The Man in the Mirror (Beautiful)

Laurence’s POV

~

Why can’t I ever be good enough?

Even simple things made me notice the imperfections in those days. The mirror in particular seemed to have a fucking problem with me. All I had to do was take one glance, and I could see all the insults form in words around my head.

Emo, fag, freak, fat, gay.

When people say those things, they do it for a laugh and they don’t realise how much it actually hurts. Just day after day, it was pain. The verbal abuse drug me down, made me feel like shit on such a regular basis that I’d do anything to take it off my mind, even replacing pain with pain. That’s what I thought to myself as I drug a razor along my hip, creating a small trail of blood. Shallow and far from life threatening, it served it’s purpose. I didn’t want to die, not most of the time, I just wanted a substitute.

We’d just finished a show so everyone was tired and no one was around. All of the guys were in bed and deep in sleep; nobody knew I was here, or, so I thought. I clutched the edge of the cool porcelain sink in one hand and the blade in my other. A second line joined the first, quickly followed by a third. Usually, shows left me feeling good; don’t get me wrong, this one did, it was only after that things turned distinctly more pessimistic. Signings with fans were going well. Fans covered in talcum powder and steam punk goggles were gathered around us, some crying, some beaming and some asking me to draw them pictures. Whenever I got asked this, I always did the same thing; I drew an image of myself frowning. They always asked the same thing straight after – “why are you sad?” and I always replied with the same thing – “because I’m always sad”. When this happened today, some stranger on the street overheard, and just couldn’t resist the opportunity to make an ‘emo fag’ jibe at me. I knew I should of ignored them, like the two girls whose albums I was signing said, but I couldn’t. After that, I found an excuse to slip away, and hid myself away from everyone; I barely spoke to the guys in the car and was unusually quiet when we arrived back, before I dismissing myself to bed.

I refused to let myself cry while I did this to myself; I chose to do this, so I shouldn’t have been all emotional and depressed when it hurt, which it did – a lot. I finished off by adding a couple more lines before chucking the crimson blade into the sink, where it landed with a clatter. My now free hand joined my other on the edge of the sink. I just stood there for a second and breathed, slowly and heavily. My eyes shut themselves of their own accord, as they usually did in this situation. When I opened them again, I couldn’t help but jump, Kier’s face had joined mine in the mirror. The younger boy was stood just behind my right shoulder, his mouth open slightly. Then I looked back at his eyes in the mirror and realised they were focused on the exposed skin of my stomach and the blood splattered sink that held the blade.

“Why Laurence?” he asked in a whisper, sounding fragile, like he couldn’t believe it.

“It’s how I deal with it, Kier. Please just leave it alone”.

I can understand why he’s concerned, but he really shouldn’t be. I choose to do this, I’m fine.

“But why? Deal with what?” He reached his hand out to my hip hesitantly, before retracting his it, as if he’d thought better of the gesture. Instead, he grabbed some tissue paper off of the side and stretched his arm out again, cautiously. When I showed no signs of stopping him, he started to blot the blood from my stomach.

“Everything, Kier. Words, insults, it builds up” I explained simply, letting him gently push me down to sit on the closed toilet seat so that he could clean the wounds properly. Usually, I’d sort myself out, but I just let Kier get on with it, feeling no need to push him away.

“You mean shit that arrogant, dickhead haters say? Come on, Laurence, you should know not to let them get to you, you’re so much better than them!” he insisted, throwing the bloodied tissue away when he was done.

I just shrugged at him, not wanting to receive a scolding right now.

When he was done, he took me by the hand and led us back to our room. Kier is quite a cuddly person, but only with people he knows well. Therefore, I was well used to the fact that Kier always cuddled me when I slept. That night though, it felt difference.

