Staring In The Mirror, Looking Back At The Person I Hate

Rating: T

Fandom: EDM/FFTL

Ships: Gen, Sonny learns 2 love him self

Warnings: eating disorders, self-hatred, body dysmorphia, relapse

After an unwelcome interaction at the 2024 Grammys, Sonny tries to talk to the new voice in his head.

Joel stared dully at his reflection in the mirror, the weary, gaunt man staring back at him, water dripping from his stubbled chin. He probably should have shaved before coming, but what the hell. Nobody really cared about him under the mask anyway. He took a deep breath and grabbed a couple paper towels, to dry his face then his hands. Coming here was a mistake. He wanted to be at home with Meowingtons instead of dealing with all this press. Fuck, Meowingtons . The wound was still fresh, a dull ache in his heart that was awfully inconvenient.

He threw away the paper towel and picked his helmet up off the sink counter, mustering up the wherewithal to face the reporters and his fellow artists again. Act like he was just fine. Business as usual.

Immediately as he stepped out of the bathroom, a swarm of camera people huddled around him, snapping photos that temporarily blinded him with obnoxious flashes. Joel didn't even have time to put his helmet on first- given that the ears had a tendency to smack against door frames- and he was more than a little caught off guard. He bit back a snarl and held his arm over his face, holding his helmet to his chest and trying to cower behind one of the ears. "No pictures, no fucking pictures!"

The paparazzi stopped and shot Joel a look. They backed away, however begrudgingly, and went over to harass some other celebrity, like a house cat to a laser pointer. The lady they surrounded had a similar reaction to his.

Having successfully fended them off, Joel grinned to himself at the woman's reaction. 

Fuckin' sucker, he thought.

Given a little more room to breathe now, Joel mounted the mouse helmet onto his head. It was a stabilizing force, truly- it acted as a barrier between himself and the outside world. Made these shitty awards events bearable. Made all these prying eyes on him bearable. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he began to head off, only to feel something hit the side of his helmet. 

"Hey!" Joel snapped, instinctively jabbing outward with his elbow. "Watch the ears, jackass!"

“Sorry man, I thought I was in the clear.” said a somewhat high-pitched, nasally voice.

Joel paused as recognition hit him. He knew that fucking voice. The man continued to walk briskly past him and, whipping his head around, Joel only saw a glimpse of black leather slip into the bathroom.

And then he thought to himself, Hey, how long has it been since I last picked on Sonny?

Truthfully, Joel hadn't talked to Sonny at all in forever- no, a heart emoji quote retweet didn't count as talking- but he was sure he could still get away with some light-hearted ribbing. For old times’ sake!

Joel took his helmet off and followed Sonny into the bathroom, a shiteating grin on his face as he grabbed him by the back of his jacket, leaned into his ear from behind. 

"Oh, hey, Drake," Joel said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. "Didn't know you were up for a Grammy this year. You seen Skrillex? I've been looking all over for him."

Sonny met his gaze in the mirror. He humored him with a short laugh, but quickly stepped away.

“Hi Joel. How’ve you been?” He greeted him. He didn’t necessarily seem displeased to see him, but he didn’t seem happy either. That wasn’t too surprising though. Their last few interactions weren’t exactly the friendliest. Drying his hands off, he turned to look at him, giving him his ambiguously friendly smile. Inwardly, Joel had hoped for more of a reaction to his teasing, but he supposed it wasn’t an unreasonable question to ask, if not an unwelcome one that commanded expert deflection.

"You're different," he said, and then, upon realizing that was kind of a dumb thing to say, appended, "What the fuck do you mean, how have I been? You got possessed by the fuckin' spirit of shitty rap or something and you're asking me what's new?"

“I’m just trying to make conversation. You said a while back you were working on yourself. I’m just curious how that’s going.” Sonny said. The most annoying part was Joel knew he meant it. Even after years of avoiding each other both online and off, he cared about his well-being. Sonny chuckled at the latter half of his comment.

“For your other question: no, I wasn’t going for Drake. I wanted to try a sort of like, a minimal goth style.” He explained, leaning against the counter.

Joel didn't dignify Sonny with the satiation of his curiosity, partway out of embarrassment. He'd tried to work on himself for maybe a week before he found himself falling back into the same habits, the same routine. Eventually he just accepted he would always be a piece of shit and stopped trying.

" Minimal goth ," Joel repeated, slowly, in such a way that cast doubt on the statement. He rolled his eyes. "You're failing pretty hard at it, then. You look like what would happen if the manager of a Whole Foods got lost in Manhattan. Let me guess, that jacket's vegan leather?"

“Well it might not come across very well, but it’s not for you, so.” Sonny was admittedly a little rusty when it came to dealing with Joel’s jabs, but it seemed to work well enough, he was grasping at straws with his insults. 

“All the little cows are happy when their friends don’t get made into accessories. It’s probably made out of some plant, I’m not sure what.” He said, fiddling with the edge of the jacket. Sonny could keep deflecting an endless slew of questions, and he knew well that Joel could keep prodding him with them. An unstoppable force versus an immovable object.

"Oh, you're right," Joel relented softly, turning his helmet over in his hands. "All the little cows are much happier when their friends are turned into steak anyway and the skin is left to rot so you can feel better for not wearing it."

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, like he had won an argument that existed only in his head. "And you know this because you hang out in cow pastures. And talk to cows."

