#pat writes

    You feel dizzy, your mind swimming with contempt and it's all directed at you. 'You're just a girl fetishizing gay men. Men don't have boobs. Your face is too round to be masculine, no real gay man will ever find you attractive. You are a woman, you'll never be a real man. You're fake and everyone can tell. Everyone knows, and the people who respect you are just doing it to be nice.' Every word feels hot in your veins, like they’re burning their way through your body. It burns and it feels numbing, you wish it’d stop but you can’t even tell whether you hate the thoughts or if you hate yourself. Maybe both. 

    You don't even realize that you're crying until your best friend, The Greedler, is hugging you tightly to his chest, you look up to see him smiling at you. "Hey, Y/N. You doin' alright?" Greed asks softly, carefully. He’s worried, obviously, and he cares about you. He wants to help. You shake your head, "What's wrong, babe?" You wipe at your face roughly, trying to get all the tears off. 'Men don't cry.' And isn’t it ironic that that thought just so happens to make you cry even harder? You bury your face in Greedler's chest. You can't help it, you need his support right now. Your mind is messy, cruel place right now and you need him to pull you out of it, if only for a minute. Greed presses a soft kiss to your head and holds you all the closer to himself, humming a little tune that you recognize to be one of your favorite songs under his breath. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He offers after a few minutes, having waited for you to calm down enough to talk before speaking himself. You nod, "Mhm." Your head is still swimming, it's hard to gather any coherent thoughts but you definitely do want to talk about it. 

    You take a moment to figure out how to word yourself before speaking, "M' not a real man." You say, sniffling and wiping at your nose. "I look n' sound like a girl... m' just fake. Pretending." It’s much more complicated than that but you have no idea how to explain it any further. How do you tell someone that your brain doesn’t hate you, but hates how you look and sound? That all the words of transphobic men and women you’ve encountered throughout your life still echo through your mind way more often than you’re comfortable with admitting? That everything about yourself makes you uncomfortable, that you so desperately wish you could look in the mirror and see yourself. That you don’t think you’ll ever truly be comfortable in your own body. You look up at The Greedler once you finish to gauge his response. Greed shakes his head, "That's not true. You're a beautiful young man, there's nothing "woman" about you. When you first told me you were a man, I believed you right away and I still do. Why don't you believe yourself?"

    You can't help but smile at Greed's words, he always knows exactly what to say to make you feel better. You know that he doesn’t fully understand, but the fact that he still tries even despite not knowing what it’s like to be in your skin just makes you feel like you have the best friend in the world. Even if you don't feel perfect, what he said still makes you feel a lot better. "You're right... can you tell me what about me you think is masculine? I just really need the validity. Please?" The Greedler smiles and nods, "Of course, Y/N." He moves one of his hands to grab and squeeze yours, "I think the way you go about things is really masculine, your attitude and mindset about things as well. The passion you have for what you enjoy is also super masculine, and your drive to go for it. Believe it or not but you also smell really masculine, I like how you smell a lot," he emphasizes his point by burying his face in your neck and taking a big whiff. It’s playful and flirty and it makes you giggle, "Greed!" You groan playfully, "You're relentless, you know that?" He chuckles, "I know. But I meant what I said, you're hot- I mean- Masculine." 

-

Clownler hears that its brother is home, grinning excitedly and jumping from its place on the bed to its feet. It bounds down the stairs to see someone else in the place where its brother should be. Just the recognition that this was not Dex was enough to make Clownler scared. It didn’t take the time to really look at the man, but it knows it’s not Dex, so it turns around quickly and silently to try to make an escape.

It tries to sneak back up the stairs before the man sees it, but it was too late. “Once?” Clownler recognized the voice. It was terrified, but it stood its ground, putting on a faux confidence that would hopefully help it out of this situation. “James.” It responded, not turning around. It stopped in its tracks, afraid to continue trying to sneak up the stairs. It just stood there, back turned to the man it hated the most. 

“Ah so we’re back to calling me James, aren’t we?” James sighed, “You know I didn’t mean to hurt you right?” Clownler rolled its eyes, wishing it was anywhere but in this situation, “I don’t have to forgive you either way.”  “Can you at least look at me? I’m still your dad.” Clownler scoffed, its heard that one many times before.  “No you’re not, you lost that privilege the moment you... did that.” 

