Full Summary: There was this mysterious girl in town; a girl hiding behind a mask. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her; who is she? What is her name? He wants to know. He needs to know. He wants to see her smile… However, he does not know what he is getting himself into…

AMOS & CEL.

Am I Beautiful?
I

If there was nothing to ease his boredom, why even bother leaving his humble abode? Would there be something out there to interest him? As far as he could remember, nothing mattered. Therefore, anything, everything could not make him move his place. Well, he would squirm on his place on the sofa until he finds a much more comfortable position, nonetheless, as far as he could remember, he had not left his home, nor had he stepped a toe out of his front door.

Speaking of it, how long had he been lying there? Had it been months? Or perhaps years? He couldn't really remember, and his memories had been quite hazy, like an old film. Oh, and he had not been eating for a few days, perhaps that's the reason why can't seem to remember anything… Well, nothing mattered anyways… Why even bother?

His breaths came out even and relaxed, his pale lips were slightly parted as silent whispery breaths escaped him. His arm hung lazily by the side, while his other arm was conveniently placed over his eyes. Dirty blond hair fanned across the dirty-white pillow, his bangs all mussed up and it was shiny with grease. A faint trail of dried drool stroked his rather pale cheeks, which was also shiny with his facial oil. His shirt clung to his frail and somewhat lean body. Wet spots gathered by his armpits, as well around the rims of his collar.

He was quite dirty, as you have noticed. Well, his surrounding doesn't contrast with his appearance. Dirty clothes littered the floor, as well empty cans of liquor, empty bags of potato chips, some empty packets, and shards of broken glass. A discarded muddy sneaker found its way on top his rising chest, and wet socks hung from the lamp placed on the stand right next to the sofa. Unknown life forms had already taken shape on littered pieces of bread, and left over pizzas. A certain stench wafted around the room, it was rather strong that even the strongest person alive would cringe and cry.

As the dirty blond continued on with his dream-less and half-unconscious state, a knock had erupted from the front door. He had expertly ignored it by placing a pillow over his face, which then drowned out the irritating rapping. He grumbled under his breath, wondering who would—in the right of their mind—try to visit him after all the months of distancing himself from the outside world? Soon enough, the monotonous rapping had died down; however, loud banging replaced it, which was then followed by a rather loud thump. Hmm… perhaps the door finally decided to drop from its hinges?

There was a cry of surprise, and was then followed by some loud footsteps.

"Len!"

Len…? Oh, right, that was his name. How could he forget? Then again, no one had been calling him that…

"Oh, man! Oh—Ugh, this place stinks!"

Len's lips had dipped into a heavy frown, as his blond brows furrowed together in confusion. Who is this person shouting at him? He could have sworn he heard that voice before, but he can't pinpoint who… Ah, perhaps he was the mailman! Yes, that seems to fit this person…

"What the hell! What is this? Oh, god! You got mushrooms growing here!"

Mushrooms? Had Len been growing mushrooms? Ah, perhaps he was a Mycologist! Heh, he can't remember…

"What is this, I don't even… Seriously, Len, get up from… Well, from where ever you are…"

A scoff escaped Len; he's on the sofa, obviously! Cannot this mail-person see that? Nonetheless, Len decided to follow, for once. He pushed himself up; he somewhat felt lighter as he felt things dropping off of his form. He opened his eyes to reveal dull blue eyes. He focused his orbs on the pile gathering by his lap, he stared at it with awe. It was consisted of… Well, he can't recognize them… What is this anyway?, he asked himself as he delicately removed an unidentifiable thing he felt clinging to the side of his face. With a huff, he casually discarded to the side, where it joined the rest of dirty piles that littered the floor.

Then, he noticed a person standing by the side, with said person's back facing him. He tilted his head to the side, "Who are you?" he asked. He paused for a moment, as he took in the sound of his voice. He blinked, then laughed—he sounded so funny! Had his voice always sounds this way? Well, he must always speak! It was quite hilarious hearing his own voice!

The person jumped, and whirled around. "Len!" the person said out of surprise, then he blinked. "Why are you laughing?" he asked the laughing blond, he paused for a moment as he stared at Len. "Wait, you were under that?" the person had asked incredulously, as his face scrunched up with disgust.