Sonny took out his phone and looked at something, blatantly ignoring him.

“While I was there, the cows told me how much of an asshole you still are.” That retort was admittedly weak.

"Oh, did they?" Joel grinned and leaned just a little closer to Sonny. Too close for comfort.  It was almost like he was trying to crowd Sonny up against the counter, make him feel small with his body language- not that it was a hard feat, as Sonny was rather small anyway, but it gave a distinct impression of dominance.

"How’d you get so close with these cows, anyway? They adopt you a second time after your mom died?"

Sonny’s expression and body shifted uncomfortably. He glared up at him with just his dark eyes, his head not following his gaze upward. That was a deep cut, even for Joel.

“No. They didn’t.” Then, after a bit of silence, “And they were right, you’re still a shitty human.”

Joel cocked his head a little. He chose not to acknowledge that second part- mostly because he knew it was true anyway. He was shit, no way around it. "That's a shame. I think you'd fit right in. You could sit around and talk about how much you hate me all day long."

In the back of his head, Sonny heard his own voice, not quite as loud as when he spoke, but just as present in his own mind. 

Fat like a cow, too.

He almost made a face at the comment, but stopped himself just in time. Joel had enough to work with, Sonny didn’t need him speculating on some expression. 

He let his eyes glance around the room. There had to be some excuse he could use. Unfortunately, the voice in the back of his head had disoriented him just enough to stay standing there without much to say.

“I don’t hate you.” Sonny managed in a low voice. He stared off into the floor, mind and eyes wandering. He fixated on the time in his phone for a few seconds.

He perked up with a sudden nervous haste.

“Sorry to end this so soon, but I need to be out there.” He lied. “My nominations are in a few minutes.” 

"You don't hate me," Joel repeated, slowly, then scoffed and backed away, rolling his eyes. "What a joke. Yeah, go out, have fun with your little awards, see if I care if your shitty trap-hop whatever wins. But don't forget who fuckin' made you."

Sonny stood there for a second, then shuffled around him and slowly walked towards the door, waiting to see if Joel had any last remarks. When the smug silence gave him his answer, he pushed open the door and shot Joel a subtle look of disgust. What he said was true. He didn’t hate him, at least not as much as Joel thought he did. 

Though, that last sentence lingered in Sonny’s mind as he made his way to his seat. Don’t forget who fuckin’ made you . 

He never made me. Matt, Travis, and Derek made me, my inspirations, my influences, those made me. All Joel did was give me an outlet, he thought. Deep down, Sonny knew just how much he’d helped him, but that was a can of worms he was not unpacking right now.

Everything was weird. Joel seemed even more antagonistic than usual, but that wasn’t all that strange, especially compared to the voice he’d heard. Fat like a cow? Where the hell did that even come from?

Came from the truth, came that voice again, more vicious than the last time. You're fat like a cow because you eat like a cow. I mean, you've really let yourself go. Have you seen the things people say about you?

Sonny jerked his head around. It sounded like somebody whispered right in his ear. He received a few concerned or weirded out looks from other guests—but he didn’t find the culprit of the insults. He murmured a quick ‘sorry’, and found his chair. 

The nominations came up faster than Sonny expected, and a little excitement bubbled up within him. Quest For Fire didn’t win best electronic album, Fred again’s Actual Life 3 did. Sonny beamed, he’d have to congratulate his friend later. Next, Rumble was up for best electronic song. They told the winning artists who won beforehand, but even still, Sonny’s heart pounded. 

“And the Grammy goes to…” The announcer began, opening the gold envelope. “ Rumble! Skrillex, Fred again, and Flowdan!” A roar of applause trailed him as he walked up onto the stage, and he accepted the award, smiling. He didn’t have any kind of speech prepared, but he came up with some things to say. He started off by acknowledging the speech timer, and giving some advice to any new artists looking to hit it big. The voice in the back of his head came up again, and Sonny felt he had to address it in some way. 

“I know the world is crazy right now, but if we listen to people on the other side of the aisle, or on a different perspective, things will get better,” he encouraged, gesturing as he normally did. He gave thanks to Fred and Flowdan, and left the stage not long after, applause following him again.

The voice in Sonny's head came back again, though, as he walked offstage. 

A different perspective, huh? How about these perspectives? 

"Love you, Sonny, but you need to lay off the Little Debbies." 

"Look at his acne scars." 

"Don't give him a cookie, he already stuffs his face way too much." 

"Acne scars, koala nose, Ross Perot ears."

He winced as he finished walking away from the stage. The escalation in frequency of this voice was getting worrying. Someone stared at him as he went by, and he raised his eyebrows to try and reset his expression, realizing his face looked quite stern. He quickly made his way back to the bathroom, looking for some amount of privacy.

Checking to make sure Joel wasn’t there, Sonny walked in and leaned onto the counter. This time staring at himself in the mirror. He gingerly touched his acne scars, rubbing the little scale-like bumps. Then Sonny made some distance between himself and the mirror. He turned to the side, and then to his back, then to his side again. 

I guess I could stand to lose a—no, no I’m at a healthy weight, I’m fine.

Geez, Sonny hadn’t been that self-deprecating since…Since he was a teenager.

Your face is so much uglier than I remember.

