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Seven sat in his room, staring blankly at the wall.
Life was going great, to be honest. His mother was trying to be understanding of him, The Librarian was back, he was rather close with everyone, and everyone was trying to start looking for his pupils and seek him out, and he and Birdie... Well, they were a bit more than friends now.
Of course, there was also their war between Fuerte and them, but so far, things were going smoothly.
So why couldn't he feel completely happy?
Seven blew out a very big breath, making his cheeks flap. He didn't have anyone to talk to. Birdie and Cabot were out with The Librarian again, Brix and Elena were busy training with Tenner and Troy, and Lada and E-kat were having Mother-Daughter bonding time. He also didn't wanna call his mom in case she was busy.
He went to the bathroom between his and Birdie's room, hoping maybe a cold face wash would help him. When he got there, he didn't turn on the lights. He didn't know why, but he just stared at himself, to the best of his ability, in the mirror.
He brushed his knuckles against his chin, like how Birdie did. Seven brushed his fingers over his face, feeling the upward curves of his eyebrows and mouth, the definition of his cheeks, the pointy roundness of his nose, and the strange fuzz under his chin again.
He even felt the strange thickness of his eyebrows, which confused him. But he figured it was a part of growing up.
An unsettling thought filled his brain.
If he already sounded so much like Martim, according to his mother, then would he end up looking like him?
The thought made him queasy and lightheaded. He gripped the counter and turned on the cold water, splashing it on his face. The water droplets left over faded with him, his ability coming into effect automatically.
But water couldn't wash out thoughts like it did with grease and dirt and such.
Seven took a few deep breaths in and looked back in the mirror.
He swore he saw a flicker of Martim.
He immediately swung his fist around, only to catch his towel and drop it to the floor. He muttered unsavory words as he picked it up and hung it.
He looked back at the mirror, still in the semi-dark. He closed the door, now leaving him enveloped in complete darkness.
Seven was hyper-aware of the way his body felt right now. Empty. Empty, empty, empty.
Except for his heartbeat, keeping him alive with its thudding. He focused on it, along with his breathing. He curled his fingers and smiled at the sensation.
But the thought came back. His eyes flew open, and they adjusted to the darkness around him.
"Get out of my life!" Seven cried as he slapped away anything that reminded him of Martim. Hand-soap? Smells like the man. Toothbrush? Martim uses one. Anything that Seven saw, Martim was there. "You made me like this!" Seven continued to cry as his heart thudded painfully in his ears.
He dropped to the floor in a balled fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest. His breaths were short, and everything around him was ringing. "Leave me alone!" Seven hid in the bathtub, trying to soothe himself with the strange but relaxing texture of it. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"
The Librarian barged in, flicking on the lights and finding Seven's outline curled up in the bathtub, breaths short and all. She rushed over to him and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "You're okay, you're safe, Seven. He isn't here. You aren't Martim. You're your own. Seven, you are a sweet and loving boy, something he will never be."
Seven's breath gradually came to an even pace, and he opened his eyes from their clenched state. He saw The Librarian next to him, the bathtub wall being a small barrier. He sniffed and let out a sob as he hugged her tightly. "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him... He made me like this."
The Librarian, usually not so affectionate or emotional, hugged him back. "I know, I know. I think we all agree with you on hating the guy." She paused and gave him two pats on the head to let him know he was crossing a line. "You're safe now, and he can't get you. And you'll never be him."
Seven nodded as he blew his nose with toilet paper. He might look like Martim one day, but he would never be like Martim. Never at all. He wasn't a mirror of just Martim. He was an echo of Martim and Magdalia. And every time he thinks of being like Martim, he'll simply tell himself that he was Seven Palacio. And Seven Palacio is way better than Martim Palacio.