Boys like Boys|| Peter Parker

.11.

November, 2015

Life always throws curveballs at Oliver. One day he might have been falling from a train, and then two months later he had a new normal. Things never really settled down for the two of them, Bucky still watched for signs of danger, Oliver still hid his face from security cameras and the only place they ever felt safe was together. 

For the past nine months, Oliver couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten. He had a roof over his head, regular meals, he could talk to Bucky, watch tv, have as normal of a life as he would ever get to. 

But of course, highs and lows are a part of life. Not all days are going to be good.

The toilet seat.

How could he be losing his mind over a toilet seat?

It seems ridiculous, and he feels pathetic and useless.

He's having a bad day, he's having a very bad day. He remembers Bucky telling him everyone has bad days. It's just that his bad days are a bit worse than others.

Oliver was hugging his knees, the bathroom floor was cold. He could feel ghosts wrapping their hands around his neck, squeezing until he couldn't breathe. There was a weight pressing on his chest, he wished for a moment that it would crush and kill him right there. He could feel the bump on his chest, as ridiculous as that sounds, he tried not breathing to make the awareness of his chest go away, but he quickly realized that was a bit dumb.

It started with the toilet seat, yes. But it was so much more than that. He was choosing to think it's the toilet seat's fault though. That way, he didn't have to think about dysphoria that much.

He didn't know when exactly he started crying, or when he turned off the light, or when he sank to the floor. One moment he was fine, having mild dysphoria, but he has that every day, and the next he saw the toilet seat and it all started spiraling.

He's glad it doesn't happen very often, there's mild dysphoria with him all the time, but sometimes it becomes a bit too much.

It was admittedly, way worse in the red room. At least now he had short hair, he passed (as a 12 year old guy but okay), he could wear the clothes he wanted, he had a binder that Bucky ordered online for him (sorry to the guy who's card they stole).

In a way, he thinks it will never go away. The dysphoria will always be there, no matter how much he looks and feels like a guy. He could have top surgery, he could have bottom surgery, he could have legal documents with his name, people could think he's a cis guy, and still there would be the little monster at the back of his head.

Lucky for Oliver, he has experience with monsters. He can handle this.

He's sobbing his eyes out in the bathroom

Ok so maybe he cannot handle this.

It's pathetic really, and logically he knows that displays of emotions aren't inherently feminine or that men are incapable of crying. He knows that's all bullshit toxic masculinity, but he doesn't feel very masculine right then.

The thing is, cis people think dysphoria is just hating your body, or wishing you had a different body, one that aligned with how you feel. That's partially true in any case, and of course, different trans people will feel differently.

But for Oliver at least, that's not all dysphoria is.

It's so much more, and maybe if it was just hating his body, he wouldn't be crying on the cold bathroom floor.

Oliver wished there was someone else to tell him what he's feeling, to tell him how to feel better, to just guide him. He's just so fucking lost. He never had anyone explain anything, it was always half or untrue information, and as far as he knew, he would live out his days in the red room as nothing more than a weapon.