Chapter Text
The first time was an accident of sorts; just another stupid act done in spite of a bully. It wasn’t that Steve was reckless by nature. He couldn’t afford to be, what with his cold, blue fingers and straining set of lungs. But something in the pit of his belly got all fired up when he was faced with a bully, and he’d never turn down a dare. He had to prove they couldn’t push him around, that there was more to him than met the eye.
And okay, so maybe he was a bit reckless. So what? He had no one left to worry. Just a grotty little ice box for a room and some sort of rawness in his chest that sang out in triumph when he fought.
The tip of Steve’s tongue darted out to probe at a cut on his lip. He smirked up at the other boys, looming above where he’d sprawled. They were stretched out with new grown muscle, pulled taught with restless energy and puffing from Steve’s beating. Broken glass littered the alley way and dug in to cuts on Steve’s palms, while a half cracked mirror leaned against the alley wall between a rotting bookcase and warped floor lamp.
‘Getting sleepy?’ he gasped, straining to sit upright.
His satchel with his sketch pads and work apron had spilled in to a puddle, and Steve fumbled with shaking fingers to gather his papers together. A boot kicked them out of his hands and splattered brown water up his cheek.
‘Leave ‘em,’ the young man snarled. ‘Little queer like you should be filthy.’
He grabbed a fistful of Steve’s hair, throwing him bodily in to the puddle after his sodden notebooks. Steve struggled for breath, his skinny chest heaving under his shirt as he pushed himself out of the water. It ran down his arms in murky rivulets, and a drop gathered on his nose. His latest army rejection form bobbed in a crumpled ball.
Steve started again to gather his things, but a hoot of laughter broke out and he was shoved aside.
‘The army?’ The bully crowed, his pals guffawing behind him. He smoothed out the rejection notice and flapped it at his friends. ‘What would the army want with a shrimp like you?’
‘I could be useful,’ Steve said quietly, jutting out his chin. He took advantage of their distraction, sitting up on his haunches and stuffing his things in his satchel.
‘Yeah,’ the leader snorted, ‘as cannon fodder maybe.’
‘If that’s what it takes.’ Steve pushed himself to his feet, keeping the damp strap of his satchel clenched in his fist. ‘You signed up yet? Or are you too chicken?’
The smirk drained away from the bully’s face, and he took a step towards Steve.
‘Chicken?’ He ground out, tossing the rejection slip aside. ‘What’s a little queer like you know about that?’
‘I know about not catcalling dames, and not picking on smaller guys. And I reckon I know that three on one ain’t a brave fight at all.’
Steve’s voice rose as he spoke, bouncing round the alley and mingling with the whisper of rain. His bully looked fit to pop, an ugly flush spreading up his neck and the bones of his fists creaking. He started to lunge at Steve, but something caught his eye - the speckled mirror leaning against the brown brick wall. Steve turned his head to look to, and regretted it immediately when he saw how small he looked.
In his head he was always so much bigger. Like courage could make him swell.
‘Fine,’ the bully smirked. ‘If you’re such a brave little fairy - why don’t you call him?’
Steve swallowed, his eyes never leaving the mirror. The glass was splotchy and fogged, with spiderweb cracks lacing the edges.
‘Call him,’ he murmured, licking blood from his lip. A shiver ghosted over his skin, raising the hairs on his arms. Steve had to get in from the cold; there was no one to help if he got sick.
Heat washed over his front as the bully crowded him against the brick wall. Cold rainwater from the fire escape dripped down Steve’s neck, and he glared up at the bigger man, refusing to blink. A cruel smile tugged at the man’s mouth, and for a split second his eyes flicked down to Steve’s mouth.
‘That’s what I thought,’ he goaded, shoving Steve against the wall so that his head bounced off the brick. ‘Big talk from a little guy.’
‘I’ll call him,’ Steve snapped, wriggling out of the bully’s grip. ‘You wanna be here when I do?’
The man rolled his eyes, but his friends shifted behind him. Sharing a glance, they started edging towards the end of the alley.