Len paused from his laughter, and stared down at the piles covering his form. Confusion struck his features, and he looked up once again. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, stifling a giggle as he heard his voice once again. A thick silence engulfed and filled every corner of the room. There would be ticking, but the clock already died not just a few weeks ago. Len and the person continued to stare blankly at each other—Len took this moment to take in the person's appearance. He was a he, obviously. Next, he has dirty blond hair which was quite similar to Len's, he also has a vibrant pair of green eyes, and his skin has a nice hue of tan, contrasting to Len's paper white skin.

"Len," the person started, finally breaking the silence. He rubbed his temples with his forefingers with a rotating motion. "Oh, man! I can't believe this! I leave you for five months, and this is what greets me? Seriously, Len! What's going on here?" the person asked, his tone clearly held irritation.

Len continued to stare at him, his head slightly tilting to the side. He blinked for a few more times before opening his mouth. "Who are you again?"

Something finally snapped, and the person screamed with aggravation.

Leon was his name, as Len had found out, and Leon was twenty years old. He was also his cousin… Hmm, they do look similar…

As for the information Len had gathered—from pestering Leon with different questions ranging from why Len found himself inside a pile of dirty clothes and rotten food, down to Len's favorite boxers—, Len found out that he was seventeen, and he had been here for five months, eating only stocked foods, and that he barely took a bath for nearly two months. Though, Len still wonders how he forgot this kind of information. Perhaps he was stricken with amnesia? Well, he can't really remember…

"No food. No water… Eww, socks in the fridge? Really, Len, really… Spiders. Rats. Ugh, cockroaches," rambled Leon, as he weaved through the hurricane-stricken kitchen. Though, it was not literally stricken by a hurricane, but it damn well looked like one. Leon walked back to the living room, where Len was still located—on the pile of something, of course. Leon placed his hard-knuckles on his hips and glared piercingly at the blond boy. Len tried not to laugh, and he bit down his lips as he resisted the urge to point out that Leon looked like a housewife. "Len, what happened?" his cousin questioned, a thick vein throbbing within his skull.

Len giggled, "I'm wondering about the same thing," he replied, rather cheerfully. He had gotten over the sound of his voice, yet, he still felt a little giddy whenever he hears it.

His cousin groaned, slapping a hand on his face, and dragged his face down with his palm. He sighed through his nose, and his back straightened up. His chest was slightly puffed out, his broad shoulders were straight like that of an army's commander, and his face was straight with lines that showed authority and maturity.

"Len," Leon's voice was strong and firm, "We need to clean everything up. But first, we'll be starting with you. And god, you have no idea how awful you smell right now, so take a bath and get that filth out of your skin." Len raised his arm and sniffed himself, he blinked once again, wondering how he would smell awful when he can't seem to smell anything. His cousin noticed the lack of reaction from Len, a sigh then escaped his lips, "You're used with your smell that's why you can't smell it."

"Oh…" Len trailed off, mindlessly nodding his head. He continued to stare blankly at Leon, and not once moving from his place.

Leon groaned for the umpteenth time, "I guess you already forgot where your bathroom is," he mused, his tone heavily laced with irritation. "Come," he ordered, as his hand beckoned for Len. The blonde stood from his spot, his careless limbs knocked more piles into the already litter-filled floor, and he slowly made his way towards his cousin. Leon took him in, his eyes traveling from his messed up hair, to his grime covered toes. His nose scrunched up with disgust, as Len's smell pierced his nostrils. Leon slapped a hand over his nose, "Seriously, don't come near me. You smell worse than a pig."

Len merely stared at him blankly. Leon sighed once again, and shook his head. He motioned for Len to follow him, and they soon weaved their way through the piles, until they reached a hallway by the side of the room. Cobwebs and dusts hung from the ceiling, but the floor was less littered than the living room. As they walked down the hall, Leon stopped momentarily and faced a certain door which has Len's name on it. Leon gave Len an exasperated look, then he turned his eyes back at the door. He delicately picked up a boxer hanging on the knob and raised it in front of Len's face. Len stared at it, a soft giggle escaping him, and he tilted his head to the side. His cousin shook his head disapprovingly, he dropped the boxer to the floor, and they then continued their journey down the hall.

