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There was a dimness to the room, as if the light itself had bled out from it, exuding desperate lines of withering shadows in its wake. The sun had set early over Flower Castle, leaving a steady darkness behind it.
The closet door was open. The bed was left unmade that morning, and remained that way, only now, with clothes laid upon it. Boots sat lonely near the door, far from their paired hat, which hung solemnly on the bedpost.
Yellow sat against the far wall, knees to his chest as he tried and failed to control his breathing.
Mirrors. Often described as useful. Symbolic as a gateway to the soul, a reflection of truth to one’s own visage. Glass and metal, crafted to spill honesty upon its lookers: complement the truth back for your eyes to see. A guide to start the day, and a messenger to end it.
But now, to Yellow, it spelt cruelty; the truth was just, even if painful to observe.
It had been a while since he had noticed. It had been a long while since these thoughts had found their way back into his head. Now that they had, it seemed they wanted to linger
He had felt good earlier! He had been gifted a new vest from Blue; embroidered with amber and azure patterns to match their flowers. He had fallen in love with it. The moment he had come back to his room, he had tried the thing on, spinning around, flashing his guns towards the mirror. A smile had spread its way across his face because he felt so good! But all of that, just as soon, came crashing down.
There was a tightness to the vest when he moved his arms, so it hugged his figure at certain angles. It dipped along his waist like sand falling through an hourglass, and something about his chest didn’t seem quite right. He had stepped closer, lifting his arms and turning, until he saw her staring back at him through the mirror’s surface.
It had startled Yellow, at first. He had tried to laugh it off, but it was too late for that. He had already let her in. The roundness of her cheeks. A soft jawline that her skinny frame couldn’t make up for. Thin horns that curved back, instead of forward, even with their small size; wide hips that jutted out just as noticeably. A figure without a lick of noticeable muscle, until she flexed. Then it showed in her legs, more than her arms. A mullet is manly, until it reaches your shoulders. Then your hair’s just long.
He stared into the glass until his reflection wasn’t his anymore. He stared until he couldn’t stand it, and then he stared more because his eyes wouldn’t tear away. His arms came up, and his shoulders rolled forward, as if that was enough to hide the bulging of his chest.
Yellow’s eyes had clouded over with tears, tears that failed to hide the girl that stared back at him. He stumbled back anyway, finding a spot on the floor to sit as a looping in his thoughts overcame him. His nails tore at the skin of his arms in a repetitive motion, the only relieving comfort in that moment.
How could he face Blue like this? How could he face his beautiful ballerino when he looked like this?
Yellow’s stomach dropped at the realization: when it hit him. He produced a sob: an awful sound that fell from his lips. How high-pitched it was. A shriek? Feminine? Shrill? He couldn’t help but chide himself over it, which only made those cries worse.
That was met with the door flinging open.
Yellow’s face was buried into his hands, nails peeling at his cheeks, when Blue took his wrists. So far from the feelings of his body, he could barely tell when the other – when the man pulled him into his flat chest.
His body trembled something awful in Blue’s arms, the latter lost on what could have happened in such a short time – in the short moments Yellow had stepped away to change – from them laughing to this. But alas, the lingering time was what had called him back into the room in the first place.
“Darling? Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” There was concern heavily laden in Blue’s tone. It intertwined with each word, unhidden at any capacity.
Maybe he was pretending not to see it. Maybe Blue was pretending to accept the poor costume that his lover wore. Or worse, Yellow thought, he had tricked the man he adored, over all else in the world, into loving him back. How could he have been so cruel? Not only kidding himself, a terrible excuse for a cowboy, but committing a worse injustice against Blue?
It felt as if his heart would burst from the thoughts swirling in his mind. He had tricked Blue, he reckoned. He had lied, had tricked him, had duped him. And after all their time together, all the love they shared, it was he wasting Blue’s time! Why, he was no better than…
“Why are you even with a fake Justice like me?!” Yellow wailed out, thoughts spilling heavy from his lips. “Why do you let me lie to ya, Blue?! I ain’t no cowboy! I ain’t never gonna be no cowboy!”
The suddenness of the words caught Blue off guard. His eyes flew wide, and it took a moment for him to process. Nevertheless, he slid a comforting hand across Yellow’s shoulders, holding him in a tighter embrace.