‘You ain’t gonna. There’s no way.’
‘Watch me,’ Steve called as he staggered towards the mirror. ‘If you got the guts.’
Steve stood with the toes of his shoes only inches from the glass. Behind him he heard the bully shout after his friends, then take off after them, shoving dustbins over on his way. Steve could leave now; sneak away and limp home and suck down some watery soup. He made up his mind to go, even shouldered his ruined satchel, but something about the mirror held his eyes in its grip.
There - a movement. Something stirred in the depths of the glass, blurred by the filth on the surface. A blink, maybe. Or a licking of lips. Steve bent forwards without thinking, straining to see in to the mirror. A bead of blood gathered on his top lip and hung there, suspended, until finally -
Plink.
It slid down the fractured mirror, catching in the cracks. Steve reared back in horror, his arms pinwheeling like a kid's cartoon. The mirror started to vibrate against the wall, letting out a low hum. Steve scrambled back as fast as he could, tripping over the fallen dustbins and landing painfully on his seat.
Shards of glass splintered and whizzed away, flying past Steve’s head through the alley. One caught him square on the cheek, slicing hotly through his skin and setting his blood flowing. He gritted his teeth and told himself that the wetness on his cheeks was all blood, no tears. He’d prove that bully wrong now, even if by accident.
A crack like rolled thunder filled the alley, and the mirror split clean in two. Silence hung in the air for a moment, broken by a sigh. The fog of the mirror sucked up and out and swirled in to form, slinking towards Steve before it had fully solidified.
Well. That was… unexpected. The man in the mirror, the plague of the city, the stuff of bed time stories told to naughty children, was - well. Young. And sort of beautiful. And raking his eyes over Steve’s sprawled body like he was something to eat.
Because - right, monster.
A monster with messy hair and a rumpled shirt under braces.
Steve pinched his arm hard and forced himself to his feet, and when he swayed on the spot, a firm hand caught his shoulder. Steve screwed his eyes shut and tucked his chin to his chest. There were no bullies to see him now, and he maybe wasn’t so brave about dying as he’d earlier thought.
‘Easy, pal. You look like you’d blow over.’
Steve opened one eye by a crack.
‘Is this the eating part?’ He asked, his voice surprisingly steady.
‘Eatin’? Who’s eatin’? Little bite size lump like you’d hardly be worth the effort.’
‘Wh-what?’
‘You’re just a snack. An amooz-boosh, as the French might say if they weren’t busy losin’ to the Germans.’
The mirror man grinned at him, his hand still warm on Steve’s shoulder. Steve lifted his chin from his chest, ignoring the flush on his cheeks.
‘’Sides,’ the monster continued, ‘s’not like you really called me. Just smoothed the way a bit, and I fancied a bit of an outin’.’
‘Getting bored in there, were you?’ Steve asked, edging around the dustbins. A delighted laugh stopped him in his tracks, and a second hand landed on his free shoulder.
‘Pal,’ the mirror man squeezed tight, bending down to eye level. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’
Steve stumbled over some empties, his mind racing a mile a minute trying to figure a way out. But the mirror man saved him the trouble, giving him a jovial clap on the back and spinning him back to the wall.
‘Thanks, Steve-o, I owe you one,’ he called as he strode out the alley.
‘How - how d’you know my name?’ Steve shouted after him. He was rewarded with another cackle.
The mirror man spun to face him, still walking backwards as his hands cupped his mouth. ‘Magic, Steve!’ He shouted. ‘Real mystical stuff.’
‘Really?’
‘Nah. It’s on your notebooks.’
Steve’s face flooded red as the man reached the street. He gave Steve a jaunty wave and clicked his heels together, before melting in to the stream of people trudging home after work. After a few minutes of stunned silence, Steve forced himself to move. He’d been outside, in the cold and soaked through, and chances were he was going to pay.
I can think of nicer ways to die, he thought, and shook himself back to reality. For all he knew he’d just unleashed some demon, and it could be madness and mayhem any time now. Best to drag himself back to his place so he could blame himself in the warm.