#botox for depression

[lightofraye]

Botox for Depression

I was among those who were sad about seeing what looked like Botox on Jensen's face. Hints of fillers, maybe. It's rather obvious compared to photos at conventions. The lines on his forehead weren't as obvious, and there was some hints around the cheek line.

Largely because, dammit, was that Danneel's influence too? Bad enough she's wildly insecure about her looks. Did she really have to get Jensen with that too?

Then, as I was showing my daughter the photos from Wales Comic Con, she corrected me. I stared at her, going "What?"

A quick Google revealed... she was right.

This study indicates positive uses of Botox for depression. I think this is likely what Jensen was using Botox for. Not to reduce wrinkles, because if so, his eye crinkles--that is so beloved--and other aspects of his face would be rather immobilized and noticeable on that level.

(Of course, some of the smoothness may also be photo editing by the convention.)

So.

Not for wrinkles. Rest well, beloved fans of Jensen. We'll still have those crinkles for a while!

[fly-rye]

how i sleep knowing that i'll never get botox, lip fillers, or a nosejob

[exoticinnardsfatshit]

i HATE george shelley

i was looking on my pinterest and i see THIS.

LIKE EW YOU LITTLE FAKE BARBIE TAKE THAT MAKEUP OFF TRISHA PAYTAS WE ALL KNOW IT'S YOU.....

botox kills guys don't ever do this shit to you face... 😞

[deadcolour]

i need botox

[snarltoothed]

if i was rich there IS a “cosmetic” procedure i’d get done for my own comfort. i’d botox my fucking sweat glands. granted because my sweat response is broken and im always uncomfortable and would easily succumb to hypothetmia because i dont stop sweating in the cold

[aizawas-dryeye]

uhm yk when peoples lip filler migrates and it gives them like an odd top lip line? ya i have that naturally and its my biggest insecurity next to my teeth

[acteur-dramatique]

Needles and Numbness

I sit in the clinic chair,

the sterile scent filling my lungs,

and watch as the nurse loads the syringe,

a slender vial of lidocaine and filler,

a promise of beauty, of ease --

of a face I might finally recognize

as something whole, something untouched.

But each needle that enters my skin

echoes with memories of you,

Samuel, Liam, Troy --

your names pricking me

through the numbed layer,

through the anesthetized surface,

each puncture an unwelcome reminder

of wounds no needle could heal.

They say these injections fill,

plump the lips, lift the cheeks,

erase the hollows under my eyes --

but the void remains, a deep cavern,

untouched by the smooth swell of filler,

a hollow that pulses beneath

the surface perfection, a gap

that swallows every promise I've made

to forget you.

Botox follows,

the glabella, the crow's feet,

tiny stings as the nurse presses the vial,

a frozen calm on my skin's surface,

wrinkles erased, expression stilled.

But no neurotoxin can still the ache,

the longing for closure

left by your silence,

and beneath the frozen façade,

I am still the same.

I feel the cool swipe of alcohol,

the gloved hand wiping blood from my skin,

and I am reminded,

eve enin this veneer of control,

in this ritual of transformation,

I bleed like everyone else --

thin red lines smeared across gauze,

remnants of a pain that no syringe can mask.

The nurse wipes it away,

discards the bloodied cotton,

and I leave the clinic a little fuller,

a little tighter,

but the emptiness walks beside me,

trailing like a shadow,

a constant ache beneath the surface

that no need could ever fill.

[unhonestlymirror]

My friend's presentation caught me off guard

[dratefahmed1]

Symptoms and Signs of Migraine Identifying the Warning Signals #migraine, #migrainerelief #headache

#migraine, #migrainerelief, #migraineawareness, #migraineproblems, #migrainelife, #migraineattack, #migrainepain, #migrainesupport, #migrainetriggers, #migrainetreatment, #migrainesymptoms, #migrainetips, #migrainehacks, #migrainecommunity, #migrainehelp, #migraineremedy, #migrainerecovery, #migrainetherapy, #migrainemanagement, #migrainecoping, #migraineselfcare, #migrainepreventions,…

[professorjjong]

needed a reference letter from my psychiatrist back in the us and it’s so weird having like. a diagnosis. Iike no one straight up looked me in the eye and said “i diagnose you w/ major recurrent depression and social anxiety disorder” so just having it on a piece of paper like this is kinda wild

[reserwrekt]

"Whenever a minor inconvince happens, I just cease to function." Uh, yeah, my doctor and I think I developed an allergy to my essential, life saving, medication. So instead of running around, doing a bunch of tests, and then ultimately being switched back to my only "real" option, which was a med I went off because it didn't work- I just didn't do anything. Just stopped taking the med, and kept going on, sleeping, crashing, burning, flaring, not functioning, to a point my doctor called me to ask if I'm okay and I didn't want to respond, so I just forgot all day and now it's the weekend and I feel like a jerk for not saying anything.

