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Misha Bachynskyi was always aware that he was not the same as the other girls that he played with in Ukraine. When he was four and they played house, he would cry if someone told him to be the mother. When he was seven, he shocked his mother half to death when she walked into their bathroom to see him holding in one hand the kitchen scissors, and in the other hand the two plaits that she had put in his hair that very morning. And when he was sixteen, he begged his mother to change more than just the age on his forged birth certificate.
He was always comfortable with the knowledge that he was a boy. That was the one thing that remained certain throughout all of the changes in his life. And now, after the Cyclone accident, there was so much more that he was certain of. Above all else, he was certain that he loved Noel Gruber. Any time Noel smiled at him, Misha felt perfectly settled in his own skin. Seven months into their relationship, he would still wake up and have to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
But of course, he had to go and fuck it all up for himself. It happened while he was at Noel's house for an evening after school. Misha was sitting on top of Noel in his bed and pressing kisses along the other boy's jaw and neck, relishing in the feel of Noel's hands skimming over his shirt and gently tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. Their schoolbags and sweaters had been abandoned on the floor before they had even made it fully inside Noel's room.
Misha's hands greedily made their way under his boyfriend's shirt and he ran his fingertips along the warm skin that he found. Noel let out a breathy laugh against Misha's lips and Misha pressed in closer, wanting to swallow the sound and get drunk off it. He pulled away for a moment to admire the view. Noel's shirt had ridden up, exposing his hips and stomach to Misha's wandering hands. "Я тебе кохаю," he whispered to the boy underneath him, and Noel's eyes softened.
"I love you too, Mish," he murmured, sitting up a bit straighter to press their foreheads together. Misha's eyes fluttered shut and he felt his heart skip a beat. Silently, he pulled away and traced his fingers over the top button of Noel's shirt.
"Is this okay?" he asked quietly. Noel nodded, and Misha watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Carefully, Misha started to undo the buttons, exposing more and more of Noel's body to his greedy eyes.
"God, you are gorgeous," he breathed, and watched as Noel's cheeks and chest flushed pink at the compliment. He leaned down to press a kiss to the other boy's clavicle, basking in the warmth of his boyfriend's skin.
He started trailing tingling lips back up Noel's neck towards his mouth, blindly pushing the sleeves of Noel's shirt down his arms. Noel sighed softly and wrapped his arms around Misha's waist, pulling him tighter against his bare chest. Misha groaned softly, feeling the heat of Noel's body through his own shirt and even the thick material of his binder.
He was nearly drunk off the taste of Noel's lips and the feel of his skin, but still he felt his heart jolt unpleasantly when he felt Noel reach under his shirt and skim the bottom of his binder. Misha sat back instantly, feeling a nasty lump forming in his throat.
Noel immediately moved his hands away, concern lighting his face. "What it it, Mish?" he asked. "You've gone pale."
Misha shook his head, feeling his eyes burning as tears started to form. It was beyond stupid, he knew. Noel loved him, he told him so all the time, and he knew that objectively Noel didn't have a problem with him being trans, or he wouldn't be going out with him. But still, seeing Noel sitting there bare-chested and kiss-drunk was a harsh reminder to Misha about just how wrong his own body truly was. Noel being so comfortable made Misha's skin crawl with jealousy.
"Is nothing," he managed to choke out past the sick feeling in his stomach. Noel frowned and shifted back against his headboard so that he could move Misha out of his lap.
"Misha, come on. I can see something's wrong. Was it me touching your binder?"
At that, Misha couldn't stop the tears from falling, and his throat convulsed as he tried to fight them back. He barely nodded his head, keeping his eyes trained on his lap. His hands were shaking. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice cracking.
Noel sat forward and grabbed Misha's hands, holding them tightly. "It's not your fault, baby," he breathed. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have checked with you first."
Misha's shoulders shook with the effort of keeping in his sobs, but when Noel gently pulled him back into his lap, he couldn't help it. He buried his face in the warm skin of his boyfriend's shoulder and cried. Noel ran a soothing hand in circles over the small of Misha's back, avoiding touching the boy's binder in any way, and his other hand combed through Misha's hair. "It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, pressing gentle kisses to whatever bits of skin he could reach. They stayed like that for a while, Misha's arms slowly making their way around Noel's shoulders and gripping him fiercely. Noel mumbled quiet words against his hair as Misha tried his best to calm himself, breathing shakily. Eventually he had settled enough to pull back and wipe away the residual tears clinging to his eyelashes. Noel was staring at him like his heart was breaking.
"I'm going to put a shirt on, okay?" Noel said, and Misha nodded. While Noel made his way over to his dresser to pull out a jumper, Misha leaned against the headboard of the bed and wrapped his arms around his knees.
Noel climbed back into the bed and sat next to Misha, leaning against his shoulder. "Are you okay now?" he asked.
Misha shook his head slightly, mouth twisting to stop himself from crying again. Noel sighed. "Can I hold you?" he asked, and Misha nodded. Carefully, Noel wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and pulled him closer, and Misha slowly melted into the familiar comfort of Noel's embrace.
"I am sorry, poet," he mumbled after a while. "You should not have had to deal with that."
Noel held him tighter. "You're my boyfriend, Mish," he said, turning his head and pressing a kiss to Misha's forehead. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you no matter what."
Misha glanced up at him, eyes wet once more. "I do not deserve someone as wonderful as you," he sighed, causing Noel to frown.
"Don't say that, Mish, please."
Misha just closed his eyes and leaned back against Noel's shoulder. He lay there for so long that Noel started to think he'd fallen asleep, but then he began to speak again.
"I have never felt like this before. I don't know why, but when I think about you seeing my body it makes me feel sick. Is not that I hate myself, it's just so much easier to pretend that I am same as you when we have our clothes on." He looked up at Noel through watering eyes, willing him to understand. "I love you, poet, but the thought of being with you, or anyone, physically..." He trailed off, swiping the palm of his hand against his eyes.
Noel bit his lip to stop tears from forming. Obviously he knew that Misha wasn't happy with himself, but he had never spoken about it this openly before. "Oh, Mish," he faltered. He had never experienced gender dysphoria before. Yes, he liked to dress and act more feminine occasionally, but he was still a man and always would be, so he had no idea of what Misha was going through. "I know you love me. And I know that this isn't about me at all, but for what it's worth, I think that every inch of you is perfect. It's never mattered to me what you look like when you're the most amazing person I know. And the fact that I get to date you is like all of my dreams being made into reality, every day."
Misha nodded softly. "Thank you, poet," he whispered, reaching up to kiss right above where Noel's neck met his sweater. He didn't know if he'd ever feel comfortable being so vulnerable with anyone that he would trust them with his biggest insecurity, but if it was going to happen, it would be with Noel. But for now, he let his eyes flutter closed. He nestled in closer to the warmth of Noel's body, choosing to ignore the tight feeling of wrongness in his chest and focusing instead on the love he could feel radiating from his boyfriend in every beat of his heart.
He wasn't perfect by any means, but he was definitely happy.