Alan, I see you! (Commission Story)

This commission was mean't to be based on the idea's in the first episode of My Sister Ivy. Another broken doll and the brother has to be the model!

Alan, I see You
From across the room, Alan watches with quiet curiosity as his sister, Angela, practices makeup on the mannequin head perched before her. He shifts left, then right, peeking over her shoulders to catch glimpses of her work. The steady precision of her hands amazes him.

She makes it look so easy.

However, feeling his gaze, Angela turns to look at him. She glares.

“What!?”

Alan swiftly looks away. “N-Nothing. I was just—”

“Just what?” Angela interrupts, letting out a long breath. “Y’know what. I’m not interested. I’ve got to finish this makeup look tonight or I fail.” She turns back to her mannequin but keeps talking. “So do me a favour, brother. Leave me alone.”

Alan’s cheeks flush as he lingers, watching her. He doesn’t want to admit his interest in such things, yet he can’t pull himself away, fascinated by how it’s done.

“Angela?” their mom, Lynn, calls from the kitchen. “It’s your turn to take out the trash!”

A whine follows. “Mom. Can’t Alan take it out? I’m working!”

“No.”

“Mom!”

Lynn sticks her head into the family room from the kitchen. She’s a face like thunder. “Young lady, do as you are told. It’s not my fault that you left that project until the last minute. Get your little backside in here and take out the bins.

“Urgh, fine!” Angela gets up from her seat and marches towards the kitchen. On her way, she glares at Alan as he stands aimlessly between the two. “Don’t you dare touch my mannequin!”

Alan throws back his head with a scoff. “Why would I?”

Angela stops to point a finger in his face. “Just don’t.”

“F-Fine….” Alan throws his hands up in surrender as Angela storms off into the kitchen.

Seconds pass, and Alan stares at the mannequin, sitting there, almost goading him to come over. He takes a single step forward, stops, and looks back into the kitchen to check that the coast is clear.

Feeling a rush of excitement as he approaches his sister’s work, he doesn’t see the small school bag Angela has left on the floor, just behind the chair she was sitting on.

Alan trips over the bag, stumbling forward. His hands slam onto the table for balance, which causes the mannequin's head to wobble. Then, like slow motion in front of his eyes, it tumbles to the floor and hits with a hollow clack.

The head lies face down on the tiles. And a jagged crack streaks across the cheek and up to the forehead.

“No, no, no…” Alan whispers, scooping it up. But the moment he lifts it, the head splinters further, chunks breaking off into his hands. Bits of painted lips and powdered cheeks crumble like porcelain.

He crouches, frantically trying to piece the fragments together, his hands shaking. “She’s gonna….”

“I’m gonna what!?

His sister’s voice cuts through the air. Angela, and for a moment, she just stares at the broken mannequin and slowly, her face drains of color.

Alan freezes, shards in his palms. “Angela… I can explain!”

Her eyes burn with fury. “I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE IT ALONE!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Alan points at the bag. “I-I…I just wanted to look, and I fell!”

“Oh my god!” She rushes over and drops to the floor beside him. “You Idiot! What am I going to do now!? I need to complete this makeup look!”

“C-Can you get another?”

Angela stops and shoots him a sarcastic look. “Oh, right. What do you expect me to do? Just pop down to Mannequins R Us and pick up a new head?” Her voice cracks as her shoulders sag. “Alan, I can’t believe you. I’m going to fail my course now!”

“What’s going on in here?” their mother asks, poking her head inside the room.

“Doofus here…” Angela pushes Alan’s shoulder. “Broke my mannequin head, and now I’m going to fail my course.

Lynn looks at the mess they sit around and then glares in Alan’s direction. “Did you do that, Alan?”

“It was an accident!” Alan pleas to his mother, holding his head down in shame as her gaze burns right through him. “Honestly. I didn’t mean to,” he continues, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Mom!” Angela gets to her feet in a hurry. “I’m going to have to do the makeup look on you!”

Lynn shakes her head and lets out a light laugh. “Sweetheart…” she rests a hand on her daughter's shoulders. “You think your mother has time to sit around for hours having my makeup done, you’re surely mistaken. Who’s going to cook dinner? Take out the laundry? Iron the clothes?”

Angela glances over her shoulder at Alan, then hooks a thumb in his direction. “Alan can do those things for you, Mom.”

Lynn stifles a chuckle at the idea, then she smiles wide.

