Work Text:
CRASHHH!
Reflective shards of what remained of Sigma’s mirror met newly bloodied hands, the crimson red liquid staining its surface as the moonlight shone off the sparkling pieces of metal, quickly being dotted with the salty tears of the man who broke it in the first place, painting some sort of cruel picture on the bedroom floor. The infinitely small pieces still managed to reflect back the body that Sigma despised. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot erase that disgusting reflection from his view.
Sigma didn’t understand what was wrong with him. His body just seemed so…wrong. Everything about him seemed wrong. He’s already come to terms with his origins. He didn’t care about that. What he cared about is why he had to have the body of a man.
Sure, he wasn’t the most masculine person in the world, in fact he’s been mistaken for a woman quite a few times. When you work at a casino, you’ll have drunk men shouting weird things at you all the time. When it comes to sober people, they’ll usually correct themself almost immediately after. That strange euphoria quickly fades when someone says to him something along the lines of “oh, sorry sir! I mistook you for a woman.”
But he can’t be a woman. No, that’s not possible, right? I mean, he was perfectly fine with being called “he.”
But then..why does his heart flutter whenever someone mistakenly calls him stuff like ‘she,’ ‘pretty,’ ‘ma’am,’ or ‘miss.’
Why does he hate the way his body looks so much to the point that he punched his mirror until it broke so that he wouldn’t have to look at himself anymore?
He stares down at his bloodied hands. He had nice hands. They were very soft. He often received compliments on how nice they looked. However, there was something wrong with them. They looked so painfully masculine. His hands were shaking again. Sigma couldn’t bear to look at them. He knew he had to clean them up, but he couldn’t go to the bathroom. There were mirrors in there. So. Many. Mirrors. Besides, he couldn’t even look at his hands. He couldn’t look at himself at all. His thoughts were swirling around in his head, screaming at him that something was terribly wrong with him. Something about him was just so incredibly wrong and he couldn’t stand it. He had to be mentally ill or something, because no normal person would act like this.
His hands grasped his legs tightly as the tears came down from his eyes like a waterfall, the blood pooling into the fabric of his pants. He knew he would have to wash them. Maybe cleaning would help him calm down. He stood up with shaking legs, stripping his clothes off of his disgusting body, leaving him in his boxers. This didn’t help at all. If anything, it made things worse. Because like this, he’s so obviously a man. Feeling nauseous, he quickly threw on a pair of pajamas and carried his dirty clothing to the laundry room, only to be stopped by the strange man he shares this house with.
”Dove?”
The jester’s voice was soft and sweet, as if Sigma was some sort of delicate piece of glass that could shatter if Gogol spoke too loudly. His voice had a sort of strange innocence to it, something normally absent from the white haired boy’s voice. His Ukrainian accent was unmistakable. Quite frankly, Sigma found it nice to listen to. He actually quite liked the nickname his roommate had given him. Dove. It didn’t feel masculine at all. It was nice.
”Dove? Siggy? Sigma? Hello? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
Sigma snapped out of his daze.
“Oh, yeah, sorry, Gogol.”
Nikolai grabbed his bloodied hands, gasping dramatically.
”Siggy~! You’re all cut up! What happened?! Here, let me clean you up!”
Before he could protest, Sigma felt his roommate pulling him into the bathroom, mumbling something to himself in what the bicolor-haired man could only assume to be Ukrainian.
The second he entered the bathroom, Sigma froze. That same horrible reflection met his eyes once again. Thoughts began to swarm his head again. They were deafening. Apparently Sigma started screaming, because a gloved hand covered his mouth, muffling his cries.
”Dove? What’s going on?”
Nikolai slowly lowered his hand from Sigma’s mouth, giving him the chance to speak.
”I- I don’t- I don’t- don’t even know. It’s just-“
Sigma sniffles, holding back tears.
“My- I just hate how I look. I hate it so fucking much.”
The Ukrainian pouts, putting a hand on Sigma’s chest.
”Aww, Siggy, it’s okay. I think you’re veeerrryyy handso-“
For an instant, Sigma’s angry demeanor returns, and he slaps Nikolai’s hand away.
”Don’t fucking touch me. And don’t call me handsome.”
Nikolai’s confused. Normally Sigma’s fine with these kinds of things. He’s silent for a moment. Sigma’s gaze softens, and he sighs, cupping the jester’s cheek with one of his bandaged hands, thumb grazing over the scar that ran down his pale cheek. His roommate must’ve bandaged up his hands while he was having that screaming fit. How he managed to do it, Sigma had no clue. Nikolai was odd like that.
“Sorry, Gogol. I’m just- not doing too good.”
They sit in silence for a few moments, getting lost in each other’s eyes. The shorter man broke the silence.
”Nikolai- uhm- I know this is an…odd question but-“
Sigma takes a deep breath.
“Do you ever feel like your body is just…wrong?”
”What?”
”Like- it’s wrong.”
”Dove, could you please elaborate?”
”There has to be something terribly wrong with me, Gogol. Some sort of mental illness, I don’t know. But every time I look at my body- or- or if someone refers to me as a man I just feel like I’m going to puke!”
Sigma is hyperventilating. He says the word man in the way someone would refer to a dead insect on the floor. This isn’t the short-tempered professional Sigma that Gogol knew. This Sigma was just a helpless- boy??? girl??? - person who’s shattered into a billion pieces like the mirror they had broken, and needed someone to help them feel okay.
“Hey, Dove? Have you ever thought that…maybe you aren’t a man?”
Sigma tilted his head, confused. How would he not be a man? He has a man’s body, a man’s voice, a man’s— everything.
“Nikolai, are you fucking high?! Now is absolutely not the time to crack any kinds of jokes!”
Now it was Nikolai’s turn to be confused. He smiled slightly. He loved Sigma, but wow, sometimes he she really knew nothing about the world…
”Siggy, i’m not joking right now. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of transgender people!”
”Huh..?”
”Transgender people? Y’know, people who don’t identify as their assigned sex at birth? I know you’ve only been around for three years, but jeez, Siggy, you’re quite oblivious aren’t you?”
Sigma looks like he’s about to cry. And this time, it’s not out of sadness. He grabs Nikolai by the shoulders eyes lighting up.
”I can do that?! So- you mean- I could- I could be a woman?! Really?!”
Nikolai chuckles, planting a kiss on his girlfriend’s lips, holding her in his arms.
“Of course, my Dove.”