Stop Calling me That (mcyt + ftm reader) -Book 1/2-

-15-

((WE HIT 20K READS AND 1K VOTES WHAT THE HELL))

((Before we get into this bad boy I would like to say something real quick))

((y'all great, and I am happy to have all of you here. However, this book was specifically made  for FTM. If you are enby, a transgirl, etc... or not trans and just like the book, you are still welcome to stay, but know that when writing I am prioritizing the FTMs since I am writing this for them.))

((Also, I'm sorry in advance, the alternate options are confusing in this one. To be clear, it is about 3 am in Y/n's location. The time in England will be different depending on your chosen location. For example, if you are in England, I will refer to it as 'also being really late' there. If you were in America, however, I would not say it was late in England while also being late there since that doesn't make sense.))

((Warnings: suggested transphobia, stress, More deadnaming than usual, coming out))

They were not changing their mind.

It was a couple weeks later and he had mostly lost his motivation to do just about anything.

All he was holding onto as means to keep moving was the growing frustration and the support that his friends offered him, as little as it could mean with them not even knowing what was going on.

There was little that they could do even if they did know. And of course, since they didn't know, their support was, as guilty as y/n felt for feeling that way, not really helping anything. They offered words of support, yes, but they were support for the stresses of trying to fix a broken computer. Y/n was dealing with a breaking family.

He shuffled back to his room from his mother's office.

It was the fifth time since it happened that she had subtly suggested she might have an idea of what was going on, and the stress and anger was growing within him.

She kept glancing over at him whenever a show made a transphobic joke. Or when there was a same sex couple on screen. Almost like she already knew but was refusing to say.

And it was killing him inside slowly.

She had to know... right?

So what did she think? That he was a lesbian? He'd thought that himself for a while.

Was she just aware that he was in the community at all? That would make sense with the evidence he had.

Wait, what evidence?

This could be entirely coincidence. He could just be building this up for nothing. Maybe she was glancing at him in general and he just only happened to notice it those times. There was no solid evidence she knew anything.

He tried to reassure himself of that. Tried to tell himself, to force it into his skull, that everything was fine and she probably knew nothing. But he was failing.

His brain was screaming at him for help, but he had no one to go to.

No one even knew. He was alone. Alone in this.

God he hated this.

He found himself staring at his phone, at the discord app he refused to use.

He tapped his fingers against the edge of the case, pulling it off and back on. Stress habit.

God, fuck this.