“Alan.” She commands with a clap of her hands. “Seeing as you broke your sister’s mannequin head, you can take its place and be her model.”

His mother's words leave him torn between two minds. A part of him is absolutely thrilled by the idea, and the other half of him is not pleased. But really, it’s the fear of being ostracized that stops him from jumping to his feet in delight.

“No, Mom…” Alan protests, feeling like he needs to save face as a boy.

Angela points at the chair. “Sit.”

Behind her, his mother stands stern with her hands on both hips. “Do as you’re told, young man. You broke her mannequin head, so you’ll have to take its place.”

“B-But…. I’m a boy!”

“It’s your own fault, Alan.” Angela scoffs, clicking and pointing at the chair. “Sit, right now!”

Alan drags himself to his feet, sulking as though the weight of the world has landed on his shoulders. It’s really just an act. He’s actually very excited, but he doesn’t want them to think he’s strange.

With a dramatic sigh, he flops into the chair, exaggerating his dismay. As his sister pushes the broken mannequin aside with her feet, he holds back the smile tugging at his lips as he watches her gather the makeup she needs

Then, she focuses on him with a steely glare. With one hand, she holds his chin and inspects his skin.

“Ouch.”

“Oh, hush,” she tuts. “I’ve gotta check your skin overwise the makeup won’t set.” Seconds later, she groans. “I’m going to need to cleanse your skin first.”

“Good. That’s settled then.” Their mom says. “Be gentle, Angela…” she chuckles, leaving the room.

Alan says nothing as his sister smothers his face in some sort of foaming liquid. It’s actually cooling on his face, and she’s being gentler than he expected.

“So, what look are you doing?” he asks, trying to temper his excitement.

Angela throws him a sharp look before continuing to cleanse his skin.

“I’m just curious,” Alan remarks as she works the liquid into his skin.

“Shhh…” Anegla replies, inches from his face. “Mannequins don’t talk.

“Scary possessed ones do…”

Alan doesn’t get a response to his comment. Only a towel thrown over his face as his sister wipes his skin clean. This time, Angela wasn’t as gentle.

As the light of day returns, Angela stands before him. “No talking. I need to concentrate. Doing this to a real person is much harder.”

She leans down close enough that Alan can feel her breath on his face. She studies his eyes and touches his brows. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. I’m going to have to pluck your eyebrows.

Immediately, Alan begins to worry. Makeup can be wiped clean, but his eyebrows won’t grow back for months.

“A-Angela… I’d rather you—”

“Hush,” Angela interrupts him.

“B-But….”

“Argh, Alan,” she groans, rummaging through her makeup bag for her tweezers. “They will grow back, and honestly, they could do with a trim, you dirty boy.”

Alan stiffens as Angela brings the tweezers close. “A-Angela… maybe not—”

“Hush,” she snaps again, focusing intently.

Carefully, she begins plucking. Alan winces and fidgets, but she’s surprisingly quick and methodical. His protests slowly fade, giving way to genuine fascination.

“There,” she says finally, setting the tweezers down. “That’s better. More feminine.”

“F-Feminine….?”

Angela, ignoring him, grabs a small tube of concealer and dots it across his face.

“It feels weird on my skin,” Alan comments as she works it into his skin.

“This hides blemishes, evens out your skin tone,” she explains, blending it in with her fingers

“Oh, right.” Alan once again has to stop himself from smiling. “So, will this also make me more feminine looking?”

Stopping, but only for a moment, his sister gives him a questioning smile.

Next comes foundation. Angela loads a fluffy brush and sweeps it over his face. She’s in the zone, almost forgetting who she’s putting it on.

However, Anal can barely hide his interested and he brings her back to the moment. “Wow, this one feels really nice on my skin.”

“Yeah?” Angela cracks a smile as she concentrates on getting every inch of his face. “It’s lucky we’ve got similar skin tones, Alan. My foundation is matching really well. This might actually come out better than the mannequin.

“Y-Yeah? I might look…. good?”

Angela stands straight and turns to her makeup bag, rifling through it for more items. Then she glances back at Alan with a sly look. “Sounds like you might be more excited about this than you’re letting on, brother.”

Alan instantly blushes, and Angela can’t help but chuckle.

She leans forward to whisper in her ear. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your friends you liked me putting makeup on you.”

Alan breathes a sigh of relief. “I am enjoying this, so thank for that, sis.”