“Oh, whatever! You’re such a child. Always overreacting.” Clownler really just wants to leave right now, but it has to hold its ground, or else James will think its weak. Maybe he’ll try to hurt it again. “How did you get here? How did you find out where we were? How did you get inside? We moved away from you for a reason.” “I have my ways. You’re coming with me. Your brother is already in the car.” Clownler was really concerned now. How did he manage to get Dex of all people to get in a car with him? Especially after all they went through to run away together? Something isn’t adding up. “I don’t believe you.”  “Get in the car.”

Clownler pushes past him, making a run for it. It stops to get its brother out of the car, hoping to whatever god may be out there that he’s okay. Once it stops it realized that its brother isn’t in the car. It’s a trap it’s a trap it’s a trap it’s a- “ONCE!” Clownler jumps at the yell, looking to see James coming right for it. It bounds away, running fast and hard, only intent on getting away. Its feet pound harshly against the gravel, that gravel turning into concrete as it runs on the empty street of the town. Its surroundings are familiar in the darkest way, nowhere near what it remembers this place looking like, but it doesn’t have time to question the landscape. 

Even in a time of crisis, it can’t stop wondering where Dex is. He should be home by now, he should be here. What’s going on? How did James find it? Why is he here? Is he going to hurt it? Is he going to kill it? What if he had gotten in the car? What would have happened? Is it safe to turn around? Is it safe? Is it?

Clownler is so lost in its thoughts it ran into something- someone. It looks up at the tall figure, recognizing him to be Dex. “Dee? What are you- Oh nevermind! We have to go! James is coming after us!” it warns, only to recieve a concerned look in return, “Ler, James isn’t here.”  “Yes he is! He’s right behind-” Clownler looks back, pointing at nothing, the empty concrete of the street behind it a stark reminder of the chase. “Me...” 

Dex puts a hand on Clownler’s forehead, “Are you feeling okay, Ler?” Clownler shoos his hand away, “Yeah whatever, I’m fine.”  “Did you take your meds today?” Dex asked, concerned.  “I... I think so.”  “Are you sure?” “I don’t know! It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.” Clownler dismissed, grabbing Dex’s hand and turning around, “Let’s just go home.”

Dex’s concern grew at that, “We are home, Clowny. Are you sure you’re alright?” Clownler looked at him confused, looking at its surroundings. 

Everything around it faded from dark concrete and chirping birds to their small living room in the cramped apartment they rent together. “I... what? I don’t- I was- He- and I- He said- We-” This was all too much. Clownler’s breathing picked up pace and it felt like it was near passing out. Its vision was darkening and it felt like it couldn’t breathe. 

The dim yellow light from the curtains in the window of their apartment faded into a dark, cold grey. Before it knew it, it was on the floor. “I- I thought-” A warm hand on its shoulder, it violently pulled away, gulping for air in some capacity. It was wet. It was cold. The air was dry, its throat was dusty and it couldn’t breathe. And finally, it didn’t.

-

When Clownler came to, it was curled up nicely in Dex’s arms, eyes blinking open slowly. There was no light to adjust to because it had become dark. How long was it out? “Dee?”  “Hi there, Clowny. You feeling any better?” Clownler nodded, depsite the pounding headache it was enduring. 

“M’ fine now. Wha’ happ’nd? M’ so c’nf’sed...” Dex pressed a soft kiss to Clownler’s head, “It’s alright, hon. You’re safe. You were hallucinating, which lead to a severe panic attack once you realized what was going on. You were dazed and confused, seeing and hearing (and, I’m guessing feeling too,) things that weren’t there. My estimate is that this episode of psychosis was spurred on by a trigger, paired with you forgetting your psychosis medication, yes?” Dex spoke carefully and softly, trying to explain in a delicate way as to not cause another episode.

“Yeah... s’nds a’but right. M’ sorry Dee.” It snuggles into its brother’s shoulder, “I didn’ mean t’.” Dex holds onto it tightly, “Its alright, kiddo. Not your fault. And I’m happy to take care of you when you need it. But, it’s time for your meds. Which is especially important now since you forgot to take them this morning.” Clownler smiled and nodded, “Thanks bibby...” It took the medicine and laid its head back down onto Dex’s warm shoulder. “L’ve you.” Clownler yawned, its eyes slowly closing shut. “I love you too, kiddo. Sleep well. I’ve got you.”