Enemy of the Babylon (Derj)

Run away from Babylon

Unmovable Daron stays as he checks himself in the mirror with his hands gripping both sides of the sink rather too harsh. The protruding veins in his forearm are shadowed by the faint light coming from the small bathroom window as his fingers clench and unclench, putting tension on the wiry muscles.

He can feel anxiety rising up his throat. At some point he knows he has to go back to the hotel bed he is sharing with Serj. They have most often shared hotel rooms, but ever since they started dating 2 months ago that has become the default. The weak first light of the day shadows his face in a way that makes him look younger, in a way that takes him back to the body he was born in, in a way that makes his blood boil and his soul get drenched in cold disappointment.

His left hand rises slowly to his faint stubble, eyes never leaving the mirror, noticing his feminine hand with long, delicate, thin fingers. It only makes him want to break down harder. Long time accumulated fury bubbles up in his chest as his jaw sets. All he can see are distorted images of the body he was born in, as if the change never happened. But Daron has a bigger problem than his immaculate self-hatred right now.

You see, telling your boyfriend of two months who is also your band mate for over 3 years that you were born a female is not something that hasn't crossed Daron's mind. This fact is only logical, but the topic has never come up. How could it be? It's not like one simply doubts something like that and has to ask. Their friendship has been amazing enough so that bringing up the fact that Daron is trans has felt like unnecessary information. After all, when Daron and Serj met, Daron had already undergone mastectomy and was in testosterone therapy.

It felt liberating for someone to see Daron exactly like he had seen himself all his life, a man. Serj never doubted, never asked, never pried in his childhood and Daron was thankful for that.

After they started dating, Daron told Serj that he wanted to take it slow and Serj seemed ok with it. It was hard to do so, when all he wanted to do was be pinned against a wall by the older man and have him fuck Daron senseless. But the guilt and shame he felt inside were much greater and deep down, Daron knew that he was running out of time. Something needed to be done and quick. He couldn't help, but feel mortified by the idea, though. A lot of things being at stake just made it harder.

With a sigh he lowers his eyes from his reflection in the mirror feeling that he has had enough for tonight. His cold, naked feet pad the way to the bed, being careful not to wake the other man. When he gets close enough to the bed to make out Serj's features in the dim light of the early morning, Daron cannot help but stop for a moment and stare. Serj is so beautiful, so peaceful, so undeserving of somebody like Daron...

He lies down cautiously and quietly gets under the covers. A heavy arm makes its way around his middle as if on instinct and Serj's scent surrounds him, calming him, making him forget, lulling him to sleep.

He starts the morning feeling off. He cannot help but feel irritation at everything that surrounds him, like some sort of itch that constantly rides up and down under his skin in hopes to drive him mad. Nothing seems to be going his way and the urge to drop everything and hide somewhere and smoke gets bigger as the day progresses. He finds himself sighing more often than not during rehearsals.

One particularly bad moment occurs when Shavo mistakes yet another time the cords for their new song.

" Shavo, you cunt! It's not supposed to be like that! Can you even read what I've written?" He yells from the end of the room, over where he is practicing his own cords. He sees Shavo flip him off and continue unbothered by the critique, it irritates him further. Daron huffs and tries to concentrate on his own cords, but it seems impossible with the whole noise that encloses him.