CW: Body Dysmorphia. Reader discretion is advised.

Badboyhalo's breaths came in ragged sighs, gauntlet-covered hands gripping the sides of the sink so hard, he could swear he felt the porcelain crack. He looked up at the face displayed in the reflective surface above the sink, and his tail twisted along with his stomach. The face everyone saw. The face he wanted everyone to see. The face shrouded in darkness, horns twisted from the holes in his hood like spires. No facial features discernable, unable to tell the difference between cheeks and the darkness of the hood, saved for his eyes and his mouth, which glittered an unnatural white. The only thing visible within the hood.

He turned towards the bathroom door, giving the handle a ginger wiggle, testing the lock. He nodded to himself when the door didn't open, and he turned back to the mirror. He whined instinctively, pinching the bridge of his nose as his tail lashed and his heel tapped on the floor. But he felt compelled to look at himself, to look at his face with his hood down.
And so he slowly, methodically, pulled the fabric down from his head, being careful not to rip or snag it on his horns. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes lost their pure-white shine, replaced with a colour that made his body ache with queasiness. He watched his face become visible.
His true face.
His hidden face.

The face that made him feel disgusted with himself.

He sunk his teeth into his top lip as he fumbled with the gauntlets around his hands, tugging the buckle so they slipped from his hands and into the sink with a gentle clatter. He ran his claw-tipped fingers over the lines of his face, around his eyes, the horns sprouting from his hair, nose filling with the scent of metal. A wave of contempt swept over him as he stared into his own eyes, eyes that shouldn't be the bright purple that they were. He curled his lip, tongue between his teeth, a tongue that shouldn't be filled with teal-blood, but it was. His hands flew to the sides of the sink as a sob bubbled in his throat, steading himself as he screwed up his eyes, blinking aware tears. He could feel the cool glass of the mirror clinking against his horns, and he slumped against the porcelain sink, claws scoring the surface as he dug them into the sink. He couldn't help but sneak a glance back to the mirror, meeting his purple eyes once again. He trembled like a scared child, scared of his own reflection, disgusted with it.
Disgusted with what it meant for himself.

He knew how demons worked, how demons felt about half-bloods. He knew how to tell if a demon was pure; horns atop their head, tails cascading down their backs, wings spread from their shoulder blades. And of course, he knew that being a half-blood would result in one of the three being missing.

Endermen had tails, so he got to keep his tail. Endermen had horns, so he got to keep his horns. Endermen didn't have wings, so he never had any. His entire being was marred by an ancestor who created a child with an enderman, and had him shunned from his society from the moment he was born.
He had to carry the burden of this fact on his face - every time he looked into a reflective surface, he'd see eyes and blood that were the reason he was sent away from his home entirely. It made him feel sick to know all this. To have to deal with this. He'd wish, beg, pray to a God, any God, to help him. And as he knew deep down, he'd never get a reply.

He sobbed, slamming a fist against the sink, freezing at the sharp crack that followed. Tears trickled down his face, dripping off his nose and chin into the bowl as he stood there, a deer in the headlights of the sudden noise. He swallowed the lump in his throat, checking the porcelain for any cracks. He shuddered at the last time he got this worked up over his face, and how he smashed the mirror with a gauntlet-covered fist. He had to lie through his teeth, directly to Skeppy's face, saying how he slipped. He didn't know if Skeppy believed him, but he didn't care.

Thinking of Skeppy made panic bubble back through his chest. He didn't want just Skeppy to find out the truth about himself, but everyone. The thought of someone knowing the truth about himself made his legs feel weak. No one on the SMP had asked him about his demon heritage, so he assumed no one knew. Phil seemed to be the most knowledgeable but the winged man never brought it up to Bad, so he hoped he didn't know.

Another whine escaped from Bad's throat instinctively, so the demon-hybrid sighed, slowly pulling his hood back over his head, making sure the fabric didn't snag on his horns again. The shadows over his face returned, eyes and mouth resuming their otherworldly white glow. The knot in his stomach loosened at the sight, and he wiped the tears on his face away with a brush of his hands. He reached into the sink, pulling his gauntlets on, flexing his fingers once the metal gloves were firmly on. He gave the mirror one last look as he unlocked the door to the bathroom, glowing eyes reflecting on the surface. He curled his lip as he tugged his hood lower, leaving the room without a sound.

He knew he was always going to hate mirrors.

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A/N to be added, I'm posted this when I should be going to bed, whoops. :p Nonetheless, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :D