A mask in the mirror

The man did not know who it was staring back out of the mirror at him. He did not hate what he was saying, not necessarily at least, but it was not the face he was expecting to see. His own visage was so seared into his memory that the stranger captured within the frame was more than a little jarring the longer he stared.

There was a light blazing in the darkness of the figure’s face, burning away the dullness that had claimed it for so long that he had forgotten what it was like without it. Even with enough bags under his eyes to fill a small hotel, there was light shining within the wells of his eyes.

They were definitely, undeniably his eyes, however. This he verified with an inquisitive attempt at prodding his under eye, eyelashes fluttering protectively against the invading digit.

The man in the mirror was a little paler than was familiar, not so much as to forewarn sickness, but enough to suggest the figure was in a dire need for just a few good, sunny days outdoors. The face was shaggier, too, and yet it was willing to upcurl into a smile when he urged it to. An urge that came with the slightest ache of muscles that had been under-utilised.

It was funny, it wasn’t his face, but he wished it was. If the face that was grinning at him from the mirror had been his, then he knew he would have been a very happy man.

That was all very well and good, but Jasper had been feeling increasingly odd, and more than a little vain, staring into a mirror for so long. Even if it was a happy stranger that was staring back, it did not help him shake off the feeling. So, instead of dwelling on this, the most peculiar optical illusion that had befallen him that morning, he simply shook his head, fetched his coat from where it hung limp and lonely on the otherwise empty coat rack.

The day was not going to start itself and yet it was not going to wait for him to join it. Both of which were a little rude of the day, but the universe and the overall progression of time hardly existed just to please one man above all others. Now that would have been a thought far more egotistical than any length of time spent staring into the mirror.

The sunshine that greeted him as he set foot out his front door carried with it the promises of an early springtime. It would not be long before the garden, overgrown by the standards of the cooler months, would be abuzz with happy bumblebees and aflutter with the bright flash of butterfly wings. The chill of the retreating winter still hung in the air, biting through the pleasantness with a stubbornness, its little reminder that things were not going to change so quickly, no matter how nice it seemed in that moment combatted with the reassuring comfort his trusty coat. A coat that jingle jangled with his keys (and the novelty keychain his sister had given him for his birthday a few years back) in one of its inner pockets.

A bus, one that seemed particularly allergic to keeping to a schedule, rattled along the road, ensuring he would not have any illusions towards the serenity of the moment. Yet he could not complain. It was a reminder that the world was going by and that he was there to see it happen.

The thought that he had been missing that came to him all at once as he stretched, the crook in his back offering a satisfying crackle.

“Hey, Jas,” the voice from the street called, “Good to see you didn’t die or whatever.”

The man, Drew, one of the few people who had evolved from just situational college class friend to actual friend, flung a hand up in greeting as he jogged his way over from where he’d been waiting on the street. He’d overcompensated for the weather, his dark curls vanished away beneath a knit beanie that he had tugged down enough to leave his thick, boxy glasses to sit askew, lifting just that little bit from his face, a thick scarf wound about his neck for dear life. Gloves peaked out of his pocket where he’d shoved them in the brief time he had been waiting. His face had lit up when he saw Jasper leave, just that little bit of relief sneaking through before he could catch it.

“Ah, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” Jasper offered in reply and, to perhaps both of their surprise, he let out a snort of genuine amusement, “You want me dead, you do it yourself, hm?”

“That’s not what I meant,” came his friend’s reply, offering a laugh of his own as he tossed an arm around the man’s shoulder, “Besides, you know we would be right behind you if you up and died on us.”

Of course Jasper knew it wasn’t true, he was notoriously dreadful at anything that could be considered general survival skills (but by gods could be make an effective spreadsheet better than anyone), but he did appreciate the sentiment. It was more than enough to win a fresh grin, if nothing else.

A grin that, even at such a close proximity, it seemed his friend did not see anything notably bizarre with. Surely, if the face had not been his, especially with it as glaringly obviously difference as it had seemed to himself, it would have been a friend who would be capable of recognising it. Yet the other man did not even so much as bat an eye, no flinching at the wrongness, nothing. Just a man content to share in a familiar closeness with a friend.

“So, we’ll keep me alive then?” Jasper carried on, letting a note of light teasing creep into his tone, “Sacrifice my nice, peaceful death just so that I can keep you all alive too?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Something like that,” Drew confirmed, then with a laugh he went and ruffled the mess of the other man’s hair to meet the comfortably familiar teasing with his own, “So, come on, man, if we keep them waiting too long they’re going to start wandering around like lost little ducklings without our combined brilliance keeping them in check.”

With this said, the man nudged his friend forward as he, in turn, scampered along as if to guide him along while also keeping him ahead.

Jasper shook his head, letting the momentum he had thrust upon him guide him along. He had wanted to ask the man if he had noticed anything different about him. If he seemed to be wearing another man’s face without realising it, but the moment never did come up. Maybe it was just that Drew was being polite and did not want to bring up something possibly unpleasant, or maybe he genuinely did not notice. Either way, it left him with the impression that he had managed to get away with something difficult.

The idea of faking it until you make it was not unfamiliar to him, and he supposed this was the perfect example of this. If nobody else realised he was wearing a face that did not belong to him, maybe there would be a time when he could say that it did. That bright and smiling face that he saw in the mirror as he set out to join his friends for brunch could belong to him eventually. But until then, he supposed there were worse things in the world than wearing a better face than his own.