[allsadnshit]

Everyone saying how amazing Lindsay Lohan and Anne Hathaway look recently just makes me sad cause their faces are so visibly frozen by Botox and fillers like truly not a wrinkle in sight and like they are such beautiful important woman who I grew up loving and idolizing and to see them with a face so tight they can't frown makes me want to cry

I wish I could have seen them grow old naturally and it would have been something to aspire to and instead it just feels like they look like AI or something and it just destroys who they were as childhood it-girls in my eyes

Everyone trying to look like glossy plastic the second the hit 30 and fear looking older just depresses me so much women truly buy into not being humans

[paddockbunny]

“This has to stop!”

Summary: You didn’t deal with the “fame” side of dating Daniel very well and repeated the same mistake of looking and reading the hate. What will Daniel do and say when he finds out how it makes you feel? Rating: 18+. Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader Word Count : 3,070 (One Shot) Trigger Warnings : 18+, this is a tough one, sad, depressed thoughts, self confidence issues, language warning, fan criticism, seriously it really is pretty sad with a nice twist at the end 💞Authors Note : please stick with this one because the end is everything! I’m sorry it’s so sad

You promised him you wouldn’t look. You swore you’d ignore it. But how could you? It was like some evil, nasty drug that you were addicted too. After slinking away from the garage you had gone back to Daniel’s drivers room and opened the Instagram app on your phone. The gossip pages popped up as soon as you tapped on the search bar and you paused, your finger hovering over the first one, unsure if you could do it but your subconscious took over. You were the third picture on the grid and before tapping on it you inhaled deeply. You ignored the several pictures of you walking through the paddock hand in hand with your smiling boyfriend and went straight to the comment section.

As you began to read your eyes scanned over the comments. Ignoring the ones that said nice your outfit was, how happy you both looked and how lucky both of you were to find each other, instead going straight for the other ones. The ones that cut you down, tore you apart, mentally destroyed you.

You sought them out like an alcoholic seeking alcohol. A sex addict seeking sex. You read and re-read and re-read again.

How can you all not see through her? She’s only with him for the fame and the money.

She looks awful in that dress. Those boots make her legs look fat. Terrible choice.

Why is he doing this?! Look at him. He’s a 10. She’s a three at best.

She needs to do something with her hair. It just hangs there

God, I thought it the last time she was in the paddock but Jesus, he could do so much better.

See she made her insta private, probably doesn’t like the home truths.

Can’t wait till he cheats on her. She’s too smug and needs brought down to size

You had gone past the stages of crying when you read them. You chew the skin on the side of your thumb instead, the stinging giving you more release than crying would. You returned to the search page and found the next Instagram. Taking another deep breath and on an exhale tapping on your picture.

What a dumb bitch

I absolutely hate this girl. Daniel’s clearly only with her for the sex, she seems so boring.

Fuck offfffff. She’s such a buzz kill.

Bringing her along again Daniel? REALLY?

I didn’t notice before but I thought her lips were bigger? Does she get filler? Fuck, she needs it.

Filler? How about Botox too? But then again, none of that can fix her drab personality.

This time your lip trembled and a slight sting filled your eyes as a crushing feeling descended upon your chest . You went back to the search page, clicked on the next one and found yourself vacant, thankfully, but then there was a text post you scrolled too which said they wouldn’t post you on the grid because your relationship with Daniel wouldn’t last very long so there was no point. You closed your eyes for a second before switching apps, heading to Twitter instead. You typed your name into the search bar and again, found what you were looking for without much of a hunt. More and more words of criticism followed by questions of why Daniel was with you and when he was going to dump you. Fake rumours (you hoped) of him cheating being shared by multiple accounts.

