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“Hey,” Sabine called as she pushed the front door closed—the wood was starting to warp and if she used a little more force than necessary, no one would care. After the day she’d had, the universe could begrudge her a bit of excessive strength.
“Sup,” was Salvador’s response, slightly muffled since he was turned away, doing something on the couch. She distantly wondered if he’d moved at all since she’d left 9 hours ago. Logically, he must have—his own boredom would have forced him to—and yet, logic meant next-to-nothing with Salvador Luna. Part of her wanted to ask him, but she wasn’t sure it was worth the grief it’d get her. Instead she settled for a simple,
“People are dicks,” as she sat on top of their kitchen table and began rifling through today’s set of bills. The table creaked below her, and wobbled as she made herself comfortable.
Salvador grunted and she took that as encouragement and began ranting about the utter asshole of a witch she’d encountered that day. The witch in question was quite possibly the most patronizing person Sabine had ever spoken to, going on about how Sabine just didn’t understand what living in the city was really like because she and Salvador lived on the cheap side of San Antonio, and on and on and on. No matter what Sabine said, the witch just kept responding with “Yeah, whatever you say, girl,” and by the end of the conversation, Sabine had been itching to get home. To escape to the safety of their apartment where she was less-likely to encounter the squinty, judgmental looks as passers-by tried to discern her gender, or the fucking head-shakes that meant someone saw through her masculine presentation. There was nothing that made Sabine feel more uncomfortable in her own skin and fur than that shit.
There was something nice about being able to just go off about her day in the safety of her own apartment—however run-down it may be—and not have to deal with any of that anymore. Although, the downside was that their home was hot as hell at the moment. Part of her wondered if it’d be worth it to go change, but the other part was quite loudly insisting that that was a very bad idea. After everything today, her skin felt wrong and her chest tight beneath her binder and she felt too at odds with her body. Sabine wasn’t sure she could handle changing into a tank-top or shorts or anything that revealed any kind of skin or the slight bump where her breasts were.
“Why is it always so fucking hot in this apartment?” She eventually grumbled out.
It was a rhetorical question. Sabine, being the one who paid the bills and kept track of all their expenses was very aware of the fact that their air conditioner had crapped out over a month ago—was even more aware that they didn’t have the money to get it repaired. That didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to complain about it, or make an off-hand comment.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, honestly. Probably a grunt or some kind of haughty agreement. But Salvador, being Salvador, had to go and stick his head up his ass.
“Why don’t you change out of that crap, then?”
She wasn’t surprised by the comment—not exactly. This wasn’t the first time he’d said something insensitive and to be fair, most of the time he didn’t actually mean anything by it, but knowing that didn’t stop the sinking feeling in her gut, nor did it stop the feelings of shame that crept up her neck and colored her face red. He just didn’t understand, she told herself.
Sabine took a deep breath and tried not to fiddle with her shirt. Just ignore him, she thought as she breathed in deep, relishing in the feeling of her binder moving ever-so-slightly as she consciously filled her lungs with air.
Salvador was silent for a moment and Sabine felt a rush of relief. And then it was shattered by his next words, because apparently Salvador didn’t know when to leave well-enough alone.
“Like, no one else is here. Take that guy-shit off,” Salvador said, not even bothering to turn around and look at her.
“It’s not shit,” Sabine grit out before she could stop herself.
“Oh yeah? Then what would you call it? Because from where I’m sitting, all I see is you putting yourself through some hair-brained torture scheme to prove to other people—who again aren’t even here—that you can look like a guy.”
“You think I’m dressing like this to prove something?” Sabine pushed off from her perch against their ratty kitchen table and moved to stand in front of him. Her pointed teeth her barred and he sat back, as if finally realizing that he’d crossed a line.
“I mean—”
“I don’t care what you think you mean, asshole. How I dress isn’t about other people and it’s not about you and you don’t have any right to comment on it. You do it all the time and I’ve had it up to here,” she gestured violently with her hand and Salvador winced, “with this shit. Maybe part of how I dress is because I want other people to respect me for who I am, because that won’t happen in this dumb-ass society unless I follow their dumb rules about gender and how someone of a certain gender is supposed to present, but it’s also a lot more than that. I dress like this for me, first and foremost. You think wearing a binder is comfortable? Because it’s not. It hurts sometimes and it’s hot, especially right now, but it’s still worth it because at least while I’m wearing it, I don’t want to claw off my own skin as much. At least with my binder on, I feel kind of okay and comfortable, and more like myself than I do any other time when I’m in this city. I get enough of morons not respecting me all day, I’m not going to stand here while you pull this shit again.”
Sabine paused to take a heaving breath that wracked her entire body and it took her a moment to realize that Salvador was staring at her with wide eyes, his hands shaking. He looked paler than he had minutes ago, more translucent than he normally did.
It suddenly hit her how loud she’d just been. Fuck. She didn’t normally respond like that when people gave her shit about her gender, or her clothes. At least she hadn’t hit him this time, which was an improvement, she guessed. It just hurt so much more when coming from him. He was her best friend. He’d taught her everything she knew about this hell-scape of a city, and he was there when she missed the forest, and he was supposed to not be the one causing her pain. It made her feel almost invalid and she hated that he had the power to do that.
“Shit, I didn’t realize it was—” Salvador started to speak and then cut himself off. He took a breath and then tried again. “I’m sorry,” he settled on.
“Good, you should be,” Sabine snapped, then sighed. “Look, I get it if you don’t understand, but could you at least try? Because going to work and being treated like my identity isn’t valid is hard enough without it coming from you. I don’t wear these clothes because of other people, I do it so that I can feel comfortable for at least semblance of the day.”
“I—yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that’s what it was for you. And I didn’t realize that—I won’t do it again, okay?”
Sabine didn’t know if she believed him, but she wanted to. Salvador wasn’t normally a dick to her on purpose and he seemed apologetic.
“Okay. Just don’t do it again. I’m not sure I can take it if you do,” she admitted in a rare moment of sincerity.
“Yeah. So, what are you in the mood for, food-wise?”
Sabine tried not to laugh at the sudden change of topic, and instead sat down on their stained couch and let herself relax as he listed their options.