Louder than the mirror ‘wrong.’”⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
Pairing: Malachi Barton x teen!sister!reader
Synopsis: There's always something in the mirror that looks wrong. Malachi notices how you feel.
Warning: body dysmorphia, angst, hurt to comfort
Song: Pretty isn't Pretty by Olivia Rodrigo
Louder than the mirror ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
The bathroom light was way too bright. It made everything worse. You stared at your reflection like it had personally betrayed you.
Mascara smudged under your eyes, foundation caked weirdly around your nose, lips chewed raw because you couldn’t stop biting them.
The new top you’d bought yesterday — the one everyone online said was flattering — suddenly felt tight and wrong and embarrassing.
You tugged at the hem again. Too short. Too clingy. Too you. The scale sat in the corner like it was judging you.
Your phone buzzed on the counter — another notification, another girl on your feed with perfect hair and perfect skin and perfect everything.
You flipped it face down, chest tightening.You’d skipped lunch again. Told everyone you “weren’t hungry.”
Your stomach hurt but you ignored it.
“Why can’t you just look normal?” you whispered to the mirror.
Your voice cracked halfway through the sentence.The door creaked open behind you.
“…Hey.” Malachi’s voice was soft — cautious — like he already knew something was wrong.
You stiffened immediately. “Go away.”
He didn’t.You heard his steps pause behind you, then the quiet click of the door closing. “Mom said you’ve been in here for like… forty minutes.”
You wiped at your eyes aggressively, but the tears kept coming anyway, blurring your vision until your reflection looked like a stranger. Malachi didn’t speak for a second. You felt him lean against the counter beside you instead of standing over you — not blocking the mirror, not forcing you to turn. Just… there.
His eyes flicked to the makeup scattered everywhere. The empty snack wrappers in the bin. The way you kept tugging at your shirt like it was attacking you.
“…You haven’t eaten today, have you?” he asked gently.
You swallowed. “It doesn’t matter.”
That did it. Your shoulders dropped and you covered your face with your hands.
“Nothing looks right,” you choked. “I bought all this stuff and everyone online says it works and it just—” your voice cracked harder — “I still look wrong. I still feel wrong. I keep trying and it’s never enough.”
The words came faster and uglier. “Everyone else is keeping up and I’m just… behind. I can’t fix it. I can’t fix anything.”
Silence filled the room — not awkward, just heavy. Then Malachi reached over slowly and turned you away from the mirror. Not forceful. Just gentle hands on your shoulders.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “Look at me for a second.”
You hesitated, but you did. His face wasn’t annoyed or confused. Just… worried. Soft. Big brother mode fully activated.
“I need you to hear something,” he said. “You’re not broken. And you’re definitely not ‘wrong.’”
You shook your head automatically. “You have to say that.”
“No. I want to say it.” He brushed a smudge of mascara off your cheek with his thumb. “And also… You look like you’ve been fighting a war with your own brain all day. That’s exhausting. Of course, you feel like crap.”
A small, ugly laugh escaped you. “That’s not helpful.”
“It kinda is,” he said softly. “Because it means the problem isn’t your face. Or your body. It’s the pressure you’re under.”
You looked down at your hands. They were shaking.“
I keep thinking if I just change one more thing,” you whispered. “One more outfit. One more diet. One more—”
He shook his head gently. “That road never ends. I’ve seen people in this industry chase that forever. And they’re still miserable.”
His voice softened even more. “You don’t need to shrink yourself to be worth something. You already are.”
Your throat tightened. He nudged your chin up slightly so you couldn’t hide.
“Also,” he added quietly, “skipping meals isn’t taking care of yourself. And you deserve to be taken care of — especially by you.”
“I just feel ugly,” you admitted.
Malachi’s expression broke a little. He wrapped his arms around you carefully, like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away. You didn’t. You clung to him instead, face pressed into his hoodie.
“You are so much more than how you look on a bad brain day,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re funny and stubborn and talented and you make everyone around you feel safe. That stuff matters way more than whatever the mirror says.”
You sniffed. “The mirror’s loud.”
“I know,” he whispered. “So when it gets loud, you come get me. Deal? I’ll be louder.”
You huffed a tiny laugh into his chest. He pulled back slightly and grabbed a makeup wipe from the counter, handing it to you.
“Step one: we take a break from the war paint. Step two: we eat something. Step three: We do something that has nothing to do with your appearance. Movie? Video games? Annoying TikTok dances?”
You hesitated… then nodded.
“Okay,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “Come on. Let’s get you out of this bathroom.”
As you walked past the mirror again, you didn’t stop this time. And when your hand slipped into Malachi’s, he didn’t let go for a second.
So... i'm not dead? Beware I'm gonna dump!