Summary: Beauty said to the Beast: "Take away my innocence; and make me in all colours."

Note: I have no clue what it is, but I am unable to write RocketxTia although I do really like it. I mean, the canon cannon to me has been exhausted. After the relationship begins, the in between of the story is already close to an ultimatum. I wouldn't want to ruin them. But mucking around with Tia and other people? I feel like I can get away with it, for some reason, because their stories are unwritten. Either that or I am mentally unstable. Hooah.

Warning(s): Mentions of the ugliness of the beauty industry, some one-sided love, a fair amount of angst strangely enough and a dose of certain madness.

Disclaimer: I do not own Galactik Football.

Stain Me Gorgeous

Beauty said

to the Beast:

"Take away my innocence;

and make me in all colours."

The Beast replied:

"I am but one monster,

and beauty demands many

in order to be created."

Beauty laughed.

She didn't want it.

Tia didn't want to be one of the girls with spiderleg eyelashes who wore too much mascara, with smudged crimson lips which betrayed where they had been the night before to get their newest jobs or fixes. She didn't want to be someone with forced flawless smiles fixed by people who convinced you that you needed to look better. She didn't want to be one of the girls which barely ate, thinking up a thousand and one brainless excuses for it. She had long convinced herself that she was better than that. Better then them.

But even so; when she woke up with her near white hair roughed up, her teeth only bearing one gap from a removal a few years back and saw a magazine straight from the press on the table where Mei had left it, she couldn't help but wonder if rather than having her hair messy she would actually enjoy being as messed up as one of the airbrushed models who didn't need their smallest flaws to be removed. Then she would look in the mirror, and give up. Her face had a strong jaw line and a pointed chin, which had a small dimple. Her eyes were murky green instead of bright blue and bold, staring out at her from the covers of each new shoot Mei showed her. Her nose wasn't sharp like Mei's, jutting out at just the right angle and neither were all of the bones in her body. Her nose was roundish, and her ribs didn't show. Her wrist bones didn't stick out. Her ankles were small and gangly. But still, she would have to convince herself every time. She really didn't want to look like that.

Then D'Jok went a ruined all of that. There was some reason he had been there that morning. He told her that Rocket had been looking for her, or something like that. She'd been in a thin strapped shirt and shorts she had slept in, and for once, she needed it. She needed to be behind the lens instead of recording from behind it. She needed approval, for once. Just once, she told herself, and then everything would be back to normal. She'd be fine, and the magazines that had begun to pile up on her desk that she'd somehow convinced Mei not to throw out would be disposed of by her own hand.

"D'Jok, do you think I'm pretty?" She asked, distracting him from his flow of speech. There was a silence a moment, and she waited for something. Anything, from somebody other than Rocket because he didn't seem to care what she wore either way half of the time. Other than Mei, who would always be the model, the perfect one who wouldn't ever understand how self-conscious she sometimes felt. Other than Yuki, who was odd and cute and didn't really understand either. D'Jok seemed to be finding it hard to breathe, a moment.

"No. Yes. I'm not sure. Ask Micro-Ice?" His answer was blurted and rushed, like he found the question itself embarrassing. He rubbed his head, the sign that he was nervous to all those on their team. Not that he would ever admit it, being as stubborn and pigheaded as he was. She looked in the mirror, and agreed. She looked around lazily, and then smiled lightly.

"Have you ever seen Mei apply makeup?" She asked, raising one hand in an attempt to flatten her hair slightly. He looked even more perplexed at the second question, although the awkwardness about him had disappeared quickly. She looked directly at him, and he seemed to be unsure of how to answer in case it affected him in some way. He seemed to have noticed his last answer had been rather tactless, and not at all helpful.

"Yes. You haven't?" He seemed disbelieving. She wave a hand in the air elegantly, as if to blow off the comment. Of course she hadn't, or at least at the time she hadn't paid much attention to how she made everything look as perfect as she could manage. She had been wishing she had asked about it for a while, but it seemed stupid to ask. She smiled again, although it was cheerier. The next few words came out quietly.

"Could you do mine for me?" She looked away, concentrating on the magazines on the desk. He probably thought she was crazy as it was, judging from the way she could feel him freeze up where he stood. She slid them off quickly to the side, hoping that they had landed in the bin. She looked around again, and he was clearly trying to think of the right words to fill the gaps he had left as well as to repair the damage he must have felt he had caused to the little self-esteem she already had. He swallowed, and his adams apple bobbed in his throat sharply.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" He finally asked a question of his own. She nodded, and drew her legs into her arms. He seemed to finally notice the copious amount of free cosmetics Mei had acquired and passed on that were spilling out of a drawer on her desk, for a look which made her feel as though she was forcing him to resign to some sort of designated fate came across his face. He edged towards her gently, where she sat on a stall and moved to her side to sit gingerly on the side of her bed.

