“It looks fine dude.”
Gus shrugged off Shawn's arm, tugging free the tie completely before throwing it to the floor.
His fists bunched into his pockets.
He glared at his reflection, throat tight and heart so clenched he could feel the pressure against his ribs. When he couldn't take his own face staring at him any longer he looked at his feet – pushing the strip of discarded cloth with his polished wingtip.
Behind him, just out of the pool of mirrored glass, Shawn waited - oddly silent.
Scratchy material ground together in Gus's right fist. After a moment, he pulled his hand loose and stripped that as well, white glitter reflecting up at him.
“It's just stupid.” He muttered, knowing if he spoke louder there'd be a crack in his voice.
“It's not stupid.” Shawn said quietly.
Floorboards could use a polish.
“Come on dude. I think it'll help.”
It was stupid.
And after the debacle of the last few decades why was he even...? He shouldn't be this worked up – it was stupid, stupid...
Shawn cleared his throat.
Softly... barely there tone... he whispered out the first few lines in the softest melody.
“I'm gonna make a change, for once in my life. It's gonna feel real good - gonna make a difference, gonna make it right . . .”
Gus swallowed through the next paragraphs, wiping swiftly at his eyes. Then, his mouth opening, he joined in on the next line.
“They follow each other, on the wind ya know, cause they got nowhere to go, that's why I want you to know, I'm starting with the man in the mirror...”
His fingertips snapped in sequence as his voice gained strength, foot starting to tap until his head lifted, eyes shut as the sound vibrated from him. Taking up background vocals, Shawn let him feel the music, feel the rush of harmony, of memory.
Rolling back, it was nineteen eighty-eight, he and Shawn were just kids, and they were driving Shawn's dad crazy with the new hit. They must have sang it thirty times that first week, earning glares and reprimands. It didn't matter. They sang, and felt like what they were singing was important... like they really were gonna change the world. They were gonna be heroes, just like their hero.
Gus stumbled.
The final words thinned out, and he shook his head.
“This is stupid.”
His nose felt clogged and he rubbed it, not surprised to find more moisture.
It wasn't the same anymore. They weren't kids, and their hero hadn't exactly been a hero for a very long time.
So why did Gus feel as though he'd been the one betraying a trust as opposed to the other way around? What if he'd been wrong all along? What if the magic wouldn't have dimmed if he'd just kept believing? What if...?
Feet shuffled behind him, and Shawn knelt, reaching out for the glove on the floor. His fingers traced across it, almost reverently, before curling around it. Straightening, he turned towards his friend and held it out.
Gus felt the tremor pass through his whole body, forcing him to clench his jaw.
He had no idea what to say about anything. Apparently neither did Shawn, who still held out the single glove.
Finally, one more self-conscious swipe at his eyes, Gus accepted the glove.
Clapping his shoulder, Shawn smiled.
“Hungry?”
Gus shook his head. “Maybe later.”
A nod, and Shawn bit one corner of his lip.
“You gonna be okay?”
Gus nodded. “Yeah.”
Shawn copied the motion. He stood though, for a few more seconds, legs moving restlessly. Finally, one more nod, and he started for the living room.
“It's gonna start in a few minutes. I'll... go make sure the station is clear.”
Lame, Shawn. Still, he decided not to call his friend on it. He didn't plan on calling Shawn on anything today. Not since Princess Diana had the world tuned in in such vast numbers to say goodbye to an icon.
But he wasn't just an icon.
Gus glanced towards the other room, but Shawn was still out of sight, probably digging in the fridge for something to eat.
Turning back, meeting his own eyes, ignoring the red lining his lower lids, he sniffed.
Then, softly, he began again.
“I'm starting with the man in the mirror... I'm asking him to change his ways...”