Somewhere, in the back of Sonny's head- which was starting to hurt, for some strange reason- there was a pang of something resembling sadness. But it was dulled, like Sonny himself wasn't feeling it- like someone else in his head was. 

Put down your hair. It might do something to hide all of… that.

He pressed his hand to the back of his head. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn’t realize he had started to undo his bun. Sonny inhaled sharply and quickly fixed his hair, frightened and staring into the mirror.

Suddenly, the prospect hit him hard. Maybe that was who he was hearing, was his past self flaring up and reminding him of everything he used to hate about his appearance?

Maybe he still did hate it.

The hustle and bustle of the awards ceremony eventually faded into the night, and Sonny had to leave. Talking to people had distracted him from the dull throbbing in his head, but not any longer. He got to his hotel room and immediately took something in the hopes that the pain would settle down. 

The city lights outside his window were bright. LA was still alive this late into the night. It reminded Sonny of when he used to live here, sneaking out to go to raves and buying packs of eyeliner with money his mom would give him. Fueled by the bit of happiness the nostalgia brought him, he changed out of his clothes and got into bed peacefully. Sonny flipped over onto his stomach and pulled the covers all the way over his head. He tossed and turned for what seemed like ages, but when he checked the time it had only been ten minutes. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about what happened, and the nostalgia quickly turned into the sour kind, the kind that rose in him like bile. The closer Sonny drew to sleep, the stronger the voice became, almost sounding like someone was speaking to him from across the room. 

"You know you didn't deserve that win. I mean, really... what you make isn't even music. It's just noise."

Sonny turned and smacked the bed next to him, frantically feeling around for the source of the voice, now covered in a cold sweat. And then the voice was back inside his head again, laughing at him, all too familiar, all too mocking, in much the same way schoolyard bullies once did. 

What are you trying to hit?

“Ugh! What are you? Where are you??” Sonny hissed into the dim light. “Are you me?” He asked. Only the soft whir of the air conditioner responded to him for several moments.

I wish I was anyone else, the voice finally admitted, the ghost of a sneer laced into its words. Sonny’s gaze softened a little. 

“That makes sense, if you are actually me.” He sat up under the sheets, now hoping to seem a little more approachable to…whatever he was talking to. “I remember feeling that way too.” He offered gently.

Another long pause. The voice seemed farther away now, more distant even as he called out to it- shy, perhaps. 

Maybe if you still had your shame you wouldn't have undone all my hard work.

“My shame?” He asked, mostly to himself, but quickly realized what the voice meant. “Bulimia isn’t healthy, man. I assume you know that.” He added that last part feeling a twinge of frustration.

Sonny slid his legs out of the bed and hopped off before putting on a way-too-big shirt that was lying over a chair. Maybe out in the open room, he could talk to this being a little easier.

“And what do you mean, hard work?” Sonny asked.

You know you look insane talking to yourself, The voice muttered, but didn't seem quite as upset as before. Maybe it was the over-size of the shirt that calmed him, but either way, he was calmer. Almost level with Sonny. Go to bed. It's back on the road tomorrow, you need the rest.

Sonny didn’t follow the command. 

“No, I’m ok. I made time to see the city again.” He smiled, and became a little nostalgic thinking about the city. To disobey the voice further, he planted himself down on the floor and sat there with his legs crossed. “There’s no need to worry about me. I can work on low sleep.”

But... won't Matt be mad? The voice asked after a moment. All the while he'd been slowly simmering down, from a raging flame to now little more than embers.

“Matt? Oh! I haven’t been in the band since ‘07. I’ve been doing solo projects for a while now.”

Sonny jolted upright when he saw a small, narrow figure in the corner of his room. It was frail and its skin pallor, face mostly covered in a bushel of black hair. What Sonny could make out from the being’s face was all too familiar to him. 

“…You are me.” He breathed, mouth slightly agape.

"Shut up," the shade mumbled, crossing his legs as he sat across from Sonny, one wiry hand reaching up to brush out his long hair, revealing his blank and ghostly-white eyes. His arm was stick-thin, almost skeletal . All of him was, when Sonny thought to look closer.

"What year is it right now if 2007 was that long ago...?"

“…2024.” Sonny replied with an awkward laugh.

The smaller, frailer Sonny, cocked his head just a little, curious. Almost without thinking, he asked, "How are you still alive?"

No words could explain that in a very straightforward way. Sonny thought for a bit, partly taken aback by the question, then spoke carefully.

“I—we—We learned to enjoy life again. We got a lot healthier, both mentally and physically.”

"You don't look healthier." The shade laughed, in the same mean, mocking way he had before. It seemed so out of place, coming from what were clearly Sonny's lips. "You really needed my help."

Sonny looked down at his body, then back at the shade.

“What do you mean?” He asked in a less friendly demeanor.

"I mean you're fat," came the reply, rather bluntly. The shadowy figure reached forward to poke at Sonny's belly, but being intangible, did little to affect the area besides sending a pulsating feeling through Sonny's stomach, something that made him hyper-aware of it. Sonny watched the hand phase through him with a somewhat uncomfortable expression.

"How much do you even weigh? One-eighty?"

“I’m one-sixty.” He replied, almost instantly.

He tried to move the shade’s hand away but it just phased through it too. As Sonny batted him away, the shadow's arm dissipated as if it were smoke.

“And I’m not fat….besides, having some fat is a good thing.” Even years later, he had a hard time accepting that.