You sat for a moment after closing your phone. Just sat on the floor of his drivers room and stared at his hoody on the back of the chair in front of you. You wanted to reach out and touch it, hold it, bury your nose it to inhale his scent. You wanted to feel him, be near him while he was out on track driving at 180 miles per hour. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Couldn’t muster the strength to crawl over and cling on to his hoody as if you life depended on it. The words you had read swirled around in your brain and something blocked you from being able to do anything apart from sit there on the floor staring at the teal coloured garment like you had officially lost your marbles.

You let your head fall backward as you tried to take a few deep, grounding breaths as you mentally tried to banish the tears threatening to spill any moment.

“Y/n?” a man’s voice came and a sudden rush of pure embarrassment rolled throughout your body. You didn’t think anyone would come in here during the race, you thought you’d be safe. But as you opened your eyes you saw Michael hovering by the door. “Is everything ok?” He asked and you felt your throat get tight at even the thought of responding to him. So you nodded. You took a deep breath and nodded before scrambling to get to your feet. “Y/n” you couldn’t stay in the room that now felt it was getting smaller and smaller by the second. You couldn’t have Michael looking at you like how he was looking at you. His face full of concern. When he finally came further into the room you used it as an excuse to make your escape. Your legs carrying you over to hospitality to get a bottle of water, something to distract you at least.

“Well done.” You state without enthusiasm. Daniel finished in P9. In the points at least. You felt his disappointment radiating off of him and you didn’t know what to do to quell it. He handed his things to Michael who was in fact looking at you instead of his employer and it set you on edge. Normally you would have given Daniel a quick, soft kiss but you had been criticised for that the last race so decided not too this time, even if he was looking for it. Your heart shuddered in your chest at denying him but you couldn’t. You simply couldn’t let yourself in for the barrage of comments about it once his fans got a hold of the pictures.

As you left to go wait for him in hospitality. Michael followed him to his drivers room. In the safety and confines of the small space Michael handed over your phone. You had left it behind on the carpet when you absconded earlier during the race. Daniel seemed puzzled until Michael sighed;

“I think she was looking at the comments again. The bad ones.” Daniel stared down at your phone in his hand as an easy feeling took over his body. He glanced down, taking in the baby pink phone case that by now became a colour he associated with you. His thumb pressing the side button and seeing the photo you set as your Lock Screen, the pair of you at dinner in NYC, smiling happily at Scotty behind the camera. And with that he felt like someone had punched him in the gut. The thought of you reading hateful comments made his stomach turn and he felt sick. He had told you numerous times not to do it, not to listen to them, take anything to heart, but you didn’t have such a thick skin like he did. You were gentle, pure, fragile even. And he knew what these comments were doing to you. He felt it when he touched you. When he watched you take even longer doing your make-up (that you didn’t even need) or do your hair. How you grew more and more indecisive about what to wear and changed several times in a panic thinking you didn’t look “right”. When you brought up getting fillers, a nose job, a brow lift or signed up for three more spin classes to “get rid of an inch or two” on your already perfect thighs. The carefree, free spirited, fun loving girl he fell in love with was still in there but you had begun to lock her away after letting the nasty, jealousy driven comments get underneath your skin. And it destroyed him. And Daniel couldn’t help but feel like he had done this. It was his fault you were getting all this abuse. He went public with you too fast. He didn’t think about the repercussions about falling in love and being out and happy about it.

You had been sitting waiting on Daniel in a quiet corner of the hospitality suite, reading. You were practically curled in on yourself at the table. Head down masked by your hair and tilted head. To anyone passing you probably were in protection mode, which was probably exactly what your sub conscious was doing. You had been trying to take in the words on the page before you. Something about the narrator being suspicious of Mrs Danvers and thinking she was in love with Maxim De Winters seemed about right. But all you kept thinking about was the words you had read earlier. Only with him for the fame and the money. He could do better. Those boots make her legs look fat. Dumb bitch. Buzz kill. Drab personality.

They swirled round and round your head so fast you probably could get whiplash. It felt like you were on a fairground ride, a waltzer, without being able to get off. And then a hand went down the back of your head and you flinched. It was only Daniel but it gave you such a fright. You were utterly lost in your mind that his tender action scared you. “Ready to go?” He asked quietly and you nodded. You had been ready to go since you got here this morning and saw the photographers at the gate.