A few meters later, the pair arrived by a white door, which Len probably guessed was the bathroom. Leon opened the door for him, and gestured for the dirty blond to enter. "I just hope you still remember how to take a bath," Leon said, giving Len a piercing glare. Len decided not to voice out that he did indeed forgot how, and just entered the bathroom. He saw a switch by the side, and flicked it on, the lights flickered to life. Leon grunted as he spun on his heels, and he made his way back to the living room. As Len was about to close the door, Leon shouted, "Oh, don't forget to take your time!"

Len poked his head out of the bathroom. He stared down the hall, waiting for Leon to shout for something more, but he found no-Leon in sight. With a shrug of his shoulders, Len shut the door. He first looked around the ceramic white bathroom. It was rather plain, and boring. The tile beneath him felt cold against his skin, it was dry as well. Len approached the sink, it was white, and a medicine cabinet with a mirror was placed right above it. Len stared at his reflection, and took in his appearance.

His has slight long hair, which was dirty blond in color. Dull blue eyes stared at him, which was bloodshot and heavily lidded with dark rims. His skin was sickly pale, and his cheek bones were poking out of his skin. He rubbed on his chin, the hair had already decided to grow stubble, as well a faint mustache. Len decided that he looked quite funny. He then opened the medicine cabinet. As he raised his hand, he noticed, for the first time ever since he had woken up, there was a cloth wrapped messily around his wrist, it was all dry and hard with a dark brownish-red color. Len raised his wrist to his face for closer inspection, he took note how the cloth had hardened with the brown-red stain. He carefully unwrap the cloth around his wrist, only to reveal a deep ugly wound beneath it. The wound was still somewhat wet, but the edges had all dried up and slowly closing in.

Len wondered how he received such an ugly wound.

Finding no answer as he racked his brain for one, Len decided to ignore the wound, and continued on what he had been doing. He returned his attention back to the medicine cabinet. He immediately noticed a cup where a tooth brush was placed conveniently inside, he also noticed different bottles of pills, and most were empty bottles of aspirin. Next, he noticed a razor and shaving cream. He pulled said necessities out. Len stared at for a moment, racking his brain on how to use it.

If he remembers it correctly, he first has to wet his face. He opened the faucet, it sputtered for a moment, and then reddish water flowed out. The smell of rust wafted around the space's atmosphere. The faucet sputtered more reddish water, before finally turning into the clear crystalline water. Len washed his face, the cool cold water splashed against his skin. After that, he sluggishly wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He once again stared at his reflection, trying not to laugh at how stupid his reflection had looked.

He hummed giddily as he started to lather his face with the cream, rubbing the lather against his skin with a circular then upward motion. He paused and gave his reflection a long hard stare, and then followed by his high giggles. He decided that he was Santa Claus, only that he has dirty blond hair. "Ho, ho, ho!" he laughed playfully, as he returned on lathering his chin up. Next, he slowly started to shave the sides, taking his precious time as the razor slowly swept down his skin. After a few swipes, he would wash the blade before continuing on his rather intricate work.

Some more strokes later, Len washed his face once again. He straightened up, and noticed how smooth his skin had looked; it was finally clear of stubbles and whiskers. Also, he found his giddiness slightly dying down. Shrugging it off, Len slipped his shirt off, and kicked his pants and boxers to the sides. He walked towards the shower, and opened it into a full blast. The shower head, like what had happened to the faucet, sputtered reddish water—staining the floor with the brownish-red liquid. It sputtered for a few more moments before it finally turned clear. Deciding it wasn't rust water rushing out, Len jumped into the shower. Cold water pelted against his skin, making him shiver against the coolness.

He stared at the bottles of shampoos and conditioners, all the while searching within his mind on how to use said products. If he remembers it correctly, he uses soap on his hair, and shampoo on his skin… Wait, is it the other way around? Hmm… Perhaps he uses shampoo on his—genitals—or perhaps the soap is used for his teeth…? Hmm, this could take a while to figure out.

Well, Leon did said to take his time.

After a grueling hour of finally figuring on how to take a bath, Len exited the bathroom feeling quite refreshed, though a slight headache panged at the back of his head. He shivered on how the wind felt cool against his wet and exposed skin—not at all covered by a towel or any kind of cloth. Well, this is his house! Why should he feel shy walking around stark naked?

