzarolli. And I have taken the broken parts of me and made them even better. One day, I'll break away from Mammon. Odds are I'll break down again like this, I always do. But for now, I think I'll write a song for when I finally break it off. Will I actually sing it? Nah. It's not like I could sing a big old F you to him.
