⚠️Trigger Warnings: Anorexia, ignorance, bullying, death⚠️
Characters: Flavio Vargas (2p South Italy)
Word Count: 421 words
A single look in the mirror told him what the hunger pangs had not even an hour earlier. He’d lost more weight, the lack of food accenting his cheekbones, hips, and ribs. Even so, he hated it. Each curve seemed to stick out, announcing its existence to him and the constant insecurities brought out by nearly every person he talked to. Every time he tried to force down a meal, he felt sick, hating the way it settled in his stomach and weighed him down just a little bit.
No one seemed to notice anything. His bones slowly got more visible with the help of undereating and daily exercising. The pain had long since become bearable and easy to hide. Especially since he was just the “annoying kid”, complaining about boredom and asking if he’s pretty. People would always say to ignore him. Why wouldn’t they? They’re right. He’s attention seeking. He needed some sort of validation before he destroyed himself.
Each question of Am I pretty?, Do you like me?, Am I beautiful?, Do you like my makeup? was always brushed off as though it was a speck of dust that was nothing more than a nuisance. Go away, Flavio. Stop pestering me, Flavio. You’re so annoying, ugly, persistent, stupid, whore, slut, gay, tryhard, everything he wanted to change. So he tried harder.
The size of his meals dropped further until he missed days in a row. His runs got longer and his weight kept going down. Dizziness was a common occurrence which he did his best to hide. However, it gradually became harder and harder to hide, especially after he passed out. It would have been simple to play off as getting up too fast if it didn't happen time and time and time again. The fact that he still wasn’t confronted about this led to his downfall.
They turned the other way and then gave themselves the right to feel sad and confused when those vibrant pink eyes closed for the last time. Those ribs that stuck out more than they should moved in a breath one last time. Those pretty pink lips usually coated in a shimmery gloss opened and closed one last time. The pain that always lingered dulled one last time. Even as he earned his peace, he left one last thing for all those people who doubted him. All those people who teased him, who brought him down for trying to be wanted. A single note sat upon his dresser.
Am I pretty now?