A shiver went up his arm and he drew it back. However, the smoke chased his arm as he did, the darkness encircling the limb and creeping upward like a vine.

"Keep telling yourself that."

A wave of vertigo washed over Sonny, dizzying and confusing. It was like the whole room flipped upside-down and spun around, one way and then the other, teetering on a pinpoint. By the time Sonny righted himself, he realized that he was no longer in control of his own body. He saw himself in the third person as he stood, stretched his limbs, then spoke. 

"If you want it done right, better do it yourself, I suppose."

Hey! Wait! What are you—?

A sinking dread set in as his body moved in almost unnatural ways away from the bed. Now he was the voice in his own head. He was trapped as a prisoner outside of his own body, and he tried to move something, anything— but he could do nothing except watch and see whatever this other him would do. 

The other Sonny stood still for a long moment, taking in his surroundings, the feeling of being in control again, before finally beginning to move. He carried with him something Sonny hadn't felt in a long time, a pit of self-loathing in his stomach that was so powerful it was contagious, made Sonny feel disgusting just to witness. He made his way into the hotel bathroom, turning on the lights as he entered- they were so bright they nearly blinded him. Still, he didn't falter long, making his way toward the toilet and kneeling before it like a throne. It wasn't like dinner that night had been all that excessive, but the movement came as natural as breathing when he raised his fingers to his mouth, ready to bring it all up again like it was poison.

Please! Please I can’t do this again! Sonny begged from his mental prison, watching on in horror as he saw his own lips part and give way to the intrusion.

Sonny! He shrieked his own name in desperation. Even as the feeling of this odd detached self-hatred bubbled up inside him, Sonny tried to hold the other back. The puppeteer flinched when he heard his name, hand trembling- the protests gave him second thoughts, but they couldn’t stop him.

I’m so much better now, I’ve worked so hard to get here, PLEASE! Sonny protested, wailing in the back of his skull.

No. I'm helping you, lardass. You'll thank me later.  

Still, even as the puppetmaster insisted this, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes when he forced the fingers into himself, drawing out nothing more than a gag and some spit on the first try.

The real Sonny cowered in the back of his head. He couldn’t watch it happen, it brought back so many terrible memories, but at the same time, he couldn’t look away. His body, outside of his control, shoved his fingers down further, and eventually, he found success. A horrid retch escaped him as he brought up their dinner, coming out in putrid, slimy brown-and-yellow chunks, splattering against the sides of the toilet bowl. 

When it was over, after a moment far too long, his stomach ached with emptiness, and he admired his handiwork with satisfaction. Getting up, he flushed it down and wiped his chin, though tear-tracks still streaked his cheeks.

That wasn't so bad, was it now?

Yes, it was that bad, Sonny replied with an angry flair. Their body walked towards the bed, but stopped at the mirror this time. He turned and looked at himself. 

Sonny watched as his own face made expressions of hate and disgust.

Oh, what now?

Nothing, it's just... The more insecure of the two Sonnies grimaced, scratching at his face. Ugly. I hate my acne scars. And... this beard makes me look like a hobo. You didn't pack a razor, did you?

Sonny had packed a razor, but refrained from saying so. He really didn’t want this younger, impulsive version of himself shaving it off. It made him look a little older despite his baby face.

No, I just got a fresh cut to look nice for the awards, so I figured I didn’t need to bring it.

Oh. It doesn't look nice, but you can only do so much for a face not even a mother can love, I guess.  

Turning off the light, the younger Sonny finally looked away from the mirror, his mortal enemy, and made his way back to bed.

So could I like, have my body back? It felt like he was talking to a stubborn younger sibling who wouldn’t stop touching his Legos.

You've had it for the last... uh... 20 years, the younger thought, not bothering to do the exact math on that as his head hit the too-soft hotel pillows. If you want it back so bad, take it from me.

Great. Just great. They laid in bed, one trying to sleep, and the other very awake. Sonny tried to regain control, but unfortunately, without the knowledge of what to do or the means to do it, he was barred from physicality. Without a body, it was impossible.

Fortunately enough though, he wouldn't stay bored for long, as his younger counterpart was quick to fall asleep, snuggled up to a pillow like it was a teddy bear. 

When the morning came, Sonny’s body was up alarmingly early, right at the crack of dawn. The real Sonny didn't come to, though, until probably halfway through the morning routine, as the puppeteer was digging through his bags. 

Makeup, makeup... seriously, where did you put the eyeshadow, man?

Good morning… He answered sleepily, but still with an angry residue from the night before. You’re not going to find anything, man. I haven’t worn makeup in a long time. 

Sonny tried to rub his currently nonexistent eyes. As Sonny tried to move, so too did his body, throwing its hands down in frustration. 

I'm starting to think you don't really care about looking good if you're just letting people see that ugly mug. Is that why you grew a beard? Cause you got tired of being called a faggot for wearing makeup?

I just fell out of using it, and I don’t really want to start using it again. That’s all. And I grew the beard because I wanted to try it. I ended up liking it a lot. It has nothing to do with other people. He explained calmly.

Honestly, his insecurities hadn’t ever gone away, but he didn’t remember them ever being THIS bad. With most of the doppelgänger’s comments, he was just confused. And the younger Sonny could sense the confusion, but he didn't try to elaborate at all; he thought it was obvious they ought to be hiding their face in some capacity or another. And maybe he'd assumed the real Sonny should have agreed with that idea.