He originally started sharing a bed with me when his nightmares about death got so bad that he’d wake up sobbing and hurting. When this used to happen, I always used to wake up and rush into his room and hold him, while his tears soaked the shoulder of my pyjama top. Sometimes though, I wouldn’t wake up. His nightmare pattern was unpredictable, so I never knew when one was going to occur, and the times where I didn’t wake up, Kier would just lay there scared until he cried himself back to sleep again. I couldn’t let him deal with waking up from horrible dreams like that and feeling so alone. So, in the end we decided to just share a bed, that way, I’d wake up nearly all the time and if not all he had to do was tap me awake. After a while, his nightmares became less and less frequent – which he swears is because he feels safer with me – but he never even suggested moving back to his own bed. To be honest, I think it wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t wake up to his red hair tickling my cheek in the mornings.

Like I was saying, usually when we cuddled, it felt like I was protecting him, keeping him safe from horrors that plagued his dreams and keeping him sound asleep. Tonight though, as he lay down beside me, it almost felt as if he was protecting me rather than the other way round. Kier’s breathing had evened out to a slow steady pace and I was pretty sure he was asleep; his pale fingers were clutching the edge of my pyjama top and his body was warm against mine. Unlike me, Kier never wore pyjama tops and he rarely ever wore bottoms either, so while I was fully covered, he lay only in his boxers. The fact I wore pyjamas was attributed to my self-consciousness; having people mock you for the way you look everyday really leaves a mark in your confidence and your self image.

Just as I was about to fall asleep myself, I felt his arms tighten around me and his mouth brush against ear.

“Promise me you’ll try and stop, Laurence, please try”. Despite his tired state, I knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep until I’d answered. Not trusting my voice, I nodded, knowing he’d feel it since he slept with his head on my chest and shoulder. I would try my hardest to keep this promise; I always kept my promises to Kier if I could. I just hoped that I’d at least be able to hold out long enough that he knew I was trying for him before I inevitably relapsed.

*****

Six days.

It was six days before I found myself standing in front of the mirror again. I really had tried, usually, it was every other night. The cut count ranging from one to ten depending on how I felt. For Kier, though, I’d held off as much as I could, lasting three times as long as I usually was. I was hoping to make it a week at least, but I just slipped the mark. It was going all okay, until I walked down the street eating a cookie, and some blonde bitch had to make a comment. Any confidence I’d managed to build up over the past six days through pride about being able to resist cutting vanquished, and I felt worthless again.

I was studying myself in the mirror when I saw the door open behind me and once again, Kier slipped into the bathroom behind me. His eyes widened in sadness as he noticed how I’d bunched my top up around my chest, like I’d done six days previous to cut. He scrambled over to me and turned me around, checking for any fresh blood; good thing he came when he did, I hadn’t got around to actually picking up the blade yet. A couple of minutes more though…

“Please tell me you haven’t done it yet and you haven’t just changed places?” he asked, sounding shockingly desperate. I shook my head to re-assure him.

“No, I haven’t in six days, that’s gotta be some kind of record for me” I murmured, tugging my top down self-consciously.

“Laur? Laur, you’ve been doing so good, what prompted a relapse?” he asked, taking my hands in his.

“Same old shit, some bitch making me feel like shit about the way I look. I have to admit, she has a point though” I whispered, staring at my reflection in the mirror and overly analysing every single flaw I saw with my body.

“Laurence listen to me! You, you’re beautiful, Laurence, no matter what that twat has to say, you’re beautiful to me” I started to shake my head at his words but he just stepped close to me, close enough that there were just millimetres between our lips. “No ifs or buts, you’re beautiful and you know what? I’m going to show you just how beautiful you are” My heart rate increased slightly at his words, was he really suggesting…?

I would be lying if I said I’d never had thoughts about him, but is this really what he’s implying?

Judging by the way he’d now grabbed my hand and was leading me towards our bedroom, I think it was safe to say that yes, he meant exactly as I was thinking.

*****

The soft duvets and pillows layered on our bed cushioned me as I fell back onto it. Kier followed me immediately by clambering up after and straddling my waist without second thought.

“Laurence, I need to ask you this now before we go any further, because I don’t want to try and go with this if you’re just going to reject me. Do you want this?” His beautiful crystal eyes gazed into mine and I saw a spark ignite in them when I nodded. By now, I’m sure mine had clouded over with lust and want.

