Work Text:
“I’m trans,” Felixe says abruptly. “If you didn’t know. Or Know .” He and Osbourne had been drinking for a few hours, the bottle of what had to be absurdly expensive wine practically empty. Felixe takes a lingering sip from his glass to disguise his sudden anxiety at having said that. He doesn’t know why he feels anxious. They had already talked about what it meant to be a person, an actual human being and not just a monster. Being trans was… so low on the list of weird things about either of them.
Osbourne sets his glass down and perches his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together and pressing his lips to them as Felixe watches his mind whirl for a proper response. But the wine has had a not-insignificant effect on the professor as well; he just ends up sighing and leaning back into his chair and saying, “It’s one of the many things I can’t Know about you, and one I would find quite rude to try. But yes, I, ah, assumed. Which may be equally rude of me.”
Felixe suddenly feels very stupid. “Right. I mean. Of course you can’t. Wouldn’t. I mean. Of course you assumed -- my pronouns are fucking he/they -- that’s trans as shit. I just mean. Like. I’m not --” Felixe sets down his glass a touch too roughly and runs his hands through his hair as though that will help him sort out his thoughts. “I’ve always known I was a boy. Mostly a boy. Boy-adjacent? But, like, you don’t know all the options when you’re younger so you just think of the two and I’ve always chosen boy. But if I -- I’m not --” He grips his shirt at his chest, eyes scrunched closed as he tries to form the words. “I’m not real . I’m not the same entity I was when I walked into that haunted house. Why -- ?”
“Why did they keep you trans? When you were getting a whole new form anyway?” Osbourne asks delicately.
Felixe nods. “Or -- was I even trans before? What if -- what if I was actually just a regular boy, but they got some sick pleasure in making me feel uncomfortable in my skin. Something to help me know I never really belonged, never really was what I seemed. There was just always something fucking off about me. Just like they wanted.”
Osbourne hesitates, then reaches across the table to rest a hand on Felixe’s knee, rubbing a thumb over it in what Felixe interprets as a comforting manner. “Would you change it? If you could?”
Felixe laughs in a way that betrays he is on the verge of tears and shakes his head. “No. It’s a part of me as much as anything can really be considered me .” Felixe places a hand over Osbourne’s. “I just -- I just thought you should know. Before -- In case -- Well -- “ He removes his hand abruptly, face reddening, and downs the rest of his glass.
Osbourne smiles, a little more lopsided than Felixe had ever seen and fuck if that wasn’t endearing. He removes his hand as well and leans back in his chair. “I appreciate you telling me.”
Felixe shrugs, unable to look at him. “‘S not a big deal. Not like it’s not fucking obvious or anything. I just like to be clear about shit. Up front.”
Osbourne chuckles. “I’ve noticed.”