“What ever could you mean by that?” Blue tried to keep his words tender: they held the faintest edge to them that he attempted to smooth down. “You are the best ‘durn’ cowboy I know! I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”
Yellow pushed back against the comfort now, shaking his head violently. His hands went up to grasp hold of his own horns, a self-soothing tactic that he now administered from sheer desperation.
“Yer settlin’ for me! Yer settlin’!” Yellow shouted, bursting further into tears. His finger pointed accusingly, even if the harshness was meant for himself. “You use that word! You said that yer that Achilles word: you like men! I ain’t never gonna be man enough for someone as perfect as you!”
Things finally clicked into place, and it was enough to shatter Blue’s aching heart. At this confession, he could feel tears prickling at his own eyes, his head shaking in horrified astoundment. Blue’s hands rose quickly to Yellow’s cheeks, thumbs rubbing insistently to hold his attention.
“Please. I can not hear you say such awful things! Not for what you think is for my sake!” Blue stilled himself, eyes staring deep into Yellow’s. “You are the man for me. I love you more than the sun and the moon and… You will always be the man for me.” Blue was at a near loss for words, but he had to get them out. He had to reassure his partner. With each word, Blue's voice nearly broke. It was all he could do to keep from shouting, from the emotions built in his chest.
“But I ain’t! How cou’d ya say that!? To a liar an’ a –“
“You are the most stunning, most gorgeous, most kindhearted man I know. I am so proud of who you are.” Blue spoke over Yellow’s words, pulling them up like the weeds they were: before they could further take root. “The Angel has blessed me with you. I could not want another man in all of the Dark Worlds or the Light World. I love you. I want you. I need you to understand that.”
To this, Yellow fell silent. His frame still shook, his lips trembling, and the words sent a fresh wave of tears to his eyes. He could hear the love that was wrapped into every one, and even though his thoughts had told him he didn’t deserve it, each consolation seemed to break through, penetrating deep within his chest. It was a partial feeling of relief and one of burning sorrow, both emotions twisting around each other in terrible passion.
That feeling was making Yellow sick, but somehow, it was also well with him. He couldn’t understand why Blue just accepted him so easily. How he loved him with such gentleness and care. He didn’t deserve it! But perhaps his partner could see something that he didn’t. And maybe that was okay, too.
Yellow finally allowed himself the comfort of being buried in Blue’s arms. His partner surrounded him effortlessly, bringing him tight to his chest, rubbing his back, and sparing soft little pecks along his face.
“How could I ever want anyone else?” Blue asked aloud, gently pushing a curl away from his partner’s eyes. “Not when I have such a gorgeous man in my arms.” He hummed. The words nearly choked Yellow when he heard them.
“Tall. Sturdy. Strong.” Blue continued. “Dependable. And with such wonderful horns! I’m sure my boyfriend could fight off anyone with these, couldn’t he?” He ran a finger along the expanse of one of Yellow’s horns, a soft smile pulling at his lips.
Yellow sniffled, tilting his head up just slightly. His voice was weak, but he still managed a small hum in agreement.
“Well, he’s already won my affections!” Blue announced, giving another small peck to Yellow’s forehead before meeting his eyes again. “With his handsome face, and —” Blue gave a small gasp. “Goodness! Is that stubble I’m seeing!?”
Yellow couldn’t suppress the small upturn at the corners of his lips, nor the pink flush that was rising faintly on his cheeks.
“I ain’t had the chance ta shave.” He mumbled, smile finally breaking through
“Oh, I can see that!” Blue exclaimed, nuzzling his nose right against the spot he was drawing attention to. This produced a startled noise from Yellow, who was finding himself somewhat calmer.
“It ain’t that much. Jus’ peach fuzz, really.”
“Tis not! It’s right there!” Blue reassured, planting a quick barrage of kisses to Yellow’s cheek, enough to make the latter’s eyes shut.
“Isn’t he just perfect!” Blue sang aloud, pulling back to simply hug his partner again. Yellow accepted it willingly this time, taking in a shaky sigh before settling in the ballerino’s arms. They stayed like this, taking in each other’s warmth.
“Thank you, Bluebell. Fer all them nice things ya said.” Yellow mumbled, looking up at his partner, eyes now dry of their tears.
“I meant every word, dear,” Blue responded, as he nuzzled his face into Yellow’s shoulder.
A long while passed: the two men sitting in each other’s embrace. Blue continued his sweet words for Yellow, the truth, until his boyfriend was comfortable looking at his own reflection again.