Arriving back to the hotel was always problematic. Fans who hadn’t had tickets or couldn’t attend the race always seemed to collude with each other to gather outside of the hotels teams were staying at. And tonight was no different. Daniel swore under his breath and told you to run inside with Michael. He could have said no to them but he was too nice, too gracious to refuse people who had waited hours, possibly all day, for their five seconds with him. Initially you paused and looked back when you got inside, dutifully escorted and under the arm of Michael but decided to go straight upstairs. You had enough of today. You couldn’t help but think that of all these people that claimed they were fans they still spouted the most hurtful things online. After-all, some of the people who wrote the comments that still buzzed around your mind could have been standing right there, 30 feet away from you. “Im going straight up.” You whispered to Michael and found the key card in your bag. You looked a little more for your phone but figured you could empty it and have a better look whilst in the safety of the hotel suite.

And that was the first thing you did as you got in. You tipped your bag out on to the plush white bedding. Your book, some change, gum, a tampon, AirPods, wallet, a condom, lip balm and your sunglasses fell out but no phone. You wondered if you had left it in the chauffeur driven car or perhaps in hospitality as you waited but then you realised you hadn’t actually had it since you were in Daniel’s drivers room and then you did begin to worry. Your life was on there. Your calendar app, your contacts, your cycle tracker, photos of your friends, your family, ones of you and Daniel that time you were larking around in bed one morning that you didn’t ever want getting out. And you sighed deeply. You could buy a new one. That wasn’t what was worrying you. It was the thought of anyone being able to guess your code or jail break your phone and read your messages, see the photos, the videos, all of the content you had and using it against you. You were so lost in the moment you hadn’t even realised Daniel was now stood in the room.

“Y/n” he said your name gently. “I’ve lost my phone….” The words followed teetered on the tip of your tongue while you tried not to let your voice give away that you felt a little scared. “Im sorry…” “You haven’t.” He said and went to his backpack. Your eyes watched intently as he pulled your phone from a pocket hold it up in the air like it was some lost golden treasure.

Daniel didn’t just hold your phone out to you, give it back to you, and then head off for a shower or order room service or anyone the other multitude of things he usually did after a race day. He held on to it as he placed it in your hand - he was only a foot or so away from your body - and waited till you looked into his eyes. You knew he knew. “Talk to me, y/n” he whispered “please.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” You faked it, pretended the words leaving you were true. Your voice let you down. It was nervous. Unsteady. Unable to do what you wanted it too. Daniel’s grip on your phone didn’t loosen and you swallowed, fearing all of the emotions from earlier would now bubble up to the surface. “What do you want me to say?” Your words came out practically in audible. You were struggling for dominance over the tears that were building in your eyes. “Have you been reading the comments again?” You were scared what he would think of you if you said yes but you also knew he wouldn’t believe you if you said no. And then the words left you as the tears did too.

“I’m not good enough for you.”

Your bottom lip shook, tears flowed freely down your cheeks and you couldn’t bare to look at him. You needed to put distance between the pair of you because you didn’t want him to see you fall apart. You bolted straight for the bathroom and instantly slid the lock. Shaky breaths took over as more and more tears fell from your eyes. You tried with all your might to stay in control of it but eventually a sob escaped your mouth and you couldn’t stop. All those comments pummelled you into the ground, crush you completely. Each and every time you saw them they chipped away a little more and a little more and you were slowly realising how they were stealing your soul. They were stealing your happiness. They were stealing you away from Daniel.

You cried and cried. Thankful you could finally let it all out when you heard Daniel’s voice from the other side of the door. “I’m right here, baby.” And it hurt. It just hurt. “I’m not going anywhere.” He didn’t force you to open the door. He knew you needed space. He knew that you had to let it out, let out what you been holding in all day. You wanted nothing more than to open the door and cling on to him as if he was your oxygen but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Because as soon as you did it became his problem too. He would take it on and feel burdened by it and you didn’t want that. You remembered the first time the comments got nasty, the very first time you went to a race with him confirming the pair of you were together, how Daniel tried to block each and every one of the users who had left such terrible words aimed at you. He would take this on feel your pain. Because that’s exactly what it felt like, pain. All you had done was fall in love with someone who happened to be in the public eye.

Slowly, as the sobs subsided and you could control the tears you saw Daniel trying to wedge your phone under the bathroom door. He said nothing but you got to your knees and picked it up. It was on his Instagram and he just said “look at the story” and you did. It was words and you wiped your eyes clear of fogged up tears to be able to read it.

THIS HAS TO STOP!

I met and fell in love with an incredible, beautiful, talented girl who makes me happy every second of the day and I have chosen to share my life with her.