“Totally” and with that, I connected our lips, loving the way Kier started to take control almost immediately. His tongue ran along my bottom lip, opening my mouth so he could explore. We battled for dominance briefly before I relented and let Kier be as dominant as he wanted.

*le time lapse*

We finished together and I couldn’t help but yell out his name as we did, just like he did mine. If the three other guys weren’t awake and aware of us before, they sure as hell were now. I was in absolute bliss as pleasure flooded every part of my body and I completely lost it. We collapsed in a pile of entangled limbs, our bodies covered in sweat and heat pulsing from us while we bathed in the post coital bliss.

How long we lay there was unknown but at some point, Kier rolled over in my arms so that his face was next to mine.

“Oh Laur, that was so fucking amazing, you should have seen your face, you looked so damn gorgeous” he whispered, lying on top of me again. Not in a sexual way this time, but in a romantic holding-each-other-close way. He placed gently butterfly kisses along my neck, jaw and the top of my chest while I carded my fingers through his soft hair.

“Have you seen yourself lately? So fucking pretty, Kier” I breathed as I nuzzled my nose into his fringe.

That was how we fell asleep - wrapped up in each other’s arms with Kier’s head resting on my shoulder,
his warm breath ghosting over my neck and a content feeling in my heart.

*****

“So, you two clearly had fun last night” Luke remarked as we joined him and Shane at the breakfast table.

“Yeah, I’d be surprised if anyone in the block got any sleep! Jesus you two are loud! Poor Drew is scarred!” Shane said, pointing over to the couch where Drew was curled up, staring at us.

“Never. EVER. Make those noises when I’m in the room next door again. Seriously, it’s great if you two are together now, congrats, really, but please, spare my ears next time” he stated in a monotone that made me laugh. Even Drew himself cracked a smile after he’d said it.

“Yes, we did actually” Kier replied, helping himself to a piece of toast from the rack on the table.

I just blushed before taking a seat beside him, not really wanting to discuss one of the best nights of my life with the others.

Breakfast past reasonably normally with the small exception of Luke making an innuendo about Kier and I every once in a while, then again though, that’s not that unusual, he always made keveridge jokes.

Just as I was about to finish eating, Kier excused himself before winking at me. He walked to the bathroom and locked the door; had he not locked it, I would have thought that he wanted me to follow him because of the wink.

He must just need the bathroom then…

A couple of minutes later, he re-emerged and shot me a smile before taking his seat again next to me.

Anyone who has ever lived with me will know that I have a routine in the morning. I have breakfast, go to the bathroom and brush my teeth, do my hair and then stare into the mirror and over criticize my appearance (don’t judge me, I can’t help it) before going to go get dressed.

I shot Kier a confused look but got no explanation, so I left the table and went to start my morning routine, the same as usual. I made my way to the bathroom that Kier had just vacated; the bathroom which last night I was stood in, considering cutting; the bathroom which I used to end up in most nights, staring at my reflection with distaste as various insults flooded my memory; the bathroom which I’ve spent more time breaking down in than any person ever should.

I clicked the wooden door shut behind me before turning around in the small bathroom. One thing immediately caught my eye – the mirror – and not for the reasons it usually did. On the mirror, written in large, loopy lettering was the word ‘beautiful’, right across the top of the glass. I couldn’t help but reach out to touch it, only to have it leave a little splodge of black residue on my finger.

Eyeliner. Kier…

I couldn’t help but smile, something which the man in the mirror reflected. Kier really is an amazing person, with the most incredible and thoughtful gestures. When I gazed upon my reflection now, the only word I saw around me was beautiful. We never did wash it off; though I’m sure Luke, Shane and Drew didn’t understand it’s exact significance, they didn’t question it or wipe it off. It’s still there today. In fact, since that night, everything about that bathroom and what it signified changed for me. The only thing that remained the same? Every night, Kier would enter the bathroom after me and stand behind me. Now though, he never had to check for cuts; now he’d just take my hand and lead me to our bedroom, knowing that they’d be no new marks there. Then we’d walk to the bedroom, hands entwined, intent on showing each other just how beautiful the other is.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.