Len casually walked down the hall, trailing cold water behind as well wet imprints of his feet. He stopped by the door where he saw that has his name on it—it was probably his room… Well, he will never know until he checks, right? He opened the door, using much force needed that the wooden door banged against the wall, and bounced back right when Len was stepping in. Wood greeted his forehead with a loud bang, and the force had struck him to the ground. A string of profanities escaped his lips as he rubbed the throbbing part on his forehead.

After regaining control of his limbs and after the dizziness had died down, Len picked himself up from the floor and entered the room. He gave the door a hard glare, before slamming it close, using as twice force as before with intentions of injuring the door—completely forgetting the fact that injuries could not be inflicted to an inanimate object. The blond stepped away from the door, and he took in his room's appearance. Some bottles and cans of beer littered the floor, which was joined by discarded boxers and shards of what used to be a picture frame. Ripped paper—which Len had guessed as pictures—dirtied the floor, as well some burnt paper and ashes.

Len made his way across the room, making sure to evade any stray glass or soot. He soon arrived by his cabinet where he noticed things were overturned. Books—which he had guessed as school books—were ripped into half, and some where flung carelessly by the side. His vanity mirror has a huge crack by the middle, where he had guess caused by something thrown to it. He took notice how the cracks distorted his form, his face was turned into collages of… well… a collage of his face…

The blond then approached his wardrobe, and opened it. Only a few pair of clothes was left, and luckily, a few more pair of clean boxers. Len slipped on a pair of boxers, a plain black shirt with tribal-like designs, and a pair of dark blue basketball shorts. Len stared at his wound once again, and the pang by the back of his head slowly worsening. The blond took a clean handkerchief lying by the side, and messily wrapped it around his wrist.

He felt quite satisfied with his sloppy work, and just as he had entered, Len exited the room.

The blond then walked back to the living room where he had noticed that the piles had miraculously lessened. Also, Len finally noticed how horrible the room smelt. He cringed at the stench; he pulled on the cloth of his shirt and covered his nose with it. He skillfully weaved his way through piles of clutter and rotting food. He also noticed the mushrooms Leon spoke of just an hour ago. A loud thump, as well the sound of falling piles reached his ears. He turned his head to see a mountain of garbage falling and sliding down the floor—it very much reminded him of a landslide, only that it was made out of garbage instead of soil. Then, as if a zombie rising out of its grave, Leon poked himself out of the pile.

Len wondered where Leon got his gasmask and the hazard-suit that he was wearing. Leon shuddered, as he started to gather the trash and dumped it into a plastic bag that he had been holding with his other hand. His cousin then finally noticed his presence. He straightened up from his bent position, and scrutinized Len's appearance.

"You damn well took your time," Leon stated, as he glanced at the clock hanging by the side—only to realize that it already died not just a few weeks ago. His gaze then returned back to Len, "I guess you could help cleaning 'round here, but I only got one of these…" Leon gestured over his suit, "So, I guess you could buy some food down the grocery shop," he said with a thoughtful look on his face. Len squirmed from his position, as he felt himself itching out of the house and to get away from the stale air filling his lungs. Leon dropped the garbage bag by the side, and walked towards the kitchen.

Len watched with slight fascination and curiosity as Leon approached a black duffel bag placed on the table. Leon removed his gloves, and he started to fish within his bag. After a few moments of searching, Leon pulled out a rather thick leather wallet. He opened it, and fished out a huge margin of Yen. He gave Len a look of doubt, his blond brows furrowing together in deep contemplation.

Leon, then, pulled out a notebook and a pen from his bag. He started to jot things down the paper. Len shifted his weight between his feet, feeling quite impatient. As his cousin finished writing, he scanned over the list that he had written, before ripping it out and handing it towards Len.

"I've listed the things you need to buy," Leon explained. Len nodded his head, scanning over the list of products Leon had written down. "Here," Leon then took Len's hand and slapped the bills on his hand. "Remember, buy only what's on the list, got it?"

Len slowly nodded his head, slight confusion covering his features.

"Well, hurry now!"

