"You find a pair yet, Cinderella?"
Steve turned away from the mirror, looking up at his friend, Sam.
"I told you to stop calling me that," He groaned, rolling his eyes. "Anyways, what d'ya think of these ones?" The smaller of the two asked, adjusting the glasses currently on his face.
"I think they match your hipster look perfectly," Sam replied with a tiny grin.
Steve immediately shot him a glare. "I ain't a damn hipster!" He shouted, gaining the attention of the other patrons in the shop.
"Yeah, you're totally not one at all." Sam said with an eye roll.
It was true; Steve didn't try to look like hipster, he just kind of had to.
He was basically an accidental hipster.
The guy always has to wear suspenders for his jeans to stay up properly; and since he was so tiny he would wear skinny fit, they just fit better. He always had on beanies and cardigans and gloves because his awful circulation made him cold easily. His immune system was equally as shitty so they were also to keep him from getting sick. Steve's eyesight wasn't too good either so he actually does need glasses, they aren't just for the trend.
He even had one of those messenger bags [which was given as a joke]. Despite how much Steve wanted to hate it, he couldn't; it was extremely useful. The bag had plenty of space to carry his inhaler, emergency meds, and minimal art supplies for when he got bored or anxious.
It's reasons like this that Steve gets so upset when being called a typical hipster.
It's not that he likes or wants to look this way, it's that he has to.
When Steve was a young kid he'd get teased all the time for how he had to dress.
Always having to wear suspenders, his body being too dainty for the clothes to fit after years of health issues. The blond was pretty much the only kid who had to wear winter clothes all year round, including the scorching hot summers. Fuck, he was even teased when he first got prescribed glasses.
Now, years later at the age of 19, and he's still forced to do the same things.
Still living with the same medical problems; bad asthma, circulation just as horrible as then, immune system still shit, eyes even worse [from refusing to wear glasses earlier in life], the list of problems goes on. And on top of all his own medical problems, he also now had his mother's to worry about as well.
Steve looked at himself with the glasses one more time before turning back to his friend and giving him a small nod.
Steve took the black framed glasses off and strolled to one of the worker's desks to discuss which pair he decided on. After filling out a few papers and paying for the frames, he thanked the worker before he and Sam walked out the shop.
"So, where to now, shortstack?" Sam said as he swung his arm around the other's shoulders.
"Ya still fine with making a quick stop at the hospital?" Steve asked, pushing his hands in the pockets of his black cardigan.
"Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Don't know, just make ya go a lot is all," The blond shrugged. "Didn't know if it was getting annoying."
"Nah, it's fine," Sam replied as they walked. "Besides if I wasn't here you'd already have gotten your ass beat by now." He added with a quiet chuckle.
A pout formed as Steve grumbled something along the lines of "they would be the one getting their ass kicked" and continued down the sidewalk with his friend.
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