My private life is of no concern to any so called “fans”. Especially ones who post abusive, hurtful, downright vile comments about her (even tagging her so she can’t ignore them).

Treat others as you would want to be treated and be god damn respectful or I will no longer share any of my life with you, sign autographs, take photos or anything else if this abuse of my girlfriend doesn’t come to a stop.

He had posted it several minutes ago. Posted while you were sobbing your heart out. You read over the words multiple times. Each time stopping on something different. A stillness washed over you that he had done something like that for you. It was so public and hard to ignore now and he had lay real, boundaries for fans. You reached up and unbolted the door. Daniel sat just in front of it watching as it slowly crept open.

“I can’t promise it will it better, or make it stop completely, but I’m going to try.” And suddenly you felt a calm settle inside of you. It wouldn’t make the things you read about yourself or your relationship go away but hopefully you wouldn’t see them. You could mend the pieces they had chipped from you and you could just get back to being happy like you were before you had gone public. “The team just reposted it too…” Daniel said glancing down at his own phone in his hands.

“Thank you….” You could barely get the words out because you practically launched yourself across the space and got straight into his lap, your arms around his neck clinging on to him tightly. You felt safe there, in his arms. And as he held you equally as tightly you let the tension from the day begin to dissipate out of your body.

[fashionlandscapeblog]

For the past 2-3 years, the fashion industry doesn't 'proclaim' trends anymore, it proclaims whole 'aesthetics'. It's actually a genius and innovative marketing move, because instead of simply declaring faux fur a trend (as it always did), it declares a 'mob wife aesthetic', which is an own constellation of trends. So instead of just buying a faux fur coat, you have to buy the whole mob wife aesthetic starter kit (5-6 items? The more sales, the merrier). Same with 'clean girl' or 'old money' or 'quiet luxury'. The main thing is: Be everything but yourself.

Since the rise of social media and the now defunct democratization of fashion that came with it, the fashion industry has been struggling incessantly to control the narrative. These socalled 'aesthetics' have been things that have always existed, some of them even just last decade. The industry (read Vogue, Elle, etc) simply rebrands them as a marketing strategy.

This is all not just enabling even more unabashed consumerism, but it also makes people reject the idea of personal style and individuality. Anyone who follows these 'aesthetics' has a serious identity crisis.

Do we even know what a real person looks like anymore? Most of the beautiful people you see online or on magazines and media have been physically altered in one way or the other. If it isn't heavy photo editing, it is heavy plastic or cosmetic surgery, botox, eating disorders, breast augmentations, butliffts, microblading, all to fit the everchanging beauty standard or the trend of the day. Nowadays, it isn't even enough to be just skinny, because you need to spend hours in the gym working out those abs if you don't want to be labeled 'skinny fat'. (How abominable is this kind of thinking?)

The pressure is real. I think it is absolutely normal to have body or face dysmorphia nowadays or to feel depressed.

We are living in one of the most hostile times towards human beings in history, especially towards youth. Granted, before we used to have physical slavery, but the difference today is that the whole media, the whole culture, whole industries are dedicated to make us averse against our own selves on a daily or even minute-to-minute basis with social media. It is making us hate ourselves.

[lightofraye]

Hi there! You certainly didn't waste any time, jumping straight into your concerns.

With respect... I disagree. He might've had some fillers, but I believe any and all Botox might've been done for his depression (as I mentioned not too long ago). The lines around his forehead and other areas of his face would not have settled that quickly if it had been done for wrinkles.

(Someone I follow on Facebook had gotten Botox for wrinkles and it took her a good number of weeks, not a week or two, for it to settle.)

Because as you can see... his face is pretty similar here! He's always had those kinds of cheeks and lines when he smiles!

As for the rhinoplasty... I must disagree. I've searched high and low for any differences in his nose since Days Of Our Lives and honestly? I don't see it. Because look:

That nose has always been asymmetrical. I don't think he's ever bothered to get it fixed. But, ah, the red lines? Let's see!

Nope. No red lines that I can see. I would love to see where you're seeing them!

No worries! I've kept your name off the ask as you've requested!

And you're very welcome! I love Sign Language! It comes in so handy, especially in loud places or wanting to communicate across the room! No need to shout! Just sign and be 'heard'! Plus, it allows me to really read body language. It's amazing how many people miss that.

I absolutely hope to teach my son--his father is being combative about it, but I keep trying!--and my daughter is learning as well.

