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

-20-

((Read this if you are Brighton Dweller: Sorry you guys kind of missed out on that part. Basically, just picture you get picked up after a very long day and fall asleep in the car on the drive to Wilbur's and you'll be good enough to keep going))

((As a Will myself, this dialogue is wonky to read. Like, y/n says "Wilbur!" like, what if Wilbur just replied "Will!"))

((Like, man it's trippy))

((Warnings: just the usual, boys))

Y/n woke up, stretching out and cringing at the indents on his legs and waist from sleeping in jeans overnight. Wearing jeans to bed was never a good idea.

He pushed off the blanket on top of him and looked around, feeling a surge of panic swell up inside of him. This wasn't his room.

His brain caught back up on the situation quickly. Wilbur. Wilbur was here! He was with Wilbur, who must have brought him to the room. Y/n smiled as he realized Wilbur must have elected to let him sleep off the jetlag instead of waking him up to get changed for bed.

He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and stood up, immediately stumbling.

Shaking it off, he slowly padded across the soft carpet and to the door. It was near silent in the house. He opened the door slowly, glancing to the left and to the right before walking out.

"W-Will?" he asked, voice so low there was no chance anyone could have heard him. "Wilbur?" he tried, slightly louder.

No response.

He quietly made his way down the hall and found the kitchen. It was surprisingly clean, although the garbage needed taken out. If he knew where the front door was he might help, but he had no idea where anything was.

You never quite know how disorienting waking up in a house other than yours is until it happens.

"Wilbur?"

"Oh, Y/n!"

Y/n jumped, holding a hand to his heart as it raced.

"Ah, sorry, did I startle you?" Wilbur asked, throwing his hands up, eyes widening as if Y/n being startled had startled him as well.

Y/n just blinked at him, too tired and high off adrenaline to think of a verbal answer immediately. He exhaled shakily as his brain finally processed that it was just Wilbur. It was just Wilbur.

"G'mornin Wil," he mumbled as he let his shoulders relax.

Wilbur laughed.

"Good morning to you too, Y/n," he said, ruffling Y/n's hair with a smile. He hummed contentedly before continuing. "It'll be nice having you and the other two gremlins around."

Oh yeah. Those two would be there soon.

On the one hand, the whole situation was more than he could have ever dreamed of. He would be hanging out with not only his best friends, but his idols.

On the other hand...

Y/n flopped back onto the couch, dropping his head into his hands.

"Y/n? You ok?" Wilbur asked as he sat down next to him.

He nodded, then shook his head.

When he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder he hesitantly leaned over into his friend, accepting the comfort.

"I know I can't possibly have a full grasp on... what you're dealing with... But I hope you know that you can talk to me about absolutely anything."

Y/n hesitated. What if Wilbur thought he was being weird, or unreasonable for feeling so... wrong?

"I... I'm scared to be around them," he settled on. It was a start.

"Me too, but I feel like it isn't for the same reason," Wilbur muttered. "What's going on, Y/n?" he asked gently.

"It's um," he hesitated. "Being around boys my age can," he sighed. "It gives me really bad dysphoria."

"Oh, Y/n... why didn't you say anything?" he asked, the concern evident in his eyes.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Y/n spoke, half to Wilbur and half to himself. "It isn't enough to stop me from coming. I'm sorry. I promise I really do want to be here, I'm just a little bit..." he trailed off.

"You don't need to apologize for anything. I'm sorry you have to go through this, Y/n. Is there any way I can support you?" he asked, leaving the options open.

Y/n knew what he meant. Help him come out. Help him hide it. Help him cope.

He just didn't know what he himself wanted from this trip. He didn't want to make it entirely about him, but he also didn't want to deal with being absolutely miserable for that long of a time period.

Over the internet was one thing, but in person was an entirely new and foreign threat. A leap from watching a horror movie to becoming the star.

And he wasn't entirely certain he'd be the character making it out alive.

He shook off the thought, refusing to entertain it. Although... even if the metaphor was a bit out there, and he knew there was no way he would die, he did know what the risk of coming here was. Of testing the waters with long term cohabitation.

Everyone might find out. Or possibly even worse, no one would find out. No, no, that was what he wanted... wasn't it?

What he wanted, he decided in that moment, was to avoid breaking down over the trip. Or at the very least to do it privately. He wasn't going to give in to this. He was stronger than that. He wasn't going to let dysphoria ruin this trip.

"It's fine. Just don't tell anyone, and it'll be fine."

Wilbur looked less than satisfied with his response, but nodded nonetheless.

"Just please tell me if you need anything. I can make a reason to get you out for a while," he compromised, and y/n nodded, despite knowing he was incredibly unlikely to do so.

Although Wilbur initially suggested they do a vlog or a live to announce the meetup, he cancelled immediately upon y/n's hesitance. He just wasn't ready to be on camera, and he needed all of his tolerance for misgendering saved up for the next few weeks.

They decided on a calm day full of silly little songs, shitty movies, even worse jokes, and the best of company.

((Quick break-off for anyone who is not British))

Here: The only time they went out was a brief outing to the store. Wilbur had realized that y/n had never tried a bunch of British sweets and immediately insisted they do so. Not for a video, just as casual friends. Just a private day, outside of y/n making a tweet which read "British candy is shit" to annoy Wilbur, giving no context to his fans whatsoever.

He knew he had Wilbur to help him, but he also knew that that would change next to nothing in person. No matter how bad he felt, he'd struggle to force himself to bring it up. Plus, this was supposed to be a fun trip for everyone. He was not going to make it about this.

He didn't care how much internalizing he had to do. So long as people weren't way worse and way more active in pronoun use than ever, he'd live through it. How much worse than usual could things possibly be?

Sure he'd be going from being misgendered during a small part of the day to almost constantly, but he could handle it.

He had to handle it. He had no other choice.

((So uh... about that...))

((Jk...))

((unless?))