Don't Have To Like It.
Disclaimer: I own nothing! O.o
A/N: Just B being a teen angst, no point intended at all D:
"Fuck the world!" B snarled, slamming the door to his room shut. He stalked over to the drawer with angry determination, and he stared at the mirror that was made with the dresser.
He didn't see a teenage boy with olive tone skin, he didn't see a delicate featured boy, he saw someone who he could never be.
"Damn it all!" He snarled, slamming his fist into the mirror. Shattered glass, along with blood drops, splattered over the dark wood of the dresser.
B only stood there, staring at the bloody mess. His hand ached, with shards of glass impaled into his skin. Biting his lip, he stalked over to his bed. He sat down heavily on it, holding his face between his hands.
"I hate my life…" He whispered. "I fucking hate it so much…"
As much as I hate this life, he thought bitterly, as he laid himself down on the bed. His body seemed smaller on the big bed, the white sheets being stained with blood as he let his injured hand lay beside him. I am going to have to deal with it…doesn't mean I have to like it….