I wasn't sure if you wanted me to post the last part, your "private aside", so I'll just try my best to address it without actually, uh,... sharing what you said.

RE: Danneel. Yeah... she... she tries on many masks, pretending to be something she's not. But everyone can see right through her because she's such a bad actress. She's an awful mother, unable to parent without the nannies around. She's an awful wife; can't even support her husband in his worst moments (like the Rust shooting). She's a terrible producer; cue The Winchesters lawsuit. She's a terrible actress; cue her non-existent acting career. She can't even pretend to be a decent being without folks giving her the side-eye about all the "compliments" and "jokes" she slaps around.

She's offensive as a human being, honestly.

I just wish she'd go away.

Back to your main message: I understand we may disagree. I know some would say "Yeah, Jensen's had some work", and it may be he's had a little bit, due to Hollywood being what it is.

However, he didn't have nearly to the extent that Danneel's had--her face is unrecognizable to what it was like, way back when. She's even messed up her philtrum lines (the curvature between our nose and lips) so now it's all crooked because she's had so many botched fillers.

I mean, imagine looking at this face and thinking it's all natural:

I can almost guarantee some of that are filters from the photographer because no human skin is that smooth and untextured. Her lips? Fake and fillers. Her cheeks? Unnatural fillers. Her forehead? Botox and tons of facelifts. If she doesn't stop her eyes are going shrink in the creepy way from too many plastic surgeries. Hell, even her eyebrows are fake.

So yeah. Jensen has a long way to go before he ever reaches her extent and I hope he never does.

Thanks for the ask! (And don't worry. I may disagree, but I'm not offended! Everyone's free to disagree!)

[tonicandjins]

find your way back home | lee donghyuck — teaser

pairing: lee donghyuck | haechan x reader

word count: approximately 25-28k

genre: fluff, some smut, ANGST and nostalgia lots of it, basically a hannah montana the movie AU

warnings: smut, drinking, will talk about insomnia and depression

synopsis: nct’s haechan gets into a scandal after a night of drinking his ass off in hongdae, which prompts the management to put him in an indefinite hiatus. and it’s not like it’s the first time, because over the past months, haechan’s drinking problem had gone worse. hence, his parents send him back to jeju island for some healing time because his therapist thinks that maybe some time home would help. haechan laughs at the thought. if medication can’t, what can jeju island do? besides, he hasn’t been there in literal years.

excerpt:

“Please tell me this isn’t real.”

Mark Lee is only twenty-three, but with how his forehead’s skin is wrinkling, he might as well invest in several sessions of botox shots. He’s holding his phone up to Haechan’s face, as if bringing the device closer to the younger’s eyes would deny the article that Dispatch uploaded at five in the fucking morning.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Haechan denies, voice bored, tired. A shot of vodka would help now. Mark is making his head hurt, worse than the stupid hangover from drinking his ass off in Hongdae last night. “We might have done other things, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

Mark lets out a groan of frustration, throwing his phone towards Haechan, the device barely missing his face and landing on the carpeted floor. Haechan doesn’t even flinch even though it almost hit him.

“Haechan, what the fuck is going on, man?” Mark asks, demands to know what really is going on with his best friend, or whoever he’s speaking with now. “You know SM is going to kill you, right?”

Haechan shrugs. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?”

“You know they can!” Mark shouts, walking back and forth while Haechan remains seated on the couch, unbothered. “You’ve seen it happen! To many groups and many idols in the agency. You think you’re big time, huh? That just because you’re essential in both units, they wouldn’t send you to some dungeon?”

Haechan laughs bitterly. He reckons being placed in a dungeon would be much better than the hell he’s living in now. “Now that,” he mocks. “Would be the ultimate dream.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Mark says, pointing a finger to Haechan, enunciating each syllable so it goes through his skull.

But nothing can really make Lee Haechan budge anymore—not an expensive, hard device laterally thrown to his face, and not even his best friend (if he could still call him that) blatantly showing how disgusted he is with him—and he can’t really blame anyone. It used to be frightening to see Mark angry at something he did. Used to.

Haechan doesn’t really know what to say, so he chuckles bitterly and leans his head back so that it’s against the backrest, pondering whether it’s a good time to drink the bottle of vodka kept he’s been keeping under his bed.

“It’s funny because I don’t even know what having a nightmare feels like.”

x

author’s note: as usual, please let me know if you want to be on the taglist! :) this will be posted this coming weekend as long as i complete it. thank you!