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The mirror would only serve to chant a new tune to the same song at him daily. It'd eye him with a malicious grin that laughed like the boys back in middle-school who called Sebastian 'Sarah.' Though the name now foreign to his ears, he'd respond when it was called no matter how many times he kicked himself for it. Sebastian had told himself how many times now that if anyone called, he'd refuse to answer. But like a mutt his body would jolt at his 'name' and he'd glance to the source of the sound.
He stared at his hollow eyes, they eyed him back. His lashes looked like they'd been done, by a professional at a beauty store. A professional who had promised to 'fix him', but if he'd stepped in he would've walked out and hear the chorus he heard from his mirror in every passing reflection in the glass. It'd chew at him like a tick and he'd convince himself it aggravated his skin until he stepped into the women's bathroom and washed it all off. All the makeup she would've put on would be washed off, but no matter how hard he scrubbed it stained.
But there was no makeup here. There was no store or professional who could fix him- not for cheap at least.
Sebastian's eyes came to his lips- red. Like they'd been painted with lipstick. Stained on, no matter how much he lapped and rubbed it'd stay. It'd get redder and redder, burning on his face and turning into an unfortunate, wicked scar like a Glasgow smile.
A woman's face. He had a woman's face. A woman's body. Yet he wasn't a woman- he hated being a woman. He wanted what men had. He wanted the courage, the body, the act that came with it. Not a mockery of it, because that's all he was. A mockery of a man. No matter what he pierced his gut with and injected into his blood stream, he'd always have a pussy between his legs and two tits on his chest that wore him down like bricks- like a thousand weights laid atop him and crushing his sore ribs until they let out a sickening crack and then, and only then, would they sink into his body. When he was dead and gone would his body be called a man- if he was lucky.
He considered himself lucky, if he was honest. Only one person knew- and they had their own little collection of identities, locked up in that head of theirs. Caged by the mask they had over head at all times, sealed away and fronted with a man who let Sebastian call him Nikto.
Nikto was not deterred by the tits that hung off his chest with the aim to break his ribs. Not deterred by every time he cried 'like a girl' into his arms, those choking sobs that ripped at his throat- already sore from a constant humming.
Nikto didn't care about the lack of a dick- didn't care for sex, either. They weren't anything. There was nothing between them except for the comfort a deranged man could bring. When voices were chanting through Sebastian's head, he could count on Nikto to hear the same thing. If the teeth chewing him out in his brain threw him around and broke his bones, Nikto was, for whatever reason, there to catch him and patch him up.
Sebastian stood in his mirror, trapped inside the reflection and banging to get out. Out of his skin- Out of his body that itched like a ghillie suit infested with fleas. Was it wrong he'd thought of hurting the only man that'd been kind to him? His mama had taught him to be afraid of men, because they'd only harm. They'd kick you and beat you and scream when you didn't crawl back to them for more like an addict, as if you'd get a thrill from being struck.
He'd believed her. He'd always believe his mama, even if she never believed in 'him.'
She'd been right, for his first relationship. He'd done as she said he would. He'd struck Sebastian, kicked him, and screamed and slapped when he walked out. But maybe he'd rubbed him the wrong way, because he didn't grow scared of men. Just... Envious.
A man could have such power, to strike his hand and leave a purple mark on either side. A man could scream in a way that made him flinch and a man could rear his ugly head when he was mad and get away with it- because boys will be boys. 'Sarah' wanted to be apart of that- she wouldn't let herself be hurt like that again. Boys got the cool clothes, the cool looks, the cool sports- he'd be the one in control.
He.
The mirror was rippling like a lake being padded on. His hips were wider, his chest was bigger. His lips were redder, lashes fuller- If he were thirteen, he'd be proud. Because that little girl was telling him this was right until the change, and in truth- he still heard her inside of his head, one of the teasing voices. Not apart of him anymore, but not far gone.
Maybe she wasn't gone at all, maybe she was staring at herself in the mirror through his eyes right now. He could force himself into being the woman his mother wanted. At least then whoever wound up judging him back wouldn't be his critiquing eye wishing he had a smaller cup size, instead he'd make himself focus on elsewhere- his biceps, stomach maybe.
He felt ill. Just his naked body in the mirror made him feel sick to his stomach- cramps like a hand lived inside his gut, harnessing all his organs and dragging them down into the pit of his belly and scrunching them up, squeezing him out and leaving his ribs with nothing to hide but his heart, thumping against the bone in it's best attempt to break through. He'd only helped it break his ribs. Binding was excellent, until he got here. You can't wear binders while running after breaking cover. So he wore his sport bras- tight. Under his hollow ribcage, his heart was getting pushed back to his spine.
Inhaling past the bile in his throat that clogged up his lungs, he smelt his own sweat. Rising up and clogging his nose and getting into his head- killing his thoughts, slacking his jaw.