For a moment, silence. But soon, Angela stands up straight again with one hand covering her mouth. “Alan, seriously!?” She looks down at him and grins wide. “I was only joking just then. Are you legit enjoying this?”

Alan blushes hard and looks in every direction, but at her.

“I-I….I mean”. He then huffs out a breath. “Okay, fine! I am enjoying it.” He pouts. “I’m just interested in it. That’s not a crime.”

Angela freezes mid-motion, a tiny smirk appearing at the corner of her lips. For a moment, she just stares at him as her surprise turns to pride. “Huh,” she murmurs, shaking her head slightly. “Never thought you’d say something like that.”

Alan says nothing more, so she reaches into her makeup bag and pulls out a tube of mascara.

Twisting it open, she hovers just above his eyebrows. “If you’re enjoying this. Maybe there’s something else you can do to help with this look that will get me extra marks..”

As she softly brushes across his eyebrows, Alan can’t help but be curious. “Oh? What kind of ‘help’ are we talking about here?”

Angela leans in just enough that he catches the mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’ll see.”

This time, Alan doesn’t hold back his smile.

“More sisters than twins,” Angela says to herself, working on both his eyebrows. Finishing, she leans back to check her work. “That’s good.”

Closing the tube, she grabs her eyeshadow palette. Alan watches with keen interest as she checks her reference images. Seemingly unsure, Angela glances at Alan and then back at her reference image.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah…” Angela replies, deep in thought. “It’s just the model in my image here has like a dark smoky eye showdown on. I don’t think that’s going to look right on you, Alan. You’ve got really blue eyes, and I can’t work out if I want to follow the example of doing something different with your look.”

“Maybe do a lighter shade?”

“Hmmm, yeah, I guess I could.”

“Or maybe do it how you always do yours, Angela. I always think you look really nice when you do your makeup.”

Suspicious, assuming he’s making fun, Angela gives Alan a coy glance. However, to her surprise, he’s being entirely genuine.

“I didn’t know you paid that much attention.”

“I-I….” Alan bites his bottom lip and lowers his head in shame and speaks at his crotch. “I don’t.”

Quick to react, Angela lifts his head with one finger on his chin. “If you like my daily makeup look, I could teach you how to do it….” Waiting for eye contact, she smiles wide. “If you want me to?”

Feel a little out of his comfort zone, Alan says nothing. His face just burns with embarrassment. He’s already said too much, and now his secret might be on the verge of being outed.

“Alan?” Angela says, concerned by his silence.

“Let’s just get this over and done with,” Alan huffs with embarrassment and impatience. “Why would I want to learn makeup? I’m a boy.”

Confused and a little surprised by his sudden change in attitude, Angela rolls her lips in thought before turning to search for her eyeliner.

Slowly, she approaches him with it, holding down the skin under his eye. “Sit still and try not to blink.”

Alan continues to vacantly stare as she gently tilts his chin up. The tip of the eyeliner pencil hovers just above his eyelid, and he feels the faint tickle as she begins to draw a thin line along his lash line. He flinches slightly.

“Relax,” Angela softly giggles. “It’s not like I’m poking your eye out.”

“I’m worried you might,” Alan replies abruptly

Angela smirks without looking up. “Hush.”

There’s a tense moment between them as Angela works. Two perfect eyeliner wings later, she checks her work, only to find Alan still looking sulky. However, she presses on, happy with her work so far.

“Alright, I’ve decided,” she says, turning to her makeup bag. “We’re gonna go ahead and do the dark, smoky eye look. It won’t be like my makeup, Alan, but it should look cute.

Alan shifts in his seat, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement. “Cute…” he repeats under his breath.

Angela tilts her head and meets his gaze. “You know, Alan… It’s not weird for boys to enjoy makeup. In my course, there are a few guys who are amazing at it.”

Alan freezes, the words echoing in his mind. His hands clench slightly in his lap. “Really?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yup,” she confirms, patting his shoulder lightly. “So, stop acting all sulky with me. If you want to enjoy this—enjoy it. If you like the idea of being pretty, then own it. In fact, if you do like makeup, I think that's awesome. That means I can talk to you about it, rather than annoying Mom all the time.

Alan lets out a slow breath. “You don’t understand. I’m not supposed to like this stuff.”

Angela tilts the brush, dipping it into the dark shadow. “Not supposed to, huh?” she says, her tone dripping with mockery. “Who cares what anyone else thinks?”

Angela doesn’t give him a second to reply. She gently holds his face still and wafts the eyeshadow brush across his lid.

