WERE BACK WITH VOTING! And Since I said we'll do all the groups. Were going to get through them all :)
SHINee -VIXX - BTOB- B.A.P - SS301
*I will be posting it later since I didn't put up the options sooner
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING FACE ME. I will try my best to have Part 3 up by Wednesday :)
Oh and since Namjoon's angst was too mean I found a Fluff :)
“Hey jagi, what are you doing?”
You look up from your laptop to see Namjoon sit down beside you at the table, taking a bite out of a sandwich. He had just gotten back from rehearsal just half an hour ago, but he still had some energy in him.
“I’m looking for a new pair of prescriptions,” you say, holding up your newly-broken pair. There were cracks in the glass, almost resembling a spiderweb in winter.
“Oh, how did you break them?” he asks.
“They were on the sofa, and I decided to leave all of my books and things there so I could work comfortably, but then I accidentally crushed them underneath it all.” You feel ashamed of such a petty mistake - how did you not see them?
Namjoon nods, understanding until the end. “Well, have you seen any that you like? Hey - maybe we can get matching ones!” He digs around in his backpack and pulls out his black-rimmed pair, sliding them into place with a silly grin. You laugh, shaking your head simultaneously.
“I was thinking, though… maybe I should just get contacts instead,” you say hesitantly. “I think I look prettier without them, glasses make me look uglier, don’t you think?” You turn towards him for examination.
He shakes his head. “No, you’re beautiful with or without. I like seeing your face framed with glasses, but I also like it without. Any time of day, you’re still dazzling to my eyes.” He leans forward and gives a quick kiss on your forehead, then goes off to take a shower.
You shutdown the laptop, sighing deeply. Despite the sweet words Namjoon blessed you with daily, the little demons inside your mind always seem to be louder. In the glass of the computer screen, you could see your reflection - locks of hair hanging by your cheeks, a disbelieving expression written all over your face. The glass transforms you into shades of charcoal and gray, and you can’t see the hue of your eyes (you can hear Namjoon saying your eyes are stars in the moon’s illuminance, the warm caramel macchiato, a fresh and evergreen spring, an ocean’s kiss).
He says I’m all of these things, but am I really? you think sadly, your fingers lightly brushing the surface of your skin. Isn’t that what every girl is told? That they are special? But in the end… are we really?
You shake your head, suddenly angry at yourself. Thinking like this won’t help at all, it won’t help. But all you feel when Namjoon says these things is gratitude - and it isn’t gratitude that comes out of him speaking the truth, necessarily, it’s out of him speaking out of pity, sympathy.
I really am not that pretty, you think, eyeing every flaw in your face. The demons in your mind seemed to materialize and sit on your shoulders, arching their tails as their whispers are registered in your consciousness.
And you’re sure, you’re sure, that without the curving lenses on the bridge of your nose, you are a fragment more beautiful than before. You subject to the demons in your head, let their words drown you, become the blood in your body, envelope you. I’m not lovely, not beautiful, not pretty, you think. I’m not much at all.
Namjoon catches you watching your reflection from time to time, staring at the area around your eyes, sometimes scanning your whole face, or just the eyes itself. Ahh, this girl, he thinks, his heart pierced by the demons in your head - you’re his everything, the blazing star in the watercolor sky and he can’t bear to watch you fall before … essentially, yourself.
A couple days after you broke your glasses, he takes you out to the mall. “What are we going to buy?” you ask excitedly, then yelping as you stumble a little. There was a twig in front of your shoe, and you almost tripped from not seeing it - after all, it’s just a blurred thing on the ground.
He stabilizes you, slipping an arm around your waist and yours naturally goes around his. “We’re going to buy lots of things,” he says. “Food, clothes, some new glasses…” Namjoon glances down at you to your reaction to the last item mentioned. Your eyes are fixated on the sidewalk, your hand tensing up around his waist. “(Y/N)?” he says gently.
“Ah, nothing,” you respond quickly, hoping that the obvious signs of hesitation you displayed hadn’t worried him. “I was just thinking that maybe I’ll get contacts instead. I don’t want to risk breaking another pair of glasses, and besides, it’ll be hard to clean and I’ll have to keep coming back to get my eyes checked and such.” You force a smile, the demons’ cackling inching up and up in volume.
He doesn’t question you for the next hours, allowing you to drag him into clothing stores, to stationery shops, then to a kiosk stand to buy some ice cream. He notices that you only order one, his favorite flavor, and take just one lick and no more. His lips purse together as you talk about what other stores you’d like to go to, oh, maybe you guys could go to the new candy store by Nature Republic, he’d probably like some of the sweets there, right? Or would he like to go to the shoe shop to check out the converse?
“I have one place I have to go,” Namjoon cuts in. “We can stop by it when you’re all done, it’s by the exit of the mall.” You agree with this proposal and stand up with renewed energy, ready to bring more tears to your almost-empty wallet.
“All shopped out?” he asks when he notices your pace starting to slow.
