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

-33-

((^Love that band... OH! Surprise! I'm uploading Tuesdays too now!))

((DISCLAIMER: this one made me anxious while making it. Please take care of yourselves. If you need to skip, go to the bold words. There is a summary of what happened before that, so you can continue from there no problem.))

((And btw, your comments are one of my favorite parts of publishing, so thank you so much for that, dear degenerates <3))

((Warnings: possibly transphobic family, coming out, anxiety attack, fears of being disowned, spiraling thoughts, intrusive+self deprecating thoughts, internalized transphobia, invalidation of one's own identity, nausea(?), guilt over not coming out, tell me if I missed any please))

The next morning, Y/n still couldn't bring himself to leave the room. The others had left hours ago, but he'd pretended to be asleep to avoid it.

He wanted to be around everyone, but he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Yet he'd have to in just a few more hours. They'd all be going to meet the other two at a nearby restaurant that night. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage that, but he'd elected to just not think about it in the meantime and hope that the problem somehow resolved itself.

Who knows? Maybe he'd just... stop being trans within the next— he checked his phone for the time— four hours. He could only hope.

His dysphoria had been hellishly present since the moment he'd woken up. His skin crawled every time he dared to move. But he knew he had to eventually. Alright, here he goes. Moving.

He stared at the wall, body half numb, not moving. He sighed. Time to move. Gotta move. Moving. He lifted an arm half-heartedly.

Ok, fuck it. Moving.

He finally sat up, an odd anxiety building in him that accompanied the dysphoria. An unwelcome addition to his feelings, but nothing new.

He knew that he was terrified for the evening, but the anxiety felt a bit overkill. He racked his brain for why he might be so anxious and was met with way more reasons than he wanted.

The moment he left the room he'd be met with misgendering from all of his friends and heroes. That, and quite possibly pity from some of them. He'd be bringing them down. They'd be bringing him down, sure, but he was the constant in that situation.

And then he'd be leaving with them to go pick up two more of his friends who would also do the exact same thing.

He picked his phone back up, intent on distracting himself briefly so he could build up to the point where he could pretend he didn't want to disappear every time someone so much as looked at and/or referred to him.

A notification stood out at the top. A missed call from his mom. He felt himself go cold.

It was from the previous night. It made sense he'd missed it since he'd fallen asleep so early, but why had she been calling? Why would she be calling?

Was it an emergency? No, she would have been more insistent. She probably didn't actually want to talk to him. What if she was going to tell him she'd figured something else out? What if she'd found him online, what if she was going to force him to stop doing that too? What if she was going to ban him from the internet permanently this time? Or at least until he was 18... oh god, what if- A slew of possibilities crowded his mind, none of them good. No, no, no...