perfect || j.a. » c.b.

- ten.

where the anorexia failed, depression thrived. every night while jack was comfortably hidden in corbyn's arms, he cried. his sanity slipped away every night as the voice in his head grew louder, chanting how fat and disgusting he was. when corbyn wasn't there, he cut. his thighs were now riddled with scars. all of corbyn's kisses were thought as a reason to play jack like a piece of chess, or so he thought. but jack still had butterflies in his stomach when he saw corbyn.

all of jack's worst thoughts happened when he was kissing him. when his hands were entangled in corbyn's  faux blonde hair and his legs were securely straddling the older male. the voice always popped up to ruin these passionate moments.

you fatty, look at how he never moves his hands. his doesn't want to touch all of that.

we're going slow. . . he's not like nicolas.

"jack, why are you crying?" corbyn whispered, using his thumb to wipe away stray blobs of water. jack tried to smile, the voice in his head throwing insult after insult his way. "i just can't believe. . . i'm so lucky," jack said, his voice cracking, tears running freely down his face.

a smile found its way onto corbyn's face. "you had me for a second there, jack," corbyn warmly laughed.

he's cheating on you.

no, he's not.

corbyn pecked jack's lips, his hands rubbing jack's thighs. jack tried not to flinch as corbyn moved upwards, his gentle hands brushing the wounds through his sweats. jack found it in himself to giggle when corbyn squeezed his thighs.

"you've gained so much," corbyn whispered, his fingers trailing jack's torso. jack took that to the heart, he didn't want to appear fat. maybe he should start skipping meals again.

see, he thinks you're fat.

"i'm fat?" jack croaked out, suddenly feeling like corbyn was staring at his every imperfection. "heavens, no, i'm just happy i can't feel your bones anymore,"

jack's heartbeat slowed down.

see? he loves me just the way i am.

— 339 words.
— edited.