“I can keep going,” you say, voice heavy with exhaustion despite the light words you speak aloud. Your feet drag a little as you adjust the bag handles cutting into your skin, your hard-earned money transformed into materialistic nothings. I really only bought it because I think it’ll make me look a little more beautiful, you think morosely, the tickling bits of hair on either side of your face seeming to blur into red tails, pointed horns and claws as the bag handles.
“Just one more stop, then,” Namjoon says softly, squeezing the side of your waist. You smile up at him tiredly, both physically and mentally worn out.
He leads you to the area you two had come in from, then takes a slight left to Glassblowers, the panes plastered in advertisements of people like you, with poor vision in some way or another, smiling brightly at being able to see the world through a pair of frames, your own personal windows.
“Namjoon, it’s okay,” you say quickly, stopping in the middle of the pathway. “I’m going to get the contacts soon. If I order it today, it should come in a week or two and we won’t have to worry about the shipping and everything -”
“Let’s just try some on,” he insists, and pulls you along. You follow, a mixture of embarrassment and hesitation fusing together and rising in your throat. Why didn’t he listen? Wasn’t ‘no’, no?
He greets the lady at the desk politely and explains that you would like to just try on some prescriptions and see what happens from there. She leads the pair of you to the display centers where rows and columns of glasses rested, rainbows hiding in the reflections of glass from the mirrors and frames alike. You feel yourself tighten by Namjoon’s side, biting the inside of your lower lip in subtle anxiety.
“Hey, these would look cute on you, don’t you think?” Namjoon says, setting the bags on the ground then choosing a pastel pink with a flower adornment on the side. He shoves it onto his own nose, batting his eyelashes at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, and you laugh without meaning to. “Now you try,” he says, taking it off and shaking some of his hair back into place, then handing it to you.
Slowly, you release the shopping bags onto the floor and turn towards the mirror, immediately identifying the hated flaws in your face without effort. It’s as if the light is shining only on them, nothing more, you say to yourself bitterly, then put on the glasses. You can tell it doesn’t match you at all, but you like the soft color.
“Ahh, so cute!” Namjoon says, grinning. He takes your hand and pulls you over to the shelves on his right, but everything you see is a blur with the wrong set of prescriptions on the tip of your nose. “Which one do you want to try on next? Maybe I should try some on too!” he adds, then chooses one at the very top for you to wear.
An hour passes like this, him leading you around, the number of ones tried on greater than the ones you haven’t touched. Eventually you find yourself relaxing, the routine of choosing the perfect pair coming back to you naturally despite all of your efforts to disperse it. After all, you had done this every two years ever since you needed glasses, there was a bit of fun linked to fulfilling the selfish needs’ of your eyes. But you couldn’t help but find the imperfections in your face and feel the smile falter.
“(Y/N)?” Namjoon says as he puts a pair back on its stand. “Have you been feeling alright?”
“What do you mean?” you ask, turning towards him.
He hesitates, glancing down, then locking eyes with you and not letting go. “About yourself. How do you feel about yourself?”
You can’t answer, you’re at a loss of words because - how do you feel about yourself, really? The demons - they’re just a sectioned part of your brain, and your subconscious knows that it’s really just you - enjoy toying with your self-esteem, setting your confidence aflame, while the angel in front of you is constantly taking you in his arms and using his wings to fly higher where monsters can’t reach you and your fragile mind. Which one do you listen to?
“Jagiya, (Y/N)…” Namjoon starts. His eyes are both gentle yet hardened with his own intensity, as if he’s using the devil’s fires to fuel his own passion. “You’re beautiful in any kind of light, any time of day, any type of clothes, any type of hairstyle - all of you is beautiful. I know that you’ve been more concerned about how you appear nowadays -” He notices your quick intake of breath. “- and it hurts me, a lot, to have you, of all people, feel like that.” He cups your cheek softly, and your hand holds his. “You’re my muse, my heaven, the first wonder in seven on this world. And I keep asking myself what you can’t recognize that.
“All of the flaws you see, they are perfect to me. Your eyes, nose, lips, shoulders, ears - how did you ever manage to find mistakes in what is simply so natural and beautiful?” You glance down, a little flustered. “You’re so dazzling, so beautiful, so you - and I want you to accept it all. You should learn to love all of yourself, because it deserves to be cared for.” He smiles.
“Namjoonie,” you say, choking a little on the tears you’re trying so hard to blink away. “What would I do without you?” You bury yourself into his jacket, breathing in his scent and his words and his love, and give it all back to him.
The two of you stand like that for a moment, the passing seconds elongating into your own little infinity, then he pulls away, reaching for his wallet. “Were there any glasses you liked?” he asks. “You looked beautiful in all of time.”
“Ahh, stop it!” you say, laughing. In the end, you do choose one, a pair that makes the stars your eyes brighter, the caramel macchiato bring out your warmth, a fresh and evergreen spring highlighting your youth and memories, an ocean’s kiss for the love of your angel.
Tagging all the beauties! 💕
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