Man In the Mirror (Ziam MPreg One-Shot)

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" Zayn mumbled at the reflective surface before him.

"Still not you," the man in the mirror sneered.

Zayn took in his disheveled appearance. He was disgusted with himself. Then again, when wasn't he?

Dark purple bags outlined his tired brown eyes that had once sparkled with mirth. His tanned skin had taken on a ghostly pallor. His bones and veins protruded grotesquely through his paper-thin skin, making him look starved. Even his hair-- his previously prized feature-- was out of whack. Strands of black locks had lost their luster and stood out in all angles and directions.

By far the worst thing to behold about Zayn's rough appearance were the angry red lines tracing delicately from the crook of his elbow to the soft flesh of his wrist. Even more horrifying than the physical damage, however, was the emotional trauma that went along with it.

The bodily pain had become a welcome change from the tragedy his life had become.

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(**3 months prior**)

Zayn stood before the mirror in his and Liam's en suite bathroom, shirt hitched up to expose his rounded belly. A small smile graced his lips as he laid a warm hand overtop the growing bump.

His eyes drifted closed, but the smile stayed put as did his hand that rested lazily on the protrusion from his abdomen.

Strong, muscular arms wrapped gently around Zayn's mid-section and his grin widened, his eyelids fluttering slightly but remaining shut. Liam's broad hands snaked their way to his boyfriend's stomach and interlaced with the tan ones already overtop.

Careful fingers rubbed tender circles over the milky flesh. Zayn let out a sound reminiscent of a purr and leaned contentedly against his lover's toned chest. Liam's chin rested comfortably in the crook of Zayn's neck and he let out a happy sigh.

The latter finally opened his eyes and met Liam's in the mirror.

That was back when the man in the mirror was still mute. He looked identical to Zayn with his quiffed ink blot hair, olive skin tone, and sparkling golden eyes. When Zayn moved, the man in the mirror mimicked. They were one and the same. But that was then.

The two took in the sweet scene reflected before them for a few moments before Liam deemed it necessary to get his pregnant boyfriend off his feet.

Keeping their fingers intertwined, the Wolverhampton boy led the other to their shared bedroom and laid him gently on the large bed before sliding in on the other side.

He already missed the feeling of having Zayn pressed to him. His arms shot out quickly and pulled the other lad flush against his body.

"How are you feeling today, love?" Liam asked quietly, regretful that he had to break the peaceful silence. He pressed a light kiss to the nape of Zayn's neck, making him shiver slightly.

Zayn sighed and rolled over carefully. "Okay..." he tried.

"Babe, don't lie to me," Liam reprimanded gently as he brushed a few wisps of hair from his boyfriend's forehead.

Zayn took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He met Liam's concerned brown eyes hesitantly. "Been a bit queasy again. And the abdominal cramps were a tad stronger than usual, but nothing I can't handle. Don't worry about me, Li. I'm fine, really."

"You know I can't help it," Liam murmured. "If the pain gets any worse, I'm taking you to the doctor."

Zayn nodded compliantly. As much as he hated doctors, he knew Liam was right. He didn't want his stupid phobia to stand in the way of his and his baby's health.