She was surprised at his accuracy, despite his shaking hands. He managed to coat her in some pale foundation to match her skin tone and blend it well with a brush, with mumbles of that was how he remembered Mei doing it every few seconds and an embarrassed look He then even managed to put some darker colours over her cheekbones, defining them quite well. Then when she thought she could ask no more, he coated her eyelids in some dark powder and dragged out her eyelashes carefully with a mascara brush. He almost forgot one thing, however. She looked good, but felt slightly disappointed.

"You didn't finish it." She said, hearing the sadness in her voice echo slightly in the air. D'Jok seemed to notice it, but his breath hitched again like he felt it was a bad idea. She couldn't understand why really, not even when he told her why. His reason wasn't helpful or explanatory, and she found it inadequate.

"You know how to put on lip gloss, don't you?" He said, seeming to avoid giving her a real thing she could listen to. It was unlike him to start doing something, and not to finish it. Once something had been started; be it a match, a film or even a game, he had always seen it through to the end. So she couldn't understand why he didn't want to finish things then.

"Oh, okay." She frowned, looking at the tube in his outstretched hand. He released it as though it were a ticking bomb, as softly as he could manage. She slid the stick out of the tube, and wondered if she used it how she thought. It must have been instinct when she lifted it up and coated her lips carefully. The gloss shimmered on them, and looking at herself in the mirror, albeit noting her clothes were really pyjamas and it was hard to look good in them she finally felt pretty. Pretty like Mei was. She looked around, and smiled at D'Jok for the third time that morning and was about to thank him when it happened.

He leant forward and kissed her. The spiderleg eyelashes he had painted on reached up as her eyes opened wider in shock, and when he backed away and began to make his way out she finally realised that the gloss was smudged and the evidence remained on him as well. She raised her hand, feeling the sticky watermelon gloop beginning to be removed beneath her fingers. It was strange, her lips being so dry and uncoated. So ugly again. She could have cried, but she bit the lips together and tried to not unpack her heart with mere words.

"Why?" She finally managed to whisper, as he lifted his hand to open the door and leave. She couldn't understand it. He didn't think she was pretty. He was in love with Mei. She loved Rocket, she really did. So she couldn't think of a reason at all. Not one.

"Because I don't think you're pretty. I think you're beautiful." He muttered, and then left opened the sliding door and exited quickly with a mumble of something sounding like a mention about Rocket being waiting all that time. She bit her tongue, savouring the taste of blood when she felt the soft pink flesh break. She deserved a little suffering. She looked at the magazines in the bin, the barely-used tubes of makeup on the desk and her reflection in the mirror that stared back at her just like one of the girls on the front cover. She hated it.

But even so, she managed to move her shaking fingers carefully enough to pick up the mascara tube to reapply it just as she felt D'Jok had done it, and then she even went so far as to retrieve the same tube of bright red watermelon lip gloss just to coat another glossy layer of it on her lips. All that was missing was the twig thin limbs, and then she'd look perfect. But she didn't want that, not at all. Football players needed to be healthy, especially those who had to work as hard as their team did. That didn't stop her from skipping breakfast that morning and heading straight for the treadmill. One meal didn't matter. Not if she wasn't going to become like them. It wasn't like she would. She didn't want to be one of them. No, she didn't want it. She didn't, not at all. She didn't want to be one of them. She didn't want to be a whore. She could say it a million and one times over to herself, and still whatever conscience inside of her she had left after the incident with the redheaded striker repeated a single word over and over enough to drive her insane. If she wasn't already.

Fake, fake, fake.

D'Jok knew just how to ruin things.

She'd decided that when a week after the incident, Mei had sobbed to her that she couldn't understand him anymore. That he was being cold. That she didn't feel like he loved her. When he'd stormed in after hearing that to the suite the girls were sitting in, and took out his rage on Tia's new favourite object. The mirror shattered into pieces, and as Mei looked distraught he had lent over and whispered into her ear.

"Your reflection was a liar." He said. The cuts on her tongue imprinted on her teeth seemed to sting a little when he said that, as if to ask if it was just her reflection instead of all of them in the relationship. Or what was left of it. Rocket was being as silent as normal, not even seeming to notice the little changes she was making to herself. If he noted them at all, he kept quiet. Mei thought it was a change for the better, and Tia didn't dare to tell her what happened. D'Jok, as she had expected, was being harsh and barely understandable to Mei and cold towards her as though it had been her fault. She couldn't bring herself to care. The only relationship she had anymore was the new one between her and the mirror, her and the exercise, her and the makeup. Her and the perfect lip gloss Rocket wouldn't touch.

