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#he dresses like a transmasc who just went to the thrift store for the first time after coming out
princess-candyboy · 1 year
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Make Me Handsome, Make Me Loved
Transmasc rengoku fic. that is all. also tw for dysphoria and transphobia.
<3
‘I want to die,’ she thought, staring into the full body mirror. 
Her body disgusted her. She didn’t want it. She- he?- didn’t want this feminine frame, breasts and genitals. He was tired of this. What was he to do, though? He’d told his therapist about it, and his dad. Neither of them took him seriously. They doubted his desire to transition, doubted everything he said. They thought it was a phase.
No one took him seriously.
He thinks he’s done with therapy.
He picks up a brush and runs it roughly through his long, tangled hair. It was messy and heavy on his head, but he couldn’t bear to part with it(like he couldn’t bear his body). Maybe that’s why everyone refused to believe he’s a man.
When the brush gets stuck for the fifth time he gives up, pulling it from his knotted hair and placing it on the dresser. He did better than yesterday. It’s fine. He might even work up the energy to wash his hair tonight. 
If he can get in the shower at all.
He got a tip online to shower in the dark. He wonders if he should try that, if it would help much. He thinks he might test it out. 
He’s getting dressed now, slipping into a pair of boxers and a binder. It’s his first time wearing either thing, and it feels so strange but so good. His friend, Obanai, bought them for him. The boxers are like the ones in those old american cartoons- white and baggy with little red hearts. Something about that causes his brain to release a slew of endorphins.
Next is the pants- baggy jeans with patches in the knee that he bought from a thrift store. Then comes his new flannel shirt, one that’s too big on him. He has to roll the sleeves up, which makes it squeeze the muscles in his forearms. For the first time in his life, he feels like a real man. 
He thinks he’s ready to finally, finally leave the house.
His dad was yelling at him. Of course he was. Why didn’t he expect this? He wanted Kyojuro- Kiyoko- to change into a dress. He- she- was so tired of this. She couldn’t stand her father’s drunken ramblings, couldn’t stand dealing with him anymore. It was awful.
She went to change.
He- she- held back tears as they swelled in her eyes. Layer by layer, she shed the clothes she had so lovingly placed upon her horrid body. She stopped as she reached her underwear. She wanted to puke at the thought of taking off the binder.
Slowly, she stripped herself of her last layer of clothing.
She secured her bra with shaking hands, messing up multiple times. The underwire dug into her ribs and made it hard to breathe. She felt so sick. This was awful. 
She stepped into her lacy panties next. She was sobbing now. She wanted to die. She grabbed a yellow sundress from the hanger and painstakingly put it on. It felt so, so very wrong. 
She felt the acrid taste in the back of her throat, the pressure building as she raced to the bathroom. Heave after heave, she vomited the contents of her stomach until there was nothing left- not even bile. She sat there, breathing heavily in a crumpled dress.
Slowly, she picked herself up from the dirty bathroom tiles. She cleaned her face and brushed her teeth. Mouthwash couldn’t rinse him of the awful taste of self hatred.
Maybe the adults in her life were right. Maybe she was a girl- just a delusional, silly little girl who wanted to be something she never could be. Maybe this whole ‘transgender’ thing was exactly as her father said- a disgusting, ridiculous phase. Maybe he- she- would grow out of it.
He didn’t want to.
Being a man felt right, felt real. As a girl it felt like he was putting on an act while wearing molten-hot metal heels. That’s a weird metaphor, he knows, but whatever. What does it matter? 
What does anything matter?
He- she- still feels sick. It’s like her body is made of stone; a crumbling statue on a curtained stage. She can’t escape, no matter how much he wants to.
Why does she keep calling herself he? Like her father and therapist said, she’s a girl. Just a girl, alone, chained up in her own body. It’s not that part of her that’s chained, though. He knows it’s all a lie, but still just can’t bring herself to believe it. 
He should call Obanai. Obanai always knows what to say, what to do. They really are a good friend. But, still, he’s hesitant. Why should he bother his friend, put this on them? They’ve helped plenty enough already. They’ve done so much for him. He needs to pay them back somehow, he knows. 
He picks up the phone, opens discord, and presses the ‘call’ button. No going back now, or Obanai will worry even more. His breath hitches nervously when they pick up, and finds himself chewing on his hair.
“Hey Kyo, what’s up?”
“Oh, I, nothing really. I just wanted to.. to talk.”
“...what happened?”
He breaks down again.
“I put on the.. the.. the outfit we go.. we got. He, um, he.. He made me change. Told me to.. told me to wear a dress. I put it on, God, Oba, I felt so sick. I broke down crying and threw up. I don’t.. I don’t think I can.. Can do th-this.” He was practically sobbing into the receiver at this point. It hurts, and he feels guilty. He doesn’t know what to do, really.
There’s a moment of silence before he hears a quiet hum. 
“Hey, it’s okay, Kyo. Take a few deep breaths, control your breathing. Feel the air coursing through your body, and remind yourself that this will pass. It’ll be okay, I promise.”
He follows the advice, feels himself calm as his breathing evens out. He feels less heavy now, less panicky as his tears dry. It still hurts, though.
“Okay, good, good. Why don’t you put the clothes in a bag and come to my house? You can change when you get here, it’ll be fine.”
He nods along before remembering they can’t see it. A quiet ‘okay’ falls from his lips. He’s calming down. He has a little hope again. It’s getting better. It’ll be fine. 
They talk it over a little more before hanging up. He packs a bag, and heads out. His dad barely pays attention this time. He doesn’t want to go out like this, but he reminds himself it’ll be fine. It’ll end well.
He starts the car and presses his foot to the gas pedal. It’ll be fine. He’s careful, as always, while he drives. In no time he pulls into the driveway, and heads up to Obanai’s apartment. He stands at the door for a solid five minutes before he knocks, and it opens instantly.
He’s rushed inside, and allowed to change in the bathroom. He’s never changed so very fast before. It’s relieving. It feels amazing. He looks like a man again, so masculine. It’s so great.
Obanai whistles as he comes out, and he smiles. He still doesn’t feel good, but he does feel right. Maybe things will be fine. He wishes it could be like this forever, but he knows it can’t. At least he has his friends. They're always there for him.
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