Thief With A Bike ~ Krii7y

~~~ { 42 } ~~~

John looked up, and stared at the mirror before him. Smii7y was covering the small imperfections, or at least what he thought were imperfections, such as the bags under his eyes, with makeup, as John expected.

He stared at his reflection, John really hadn't given himself credit for his own looks, and it looked like he and Smit literally belonged together.

John saw himself as the epitome of what Smit would like, but to the public, he'd probably have to be a woman to fill that role.

Maybe thats just his own biased mind speaking.

There were small differences that John could point out since the last time he'd taken a good look at himself, which felt like way too long.

He hadn't even noticed he didn't give a shit about himself for years, but thats what depression does to a man.

His hair was starting to grow back to its original brown, and he should start to think about another haircut, because his hair was getting a bit too long for his liking. 

Smit's eyes darted to Johns reflection, and then to him, confusion striking his pretty face.

"What are you doing?" Smit questioned.

"Just, I dunno, making sure I am who I thought I was?" John answered, unsure why his own reflection was unusual to him, like he truly was someone entirely new, but also someone who hadn't changed a bit.

Nothing had changed about him, drastically at least, his rings still stained with stubborn paint that refused to come off, no matter how many times he washed them, his eyes still a dull dark blue, his nail polish, that was once blue, was now chipped, but still there.

But he could pinpoint what made him feel this way. It was the fact that he was smiling that made his reflection look different, he wasn't used to it. He wasn't extremely pale, like he was sick anymore, he looked normal, somewhat.

It wasn't a lie that John had stopped taking care of himself once he fell into his depressive state, and it certainly wasn't a lie that his smiles were rare, at least they used to be.

Someone in particular changed that, and John wished he'd never go back, no, not wished, knew.

"Ugh, why do they not make this shit any lighter." Smit huffed, smudging his makeup a bit too much. "It looks like there's something wrong with me."

"I don't ever notice it." John looked at Smit, he really saw no difference, just that he looked less tired.

"Right."

"Smit, you look fine." John rolled his eyes, leaning on the counter.

"I sure hope I do."

"When do you ever look bad?"

"Maybe first thing when I wake up."

"Nope, you're still pretty."

"John."

"What?"

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

Smit shook his head, and went back to fixing the smudge he'd accidentally created. John saw Smit eye him, curiosity replacing any previous emotion.

"You don't have to watch me."

"But what if I do?"

"I don't think you do." Smit huffed, pulling out his phone, and reading the message he'd received before talking again. "Why can't Swag just type normally?"