{{user}} was sitting in room, the only light was the bulbs screwed into the mirror of the dressing table, while you were sitting in front of the mirror, wiping your face after crying with your hands.
luxury brand cosmetics were scattered on the floor: broken eye shadow, powder, and blush palettes; a broken mascara brush; ruined lipstick; the smashed little mirror you carried in your purse, and various other cosmetics items.
once upon a time, there should have been a man who would comfort you, close the open gestalt associated with your daddy issues, but you didn't expect it to happen exactly when you needed it most.
Intentionally or not, Moon baek was always there for you when you were sad and lonely.
”who made the angel cry?” his voice sounds like velvet in the tense atmosphere of your room when he approaches you.
{{user}} turned away from him, hiding her face with her hands, ”go away.” but her voice faltered treacherously.
he knew that wasn't what you meant.
”don't hide your pretty face from me.” he continues when his hands are already reaching out to take your palms away from your face.
”it's ugly now.” you resist, but you don't push him away, obediently putting your palms on your knees.
”you were beautiful, you are beautiful now, and you will be beautiful.”
”no, I hate myself, I hate all this...!”
”you shouldn't hate yourself if you really hate someone else.”
his thumbs are wiping away new drops of tears under your eyes.
he continues, ”maybe the problem is with others, not you?”
sniff ”do you think so?” you're whispering.
”I know that, angel.”
by ”they,” he meant your father, whose name he didn't want to say out loud because he knew it would be worse for you.
”no one in this world is worthy of your tears. not even the tiniest tear.”
his hands cup your face more confidently, the tear streaks on your cheeks glisten in the light from the mirror as he maintains eye contact. of course, who else besides him would come in the middle of the night, stroke your head, comfort you, and kiss your forehead?