"Get away from me." She snapped as quietly as she could manage, staring at the shattered pieces of her mirror. She had heard that ages ago they called it a looking-glass. She could understand that. They showed everything, and they were so breakable. Mei still didn't seem to understand, because she began to shriek at her boyfriend. Or, as Tia had begun to think of him, Mei's almost-lover. A relationship built on lies couldn't last. She would know.

"Who, Tia or whatever you are now?" D'Jok asked. She kept her usual reserved calm that she had before the obsession, and looked at him with two pale plucked eyebrows raised. She lifted a bony arm and circled her hand airily as though she was agitated with him, and she was barely managing to disguise it. The mood did not go unnoticed.

"Don't talk to me like I'm the monster. You've reduced your girlfriend to tears. You're the one who ruined everything, not me." She hissed. Mei was beauty, he was beast. He had no right to treat her as though everything were her fault. Before he could retort just as harshly, the door opened. Rocket, Micro-Ice, Ahito, Fran, Yuki – they were all looking at the three of them. Then finally, Rocket seemed to realise what was going on. He barely mustered the words.

"Something isn't right." It probably wasn't. Even though they were arguing, D'Jok and Tia were in close proximity. Mei was sitting on her bed, looking quite unsure of what to do and with tears still spilling from her eyes. Maybe it was because Rocket was smarter than her or more observant, but he seemed to notice D'Jok had his hand raised as if he were about to grab Tia by the neck and throttle her to death with some sort of passionate look in his eyes he couldn't quite understand. Then, as if by magic, the equation was solved and D'Jok seemed to understand the conclusion that his Captain had come to.

"You're wrong." D'Jok announced calmly, forcing a softer expression on his face and moving away from the blonde girl. Her lips were quivering. Tia didn't understand it. He hated her and liked her. He was the most perplexing person she had ever come across. Rocket seemed to notice her upset, but didn't direct any anger he held at her. Neither of them often raised their voices, but Tia wasn't Tia anymore and Rocket finally seemed to grasp that.

"Don't you dare touch her again." Rocket seemed to threaten with his words. D'Jok held a defiant air still, but said nothing. If Tia were younger and a believer in fairytales any longer, she would have felt her heart flutter at his faux gallant words. But there were no such thing as fairytales. There were beginnings and stories in between and finally messy endings. The Princes always got lost along the way, if the Princesses didn't run away or try to save themselves first by any means possible.

She shot up from her seat, ignoring the pieces of broken mirror and stepping over them as best she could. Walking on shards couldn't be any worse than walking in the stilettos from the catwalk, she reasoned each time she felt a small piece of mirror embed itself in her foot. Rocket was telling her to stop and D'Jok stared. Everyone other than him looked away. Everyone. Because it was such an ugly messy sight for her to fall from grace in such a way. It took two to betray trust in a barely surviving relationship. She reached for the nearest pumps Mei had taken her shopping for (probably thinking she'd never really appreciate) and the nearest fashionable coat to fling over the outfit before exiting the room. Rocket didn't try to stop her, and she doubted he'd ever trust her again either. She hadn't wanted it to be like that. She loved Rocket, she truly did. She choked on a subdued cry.

As soon as she had turned a few of the empty streets, she sat under a lamp post on a cold metal bench and sobbed. The mascara ran from her eyelashes, streaking down her foundation-coated cheeks and her glosses lips began to fry as she took deep breaths. It's was all down to D'Jok. It was his fault. He had ruined everything. He was the monster. If he hadn't smashed it, the mirror would have reflected it. Just like it showed other ugly things. She heard somebody running around, and tried to hide herself. She didn't like being ugly. She didn't like being pretty anymore either though, so she didn't know where she could fit.

"Innocence is a beast. Monsters know that sort of stuff." A half-mumbled excuse from a too-familiar voice. She didn't want him to be the one running after her. Her eyes met his for a moment, and D'Jok held up a compact mirror in his hand. His breath was pouring out as steam and he was clutching his stomach. She frowned at him before she spoke into the furry rim of the jacket to hide her face, although it muffled her words. She didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. He'd destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"Innocent? You made me anything but that. You stole a kiss, you ruined my relationship, and now you even have the gall to run after me and call me that. You're just brilliant, aren't you?" She spoke quickly and was barely coherent, but he seemed to understand. He edged towards her warily, as though he were afraid of setting her off again. Like she was an alarm, wanting to scream her head off. He soon reached her side, and slid into the seat next to her.

"No, it was the magazines and my lie. None of that. I should have just told you from day one that I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met, without losing weight or using makeup or any of that rubbish." He told her, touching her head gently as if to see if she would recoil under his touch. When she didn't react, he carefully moved his large bear-like paw over her small fist and kept it there gently.

