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I Want A Perfect Body (I Want A Perfect soul)

Chapter Text


Disgusting. He was fucking disgusting. He had literally been standing in front of his mirror for three hours. Poking, prodding and pinching at the skin on his stomach, arms and thighs, leaving red and irritated blotches upon his delicate ivory skin. He assessed and critiqued every single tiny detail of his face and body, fighting the urge to smash his mirror to pieces.

It would be nice, to look in the mirror and actually feel comfortable with himself, instead of standing here at one in the morning with tears in his tired turquoise eyes, wishing that he didn’t have to live another day in this putrid body. faking it, as usual with a happy smile and a bubbly personality.

If only people could see what was behind the façade.


Chapter Text

There was something so oddly satisfying about the way his fingers grew thinner and thinner with each passing week. The way his pale skin seemed to stretch tightly around his knuckles. The way the many bracelets he wore around his wrists seemed to become larger, some even slipping off his tiny wrists unable to be worn any longer. His hands and wrists were small, delicate, like they might snap in the wind.

He loves wearing oversized hoodies and sweaters. They make him feel small. He also likes the way he can hide behind the draping fabric. He can keep his progress to himself, his own dirty little secret. Skinny wrists, sharp hips, a stomach that dips, protruding collar bones and ribs, all hidden under baggy material.

Hoodies and sweaters were also ideal for hiding food inside the pockets and sleeves. Belts had also become his best friend as his skinny jeans had become looser and looser around his legs and hips.

He's become obsessed with feeling the bones that stick out around his body, the bumps of his spine and the gap between his thighs. He measures his arms by wrapping his fingers all the way around them.

He loves the feeling of being empty, even restricting his water intake. The pain of his hollow stomach almost felt good? He hates the heavy feeling of having anything inside his stomach. He can feel it sitting there, rotting, turning into fat, making him anxious and jittery. He waits till he can escape, shove his skeletal fingers down his throat and regurgitate until what little he has consumed has been emptied into the toilet. Until his bones hurt and his stomach feels sore. Until his throat burns. Until He feels light, weightless.

There is something so oddly satisfying about watching yourself waste away.

Chapter Text

Kellin ran, each foot pounding heavily on the sidewalk. The same pace as the blood pumping in in his ears and the thudding of his heart.

He stays focused on the sound, getting lost in it as if it is music in his ears, eliminating his mind of all thoughts. His head cold and empty, just like his stomach...

He felt like nothing. He was nothing. And the feeling was invigorating, just like floating. He was running on empty. He wanted to be light enough to fly away... It was nicer than reality.

He was running home from school in his baggy his gym cloths, hanging off his frail frame. He had declined his best friends offer to drive him home as much Jesse had insisted. His friends think there's something wrong with him. But he doesn't understand. He's fine. He's just trying to make himself better.

The cold air hits his face like shards of ice. His sickly pale face slightly tinted pink on his cheekbones and nose from the freezing weather. He can feel the winter chill in his bones. They were tired and weak. His muscles ache and his feet burn, but he stays determined, pushing through the pain.

he zones out, his mind now focusing on his breath that he notices is now getting shaky and hard to keep. out of breath. Unfit. Unhealthy. Fat.

He rips his mind away from the nasty thoughts as he rounds the corner towards his house. He stops at his front door leaning his back against it, trying to catch his breath that was dragging heavily in and out. His mom was going to be pissed if she knew that he had run home from school. Another thing he didn't understand. Running was healthy right? Didn't his mom want him to be healthy?

Once his breath has finally evened out and he wipes the sweat glistening from his forehead. He pulls out his keys from his pocket, unlocking the front door and stepping inside.

"Mom, I'm home." He calls out into the quiet house, shutting the door behind him. He knows his mom's home because of the mess in the living room. A mess of cushions and blankets draping over the couch and floor. "Mom?", he calls out once again with no answer. He frowns slightly once he notices an empty bottle of wine, tipped over on the coffee table and lets out a sigh, going over to the table and picking it up.

His mother was drinking again. His mother was drinking because of him. His mother was drinking because he was an awful, disgusting disappointment.

He made his way to the kitchen to throw away the bottle, only to stop at the doorway as he hears his mom's tearful voice speaking on the phone.

"He's really starting to scare me. I don't even know what to do anymore... I Know, I know, I've tried that but... His father is blaming me for everything. He says it's my fault Kellin's sick! I mean, is it me? Am I the reason Kellin's doing this to himself?", His mom lets out a choked sob and Kellin's frozen in is his spot at the kitchen doorway.

"Yes, I will, I'll try. Thank you. I'll speak to you soon." She hangs up and he hears her cry, letting out painful sobs that tear at Kellin's heart. He covers his mouth to cover up his own sobs, but can't stop the tears from streaming down his face.

He backs away from the kitchen door runs upstairs towards his room. He was horrible. He was causing his mom so much fucking pain! His dad blamed his mom for Kellin being so fucked up. It was all Kellin's fault. His parents were fighting because of him. He was a horrible, disgusting person who ruined people's lives. He destroyed his family.

He slams his bedroom door shut as hard as he can and throws his school bag on the ground before he slides down the door, rocking his trembling body back and forth. He was crying so hard he couldn't breathe, choking, gasping for air.

He cried for what seemed like hours until he tired himself out. His body laying motionlessly on his bedroom floor and his emotionless eyes staring into nothing. Tear tracks staining his pale cheeks. He felt dead on the inside.

He glanced around his room until his tired eyes stopped at his reflection in his mirror. His emotionless expression never leaving his face as he stared. He slowly moved his weak body off the ground until he was standing in front of his mirror.

