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“Bebreze? No.” Eugene pushed the liquid-filled spray bottle aside. “Bide? No.” The second bottle clunked against the first as Eugene scooted it out of the way. He leaned further into the under-counter cabinet, and only half-registered the feel of his knees complaining about the hard tile of the laundry room floor.
The back of the cabinet was dark. Eugene had to squint in order to see the third bottle's label. “Bowny? What does this stuff even do?” A blurry image surfaced at the back of his mind. A woman stood in a sunny field, pressing fabric to her face and … was she smiling?
Eugene concentrated, trying to bring the details into focus. But, it was no use. The image slipped away, leaving a hollow unease in its wake. It was a feeling he was becoming increasingly familiar with, and he pushed down the tinge of panic that always accompanied it. His searching hand stilled as he tried to place the woman’s quickly fading face. She wasn't one of his Midnight Alley friends. Had he known her before the train?
“Mister Eugene? Can I help you find something?”
Eugene jumped, bonking his head on the underside of the counter. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard Felix enter the room. Stars blossomed across his vision. He blinked to clear them, and was about to exit the cabinet when he spotted the bottle he'd come down to the laundry room to retrieve.
“No thanks.” The loose silk of his pajama trousers bunched around his knees as he scooted back. He took a moment to straighten and dust off the fabric with his free hand as he got to his feet. “I found it.” He set the bottle onto the counter and gestured to it with a little flourish.
“Blorox?” There was a polite, if slightly puzzled, look on Felix's meticulously constructed face. Eugene didn't even hear the servos engage when the little tufts of synthetic fur that served as eyebrows drew together. “Do you need to clean something? I can…”
“I'm going to bleach my hair.” The sentence tumbled out of Eugene without first obtaining his permission. It had been playing on repeat in his head, and had apparently decided that now was the time to make a break for the vocal cords.
It had started with the bathroom mirror. These days Eugene avoided his reflection during his wake-up-brush-teeth-wash-face routine. There was something about it that still looked a little unfamiliar. On good days, it was simply unsettling. And on bad ones, a nauseating mix of confusion and fear would whirl in his gut at the sight of not-quite-himself. Seeing those churning emotions show up in the eyes of what felt like a stranger only made the experience worse.
So, Eugene had gotten into the habit of reserving actions that required a mirror, such as getting dressed or dashing on some makeup, for after breakfast. Food helped ground him. Eating a meal gave him time to settle into his body. It was a gentle hello to himself, a little reminder that at least his fondness for eggs and toast never waivered. This simple meal always tasted comforting and familiar, always left him feeling fortified enough to face his face.
But today, when Eugene had woken up with that sickly mirror dread, something in him pushed back. Anger, maybe? Whatever it was, it had made him throw off his duvet, march right into that bathroom, turn on the light, and stare that mirror down. The almost-familiar man that stared back at him looked determined. A little scared too, if he were being honest. But, Eugene grabbed that determination and held on.
He let his eyes roam over the arch of his brow, noticing how one eyebrow twitched up at the attention. He took in the sharp curve of his nose, and a well defined cheekbone that still held a faint smudge of the green stripes he'd painted on it yesterday. The fingertips of his right hand ran across the stubble that softened his jawline. It was the same dark black as the tousled hair he hadn't yet brushed.
And that's when it happened. The anger that had propelled him out of bed met the determination to literally face his discomfort head-on, and they made a plan. Eugene wasn't going to wait for his reflection to call the shots anymore. He was going to take control. Maybe if post-train Eugene made a deliberate change to his appearance, he could stop wondering why that man in the mirror looked the way he did.
Eugene narrowed his eyes at the mop of midnight on top of his head and thought, “I'm going to bleach my hair.”
A hasty patter of bare feet down the stairs and a mumbly search through a cabinet later, and Eugene was declaring his intentions to a confused animatronic cat man.
“With the Blorox?” Felix's feline eyes moved from the bottle back to Eugene. “That sounds kind of dangerous. I mean, it says on the label to wear gloves and to not get it in your eyes.”
The wave of resolve that had carried Eugene this far washed right out of him. He slumped back against the counter, his breath leaving him in an embarrassed, “Oh.” His chest felt tight, and tears started to prickle his eyes. Why had he thought this was a good idea?
“Mister Eugene,” There was a gentleness to Felix's voice. Maybe he didn't totally know what was going on, but he could see how important this was to his human. “Don't they make bleach specifically for hair?”
Eugene looked up in shock at the ginger striped face of his cat. Of course there was such a thing as hair bleach!
“I … I don't know why I didn't think of that.” Eugene's voice was small, barely above a whisper. But, he felt hope start to well up again. “Do you think if we BoarDashed some to the house, you could do my hair?”
“Sure!” Felix's answer was bright and cheerful. “I mean, I can try. I've never dyed anyone's hair before, but it sounds fun.” He stepped aside and gestured for Eugene to leave the laundry room before him. “And while we're waiting for the delivery, why don't I cook some breakfast?”
“Eggs? And toast?” Eugene asked as he made his way out of the room. The Blorox bottle stayed behind on the counter.
“Is it even breakfast without eggs?” Felix replied, following Eugene down the hallway toward the kitchen.
An hour later, breakfast had been eaten and a delivery person in a company-mandated boar themed uniform had dropped the ordered supplies at the front door. Eugene's determination was back, too. He was going to make that mirror show him a Eugene that he recognized. With a little help from Felix, of course.