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The more Ocean stared at her reflection in the mirror, she hated it. She hated the uniform she was wearing, she hated how long her hair was, she hated…everything pretty much.
She hated how feminine she looked. She hated even more how the stupid Catholic school uniform made it worse.
And she didn’t even know why.
She just wanted to look like Mischa, or Noel or Ricky even. Flat chest, broad shoulders, sharp jaw, hell even the deep voice.
She wanted that . Not what she was stuck with. As much as she loved being a soprano, her voice was too high, her features too soft, her chest too big, her hair too long.
And she hated it all, really.
She didn’t know what that made her, if it made her a freak or something, but she knew what she wanted and she did not look how she wanted.
Oh, and another point, she hated being called ‘she’. Being called a girl or “young lady”. It was hell, even if she subconsciously used ‘she’ and ‘her’ for herself, that wasn’t right.
She preferred ‘he’, but was too scared to use it. He wanted to get better at using it for himself before he said anything out loud.
Maybe if he changed how he looked, it would help.
As soon as that thought passed, scissors were in Ocean’s hands. He’d tied his hair up in a ponytail to make it easier, his hands shaking as he closed the scissors over his hair.
Snip .
Snip.
Snip.
Soon enough, nearly a foot of hair was cut off, held together by the red scrunchie he’d tied in his hair.
Some hair fell on his shoulders and irritated him to hell, but he didn’t care at this point, looking at himself in the mirror. Even with the short hair, he still looked too feminine.
So he got back to cutting his hair, not really having an idea in mind but wanting to look masculine.
His hair ends up looking like a shittier version of Mischa’s. He was kind-of basing his loose idea of a masculine haircut on his hair, just since Noel’s hair wasn’t his style, and Ricky had long hair like he used to and he wanted to cut it, not keep it long.
But it looks good. Messy, but good.
And he felt better, even if looking at the mess of hair surrounding him irked him, and that he felt even more uncomfortable in his uniform than he already did.
He tried to clean up the hair as much as he could. Luckily it didn’t take too long, so he was soon faced with just the uniform issue. The more he looked at it, the more uncomfortable he was with it, with his body too.
He tugged the skirt and socks off, scouring through his drawers to find a pair of slacks Noel had left at his ages ago that no longer fit him, slipping them on. Now he was left with the top.
He tugged that off too, not looking at himself in the mirror after doing so, just looking for something that could compress his chest and flatten it.
He had no sports bras or anything of the sort, but he did have bandages.
And it wasn’t smart, but it’s all he had.
He pulled off his bra and wrapped the bandages over his chest, making sure his chest was flat, getting adjusted to the bandages around his chest. When it was flat enough, he grabbed a short-sleeve button-up and put it on, throwing on an old sweater-vest – something that also belonged to Noel – over it.
And he barely even recognized himself in the mirror.
It was good, really good.
He looked like he wanted to.
Not completely, but close. As close as he could get at the moment, and he loved it.
He felt more like himself.
And he had no clue what that meant, but it was good, at least he thought so.
And that was good enough for now. He had no idea how he’d explain this to the choir tomorrow, but that was a Tomorrow-Ocean problem.
For now he could just relax and finally feel comfortable in his skin after so long.
Though he probably should ask Noel for a spare uniform, he couldn’t wear the girls’ uniform for a single second more.