He stripped off his gym clothes and scanned his reflection. He looked for a good long while. Staring at his face and body. his cheek bones weren't prominent enough, his collar bones weren't sharp enough, his ribs did not protrude enough, his stomach wasn't hollow enough, his hip bones didn't stick out enough, his thigh gap not wide enough. He just wasn't enough.

Sometimes he wished he would just disappear.


Chapter Text

You know those days when you wake up and you just know that its going to be absolutely shit? Well, today was one of those days for Kellin.


His alarm hadn't gone off this morning, (which he absolutely swore he had set) this meant that his usual morning routine was completely out of whack.


It honestly sent him into a panic, because not only was he unable to weigh himself this morning, but he also had absolutely no time to exercise either.


Wake up






Body check




Get dressed






Walk to school


That was his morning routine. Something that was never ever disrupted.


Now that it was, he wasn't exactly sure what to do with himself.


Kellin practically ran to the bathroom, stripping off his pyjamas as fast as he could and jumped into the shower. Not even sparing a single glance at himself in the mirror, knowing that once he did, he wouldn't be able to stop looking.


He didn't have time for that today.


He turned on the faucet, letting the heat of the shower water warm up his freezing cold body, letting the blood flow from his toes to the bluish tips of his fingers. He scrubbed his body clean and washed his dark brittle hair, chunks of it falling out into his hands or onto the shower floor, clogging up the drain hole.


These little factors should have scared him so much more than they did. Yes, there was a part of him that was scared, terrified even. But there was a bigger part of him that was happy. It meant that he was sick.


Sick was good. Sick meant that he was closer to his goal. Not sick enough.


It was all so fucked up.


He switched off the water, his skin immediately breaking out in tiny little goosebumps at the loss of warmth. 


Kellin dried himself, then threw his clothes on layer after layer and made his way out of the bathroom. He started making his way downstairs, scrunching his nose up in confusion at the smell of food and the sound of cutlery and dishes clanking and clattering. 


His mom was home? She was never home in the morning.


Oh god.


"Morning sweetie," His mom greeted with a smile as he entered kitchen. He noticed how her smile dropped a little as her eyes scanned over his appearance, her eyes holding sadness and pain.


God, he must look disgusting, obviously too painful for even his own mother to look at.


Fat fat fat!


"Hi mom." He greeted back politely, giving her a quick hug. Kellin noticed that her grip was light, much too gentle. Almost as if he would shatter under her touch if she hugged any tighter.


Or maybe she thinks that your body is too grotesque to touch.


"Why aren't you at work?" Kellin questioned pulling out of his mother's delicate embrace.


"I don't start work until ten this morning," She answered walking over to the toaster as the bread that had been toasting in there popped up. "I asked my boss for my hours to be adjusted a little bit so I could be home more often in the morning." 


Kellin just nodded as he used the coffee machine to make his usual 'breakfast'. He waited for the machine to finish. He sipped on the piping hot liquid once it was done. No milk, no sugar, just pure black coffee. Sure, it was bitter and gross, but it gave him a little boost and sped up his metabolism, so he dealt with it.


He dropped his empty cup in the sink, about to run up the stairs to get his bag before his mom stopped him.


"I made you some toast, Kellin. I want you sit down and eat it before you go to school," She said as she placed a plate of two pieces of buttered toast on the Kitchen table. 


Kellin looked at toast with a disgusted look on his face, watching as the melted butter was soaked up by the bread, seeping through the miniscule holes and onto the bottom of the plate. It was enough to make him feel sick.


"Mom, I can't. I'm gonna be so late if I don't start walking now!"


"I'll drive you, so you have more time to eat, Kellin. Now, I want you to sit down and eat." Her tone was stern and left know room for argument.


"Okay," he mumbled, defeated. He sat down looking at the food in front of him and he wanted to cry.


He swallowed the lump in his throat and picked up the piece of toast. He hated how it felt in his hands, all greasy from the butter. He wondered if the oil could seep through into the pores of his skin and make him fat that way, just from touching it. The thought absolutely terrified him, even though a part of him knew that it was fucking stupid.


That didn't stop him from being paranoid.


He ripped off a small piece of the toast and put it in his mouth, making sure it did not touch his lips, and immediately shut his eyes. It made him sick, he wanted it out of his mouth now,


He felt his mom kiss him on top of his head. "thank you," she whispered gratefully to him before turning around to wash the dirty dishes in the sink.


As soon as his mum turned around, Kellin spat the food out quietly in his hand, grimacing at it. He ripped off a couple more pieces of toast, quickly shoving them in the pocket of his hoodie.


Once he finished off shredding and tearing at his toast, shoving most chunks in his pockets, but leaving some on his plate, he stood up and put his plate in the sink.


His mother glanced at the almost empty plate and gave Kellin a smile before pulling him into another one of those gentle hugs and kissing him on the gaunt cheek. "Good job, Kellin. I'm so proud of you," she whispered. Her voice wobbly and teary and Kellin swore he felt his hear tear in two. Guilt eating away at his entire being.


"I'm gonna go and get my school bag from my room now, or we're gonna be late." He murmured


His mom gave him a watery smile, wiping her damp cheeks with her hand and nodded. "Okay, sweetie. I'll meet you in the car."


He trudged himself up the stairs to his room, opening one of his drawers that contained a copious number of wrappers and food scraps, before emptying the contents of his pockets, adding to the horrifying collection.


He closed the drawer, grabbed his school bag and sighed.


Yep, today was going to be shit.