“Hmmm.” She smiles and blends it in with another brush that she had held in her other hand. “Maybe this will look good on you.”

She does the same to his other eye, becoming increasingly excited. Checking her work once again, she stares down at Alan, gently touching around his eyes with her fingers.

“Y’know…” she says offhandedly as she works, “with makeup on, Alan, you’re actually really pretty. You’ve got the proportions for it. You’ve such a cute little face

Angela then gently runs her fingers through her brother's hair. “I don’t know if this is what you want to hear, Alan, but I think if you grew your hair out, you’d make a rather convincing girl.”

“Erm…” Alan's cheeks erupt, and he can do nothing to hide the sting of embarrassment

“You take after your beautiful sister!” Angela giggles, framing her face with her own hands. “Aren’t you lucky?”

“D-Do I?”

“Yes!” Angela replies, placing both hands on her hips in frustration. “Trust me. If you were a girl, you’d be pretty. Maybe not as pretty as I am, but pretty nonetheless.”

Expecting more fight from her brother, her gentle teasing hits home much more than she intended. Alan’s face drops, and her stares vacantly at the floor as if her words are like an arrow straight to his heart.

Puzzled, Angela lifts his face with one finger on his chin and looks deep into his eyes.

“Did that upset you?” she asks gently, trying to understand why her brother is acting so strangely. “I meant that as a teasing joke, Alan. I didn’t think it would upset you.”

Angela flicks back her hair and looks away with an awkward smile. “Well, unless you secretly want to be a woman, and me telling you such a thing hurts you deep down because you're not one.”

Again, Alan just lowers his gaze to the floor and sinks into the chair. His despair is obvious to see, and even Angela’s nervous laughter isn’t enough to break the tension.

Noticing his depressed expression, she wonders if, in fact, he does wish to be a girl. She doesn’t feel like she could come out a ask him directly, so she turns to her makeup bag and gives her response more thought.

Pulling out some lipstick, she opens it to show Alan the bright, but sophisticated red color.

“Do you like this shade?” she asks, trying her best to cheer him up.

Alan looks for only a second and then nods.

“Okay,” Angela puckers her own lips to show him. “Do this for me.”

Alan copies her, and she applies the lipstick with ease.

Angela then reaches for her phone and opens the camera app to take a photo of the look of her beauty course. However, when she asks Alan to smile, he can only muster one that looks incredibly forced.

“Alan…!” she groans. “What’s with that face?”

Sullen, Alan looks off into the corner of the room. “Can I take this stuff off now?”

“You seemed so happy when I first started putting the makeup on you. Why are you being so moody now?”

“I dunno.”

Angela rolls her eyes.

“Are we done?”

Letting out a long breath and about to give in, Angela looks down at her brother and at his slender body. She still needs a good shot of him in the makeup and maybe her idea from earlier might help him.

“Alan?” She says this with her back to him, as she starts to pack her makeup away. “No one else is using a real model for his. Would you put on a cheerleading costume and a wig for me so I can take some cute pictures of you?”

“N-N—”

“Before you say no!” Anegla turns sharply around and interrupts him. “If anyone asks, it’s for my beauty course, okay? I’ll back you up on that if anyone says anything about it!”

Slowly, Alan looks her in the eyes. “Cheerleader?”

“Yeah.” Angela reaches down and touches his waistline. “We’re a pretty similar shape. I think you’d fit. Might be fun?”

“I’m still a boy, though, right? That wouldn’t be weird?”

“No…..” Angela shakes her head to dismiss the idea that it's weird. “If anyone asks, I forced you into it.”

“You think I’d really look cute?”

Trying not to overegg the pudding, Angela turns away as if she’s not really that interested. She packs a few things away, leaving the sentence hanging in the air, before slowly turning with a soft smile.

“You’d have to shave and wear a wig.”

Alan looks around in thought. He can feel the makeup on his skin, and he can’t help but think it’s a dream coming true. He’s always wanted to wear his sister's cheerleading uniform, and now he has his chance to do so.

“Okay.” He agrees shrugging his shoulders, trying to act cool.

“Yeah?”

“I said yes, didn’t I?” he replies with sass, but Angela can see a smile trying to surface.

“Cool!” Angela points upstairs, “Right, up to my room!

Angela all but drags Alan upstairs. They reach her room, and she throws open the closet doors, and from inside, she pulls out her old cheerleading costume. Piece by piece, she shows him a short, pleated skirt and a fitted top that still has a faint shimmer under the light.

