Dysphoria is a bitch. There’s no easy way around it. You can cut your hair, you can pump yourself full of Testosterone, you can bind your chest so tight your ribs try to cave in on themselves. It’s a hallowed out seed in the middle of your gut that constantly tells you “not man enough.”
And he knows this possibly better than anyone. He’s been on T for years, his chest has two long scars where he carved away what wasn’t supposed to be there and his lip is busy with a little moustache. He doesn’t get “ma’am” anymore in public. To anyone passing by he’s just another boy.
But in the dim light of his bestfriends room he’s more than that. He’s shattered glass forced back together in a weird shape. The fairy lights hanging off his wall illuminate the room in red, and the air is Smokey from the shared joints they’ve been passing back and forth. His best friend lays in his bed, nothing but a pair of boxers and a hand down slid into the waist band. He can’t but help to admire him, so naturally masculine he is. His blank chest and the hair that leads down his stomach, his Adam’s apple that bobs everytime he takes a swig of some disgusting sugary drink that makes his own teeth itch. He’s everything he wishes he could be.
And he’s stood, looking at himself in the mirror and comparing. Scars. Hips. Feminine.
“I can hear you overthinking from here. What the fucks your problem now?”
“Do I look like a boy to you?”
His friend rolls his eyes. Groans and presses his hands into his eyes until he sees spots.
“Are we seriously doing this again? Yes! For fucks sake yes dude I see you as a guy! Even when you’re being a whiney little bitch.”
He glares at his friend, climbing onto the bed and settling on his hips so he can straddle him.
“I’m not a whiney little bitch. Fuck you. I’m dealing with something here.”
His friend just sighs again, grabbing his hand and forcing it around his hard cock.
“You feel that? Huh? I don’t get hard for fucking girls. I get hard for annoying little fags. Like you. If you were a girl my dick wouldn’t be fucking hard you god damn idiot.” Even with the harsh tone and spot flying it’s a comfort. They never were good at being soft together.
Even when they kiss, their lips smash together, breaking skin and spreading metallic between the two of them. It’s harsh and raw and masculine.
It’s exactly what he needed.
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