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One touch, and it shattered.
Okay, maybe "touch" was not the right word for what had just transpired. One hit, full of anger and desperation. A muted scream that had to get out, if not through the mouth, then through the fist. And what a mighty scream it was - it could shatter glass. A bathroom mirror, to be precise, property of High Guardian Academy. A mirror that has been broken twice before, but Lavender never found out about it, despite them both using it every day.
He exhaled, feeling hot air leave his lungs empty and dry, and realized he could barely inhale again - his throat clenched up painfully, as if he had, in fact, been screaming before. He knew he hadn't. He always made sure not to be loud, not to disturb anyone. He had to be a good kid. A smart kid. A kid everyone could be proud of. He had to compensate for things in which he failed miserably. Like tolerating his reflection, for example.
Still, leaving a mirror like that wouldn't be good. There were shards everywhere, on the floor and on his nightgown. Surprisingly, this time none got lodged in his fist - his right hand still hurt from the impact, for sure, but there was no blood to clean and no marks to cover up. Good. He liked it when he could hide the evidence easily, so that no one, not even Lavender, would notice. This is why, whenever the hate and disgust got too bad, when he failed to control his urge to just give this nightmarish body of his what it deserves, he never cut or punched - he would just hit his head against the bathroom wall until it all got slightly better and he could breathe again without hating himself for it. He didn't do this often, but sometimes, things got too much to handle. Like right now, for example, but he had already punched a mirror, so the destruction quota was sort of met. Now he just needed to hide the evidence.
"This will hold for a while", he whispers, putting his terrasphere back into his pocket. The mirror looks as good as new, no crack to be found on its pristine surface. His face reflected in it is no longer distorted, too, yet he cannot get rid of the thought that it is still not entirely his, not as it should be. He's been getting these thoughts a lot, and not just about his face. Nothing was right, everything in and around him was falling apart, but at least he could fix a mirror? He was getting pretty good at using his terrasphere, too. For a kid who grew up studying exclusively Old Magic and only learned of terraspheres after enrolling in the Academy, it was as if he was born to wield one. Teachers kept praising him, and it felt amazing. He never felt that validated at home. It made him hopeful. The essay he read in front of the entire class earlier today was entitled "I want to be a teacher".
"As if anyone would let someone like you near kids", a girl from the back row snickered once the essay was done with.
This girl had a history of picking on anyone indiscriminately. She couldn't have known. She must have meant something else entirely. After all, he had a reputation. The weird kid. The kid who experimented with New Magic. The kid who burned down the potions classroom that one time. There were other reasons for her snide remark, not that one, no, she couldn't have known. No one knew. Not even Lavender, not even his parents.
And if they ever found out...
The mere thought made him sick to his stomach. His parents would have the biggest fight ever, their biggest one yet (and that's saying something, considering their usual fare). His mom would take his side, of course, like she always does, but his father... He dreaded to imagine what horrible words could be, would be said that day.
"You can't be like that! You are my child, my only daughter, not one of these... These degenerates!"
Then they would scream, and scream, and it wouldn't be something he can fix with a terrasphere.
And Lavender...
"Hey, Caraway, you good in there? I kinda need the bathroom too!"
He barely subdued a yelp, too lost in his own thoughts to come back to reality seamlessly. He had to compose himself, quick. The mirror, now unbroken, had all the gory details on display, the messy hair, the bloodshot eyes, eyelids puffy from crying. He would have to use glamour magic again. He hated lying to Lavender, and every time he did so, it made the weight on his heart a bit heavier. Still, he simply had to.
"Yeah, sorry, took my time! You can come in now."
"Oh, good, I was worried you were sick in there or something!", a familiar figure opened the bathroom door, all smiles and inner strength and silky pink hair, bringing with her the smell of a better tomorrow. Suddenly, his throat hurt a little bit less. He was breathing again.
If he told Lavender, she would be worried.
If he told Lavender, she would cry on his behalf.
If he told Lavender, she might start feeling sorry for him, and that would just be the worst.
So, it's better to just go to sleep. The glamour spell might fade any minute, but it won't matter when the room is dark.
"Hey, Caraway", a voice calls to him from the other bed, which he has turned his back to because he doesn't want to risk showing his face, even in the dark.
"Yeah?"
"You say that you are okay, but you aren't really okay, are you? I can tell, I'm not dumb, you know."
He didn't know how to answer, his throat clenching once again, so he kept quiet.
"If you ever want to talk about it, whatever it is, I'm here. Don't push yourself, we will talk once you're ready. For now, just remember that you are my best friend, and I love you. Okay?"
There are a few moments of silence.
"Okay...", he finally finds enough strength in his lungs to push the words out, "Thanks, Lavender. I love you too."
One day, he will speak up. To Lavender, to his parents, to the world at large, if need be. One day he will be brave enough to be who he is, whatever it takes. One day, when he becomes a teacher, he might meet a student who will need to talk about it, and they will talk, and he will share all he can to help this kid find their path.
And then there will be no more broken mirrors.