"Don't make excuses." She replied, her voice breaking as she burst into tears again. He pulled her carefully into his chest, and ignored the fact that she was soaking his shirt. She had lived with a clear conscience before him, everything she did that was questionably immoral was for a reason and so she felt no remorse for any of her actions. But when he agreed to paint her, she hadn't realised things were going wrong. He'd coloured that blank slate in bright exotic colours of beauty and betrayal, and she couldn't understand why despite her anger at it she felt as though she'd been stained gorgeously.

"For me or you?" He questioned. She shifted her weight, and leaned over to take the compact mirror still clasped in his other hand. Giving it a disgusted look, she hurled it across the street where it shattered into pieces. She didn't need it. She'd never needed it. All she'd wanted was to be a little prettier. She'd never wanted the mess that was created in the process. Her voice cracked a little more as she answered. She was finding it hard to take.

"Both of us." With that, he kissed her softly and carried on. He trailed soft lips down her collarbone, as though she were a delicate thing. Very fragile and perfect, although she was already torn into a million pieces and she had become so flawed she found it hard to find herself. She couldn't even be bothered to stop him. She didn't want to, really. Rocket didn't want her, and Mei would hate her already and D'Jok looked as though his heart would burst if he showed it to her anymore. She hadn't wanted it at all. She hadn't wanted him. But she had got him, and right then she didn't want him to let go. For the first time, she kissed him back.

He tasted of her newest excuse.

She wanted it.

Tia wanted to be one of the girls with spiderleg eyelashes who wore too much mascara, with smudged crimson lips which betrayed where they had been the night before to get their newest jobs or fixes. She wanted to be someone with forced flawless smiles fixed by people who convinced you that you needed to look better. She wanted to be one of the girls which barely ate, thinking up a thousand and one brainless excuses for it. She had long convinced herself that she was better than that. Better then them. But she had been wrong and although she wanted to be one of them right then all over again she couldn't be. She wouldn't let herself do it all over again. Not for anything.

So when she woke up the next morning on the bench too early for even the cleaning staff to be on the streets she had removed herself from his warmth and collected the pieces of shattered mirrors. She left him there and crept back to the hotel where nobody was waiting to judge her and collected the magazines and makeup before returning. The shops were beginning to open, and she convinced someone to let her in for a box of matches. Taking the odd assortment of objects back to where D'Jok was still sleeping, she had put them all in a pile and although it was probably a crime she set alight to them. Then just for good measure, she took off her shoes and coat as well. The inner soles were caked with blood, and her feet ached even more, but it didn't matter right then. All that mattered was that she wanted to be Tia again, who didn't hurt others or ruin things or consort with a monster.

"You look great." That was the unintelligent start of the morning comment from the waking male rubbing his eyes behind her. She turned to look at him. That was false enough. Her feet were still cut up and she could feel a shard of mirror still in one part of her right one, and neither of them would probably be any good for kicking a ball around for at least a few weeks. Her makeup had worn away, leaving only faint marks where it had been and blotchy eyelashes where the mascara had run with her tears and caught on the ends of them. She beamed.

"You're a liar. I feel it, though." She told him, tipping her head in an indication to the burning objects. D'Jok blinked, clearly taking the strange sight in. Apparently fazed, he stood up and kicked off his strangely coloured trainers to expose a pair of mismatching socks. He took them to her and put them next to her feet in an oddly courteous way, as though they were a strange form of gift. She supposed it made him feel like a gentlemen, even if his feet were double the size of her own so she slid her feet in to the unfashionable shoes without complaint and accepted the hooded jacket he threw to her. She slid it on, relishing the size as it smothered her in its mounds of fabric. She'd never noticed how much bigger he was then her until then, and she didn't find him repulsive in the slightest bit.

"So, what are we going to tell them?" D'Jok asked. He seemed to understand what she wanted to say next, although she was trying to avoid it. She held out her hand to him, and he took it before they began to turn down the streets to get back. Everyone would be awake by then, and explaining everything truthfully wouldn't mean anything. They knew it was a secret.

"We had a really big fight because you thought you didn't like Mei anymore and you were wrong?" She mumbled inquisitively. She had never been a brilliant liar, and thinking of things to fill in the bits that nobody had seen was troubling. D'Jok seemed to mull over the idea a moment, and then his grip on her hand tightened.

"But I love you." He whispered, sounding scared and sincere. She carried on looking straight ahead, and her hand left his silently. She could say it too. She could say it a thousand times over. If loving and wanting were the same things. She stared at the door to the hotel. She was going to go back to Rocket. She was going to make excuses still. But not to D'Jok.

"I want you too."

I wonder why in everything I write I end up completely destroying Tia. I really love her, and I love Rocket a lot too. As well as Sinedd and Ahito, but let's not get into that. My point is she always seems a bit wrong. It's not like she doesn't want to look pretty but Mei is the vainer one, and she does get angry and shout sometimes. Anyway, yes. I've pretty much buried her.

Reviews are loved. :)