Whatever. I can find some cheap eyeshadow at the corner store, he decided, not bothering to put up his hair before leaving the hotel room.

Sonny was, internally, pretty quiet as he made his way down to the hotel lobby. He was up early enough that the breakfast was still open- for a long, tense second, he stood in the lobby and stared at the open breakfast bar. 

No. We don't need it.  

He pried his eyes away and continued on, making his way to a convenience store just down the street and picking out some black eyeshadow. Perfect. Now to take it to the checkout and pay without running into any assholes-

“Of course I fuckin’ run into you here,” Joel instigated, hoping to bring about whatever annoyance, or even rage, he got in return. He was standing an aisle over with a stick of deodorant in one hand and a single bag of chips in the other. The taller, wiry man walked over to him. One glance at the pack of eyeshadow and his face became very amused. “What? Were you so offended by me last night that you’re going emo again?”

"Wh-What?" Sonny stumbled back as the taller man loomed over him, face much too close to his. His back hit the shelf as he gripped his eyeshadow palette tighter. "I'm, um- sorry...? Do I know you?"

Joel blinked. 

“Tch, you forgot about me too? Christ Sonny, I called you a cow, it’s not the end of the world.” He teased.

"Um, no, it's... not..." Sonny's heart sank when he heard the word, his gaze falling to the floor. He didn't know what to make of the stranger, or why he was needling into him so hard. "It's just kind of… mean?"

Try not to listen to him, the real Sonny told him, while he himself was hiding from secondhand embarrassment. Joel narrowed his eyes at him. 

“You had all this cocky confidence last night, what changed?” The change in tone made it seem like he’d begun to scrutinize him.

Fuck off, Sonny said, then sighed, remembering Joel couldn’t hear him.

The younger Sonny, for the first time, wanted to take his older self's advice, but- he couldn't. He was scared, and overwhelmed, and he couldn't hide from this intimidating stranger, and he just wanted his makeup. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, despite his best efforts to hold back the waterworks. He couldn't even find an answer for Joel, a hiccupping sob wracking his body. 

"I don't know, just leave me alone!”

The stranger’s eyes widened. Suddenly he almost looked…worried. Of course, the older Sonny knew better, but it was definitely atypical of him. He couldn’t imagine what was going through Joel’s and the cashier’s mind, seeing a bearded adult man break down sobbing.

It’s ok man, just walk away. I’m sure there’s a bathroom in here, he comforted, giving Joel a side eye. For the first time, he was glad for his invisibility.

The teen was happy to follow the command, even if not to the letter, darting past the stranger and locking himself inside the single-stall men's room. He knew the floor in there was probably gross, but it didn't stop him from crumpling with his back against the door, hugging his knees close as his body shook. 

Who was that, what did he want from me?!

Joel Zimmerman, Sonny answered with a slight edge. We used to be friends, but we don’t talk anymore. Don’t worry man, he’s just a jerk. All talk.

The real Sonny put an ethereal hand on his own body’s shoulder. It was a strange experience, looking at himself in the third person, but the younger did seem to relax a bit at the gentle touch, leaning into it despite its intangible nature as he sniffled.

He's really mean.  

Even though his sobs and shakes calmed down with the reassurance, he stayed on edge, his eyes wide and frightened when he looked up to try and spot the specter of his counterpart. It was faint, but he was there, crouched next to him. In this ghostly form, he was back in his leather jacket, all cleaned up again. 

I know , He said. It took me a long time to get used to it. I mean like, you were there when he followed me into the bathroom. I’m still not good at ignoring him.

I wasn't. I just... I don't know, I woke up and I felt so ugly . I barely knew what was happening until we were in the hotel. He wiped at his tears, scowling a little as he glanced down at the eyeshadow palette still clutched in his hands. He was ready to leave the bathroom, pay, and be over with, but he didn't want to chance running into Joel again. 

I don't even know why I'm telling you this.

The other nodded knowingly. The memories of his late teenage years finally seemed to return to him, the hatred, the sadness. Sonny scooted next to the crying boy.

I get it though. I was you once, you know? Everything’s gotten better, but it’s still not gone. Real Sonny stated, leaning his head back against the door.

I know. If it was gone I wouldn't be here trying to fix it. The younger stood finally on shaky legs, walking over to the mirror to peer at himself, brush a hand through his hair and sigh. His eyes were kind of damp and reddened. Ugh, it still looks like I've been crying.

The older one watched as he looked at his face again. No matter what happened, he just looked so sad . He reached for the palette and he was actually able to pick it up. He handed it to him with a little smile. Permission to use it. Sonny figured that since it wasn’t his body at the moment, he couldn’t gatekeep the other from making it his own.

The teen Sonny didn't even notice that the makeup was being handed to him until it was in his hand. He blinked, glancing up at where the other Sonny should have been in the mirror- though, he wasn't- then opened it up, applying the makeup. It was quite messy, the muscle memory of how to apply it half-decently gone after nearly two decades, but he didn't care as long as it cast his eyes in darkness. Closing the little case, he finally cracked a smile. 

Thank you.

A wisp of cool air and a tiny bit of pressure wrapped around him snugly from behind. The real Sonny gave him a hug, and a little squeak of surprise escaped his mouth as the elder touched him. After a few seconds, he dissipated into nothing again. Even as the feeling went away, a shiver ran up Sonny’s spine.