Every imperfection stared back at him like they wanted to confront him about something new, but this was the same as yesterday. Routinely, he'd pick apart his appearance but do nothing to fix it. Sebastian's mind would cull his surroundings, he was the focus of the portrait of his mirror. A portrait made to sexualize his feminine features and shun his masculine ones. He felt rotten. Wickedly rotten- his teeth, his nails... Eyes, tongue... Skin, organs...
The croak of his door's hinges dragged his mind from his body- though only with enough thought to put on his uniform shirt and stagger into his boxers, no matter how little filled they were.
Heavy and spaced footsteps. His breathing sounded hushed now.
"Sevastian." Russian. Nikto. Sebastian managed to tear his eyes from his frame in the mirror to glance back and croak. "Ja?"
The pacing continued until eyes, as hollow as his own weren't even a meter away.
"We have brought you something." The newcomer announced in a awkward grunt. His arm snaked behind him and reached into his back pocket, before slithering back to his front and reaching out a extended arm with a white and red box housed inside closed fingers.
"Marlboros," Nikto concluded for him, shaking the box lightly. "since 'you won't settle for less'."
Sebastian stared. Blank and thoughtless, like his mind had been swept under the rug and the only thing fronting and displaying itself in front of Nikto was a husk.
This man knew Sebastian better than Sebastian knew himself. This man that struggled nearly the same- possibly more, and knew to be so patient.
Slowly, Sebastian heaved up a arm and pinched the box in his fingers, opening it enough to take a peek inside and confirmed the amount of cigarettes inside, before glancing up and simply grunting.
He strayed a step, falling into a pace and slinking back to his cot and tossing the box atop. Like it was a challenge, he lifted up his cargos and pulled them over his ankles.
Nikto saw him as man, he presented like one to everyone else.
Over his calves- Nobody saw him as a chick, he was Krueger and Krueger alone to them.
Peeled his waistband over his knees. When Nik recruited him into Chimera, he'd called him Sebastian, even if his files stated it was "Sarah" before.
Across his thighs. His body was hairy enough, he was a bloke.
Up to his hips. What was below his hips didn't matter, nobody would see it, and nobody would think of it. He was in the army, not a club.
He lifted his head like it weighed the equivalent of a thousand bricks and rolled it on his neck. His tongue was dry, his eyes were irritated.
"...You are upset. Did you want camels?" Nikto asked and crossed the room to stand by him, arms crossed in a closed off position across his broad chest.
Sebastian shook his head, glancing around slowly with eyes squinted- aggravated from his prolonged staring. He felt dizzy, if he was honest. He could use a pint, or maybe three... Or a smoke.
"Then what is wrong?" Nikto asked. He never thought the word would come to mind, but Nikto was acting oddly himboish. Sebastian released a long, wheezed sigh and slouched, dropping his head, hanging it low to eye his knees again.
He bit back the usual 'No, I'm fine, just tired'. He took a moment to seriously consider his words before they pelted out of his mouth and he poured his gloomy sorrows onto Nikto like rain. With a shuddered inhale, he rasped.
"What do you see me as?"
Nikto was quiet for a while. Sebastian couldn't gauge his reaction, but he imagined he'd been slightly taken aback by the broad question.
"...As in?" Nikto croaked from above him, the sound of his clothing rustling as he obviously changed his position and sat onto Sebastian's cot beside him, the weight sinking as the tank of a man found a comfortable position in leaning back on his hands.
"Like- as a boy, I guess." He paused, glancing up to stare into the other man's eyes. "Do you see me as a real boy?"
He fell prone under those eyes. Hollow as Sebastian's own, like the dark deep inside a gaping mouth ready bite him and tear out his gullet. Lashes lining his sights like thousands of teeth ready to snag and pierce his skin. He'd stiffen, gurgle a yelp and scream like a dog. Scream like a dog beaten by his favourite owner, though he'd writhe back into his arms with his broken ribs and with his lungs pierced with bone fragment.
"I see you as Sevastian." The answer came shortly. Bluntly. "There is no brothers or sisters."
Nikto seemed to assume he didn't need to elaborate until Sebastian's curious eye snagged on his and he sighed, shifting around awkwardly.
"You are strong man, no?" Nikto quizzed, peering past his cheeks and his bottom row of lashes to the slouched Austrian at his left. "You act like one. So, I see you as one. Like the next person will."
The logic was patchy, but it was nice to hear in the moment that his closest comrade saw him as a bloke. Sebastian gave a low blink, and the jeering chants that rang in his mind like church bells, begging him to revert back to Sarah dispersed around his body to faint murmurs. They didn't go away, but... Shifted. Dissipated. He gave a croaky sound before shifting against Nikto's bicep. It was nice. It was something. It was a person to keep his head steady, even if his own head wasn't stable itself. Hands to hold his cheek while they worked back in the loose screws, and he hoped he'd have the guts to do the same. It was comfort, even if in an odd way, rough- but not tough love. Fulfilling, he supposed.
"We will go smoke. Will Seva come?" The man above him asked with a rough, though fond, rub to Sebastian's back.
"Yea, mate. I'm coming."