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Self-image was something Kamal Bora had always struggled with for about as long as he could remember. Even as a child he’d been anxious and a little wary of the other kids, far preferring to keep to himself and stay out of trouble, forever conscious as to how he looked and how other people perceived him.
And now, there he was, standing in front of the mirror, firmly fixating on the reflection that stared gloomily back at him.
He’d always thought being cripplingly self-conscious was a dumb teenage phase that everyone went through. He figured he’d grow out of it. But that didn’t seem to be the case.
He didn’t feel bad about himself all the time, no. In fact, there were some days where he felt good about himself, where he could look in the mirror and love his grin that was always slightly crooked, love his teeth that he often loathed, love his short stature.
But with every up came a down, and sometimes there were days where he gazed in the mirror and felt nothing but the sting of hatred that stuck to him like slime.
Of course, a rational part of him knew and understood that constantly fixating on what he deemed to be his imperfections wasn’t healthy. Any sensible person could tell you that. But that didn’t mean he could just snap out of it and stop doing it. It was one of his many bad habits.
The journey to self-love was a long and difficult one, that was for sure.
Just then, he heard the sound of familiar footsteps, forcing himself out of his negative headspace as a small grin splashed across his features, feeling large, warm arms wrap around his smaller frame, strands of thick, auburn hair falling across his shoulders. He rolled his eyes upwards, greeted by that all too familiar face peering down at him.
It was Boris, of course.
“Hel-lo!” Boris greeted, seeming to be in high spirits, smiling as he gazed down at his dear Kamal, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss against his temple before he straightened up.
“Whatre you doing out heere in the hallwaye, anywaye?” Habit inquired, tilting his head a little bit as he straightened up, absentmindedly examining himself in the mirror for a few brief moments, before he returned his gaze to the shorter man.
Not that he had any real issue with Kamal standing out in the hallway, of course. The house belonged to both of them, after all. If his boyfriend wanted to stand out in the hallway, who was he to stop him? He was a little confused as to what Kamal was doing, though. He’d been standing around the hallway for quite some time.
Kamal flushed a little as he received that sweet, gentle kiss, grinning goofily as a gentle chuckle escaped his throat.
However, as Boris posed that question, he looked down at the floor in a guilt-ridden, almost sheepish manner, the smile that had previously graced his features quickly fading.
He felt oddly embarrassed, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He almost felt as though he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing. He was a grown man, why was he obsessing over himself in the mirror? He wasn’t a self-conscious schoolboy anymore.
“Ah, I don’t know. Just being dumb, I guess.” Kamal responded lamely, sighing a little, turning around so that he was no longer gazing pointlessly into the mirror at his own reflection, facing Habit instead.
He knew Boris wasn’t going to judge him. He knew he wasn’t that sort of person. He knew full well that Boris had more than his own fair share of insecurities.
And yet, he couldn’t escape the chokehold of anxiety. That little voice in his head that told him to shut up, that he was being dramatic and ridiculous, that nobody wanted to hear about his problems, that he needed to keep his mouth shut.
“Well, I just…” He attempted to elaborate again, the words dying in his throat.
“Taek yourr time.” Boris assured quietly, smiling calmly as he looked down at Kamal, wrapping an arm affectionately around his shoulder, his thumb gently brushing against the back of Kamal’s shoulder blade in an attempt to soothe him.
Habit knew that Kamal wasn’t the most self-assured of people. He’d seen Kamal succumb to the suffocating pit that was his anxiety time and time again. He always tried his best to be there for him, to reassure him that everything was okay, that his brain was lying to him. He wanted Kamal to be happy. He deserved to be happy.
Kamal gave a grateful, albeit nervous smile, nodding a little and drawing in a deep breath, before he got a hold of himself, beginning to speak and explain himself, pushing his worries out into the open.
“God, it’s stupid, I know. I’ve just been self-conscious lately, I suppose. I guess…I guess I just don’t like myself very much, a lot of the time.” He chuckled uncomfortably, biting his lip gently.
“And I know that that’s dumb. It’s such a teenage cliché, right? Except I’m not a teenager. I’m a grown man, and…I don’t know, I feel as though I should be over stuff like that, y’know?” Kamal explained.
Boris frowned sympathetically, quietly running his fingers through Kamal’s thick, wavy hair, seeking to soothe and reassure him.
“Well, you kno I think you’re handsome.”
“Yeah, I know. I think you’re a good-looking guy too.” Kamal grinned gently, before he sighed.
“But sometimes I just feel as though I’m not good enough for anyone. Sometimes I just think I look bad. I know it’s bad to channel so much negativity towards yourself and be so harshly critical, but I suppose that sometimes I just can’t help myself. It’s so easy to tear myself down. Hell, I don’t even realise I’m doing it sometimes. It feels as though once I fall down that hole I can’t pull myself back out and I end up stuck in a cycle of self-hatred.” He elaborated, his words and feelings all but falling out of his mouth now, leaning slightly against Habit’s chest, silently requesting a hug.
A small smile crossed his features as he felt those warm arms lovingly wrap around him a few moments later.
“I undurrstand.” Habit responded simply, quietly rubbing Kamal’s back as he held him in his arms, enjoying that still, peaceful moment. He understood that it had probably taken quite a lot for Kamal to pluck up the courage to express something he was so clearly embarrassed about.
Boris understood how Kamal felt. He recalled all those times-especially when he was younger, when he’d looked in the mirror and felt as though something wasn’t quite right. That he was in the wrong body. His figure feeling all too feminine. It sickened him to his stomach.
Dysphoria was a difficult, upsetting thing to deal with. His father surely didn’t make it any easier, either. But it wasn’t worth dwelling on that right now.
As he’d progressed in his transition, things had gotten easier. Even if there were definitely some days where he felt wrong all over. Kamal was always there to help him through those. He couldn’t ask for a better, more supportive boyfriend.
Finally, Kamal breathed out a sigh. This one though, was a lot calmer and happier.
“Thanks, Boris.”
“No problegm.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Kisses were exchanged and hugs were given, and in that moment, it felt as though all was right in the world once again. The mirror a forgotten memory.
He was good enough for someone. More than good enough. And that was all that mattered.