Mirror Image

Chapter 5

The morning light seeped through the blinds, casting soft streaks of gold across the room as John sat up in bed. His legs came together instinctively, knees aligned, and his hands rested gently on his thighs. For a fleeting moment, the posture felt strange—foreign, even. But the thought dissipated almost as quickly as it arose, replaced by an ingrained familiarity. I've always sat like this, haven't I? The memory of the VR game lingered like a ghost, subtle yet undeniable.

John stretched his arms above his head and yawned before padding to the kitchen, his steps unconsciously elegant. His hips swayed slightly, and his strides were measured, one leg crossing smoothly in front of the other as though he were gliding.

In the kitchen, Emma stood by the stove, a spatula in hand, flipping eggs onto a plate. A glass of freshly poured orange juice waited on the counter. She glanced up as John entered, her eyes catching the unusual grace in his movements.

"Morning," she greeted, setting the plate down.

"Morning," John replied softly, his voice carrying a calm, almost melodic tone as he pulled out a chair.

Emma raised an eyebrow but said nothing, offering him the plate of eggs instead.

Halfway through breakfast, John set his fork down and leaned back slightly. "I need to go shopping today," he said. "I'm out of clothes."

Emma nodded. "Yeah, I figured. What happened to the rest of your stuff?"

"Lost at the airport," John replied, taking a sip of orange juice. "What I had in my carry-on is either dirty or in the wash."

Emma laughed lightly. "Well, we can't have you wandering around half-naked. That's not a great look for anyone."

John smiled faintly. "You're not wrong. Do you think there are any extra clothes lying around here? Something... wearable?"

Emma tilted her head thoughtfully. Since they were both staying at Jessica's house while she was away, neither of them knew what might be tucked away in the drawers. But then an idea struck her—a mischievous one.

"Actually, yeah," she said, suppressing a grin. "There's a drawer with some... spare stuff."

John looked relieved. "Great. Where is it?"

Emma gestured vaguely toward her room. "I'll grab something for you. Sit tight."

Emma rifled through her suitcase, pulling out a few items she rarely wore—clothes that straddled the line between masculine and feminine. She selected a loose, black button-up shirt with a subtle pinstripe pattern, paired with a pair of gray, slim-fit trousers. The shirt's cut was straight, lacking darts or shaping, and the pants had a tailored look that could pass for either gender.

She smirked as she returned to the kitchen, holding the clothes aloft. "Here you go. These should fit."

John examined the outfit. "Thanks," he said, standing and taking them.

As he headed to the bathroom, Emma called after him, "Don't take too long. We've got a shopping trip to plan!"

Inside the bathroom, John placed the clothes neatly on the counter and turned to the mirror. For a moment, he simply stared at his reflection. His hand rose almost automatically to his head, where he began smoothing down his short hair, as though it were long enough to braid or pin back. He tilted his head, his fingers mimicking the motions he'd used countless times in the VR game.

Once satisfied, he turned to the clothes. They felt soft in his hands, the fabric light and comfortable. He slipped into the shirt first, buttoning it up carefully. The fit was loose but not baggy, and the material draped nicely over his frame. The trousers came next, sitting snugly at his waist and tapering neatly down to his ankles.

He caught his reflection again and nodded faintly. This feels fine. Normal.

Years of virtual experience had made him accustomed to attire like this—or even more overtly feminine clothing. There was no discomfort, no sense of incongruity.

When John stepped out of the bathroom, Emma was waiting in the hallway, leaning casually against the wall. Her eyes flicked over his outfit, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

"Well?" he asked, gesturing vaguely to himself.

Emma raised a playful eyebrow. "Not bad. You clean up well. How does it feel?"

John shrugged. "Comfortable. Better than staying in pajamas all day."

"Fair enough," Emma replied, though internally, she couldn't help but marvel at how natural he seemed in the androgynous ensemble. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought he'd picked it out himself due to confidence he excluded, as if he was accustomed to wearing these type of clothes.