Shallow
By Cyberwulf
Rated M
Summary: Diego's poisoning and coma have brought about drastic physical changes, and to her horror Mia realises she's no longer physically attracted to him, even though she still loves him with all her heart. Written for the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme.
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Whenever Mia had pictured Diego waking up, she'd thought about their tearful reunion as he came back to the world of the living. She'd imagined bringing him home from the hospital, taking him to bed for the first time in a year (two) (five), and the two of them going on with their life together like the whole thing was just an unpleasant detour on the road to happiness.
She hadn't pictured rehabilitation, how messy it would be, or how long it would take. She hadn't pictured half his face obscured by something out of a bad science fiction film. She hadn't pictured watching him sleep in his hospital bed on a Saturday afternoon and suddenly realising I'm not physically attracted to him any more.
It was impossible to miss his hair turning white, and Mia could live with that. But other, more gradual changes had taken place during the years Diego hung between life and death. She hadn't noticed his pallor until she saw him properly in the sunlight. When he started taking short walks around the ward and using the bathroom by himself, she noticed how the new pyjamas and sweats she'd bought him hung off his frame – his muscles had withered from five years of inactivity. At the same time they were feeding him lots of small high-calorie meals to build him up and get his digestive system used to solid food. Without proper exercise, there was only one place for the extra weight to go. Skinny limbs and a potbelly did not look good on him.
She still loved him. She loved him so much it brought tears to her eyes, but she couldn't imagine this Diego making her wet with just a glance. She couldn't imagine ripping this Diego's clothes off and riding him into the mattress until neither of them could move. She'd tried.
The rational part of her knew it was kinder to end things. There was no guarantee he would ever look the way he had before, and if she tried to continue on he'd eventually pick up on her lack of enthusiasm for sexy time. He already knew that he looked a mess. His appearance was so important to him – poor vain boy – that knowing his body turned her off would devastate him. She could lie and say her feelings had changed, that she was still very fond of him but five years was a long time, and let him be mad at her. It would be better than him hating himself, and she deserved some punishment for letting something so superficial come between them.
But the crazy-in-love part of her insisted they could get through this. Diego wasn't going home any time soon, and despite the occasional filthy double entendre – he was still Diego, after all – he wouldn't be strong enough for anything physical for a while either. He would start hitting the gym as soon as he was able, maybe even dye his hair black again, and she could fake it for a few months until he was back to his old self.
Damn it, Mia had always assumed she was better than this.
People got older, and bodies changed, and even if this hadn't happened, Diego would've lost his muscles and put on weight eventually. Just as one day her breasts would sag and she'd get wrinkles – and if future Diego were to start hinting about plastic surgery, she'd be distraught and wonder whether he loved her any more. But that was old age. They were both still young. He wasn't supposed to be simultaneously stick-thin and flabby, with white hair like a grandpa. And it wasn't even his fault –
(although a nasty little part of her insisted that it was Diego's fault, that he'd gone to interview Hawthorne alone and hadn't watched his coffee closely enough because she was just a harmless little kitten and Lana was right when she'd asked what the hell Mia saw in "that sexist, condescending douchebag")
– if he had simply let himself go, that was a conversation she could at least have honestly. She couldn't have it now, not when he was clinging to her while he tried to deal with not being able to see properly, his body not doing what he wanted it to do, and missing five years of his life. He had no family, and most of their old friends were dead or in prison. She was all he had in this horrible dark time. She couldn't walk away now, even if it would be kinder in the long run. She couldn't tell him "you look like a bloated corpse and that's not sexy, so good luck with rehab, I'm out of here."
Mia reached for his hand, as she'd done so many times over the past five years, and pressed it between her own. She didn't have to decide right this second. When he was stronger and in a better place emotionally, she could tell him a nice lie if she still wanted to leave. And who knew, maybe she'd get over herself and the spark would come back if she just gave it time.
I'll always love you, Diego, she promised silently. Even if we're not together. Even if you only think of me as the shallow bitch who broke your heart.