I’m sort of getting used to this ghost-type thing! The elder giggled.

Sonny reached behind himself to wave a hand dismissively. Well, join the club. Don't touch me like that without warning me.

Right, sorry. He rolled his eyes playfully.

They walked out of the bathroom and cautiously scanned the store for Joel. When they didn’t find any antagonizing rat men, Sonny finished buying the palette, a little embarrassed having to explain that he used some before paying for it.

The younger Sonny remained somewhat wary even though Joel was clearly gone, but something about him seemed less tense than before. It was easy to miss, but he was just a little less scared, watching for just one asshole he knew hated him instead of worrying everyone he ran into was silently judging. As he left the store, stuffing the eyeshadow into his pocket, he leaned against a wall just to feel the California sun shine on his face.

I guess I feel better now. Did you have anywhere to be today? I... kind of don't know where I'm going. Usually by now Matt's dragging me somewhere, but…

Fred and I were going to get breakfast, we were going to go to this waffle place.

I'm assuming that's someone else I don't know and not that funny kid with the high voice. The younger Sonny didn't smile at his own joke, the thought of breakfast with someone filling him with dread. Is Fred gonna be mean like Joel? Maybe I should just not go and later you can tell him you got sick or something-

Don’t worry man, he’s not like Joel at all. He’s a really great guy, super nice, he assured him.

But what if I'm weird and he doesn't like me? Sonny thought, turning his head this way and that. Were people staring at him? Did he look weird? Slowly, the fear of judgment crept right back up, stronger than before. Putting on makeup felt like a mistake. He turned and started walking back toward the hotel.

He's gonna think I'm a fag. I'm gonna make him hate you, I should just hide.

Older Sonny’s heart sank. He scrambled to stand in front of him and look him in the eyes. 

No he isn’t. Listen, you’re glowing! You aren’t going to ruin anything. Look at me. He won’t hate you.

The smaller thought he must have looked ridiculous, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk the way he did, and he couldn't meet his elder self's gaze. He shook his head and walked right through him, shuddering even as he did. 

I look like a goth drag queen with mange, don't lie to yourself.

Sonny watched as his body walked away, curled up on itself, head down. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just followed him with a worried face. What could he say? Every time he tried to comfort him he would come up with some other thing about being ugly, no matter the state he was in. Sonny wanted to comfort his younger self so badly, but unusually couldn’t find the words.

Eventually, the younger made his way back to the hotel, eyes locked with the ground the whole time. When he got into the elevator, he woke from his stupor as he realized he didn't know where to go next. 

Uh... wait, what floor was the room on again?

Sonny’s ghostly hand pressed the button for the third floor, but still didn’t say anything. When they arrived at their room, he finally perked up.

I don’t want to flake out on Fred, so maybe we could try like—I could give you pointers if you want, like if you get nervous. Only if you feel like it, man. You can dip if it’s too much.

He watched him stand there, staring at the carpeted floor. Sorry. If you really don’t want to go, I can tell him something came up. He’ll understand.

I guess… Sonny thought to himself, relaxing a little once he was in the room, away from everyone else, anyone who could see him. I guess I was kind of freaking out... I felt like everyone was staring at me and I started to panic. I'm sorry. You can just coach me. It's not like he'll be able to tell.

His elder smiled at his willingness, and he tried to give him a pat on the shoulder. Of course, it phased right through. The two both managed a little laugh at that.

Alright. Well we should leave then, I told him I’d be there at 11:00 and it’s 10:45.

Oh, shit!

The younger Sonny quickly moved to leave again, cursing under his breath as he ran back to the elevator, jittering nervously as he mashed the buttons. Sonny’s spiritual form was yanked along with his body. 

Why didn't you tell me?! I'm gonna be late and he's gonna hate my guts!

We were pretty close when we were out of the store! I didn’t think you’d turn back! He protested.

I didn't think it was that late!

Impatiently, Sonny bounced on his heels in the elevator, and practically bolted the minute the doors opened. 

How far is it?! Gimme directions, man!

Um! Shit, it’s…left here, and then three blocks down go right and then right again!

Sonny tried his best to follow the directions his elder counterpart gave- and to his credit, he did eventually get there. About five minutes late, he noted from the clock on the wall as he arrived. 

Shit, fuck, fuck. He's gonna hate me. Sonny anxiously looked around. There's so many people in here, what does Fred look like?

His spirit self pointed at a tall blond guy wearing a thin vest over his white shirt. Fred sat under an umbrella table, looking around, presumably for Sonny.

That’s him.

Fred noticed him and waved with a decidedly genial expression, though admittedly looking a little confused.

Sonny quickly made his way to the table, smiling awkwardly as he sat across from Fred. 

"Hey, man!" He said, trying his damnedest to sound like he wasn't meeting him for the first time right now. "Sorry I'm late. I, uh... I had a rough morning."

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m glad you could come though.” He said nonchalantly in his peppy British accent, then: “It must’ve been pretty rough, your hair isn’t even put up, haha!”

Fred joked, but he didn’t seem malicious by it, and like the older Sonny, was all smiles.

"Oh, it, um, isn't-" Sonny awkwardly combed his fingers through his hair. It didn't feel too greasy, at least. Maybe he could play it off. 

