Hi, I'm back to Fanfiction, after two years of studying for harsh exams that kept getting harder. New story in Arekan/Yullen genre. Not sure yet, but the plot bunny took over and gave me a new story. Hope you'll enjoy

What is beauty?

Having the appearance of what people considered beautiful would never be easy, or fair for that matter. Now don't get it wrong, it wasn't like he was bragging or letting his ego grow large to scale. It was just a fact that him as a teenage boy had noticed and learned since as he was always identified with 'beauty'.

Now what was beauty in the first place, he never could tell.

After all beauty was always linked to girls and commonly lifeless dolls, Females of the human race, never males. If it was linked to males it tended to have a slightly insulting meaning or something like that. That was definitely the case when the adjective was used to describe Kanda Yuu.

Beauty was like a stain that would never disappear and would stand out like blood on a white laced clothe. Everyone noticed and that was the problem.

Everyone noticed.

He didn't want to be noticed. He didn't want to be beautiful as that was more an insult and curse than a blessing from what he experienced. The meaning was a stain in his life that couldn't be washed away and only attracted more dirt. He was like a goldfish in a glass. A single goldfish as compared to a colony of fish in an aquarium, a goldfish was more noticeable because it looked one of a kind and stood out. He hated that.

He wasn't bragging. He didn't have an ego. Whatever was left of his dignity was drowning in molten tar.

It as that supposedly, being beautiful meant he was noticed, taken advantage of and always by the wrong people.

It meant that his appearance attracted dirt of society to himself. It meant that he was currently led to being bulimic and anorexic. It meant that he would suffer abuse from his birth mother and her 'boyfriends'. It meant that he would never be taken seriously and that he was not allowed any shred of decency in his life. It meant that from childhood he was to be like a whore, used by the scum of the earth.

He hated it. What was beauty if not just a curse. He found himself bleeding constantly and throwing up. Being forced to do things and having his thoughts ignored as he was just a doll. With his midnight blue long hair that he was not able to cut. His sharp oriental features and pale skin he was the living definition of a living doll. An oxymoron. Paradox if you will.

He wasn't given permission to live and he wasn't treated like other, 'normal' human beings. Not by friends, blood relative or even his newly adopted family. Not by anyone. He was simply to be used and looked at for others entertainment.

It was disgusting and overbearing.

Suffocating.

He hated it and had enough. It was too much of a burden being who he was. Not existing to be treated fairly as a human but living among others.

The fifteen years of his life of torment and abuse is what led him up to this point. Unwanted throwing up. Spewing his guts as his mother would force her hand down his throat. Being starved as punishment. Hiding away, trying not to be noticed. Overall suffering in silence.

What was beauty if not a curse.

Being called pretty was being insulted and he wanted it to end. He wanted his life to end. It just wasn't fair. He had no future. The molestation was getting worse. The things he was forced to do was getting more and more frequent. He didn't want this anymore.

He had planned it out. Nobody would look any way. Simply because he was scorned. Hated by others.

Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind constantly till he finally snapped. Stumbled halfway through the city at midnight, at the beginning of winter. Admired the light snow and how it covered everything and hid it away. And wandered to the quiet hidden part of the park that few knew about; that led to a bridge across a steep river/ waterfall. This was actual beauty to him.

His life was what led him to climb over the slippery railing with no regrets.

His torture was what encouraged him to jump on that winter night a few weeks before Christmas to finally end his pain. A suicide that nobody would discover. His previous pain helped him ignore the sharp feeling of thousands of razors stabbing and cutting into his skin in the form of icy water.

Sadly poetic right? The secret suicide. Invisible, silent yet oddly peaceful. What else could it be described as?

However as always things wouldn't work out that easily for him.

But it's also what led him to finally meeting someone who could change and help him heal his wounds. Someone who would accept his him for who he actually was and not appearances. Someone who would see the real him.

Ironically it was a painfully cliché twist on the tale of Beauty and the beast and thinking back on it always made Kanda feeling like throwing up in utter disgust and embarrassment.

He couldn't even die the way he planned.

Fate and reality were real bitches at times.

*YOLO*

I know, I know, I shouldn't be writing a new fanfic, but couldn't resist. I will continue writing my other stories as I don't like not finishing things but at least I'm back to writing for fanfic. The stress of exams and school really got to me as I really wanted to go university and found myself having to stop everything i like to focus on revising and actually studying. Well it paid off and now I'm going Uni./ Actually starting tomorrow. So anyway enjoy. I'll start writing and updating. Maybe not frequently but at least I'll update.