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

-22-

((Thank you to Alastair_awsten  for providing me with most of the limited knowledge I possess on locations in Brighton))

((The people in the store are random OCs, not anyone specific))

((Warnings: self deprecation, not passing, comparing self to others, a lot of talk about not being "normal", public space, anxiety, grocery store dysphoria blues, food))

Y/n felt kind of weird sitting in the front with two adults in the back of the car, but figured it was a married thing.

Like how he'd sit in the back with a friend even if the front was available.

Marriage was kind of like super friends who just so happened to be in love, right?

The only downside was that being in the front made it harder to fade into the background of the conversation the way he usually might.

"You alright with that mate?" Wilbur asked as he turned to him.

He froze, realizing he hadn't been listening.

"Sorry, what's happening?"

Phil snorted from the back and he felt his face flush.

"Ah, don't be embarrassed, mate. Happens to the best of us."

"Awwwww, are you embarrassed, o/n?" Wilbur teased.

He knew he must be burning up by that point. He turned towards the window, refusing to make eye contact.

The entire car broke into laughter, leaving him to sink further into the fabric.

"You know we only do this out of love," Phil said, leaning forward and ruffling his hair.

Y/n glared at him before reluctantly giving in and laughing along with everyone else.

"Ok fine, but what's happening?" He asked.

"I realized I am ill prepared to host a group so Phil suggested we stop by at the shop."

Y/n bit his lip. He knew the effect that stores could have on him. The way that people's gaze crawled along his skin. How every word he spoke and every word spoken to him hurt.

And yet he agreed.

He was hanging out with some of his best friends, he wasn't throwing it out just to sit alone in a house he didn't know and raise suspicion.

This way he would help. He would do whatever he was asked and he would push all of the bullshit to the side.

His friends deserved his best, and that was what he would give them. Even if he had to do it as someone who wasn't entirely him.

That was what led to him sitting tensely in the passengers seat as they pulled into the parking lot of Morrison's, the others discussing what to add to the list Kristen was typing up to share with them all.

Y/n put on his f/c mask before he even opened the door. He stepped out of the car, turning back to see the others' doors opening as well.

"Everyone got their masks?" Phil asked, face obstructed by a darkly colored mask with a w mouth and blush lines. He was matching with Kristen.

Y/n nodded. Wilbur slipped on his own plain black mask with a sound of confirmation as he stepped out of the car and locked it.

Y/n's feet dragged across the gravel as he lagged behind the rest of the group, arms crossed as tightly as physically possible against his chest in a habitual attempt to flatten it. He tried to keep his posture at an angle which didn't accentuate or exaggerate his curves, as awkward and conscious of an effort as that might have been. He hoped that no one else noticed.