"Yeah, I uh... I have no idea where my hair tie ended up last night. I clunked out pretty hard. But I was looking for it and I couldn't find it and I didn't want to keep you waiting, so..."

“It’s all good! I just rarely see you without it.” Fred said, taking a sip of his coffee. “I like the makeup. With all your goth stuff, it suits you!”

Sonny lit up at the compliment to his makeup, smiling wide. Under the table, he kicked his feet just a little. 

"Thank you-!" Sonny squeaked out. "I, um- yeah, I figured... I'd kind of... lean into the whole thing? It can't hurt to try something new!"

Oh my god, what am I talking about? He cursed in his head. I sound like an idiot.

Fred nodded, smiling. The older Sonny gave his younger self a little ok sign, smirking playfully.

Sonny felt a little bit like someone was playing a prank on him, but he had to take his wins where he could get them. He crossed his arms, hunching over the table as he looked around. 

"You don't think I look bad with my hair down, do you?" He asked, tentatively. "I mean, even with the sides being shaved."

“What? No, it doesn’t look bad. You made that haircut iconic for a reason, right?” 

Fred pulled out his phone and leaned over the table.

“Having your hair down has historical significance, we should take a picture.” He remarked cheerily. “And the makeup too, we need to document this, haha!”

Sonny, for all his insecurities, was actually pretty excited by the prospect of a selfie. He thought Fred's camera was a bit unusual-looking, but he had to remind himself he was in the future. That was probably just what cameras looked like now. He scooted his chair over and leaned in, wrapping his arms around Fred's shoulders. Right as Fred moved to snap the photo, almost impulsively, he turned his head to give Fred a big, exaggerated kiss on the cheek, pulling away with a laugh after he heard the photo snap.

Fred pulled away quickly afterward, eyes wide with surprise. After a moment though, he laughed at the photo, typing something before presumably posting it.

"People are gonna go crazy for that picture."

Sonny didn't quite get the memo of what Fred was doing with his camera as he scooted his chair back to where it had been, but it looked important. Grinning, and not thinking too hard before he spoke, he asked, "That gonna go on your MySpace or mine?"

The older Sonny gave him a worried look, clasping his hands in front of his mouth. Fred did a double take, saying nothing for a second. 

“MySpace? Oh my god, Sonny, did you forget what year it was? You really did have a ROUGH morning.”

Sonny didn't let his grin falter, if only because it would give away how suddenly he was realizing that he had apparently made a giant faux pas. He made the most horrendously awkward eye contact with his elder counterpart, before bursting out in laughter. 

"Oh, man, I got you good! Ha, I'm just pulling your leg, dude," he said, forcing out a snort. "You should have seen the look on your face."

The elder Sonny let out a small sigh of relief, cracking a little laugh himself. Fred was positively cackling.

“Aw man, I thought I got transported to 2007! Haha! Yeah it’s just going on Instagram.” He sounded almost disappointed at that. The older Sonny got comfortable and sat in the air next to his body. Maybe he was a little anxious before, but his younger self had everything down pat.

"Ha, yeah, probably a better call," Sonny said, smiling half nervously. 

What happened to MySpace? He thought, internally. And what the hell is Insta-gram? How much have I missed?

MySpace died almost a decade ago. IG is like, new MySpace though. There’s a bunch of other social media platforms now. Sonny looked up with nostalgia, and closed his eyes in reminiscence. I still kinda miss it.

Fred got up from his chair, which made an annoying scraping sound against the ground.

“I ordered us some pastries before you got here. I’m gonna go see if they’re ready.” He left and went into the small café building.

"Oh, um, you didn't have to-" Sonny awkwardly trailed off as he watched Fred go, shifting in his chair. 

Ugh... there's gonna be so many carbs in that crap.

It’s ok, I’ve been here before and they’re super small. Sonny said, pinching his fingers to emphasize his statement. Are you doing ok so far?

I... think? Sonny’s body shifted a little, head tilting up to look at the little umbrella above him, then back to where Fred had disappeared. I think he likes me.

He totally does, man! He’s a nice guy.

He almost feels too nice, Sonny thought, chewing on his lip as he waited for Fred to return. Internally, he wondered why his studs were absent, but there was nothing he could do about it at present.

His elder counterpart’s expression changed slightly. He still looked happy, but the light in his eyes appeared duller. The younger Sonny thought he saw his smile falter. 

Don’t think like that please. I can tell he really does like you.

Both Sonnies knew how much they hated telling people what to do, or being told it. But, he was running out of options to console him. Sonny frowned when he saw the specter's expression change. His gaze dropped to the pavement. 

I'm sorry. I just expected him to be... I dunno. More like the guys I'm used to.

It’s not your fault, I just wish…nevermind. I was going to say something really hypocritical.

No. Come on, say it. Sonny smiled a little, and it felt strange to be having this conversation in his head instead of outside it, but he was starting to find that he enjoyed his own company in any form it came. I've been hypocritical all day. And you can't hide stuff from yourself, man.

Sonny seemed to lighten up again when he smiled.

All I was going to say was I wish you didn’t feel like everyone hated you but I was in like, LITERALLY the same place as you. And I still have a hard time accepting validation. 

Well, you're me. Just... me from the future. Of course you have a hard time with that. He sighed and rested his head in his hand, a guilty look crossing his face. I'm sorry I called you fat and ugly. You're just as insecure about that as I am, aren't you?