“Ta-da,” she announces proudly, holding it against her own body before tossing it onto the bed. “This is what you’re gonna wear.”

Alan’s eyes widen. “Are you sure about this. It’s really short.”

“Of course it’s short. It’s a cheer outfit, doofus,” Angela replies, grinning as she smooths the skirt out on the bed. “But before you put it on, you’re gonna need to shave. Arms, legs, chest. It won’t look right otherwise.”

Alan’s cheeks flush red. He avoids her eyes, fidgeting. “Um… I-I don’t need to.”

Angela blinks. “What do you mean you don’t need to?”

“I-I… I’m already shaved,” Alan mutters quickly, as though he’s afraid of her reaction.

For a moment, Angela just stares at him, head tilted. She half expects him to be joking, but his burning cheeks and the way he refuses to meet her gaze tell her otherwise.

“Amazin,” she replies with an honest smile.

“Y-You don’t think that’s weird of me?” Alan questions, confused as to why his sister isn’t mocking him.

“Nah,” Angela grins. “Body hair is gross.”

She says it casually, but in the back of her mind, she’s wondering if there’s more to it. Alan shaving regularly… his fascination with makeup… the way his face fell when she teased him about being pretty as a girl.

A theory forms in her mind, but one she knows would be extremely personal to him.

Instead, she smiles faintly and pats the cheer outfit. “Well, in that case, drop those pants and become a cheerleader!”

Alan finally glances up, his nervous expression breaking just a little. “Put it on right now?”

Before answering, Angela gets to her knees beside her bed and pulls out a small box. She lifts the lid, exposing her Halloween costume wigs. She begins to dig through all the different styles and colors, looking for one that will fit with Alan’s look.

“I can’t change while you’re in here, Angela,” Alan states, reaching down to feel the soft material of the cheerleading costume.

“Hold on,” Angela pulls out several different wigs and throws them to the floor. “I don’t know what wig I want you to wear for the pictures.

Alan looks down at the wigs and notices the one in particular. “That one’s my favorite.”

“Which one?” Anegla looks at him, but then the penny drops. “You have a favorite?”

“N-No…”

“Right…” Angela holds back the urge to question him outright about his gender as she stands. “You wear whatever one you like.”

Alan slowly picks one up.

“Good choice.” Angela points at the bathroom across the hall. “Go get changed and come straight back here.”

“Okay.” Alan, gathering the cheerleading uniform into his hands, along with the wig, shuffles towards the bathroom.

“Wait!” Angela stops him.

Alan looks around

“Be careful of your makeup, okay? I don’t want to have to fix it because you’d forgotten you were wearing it.”

“Y-yeah. Okay.”

Alan turns and begins to shuffle once more, only to get stopped by his sister a second time.

“Wait!” she calls out with an awkward smile on her face. “What underwear are you wearing?”

Alan’s face drops. “W-What?”

Scurrying to her chest of drawers, Angela pulls out some underwear. Nothing too lacey, more like shorts, and holds them out to him.

Alan turns up his nose. “I can’t wear your panties, sis.”

“They aren’t panties, Alan,” she states, thrusting them into his arms. “You can’t wear that skirt with your boxers on, doofus. Plus, they’re clean, so stop moaning.

Reluctant, he takes them and shuffles off once again.

Alan closes the bathroom door behind him, his heart pounding as he unfolds the cheerleading uniform on the counter. The pleated skirt feels impossibly short in his hands, and the fitted top looks like it belongs on someone far skinnier than him.

He swallows hard, stripping down quickly before pulling on the soft shorts Angela had shoved at him. It’s soft against his skin and feel secure.

 The skirt follows, snug around his waist, swishing when he moves. The top takes more effort as it’s tight around his chest, clinging to his shoulders, but with a little twisting and pulling, he gets it on.

He stares at himself in the mirror wearing his sister’s clothes.

He’d always imagined what it would be like to wear such clothes. Now he knows just how much thigh and stomach would actually be on show. He kinda likes it and has to pull himself away from the mirror.

Taking a deep breath, wig in hand, he steps out into the hallway to shuffle back into his sister's room. Alan is keenly aware of what he’s wearing as the pleated skirt dances as he moves, and the top feels like it rides up, wanting to expose more of his torso.

Angela looks up as she appears in her doorway, looking more and more like the sister she never had. She can barely contain herself.

