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Being yourself is hard.
“Uggghhhhh.” Mirage groans into the wood of the bar. It’s cold. And it’s sticky.
You’re the only one in the whole establishment, sipping on a simple drink, mostly just vodka and flavored syrup, but it tastes good and leaves you feeling dizzy. You’re sitting on one of the tall bar chairs, gently swinging your legs to the soft, easy-going music that comes out of the speakers. It’s a jurrasic difference from the base-heavy dance music an hour before. It’s so late that it’s early, the Paradise Lounge having closed not too long ago, and all that was left was the two of you, trying not to remember the night.
“My head hurts.” He whines.
“Two fights, huh? You need better security.” You quip, grinning into your glass.
He does move from his spot, but you can read his body language from here. Exasperated. “Excuse me? I’m an Apex Legend, I don’t need better security. I AM the security.”
“There’s only one of you, Mirage. Plus, you were distracted by ol’ Fusey the whole night. Might be best to hire someone or something.”
He bolts upright, startled. “Me and Fuse? No, no, you have it all wrong—it was totally him refusing to leave me alone. He’s in-in-incessant, yeah that’s the word, and he just wouldn’t go. I mean-“
You’re staring at him, an eyebrow quirked.
He slumps, catching your look. “I don’t know! He’s-he’s cool, I guess? I can’t stop thinking about him! It’s a-annoying!”
“Do you have a crush?” You sing to him, leaning over the table, a stupid grin on your face.
“What! No! No? Yes? Yes! No! Ugh- I don’t know!” He groans, shoving his head back onto the countertop. He hits it with an alarmingly loud noise and you wonder if he is okay. “I can’t stop it!”
You take another sip of your drink. “I mean, he’s been a pretty big deal since last season. Bringing down Kings Canyon isn’t exactly something that happens regularly.”
“It’s weird how many times it’s happened, though.” He says, distracted by that thought. “But that’s-that’s not the point! It’s like, whenever I see him I get excited, and then when I don’t see him, I just want to look for him or something!”
You take a few moments to rifle through your thoughts. Your brain is more muddled than you previously thought, and when you look into your glass you realize you’re almost done. Gently, you push the cup away, recognizing your bordering the line of tipsy. Still, you gather your thoughts, knowing Mirage is in need of some serious advice.
“Are you sure you don’t want to be friends?” You ask.
“What? Friends?” He parrots, looking up. “Uh, how am I supposed to know? I didn’t even realize men could like other men like that until I met Gibby!”
You blink. “You didn’t know men could be gay?”
“Well, sort of, but not really, but that’s besides the point!”
You sigh. “I think you’re overthinking this too much, Elliott .”
“Me? Overthinking? Literally impossible.”
You stare at him.
He crumbles under your stare. “Ok, you’re right, but what am I supposed to do? My thoughts, they’re like a gelatinous pudding! I can’t think of anything else!”
“Do you have to know?” You point out, crossing your arms overtop the bar. “Like, seriously Mirage, why can’t you chase your emotions or something? No labels, just vibes.”
He tilts his head to the side. “You can do that?”
“Are you asking me if you can question your sexuality and not have a label?”
“Yeah.”
You slap your palm to your forehead. “Mirage, the Outlands did not treat you well—of course you can! What, do you think there’s some sort of rule book or something? You can do anything and you don’t have to call it anything.”
“Well, you got people like Gibby and Loba who are so sure, they got all these fancy words to describe themselves.” He says.
You sigh. “That’s because those words just so happen to align with what they feel. You on the other hand, are an enigma. I think you’re thinking too hard about what you’re supposed to be, instead of what you are. Emotions are hard, Mirage and you worry too much cuz of it”
He’s silent for a moment, one of the few rare times he holds his tongue. His hand is absentmindedly tracing the grains of the bar, entranced by the rhythm of it. He seems to be thinking hard, judging by the crease between his brows.
Then he speaks.
“Ugh, I guess you’re right. It’s just so confusing.” He seems genuinely effected by the thoughts racing through his mind. “Like, I only just figured out that I view Rampart as a sibling, like, last week! How am I supposed to know if I like someone romantically? ”
“I dunno, you hang out with them? See if you like them?”
He doesn’t respond.
You continue. “Mirage, just know whatever you do I’m still gonna be your friend, alright? Unless you become the next Revenant, than maybe not. But you’re still Mirage if you think you like it up the butt.”
That joke doesn’t make him laugh. Instead, his face turns a shade of scarlet and he looks absolutely mortified. You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of you, and Mirage just stands there like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth. He’s scrambling for any sort of rebuttal but can’t. You’re still laughing as you lean backwards, away from his form.
“God! I didn’t think that was gonna get you so bad! I was just trying to lighten the mood!” You cackle.
He groans. “You’re h-horrible.”
You grin, but it’s softer this time. “Just be proud of who you are right? As long as you get some security guards so you can flirt with Fuse, then I’m fine.”
“It wasn’t flirting !”