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He's always been pristine. That's something that his father has always prided him in, always bragged about when he was growing up to various business ventures and potential new connections. Daseul has always been the kind of son that any parent would fall over themselves to talk up. A true prodigy with the violin, straight A grades since kindergarden, polite, well enunciated, and poised. A boy who always knows the difference between serving chopsticks, cooking utensils, and which knife to use at what point of a Western-style meal.
These are the kinds of things that go through his head as he stands in front of the mirror, glancing behind him in his reflection to make sure that he's well and truly alone. There's not a soul around, and it makes his heart race a little; he lifts his shirt, just for one more look before he goes on stage. Behind the curtains, hundreds of people waiting in silence to listen to him play; paid for from his father, of course, but he doesn't mind. It isn't fun for him, it's just something he has to do, something he always does.
As he lifts his shirt over his waist, the skin starts to grow mottled and grey, with dark spots of yellow, red, and purple. Some of them are in the shape of fingers, hands, or the soles of shoes, but most are nothing more than swollen shapes going up his ribcage. A worrying sight if anyone else were to see, he knows, but in his eyes the shapes only thrill him and make his heart feel tight with excitement. He bites his lip just to make sure he stays grounded in reality; he has a job to do after all.
Hearing the door behind him open, he quickly lowers his shirt, tucking it back into his pressed slacks, picking up his violin, and following the stagehand out and leaving her behind as he takes his place on centre stage. There's only a few moments for him to survey the crowd as he tucks his violin under his chin and lifts the bow. Father is front row, of course, with Minseo folded politely beside him; the picture of perfection, their museum-worthy family.
Then he catches someone else out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment he feels his heart stop, and everything slows down for a moment, if only to give him enough time to process. Of course, he's here again. He's slouched in his chair, legs spread, watching with an unimpressed expression and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.
And it makes Daseul's heart race.
These are the kinds of things that go through his head as he stands in front of the mirror, glancing behind him in his reflection to make sure that he's well and truly alone. There's not a soul around, and it makes his heart race a little; he lifts his shirt, just for one more look before he goes on stage. Behind the curtains, hundreds of people waiting in silence to listen to him play; paid for from his father, of course, but he doesn't mind. It isn't fun for him, it's just something he has to do, something he always does.
As he lifts his shirt over his waist, the skin starts to grow mottled and grey, with dark spots of yellow, red, and purple. Some of them are in the shape of fingers, hands, or the soles of shoes, but most are nothing more than swollen shapes going up his ribcage. A worrying sight if anyone else were to see, he knows, but in his eyes the shapes only thrill him and make his heart feel tight with excitement. He bites his lip just to make sure he stays grounded in reality; he has a job to do after all.
Hearing the door behind him open, he quickly lowers his shirt, tucking it back into his pressed slacks, picking up his violin, and following the stagehand out and leaving her behind as he takes his place on centre stage. There's only a few moments for him to survey the crowd as he tucks his violin under his chin and lifts the bow. Father is front row, of course, with Minseo folded politely beside him; the picture of perfection, their museum-worthy family.
Then he catches someone else out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment he feels his heart stop, and everything slows down for a moment, if only to give him enough time to process. Of course, he's here again. He's slouched in his chair, legs spread, watching with an unimpressed expression and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.
And it makes Daseul's heart race.