“Amazin',” she ushers him into the room. “Come on, cutie. Let me help you with that wig.”

Alan hurries inside, but he fidgets and tugs at the skirt hem as though that might make it longer. “I feel… kinda exposed.”

Angela walks around him in a slow circle, like an artist studying her canvas. “Yeah, that’s the point. Cheer uniforms aren’t meant to cover much. But honestly…”

She stops in front of him, tilting her head with a warm smile. “You look really good, Alan. Like I’m always jealous of your legs—good.”

Her words make something loosen in his chest, and though he still feels shy, a tiny smile creeps across his lips. “R-Really?”

“Really,” she assures him, taking the wig from his hands. “Now, let’s finish the look.”

She sets it carefully on his head, adjusting the fit, then fusses with the parting and tucks stray hairs behind his ears. With a few bobby pins and quick adjustments, it frames his face perfectly.

Stepping back, Angela folds her arms and admires her work. “Wow,” she nods, impressed by her own prowess. “If I don’t get an A+ for this, the system is rigged!”

Alan glances at the mirror across the room, hesitating before standing and walking over. Angela joins him, and together they face the reflection.

For a long moment, Alan just stares.

Anegla doesn’t know what to say, but she can see his eyes looking at every inch. As he plays with the long hairs in front of his eyes and pulls at the tight uniform, she almost wants to call him her new sister.

Angela looks him deep in the eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Alan,” she says softly, touching his shoulder to get his attention. “What are you thinking?”

“N-Nothing.” He starts to blush and tries to move away, but Angela holds him still in front of the mirror.

“Can I tell you what I’m thinking?”

Awkward, Alan says nothing. He just looks at his sister as if she holds his emotions on a knife's edge.

“I think….” She smiles wide at the reflection in the mirror, she barely recognises as her brother. “—I think I see the real you, Alan.”

Alan’s face tics with emotion, and she can see the tears welling up behind his eyes.

“I think my brother is really my sister.” She adds.

Alan bites his bottom lip and tries to hold back the tears.

“I think my sister is really pretty.” Angela points at the mirror and the reflection of the girl cheerleader, who is beginning to cry. “I just wish she’d be brave enough to agree with me.”

“I-I….” Alan lowers his face and wipes at his tearful eyes.

“Oh shit,” Angela watches on in dread. “You can’t cry, Alan! You’ll mess up your makeup!”

Alan turns to his sister suddenly, as though he might break if he doesn’t. He crashes into her arms and hugs her tighter than he’s ever hugged anyone. His face buries against her shoulder, and all the repressed feelings flood to the surface.

He cries in her arms.

Angela’s wraps arms around him instantly, holding him close. She rocks him gently, stroking his wigged hair like it’s real.

“Alan,” she says, beginning to tear up. “I see you now. I’m here for you.”

Through the sobs, Alan’s voice breaks. “Th-Thank you. For this. For letting me… for not laughing at me.” He pulls back just enough to look at her; his eyes are red and shining. “But I’m—I’m not ready to tell anyone. P-Please.”

“Yeah, I understand,” she says, her tone firm but kind.

Alan sniffles, lowering his gaze, but she lifts his chin gently. “Hey. Look at me. You’re still my sibling. Whether you’re my brother, or maybe one day, my sister. That doesn’t change anything. I’m going to be proud of you no matter what you decide!”

The weight of her words eases his chest, and he hugs her again, clinging like he’s afraid to let go.

When the tears finally slow, Angela laughs softly and steps back, fanning his face with her hands like wings.

 “Okay, stop crying before you totally wreck my masterpiece. I still really want to get a good grade, y’know, and you might be stunning in that uniform, Alan, but panda eyes will get me kicked out!”

Alan chuckles through his sniffles, wiping the corner of his eyes. “Sorry.”

She grins, tilting her head playfully. “It’s okay.”

Alan manages a shaky laugh, the heaviness in his chest finally lifting. “I think I’m better now. I J-Just couldn’t hold it anymore. Y-You saw straight through me, huh?”

Angela taps his nose. “Didn’t see through you. I just saw the person trying desperately to wanted to be seen.”

Standing side by side, Angela holds his brother’s waist, and they both look at his beauty in the mirror before them.

Angela smiles wide. “And I’m so glad I’ve been able to see that person.” She then giggles, playfully shoving her brother. “But boy or girl, Alan,” she laughs. “You’re still a doofus!