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Sua has always hated her body.
She looks like death itself with her pale skin and gaunt features. She’s thin, she has to be, and unblemished from head to toe.
She looks exactly like the doll her mother made her to be.
Her smooth, porcelain skin and petite features are the pride and joy of her mother and the reason that Sua is the favorite child. They’re also the reason that Sua has never once belonged to herself.
Sua has been modeling since she was a child, though not by choice. She was put into it before she even knew how to talk, and once in, she’s never been able to get out of it. Her evenings and weekends are filled with countless photoshoots that pass by in a blur. She spends at least an hour every day sitting in her chair as makeup artists flit about her, doing all they can to enhance perfection.
She spends her spare time inside, away from the sun, to preserve her pale skin. She is never allowed to do anything that could be dangerous– no damage must come to her.
Sua doesn’t get a say. She never has. She sits, silent and still, as a life that has never been hers passes by.
Perhaps that is why she finds herself here. She sits on the floor in the bathroom, the door locked behind her, staring at a small razor blade in her hand.
It shouldn’t be so tempting, so tantalizing. She shouldn’t be thinking for even a second about marring that perfect skin of hers.
But the longer she stares at the blade, the more disgusted with herself she feels, and the more sure she is that she holds salvation in her hands.
She needs proof that she’s alive, that she can be anything other than a perfect doll.
She needs proof that she can break.
Though nothing changes, Sua suddenly moves. She is calm about it, pushing her pants down just enough to place the blade along her hip, along the line where her underwear will cover. As badly as she wants this, she’s not so far gone as to ruin her life down the line the next time her mother books a swimsuit modeling session.
Sua stares blankly for a moment. The skin on her hip is just as smooth as anywhere else on her body. She detests it.
In a single movement, Sua presses down.
It almost surprises her, how easily the skin splits beneath her fingers.
The pain comes quickly and unrelenting. Sua gasps at the warmth of it; she’s always so cold, but this feels like fire in her veins. She can’t help but hyperfocus on the sight of blood as it slowly beads up in the cut, so incredibly vivid against her pale skin.
A dam inside of her breaks, and for the first time in years, Sua feels tears well up in her eyes.
It’s hard to put a finger on what she’s feeling. There’s pain, to be sure, and she feels a bit sick knowing that she’s done irreparable damage to the one part of her that has always been flawless.
But there’s also an indescribable relief.
Sua has never had control over her body, but in this moment, she stakes her claim. They took everything from her before she even knew what it meant to give. But tonight, this is hers.
The pain begins to ebb, and the flow of blood slows. Without another thought, Sua brings the blade to her skin again.
She’s not ready to relinquish control just yet.
“Sua! There you are!”
Sua turns, and her vision is filled with pink. Mizi is the brightest thing in her life, and Sua would do anything to protect the innocence in her smile.
“Mizi,” she says with a smile. Mizi is the only one who can draw out anything other than practiced perfection from her.
“How was your shoot yesterday?” Mizi asks cheerfully, grabbing Sua’s hand in her own.
Sua looks down and carefully interlaces their fingers as she thinks back to the night prior. She thinks of the pristine photos, the calculated poses, and she thinks of what came after.
She thinks of blemished skin, of feeling in control.
Mizi squeezes her hand, and Sua looks up to meet Mizi’s worried eyes. She isn’t sure what expression she’s wearing, but there must be something, or Mizi wouldn’t be looking at her like that.
“Sua? Did something happen?”
Sua’s hip, which hadn’t been bothering her at all, suddenly burns as she is filled with an inexplicable guilt. She can’t let Mizi know. She can’t let Mizi be burdened with this, can’t shove that responsibility onto her.
Mizi is the one bright thing in Sua’s life, and Sua refuses to dim that light.
With ease, Sua’s face transforms into a delicate smile.
“It went well, thanks for asking.”
For a moment, Mizi is silent. She looks at Sua, really looks, and for a minute, Sua is terrified that Mizi will see through her facade. If anyone could do it, it would be Mizi.
But then, Mizi smiles. She gives Sua’s hand one more squeeze.
“Of course it went well! You’re perfect, after all!”
Sua wonders if Mizi would still believe that if she knew about the lines on Sua’s hip.
She wonders if Mizi would still love her if she knew just how wrong she was.
“Do you want to hear about my day yesterday? It was really great!”
Sua calms as Mizi tells her about her day. She’s not sure who is being more selfish– herself for keeping this secret, or Mizi, for letting her.
Still, she will not complain. They walk into school together as Mizi continues to chatter on. Sua does her best to listen, but she can’t help it if her mind wanders a bit.
One hand holds tightly onto Mizi. The other hand twitches slightly by her side.
Sua thinks of a small blade in her fingers.
It’s easier to love her body when Mizi does it for her. It’s easier to surrender herself when Mizi is the one in control.
They’re in bed together, sharing a lazy morning after a night of firsts. Sua is cuddled into Mizi’s side, and for the first time in years, she feels like she can breathe easy.
Mizi idly draws a finger in circles along Sua’s hip.
Sua knows that Mizi saw them. Saw the proof of Sua’s lies, is seeing them even now. She knows that Mizi will ask about them, if given the chance.
Sua is determined not to give her that chance.
It’s not worth it, not now that Sua’s free. She left that life behind some time ago; the scars have long since faded. If Mizi asks now, it will only bring to the surface old pains and old guilts that will help no one.
Sua had known even back then that the truth would’ve hurt Mizi. She knows that it will hurt even more now.
Mizi hesitates, something like concern in her eyes, and Sua knows that this is it.
When Mizi opens her mouth, Sua kisses her.
Don’t ask, she tries to convey with each press of her lips against Mizi’s. Mizi makes a surprised sound but melts into the kiss with little protest, just like Sua knew she would. Sua presses even closer, overwhelming Mizi with each point of contact between them.
Mizi attempts to pull away, breathing heavily. “Sua–”
But she pauses when she sees the look on Sua’s face.
Sua looks at Mizi with undisguised grief. For what, she can’t say– for the happy childhood she’d been barred from, perhaps. For her own innocence, maybe.
Sua does not want to grieve for Mizi’s innocence, too. It’ll be easier for both of them, this way.
Mizi seems to read all of this in a blink of an eye. For a long moment, they look at each other, and Sua wonders if this will be the time that Mizi pushes. Sua doesn’t know what she’ll do if it is.
Eventually, Mizi comes to a decision. Her face shifts, and Sua knows that she’s won.
Don’t ask, she pleads with her eyes, and Mizi doesn’t. Instead, she swings her body over Sua’s, caging her between her arms. Her long, pink hair falls down between them, tickling Sua’s collarbone.
“You’re perfect,” Mizi breathes. “So adorable, Sua.”
And it almost feels wrong for a moment, except that it can’t be, because it’s Mizi speaking. Sua thinks that maybe she doesn’t mind being perfect if it’s for her.
Sua arches up to meet Mizi in another kiss, the scars on her hip long forgotten.