The chocolate-haired Spaniard was clueless about his girlfriend's self-esteem issues. He had always thought that she was such a happy, go-lucky type of girl that he never really paid attention to any sort of hidden meaning behind her actions – the way she would refuse to progress past simple-minded kisses and how she never wanted to go swimming with him when it was hot outside because she would always cover something up with another suggestion, like go to the movies instead of going to the beach or anything.
It wasn't fair to her whatsoever that Antonio was so perfect, what with how lean and subtly masculine he was beneath his shirt. His smile was electrifying and brought her knees to a quivering mess while her poor little heart begun to make cracks in her ribs; it was just so, so, so unfair how she had to look the way she did.
[Name] was a bit on the pudgy side, desperately attempting to become skinny and perfect like every other girl and movie star, and her face was a bit rounder than his sharp, defined features. And sure, her thighs would touch together whenever she walked or sat down – that was the main reason she rarely wore shorts of any kind. She felt ugly and large. Her height was meager and her weight came in at around 136 pounds – was that unhealthy? She didn't know.
More often than not, she would find herself asking what a perfect Adonis like Antonio was doing with a round roly-poly like her. He could get any other woman he wanted and he chose her out of all of them. But why? She wasn't super-model pretty or the most gorgeous being that's ever graced the earth, nor was she oozing of sex appeal – so why?
[Name] would stare at herself in the mirror, scowling at her flabby stomach with her tank-top riding up to the lining of her bra. Small, short fingers trailed across her skin and loathed that belly that hung just barely over the lining of her sweat-pants. [H/c] bangs poked around in her vision until she blew them off the side, scowl still present.
She was hideous.
"Amor? Where are you? I brought Chinese food like you wanted!"
The front door to her apartment opened and the jingling of keys clanked together as her boyfriend stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with his foot.
[Name] didn't answer him, but kept her eyes trained on her own repulsive reflection.
"[Name]? What are you—?"
Antonio's head peeped around the corner of the bathroom doorway and his mouth was pulled into a curious frown while his brows rose into his hairline. His eyes befell on [Name] staring at herself, a faįade of bitter resentment darkening her features. Her face was something he never wanted to see in his entire life; the raw hatred that burned in her [e/c] eyes – green flecks of jealousy licking her irises.
Taking a ginger step into the bathroom, the Spaniard placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her to turn around and face him, taking the sides of her face in his hands. She didn't lift her gaze to his own, but her hands found their way to his wrists and simply let herself hold them tight. A kiss was placed to her forehead and warmed cascaded down her nerve-endings and ruptured her bones from the inside out, engulfing her in warmth.
The very warmth that made tears spring to her eyes, very unwanted and vulnerable tears. Suddenly all the barriers she's been trying to hold up against him broke down at the simplest of gestures and she begun to cry, making her face become as red and splotchy as a rash out-break on her skin. She felt so naked, so open to all these stupid, insecure emotions it all just spilled over her wall of tolerance.
"Wh-why are you…even with me, huh? I'm n-no where nea—r as gorgeous as like, ev-ver other woman at o-our university. I-I'm not—"
"I love you, that's why, querida."
He tried, placing soft kisses to her face and the salty stains on her skin. Antonio's answer was so sure, so solid that it made [Name] cry a bit harder. It felt like he was lying – but also like he was telling her the honest truth, because she knew he loved her. Why though was still the question.
"Because you're you, [Name]; I don't want anyone else other than you."
Antonio pressed his mouth on the tip of her reddening nose and slid his fingers through her [h/c] hair, pushing back her tangled bangs.
"Shhh, it's okay, mi amor. It's okay."
He hummed in her ear as her arms found their way awkwardly around his waist, squeezing to make sure all of this was real and that he was really there. Burying her face into his red-clothed shirt, [Name] believed that his words meant something, for now.
"I'm hideous. I'm ugly. I'm repulsive."
She chanted to herself against his abdomen, finding her short height unable to reach comfort in his chest. Large, hot hands stroked her hair as if he were a parent lulling his child into comfort.
"You're beautiful. You're my everything, hermosa,"
[Name] believed him, she wanted to believe him. But, she couldn't bring herself to rise from her ashes and smolder her fire that quelled in the pit of her aching, self-loathing heart.
But, for now, she'd fall into his embrace and hang onto his words.