Admittedly, Sonny didn’t feel great about saying this, but: Not as much as I used to be, but, yes. He knew he implied that his situation was better than the other Sonny’s, which made him feel a little bad, but it was true nonetheless.

I'm really glad you're not as bad as I am anymore. Sonny glanced upward, again scanning the room for Fred. Those pastries sounded really good about now. I'm so fucking hungry.

Right on cue, Fred appeared with two small plates. He set them down on the table to reveal some tasty-looking Danishes. Sonny sat up, eyes widening at the delicious sight. He accepted his plate with a grateful smile; he was so hungry, he didn't even remember to thank Fred before digging in.

“Geez—!” Fred spat, flinching away as he gripped his own Danish close to him, afraid he might take it. Even the specter stepped back with wide eyes as the pastry got devoured in front of him.

Sonny glanced up over his half-eaten Danish, then set it down half-awkwardly, blushing with embarrassment. He licked a bit of the cherry filling from his lips, not noticing some of it had gotten stuck in his beard as well.

"Sorry, that was totally gross of me," he apologized, looking away. That self-doubt was creeping in again, telling him that he was disgusting for stuffing his face like that, that he should have just refused and said he wasn't hungry instead of embarrassing himself.

“It’s fine.” Fred replied, covering his full mouth. His expression didn’t reveal much emotion, but he didn’t seem bothered. Sonny’s self-doubt was obvious to his ghostly self though. A translucent hand rubbed his arm lightly in some attempt to relax him.

Sonny jumped a little as the elder touched him, a shudder running down his back, but the touch was somehow reassuring- Fred clearly didn't care all that much that he was eating like a pig, and as he looked around, he couldn't find anyone else who was even looking at him anyway. He tried to smile up at the specter without making it too obvious he was seeing things that nobody else did, and then went ahead and finished off his danish, a little less aggressively this time.

Sonny and Fred talked for a little while, and Fred never seemed to think anything was off. After a bit of silence, he looked down at his empty plate. Fred got up again, plate in hand. 

“Those were tasty, I’m gonna get something else. Do you want another one?” He asked, pointing at his crumb covered dish.

"Oh, um..." Sonny had almost instinctively answered that he wasn't really hungry, but that would be a complete lie. And thinking about how he didn't want to subject his elder self to the same hunger pains he’d forced himself through, he finally answered, "I could go for one more."

Fred gave him his big goofy grin. “I thought so!” He took Sonny’s plate and disappeared back into the café. 

Something changed in the energy of the two Sonnies as they watched him walk away. The older one suddenly felt a faint pang of hunger in his stomach. Most bodily sensations had been absent since the younger Sonny took his physical form. Those feelings had begun to return though. He took a look at his hand, which was almost entirely transparent now, even to him. Sonny gave his younger counterpart an inquisitive look, quirking his eyebrows up.

The teen didn't meet his counterpart's gaze- in fact, hardly acknowledged him at all. His heart swelled, and it felt so foreign to him that he didn't know how to handle it, his grip slipping on the other Sonny's body until he was no longer in control of it.

The sensation was strange, he felt tingly like when a limb falls asleep, and his vision blurred for a moment before clearing. It was much more pleasant than last night, considering he wasn’t being ripped out this time. Once he came back to his senses, Sonny saw his long hair draped next to his face and the full opaqueness of his hand. He was in his own body again. He felt a warm presence at his side as he returned to himself, and turned to his right to see the scrawny form next to him, now in a semi-translucent state. 

Your friend really loves you.

…What happened? Is all Sonny could think to ask.

For the first time since he'd returned, the younger Sonny's face wasn't plagued by a look of profound sadness. Instead, he was smiling, as barely as it was. Something about it, though, remained bittersweet.

You don't need me around, he said, softly. You have a good life now. And you were right... you are a lot healthier. I'm just dragging you down with my sadness by sticking around.

You’re leaving already? He tried not to look too directly at him for fear of staring, but rather than being judged, he just didn’t want to bother people.

Why do you sound so disappointed? The teen sat in the seat where Fred had been before, long hair obscuring his eyes- though, being translucent, Sonny could still see the soft white glow behind his bangs. I thought you'd be glad to have me gone.

Sonny leaned against the table, crossing his arms. 

Why would I be glad to lose a new friend? He asked. One could interpret that question as sarcasm in a different context, but Sonny’s tone was undeniably genuine.

I'm your friend? He blinked a couple times. But I called you ugly. I made you relapse. Why don't you hate me?

Sonny considered his words. You did do that, but you had the best intentions. You said it yourself that you came back to ‘fix me’. He elaborated, pushing his hair behind his ear. You poured your feelings out to me and put enough trust in me to allow me to give you advice. And we didn’t even have that many casual conversations, but we were laughing when we did. Sonny smiled, gesticulating as he ‘spoke’. We had a rough start yeah, but you never did anything to make me hate you.

The teen laughed, something cynical in his voice even as he smiled. I never did anything to make you like me, either, you know.

I think we as human beings are drawn to people who are like us, and you’re literally me. By that logic, I like you by default. He remarked lightheartedly.

The younger Sonny shifted a little in his seat, unsure how to take the compliment but nevertheless grinning.

I didn't really like myself until now, actually. But I guess you have a point, because I like you too.