Len hurriedly slipped on his slippers, and rushed out of the house—feeling a little frightened as he saw Leon's 'demonic' face. As Len passed through the door way, he needed not to slam the front door seeing that it had already fallen from its place not too long ago. As Len arrived at the front lawn, he saw the sky darkened by gray clouds, and small puddles of rain littered the ground. He momentarily stopped by the sidewalk, and his gaze lingered back at the house.

He squirmed uncomfortably on his position for a while, debating with himself whether to return back to the house and face Leon's slowly thinning patience… Or…

Len heaved a heavy sigh, "I don't know where the grocery shop is," he grumbled to himself, as he shifted from between his feet. He would return and ask Leon for direction, but the man was clearly irritated ever since he entered to the house.

"Ah, fuck!"

And… Based from Leon's shouts, it was not the best time to pester him. And besides, Len doesn't want to return to his house. It smelt like a horse died in there, coupled with human manure…

Len scanned over the paper Leon gave him, once again reading over the products. With a heavy sigh, Len pocketed the list and the bills Leon handed him. He turned on his heels, and mindlessly walked down the sidewalk. He'll just ask for directions, he told himself, as he slowly walked away from his house, also keeping in mind to remember the directions he took.

After a few while of mindless walking, and asking random people for directions, the blond found himself walking down an empty commercial district… Or so he thought. Apparently, not just a few meters away were people gathered by what seems to be an abandoned café. Feeling a little curious, Len walked over and tried to see what was luring the people to that old café.

"Move along now!" Len heard someone shout. He squirmed through the crowd and saw some police men gathered by the entrance. They were pushing the crowd out of the way, and some of the news reporter struggling and pestering them with questions. From behind the police, Len caught glimpse of red stains on the café's windows, and what seemed to be a body covered with a white cloth.

Then, elbows and flying limbs started hitting the blond teen. The blond stumbled out of the crowd, massaging a part by his abdomen where he received a good elbow. He cursed silently beneath his breath, knowing that he would soon receive a bruise from the blow.

"She strikes again," a voice said right by his side. Whirling his head around, Len saw a man by his early twenties standing besides him. Len observed the man; he had short brown hair, plain onyx eyes, and a pair of reading glasses sitting by the tip of his nose. And to complete his overall and somewhat 'professional' appearance, he was wearing a suit.

Feeling curious over the strange man's sentence, Len asked, "Who?"

The brunet glanced at him, his brows slightly rising. "The Kuchisake-onna," the man answered, his deep black eyes looking over Len. The brunet then pursed his lips, his mouth opening once more, "Don't linger 'round at night, kid," he said with a warning tone, and finally walking away, leaving the blond teen confused.

Len furrowed his brows together, and gave the scene once last look and decided to walk away.

And as Len passed a dark alleyway, he saw a person standing inside from the corner of his eyes. Slightly turning his head, Len saw a pair of dark blue eyes staring at him, which was then framed by beautiful golden locks. Len was entranced by her beauty; her dark depthless eyes lured him in—sending him into a depthless pit of awe, staring deeply into those eyes that held the darkest and most twisted of secrets. He had never seen something so beautiful, like an alluring rose surrounded by withered petals and lifeless flowers. However, disappointment filled his face as he saw the medical mask covering the rest of her cherub-like face.

The girl stepped out of the alleyway, her eyes never leaving Len's as she did so. The blond boy noticed how her white clothes were designed by strange red and vine-like designs, also accompanied by dark red splotches scattering across the white cloth. The girl slowly walked towards him, making his heart jump within his chest with excitement and anticipation. However, the girl walked passed him, leaving him quite dumbfounded and confused. As Len turned around, he saw that the girl already disappeared down the path, leaving nothing but a fleeting image of her beauty completely etched into his mind.

"Beautiful," Len whispered breathily, as he grasped his chest. He wonders if he'll ever see her again…

CEL: Hey guys! Count Every Lie, here! What? AMOS did tell you that this is collaboration between us! Anyway, what do you guys think of Len's characterization?

AMOS (A Moment of Sincerity): Len acts like he's under the influence of drugs… ANYWAY, no more A.N.s from you, CEL, starting next chapter.

So guys, just tell us about your opinions regarding this chapter! Also, constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Thanks!