Chapter Text
Ken is sad. A very mopey, gloomy, handsome Ken who spends most of his days crying in his Mojo Dojo Casa House.
He had been spending his week wallowing in the pain and grief of his former self and who he thought he was… he was also very heartbroken. Ken had spent his whole life living and breathing for barbie to just look at him. He only ever had a good day when barbie looked his way.
Creating the patriarchy in Barbie Land was just his way of trying to get barbie be with him. Of course, that wasn’t the best way to go about it. (He thankfully knows that now.) And he obviously lost interest once he learned the patriarchy wasn’t all about horses.
But even when Barbie was pretending to listen to him play guitar at her, he got a glimpse of what he wanted all that time. For Barbie to pay attention to him; to want to be in his space. But alas, it was all apart of her and weird Barbie’s plan to take back Barbie Land.
But he couldn’t be mad at her for it, I mean he brainwashed all her friends and took over her home. So when she and the other Barbie’s overthrew him and the other Ken’s, it was understandable and not much of a surprise either.
Barbie told him then, in the Mojo Dojo Casa House that,“maybe it’s Barbie, and it’s Ken.”
Because she wanted him to be his own person…without her. And that made Ken feel sort of abandoned. It’s not like Barbie was really there for him in the first place, unfortunately. But she was still the one constant thing-person he could depend on. For his whole life she was the only person who he wanted to lay eyes on him-even if was only to say “hi, Ken” once everyday.
“But Barbie, I only exist in the warmth of your gaze…without It…I’m nothing.”
He sobbed.
“I’m nothing without you.”
The words wracked through his bones, rattling him to his core. He was nothing without her. Without Barbie, who even was Ken? Barbie came first, she was the original. He came after her-he was literally made for her. To be her accessory. It’s always been, Barbie and Ken. He’s always after her. Because without her-he has no meaning.
Weird Barbie explained to Ken that Barbie leaving for the real world was the best thing for her to do. That it was the only good choice for Barbie.
“Ken, if she had stayed she wouldn’t have ever been the same anyways-she’s changed, and that’s a good thing. She’s finding out who her “Barbie” is.“
Ken slumped into the heart shaped bed. He kept many of the “Barbie” elements in his Mojo Dojo Casa House. Ken convinced himself her vanilla scent was still in the sheets. A comforting and tear inducing smell. He curled up with the fluffy pillows and felt more tears sink into the soft mattress.
Weird Barbie patted his shoulder in attempts to console him.
“Just like how you have to find out who your “Ken” is.”
But that was just it. Who even was “Ken”? He was Barbie’s pretty boyfriend. That’s who he was supposed to be. They never really acted like a couple-but that’s who he found his identity in.
Weird Barbie called it “being co-dependent.” Which, with a little more explaining, Ken came to understand that-that meant he was putting all of his self worth into Barbie, and what Barbie wanted-only ever feeling complete by Barbie’s side and Never feeling whole on his own.
Weird Barbie said that “to start the road to healing, you must take the first step. Learning what about you was Codependent and what was independent.”
Ken hasn’t really started that process yet. Like I said in the beginning, Ken is sad. A very mopey, gloomy, handsome Ken who spends most of his days crying in his Mojo Dojo Casa House.
Some of the other Kens tried to cheer him up by dropping by with tales of their fun adventures they had that day, and he’d just nod along and give them a small, forced smile. Sometimes they’d bring him horse shaped gifts. The horses bring a bit of light back into his eyes-but the stories about how cool and awesome the other kens days went are less appreciated.
He gets the sentiment, that the Kens are trying to cheer him up and make him laugh at the antics they got up to that day, but it just makes Ken think about how he could be doing those things with them. Instead, he’s stuck in the same bed he’s been in for the past month since Barbie left.
Weird Barbie says he’s “bringing the mood down” in Barbie Land, but Ken could care less. He just wants to wallow in his pain until he eventually rots away, becoming nothing more than a pile of tears and melted plastic. Though, he isn’t plastic anymore.
Ever since he went to the real world he’s been different. Not like how Barbie was…but he had skin, and well, tears.
He had never cried before this. He had never felt this devastatingly sad before. He couldn’t even say that he had ever felt “sad”. Even after being rejected night after night by Barbie. He was still optimistic that the next day would be the day. And when that day came and went with another rejection, he tried again.
He was tired of trying. Of trying so hard to be noticed only to be an annoyance. Trying to look perfect in hopes that she’d see how cool he was so that she’d love him-at least want him. He didn’t want to try anymore.
He didn’t care that he was “bringing the mood down.” Who cares about that anymore anyway? He rolled over onto his side and clutched the fuzzy pillow closer to his chest.
He really just…felt like dying.
Wow, when Barbie said at her last dance party that she thought about dying-she didn’t say that wanted to die.
This is a different feeling.
He thought,
So sad that I…don’t want to be here?
Ken looked up to the pink ceiling.He had never wanted to not be here. In Barbie Land. This was his home. But he also didn’t want to go back to the Real World. Even if that’s where Barbie was he didn’t want to be near her. She had made him feel abandoned and left him there to rot.
So then if he didn’t want to be here..where did he want to be? Beach? No, that also made him sad because that’s where he’d wait every day for Barbie. He definitely didn’t want to be in his bed anymore, that’s for sure. But he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to really die either. He still wanted to live…but he hadn’t actually-really been living this whole time.
Wait-what’s living? H-how do you live?
Oh-no, no, no, no.
Kens thoughts spiraled. He was slowly falling further and further down the rabbit hole when he heard a knock at his front door. The sudden noise broke him from his existential thoughts.
He slowly pulled himself up, and untangled himself from the blankets that had been trapping him for the past month. His feet hung off the bed- he couldn’t bring himself to stand up. He waited a moment-usually the Kens would’ve gave a courtesy knock and then walked up-weird Barbie just seems to find her way in to appear by his bedside.
So who was this? He figured he’d just holler at them to come up. He cupped his hands around his mouth and tried to say “come in” but it came out corse sounding, as he struggled to get his vocal cords to cooperate. His voice sounded strangled. He realized that he hadn’t talked most of that month-and that he’d mainly been crying.
It must’ve messed up his voice.
But nonetheless, the visitor heard his strangled attempt at answering and opened the door. Ken heard the door open and shut, and soft-sturdy footsteps walk up the stairs. The steps are light and steady like a Barbie’s, but firm and has a familiar thud of the dot connecting to the ground-just like a Ken’s. Who is it?
Kens eyes stared down the doorway, waiting for the visitor to appear before him. And soon his eyes were met with the redheaded, copper eyed Allen.