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You woke up at 1pm feeling like shit and have just been sitting uselessly in bed since then. Robotnik is off doing god knows what and hadn’t made you or Stone come with him today. So you just continued lying there, scrolling on your phone for eternity and hating yourself.
The thing specifically making you feel like shit is your body. Your chest is too big and no matter what binder you try it never looks flat enough. There’s always weird lumps in spots that normal guys would never have. Clothes never look quite right on you, always sitting weirdly on your chest or the curves that you hate.
Even though most of the people close to you call you the correct things, when you go out you still get misgendered at least half the time. You haven’t even been able to start testosterone, the best you’ve been able to get is a birth control that stops your periods. Which is great, but not enough.
It’s all just.. exhausting. You can do whatever you want but everyone always sees you as a woman, a girl playing dress up.
There’s a knock on your bedroom door. You pause the video playing on your phone and wait to see if whoever’s there will speak. Unless there’s an intruder in your home— which you don’t think would knock so politely —it’s either the doctor or Stone. There’s a chance that Robotnik is back from wherever he went, but it isn’t very likely, leaving Stone as the most probable option.
“Yes?” You hesitantly call out.
“Can I come in?” Sure enough, Stone answers from the other side. You quickly try to make yourself a touch more presentable— not that you can fix much that quickly with your hair a mess, your clothes dirty, and your bed unmade —while calling out a ‘sure’.
The door creaks open as you sit up to greet your partner. He stands in the doorway, sipping from one cup of coffee while he holds another in his other hand. He swallows and speaks, “Are you alright? I noticed you haven’t left your room.” He speaks the words kindly, but you feel a wave of embarrassment flood your system. You’re an adult. With a job, and partners, and responsibilities. You don’t get to spend all day rotting in your room like an angsty teen.
“Oh, uhm,” you stumble over something to say. Stone’s eyes graze over you and your room as he takes in your unkempt state. He hands you the coffee he isn’t drinking with a sympathetic expression, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. It makes you feel pitiful, like a child getting a talking to from their parent. You try to shake off the feeling by taking a sip of the latte Stone has handed you. You were never a huge fan of coffee, but Stone is talented. He makes the only cup that you’ve ever enjoyed. You can see why Robotnik kept him around, if for no other reason.
After you’ve had a few sips of your drink, Stone tries again, “Are you okay?” He asks more gently this time, like he’s not just asking how your day was, but is asking because he can tell something isn’t right. You set the coffee on the side table.
You sigh, unsure of what to say. Stone and Robotnik have always been supportive of you, of course, but they were both born male. Some struggles they just may not be able to understand. They've never stared in the mirror wishing their shirt fell different on their chest. They've never not taken a shower because they just couldn't bare to look at their bodies. To be brutally honest, you envy them. You envy them so much it almost hurts. They never have to worry about these types of things the same way you do. They don't have to think about them. They're just born male and able to live without ever having to question things like this. It isn't fair.
Still, you hesitantly shake your head. You feel Stone's hand rest on your shoulder, but your eyes are averted.
"What's wrong?" You sigh and lean over until you're propped against his side, body mostly facing the opposite direction of him due to where you were sitting.
You make a sound of surprise as Stone turns his body to halfway pick you up. He pull the rest of himself onto the bed and settles you in his lap. You smile, shaken out of your stupor for a moment. He runs his hands soothingly through your hair, resting his head on your shoulder. You lean into him, relaxing a bit.
“What’s wrong?” He murmurs into your ear. You hum noncommittally.
“..Dysphoria.” You say quietly. He places a gentle kiss on your shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You hesitate. You know getting these things off your chest (haha) will probably help you feel better, but it feels wrong to say them aloud. But you do want to talk about it. So you do. You tell Stone all of it, everything that comes to your mind. About your chest, and the misgendering, and how you wish you could just be a boy, and even quietly about your jealously. Stone doesn’t talk much, wanting to let you finish your thoughts before he speaks. He just makes a few little broken sounds as you admit how you’re hurting.
When you finally finish, Stone hugs you close to him and sighs through his nose.
“I’m sorry things have to be so hard for you.” He pauses for a moment to think of his response, “I’ve always seen you as a man and I always will, no matter what you look like. I know that doesn’t really solve anything, but I want you to know that.” You hum into his shoulder. You know, and it does feel good to hear, but he’s right— it doesn’t really fix much.
“I wish I could understand your experiences as much as I want to so I could help you better. I want to do anything I can to take your pain away.” You feel yourself start to tear up slightly. Stone is quiet for a moment. “You know, a lot of things me and the doctor do aren’t exactly… legal, per se. I’m sure we could figure out a way to get you testosterone. And the doctor makes quite a bit of money from his government position, and I would guarantee that he would help you pay for top surgery, if that’s what you want.”
The kindness of your boyfriend, and the idea of finally, finally being able to get these things you’ve desperately wanted for so long pushes the tears to break through. You feel a distant hope fill you, pushing through the fog of the slump you’ve been in. You allow yourself to cry, just for now. Stone’s hand rubs your back and he rocks you, slightly, side to side.
“Shh, it’s okay.” He murmurs. And maybe it will be, you think.
“I love you.” Your voice is quiet and a bit raw but you don’t really care right now.
“I love you, too.” Stone says. You hear the front door open and try not to tense up or draw away. You can hear the shifting of objects and then the clack of Robotnik’s boots drawing nearer. They stop and you look past Stone’s head to see the man standing in the doorway. You know you probably look like shit— eyes red from crying, deep eyebags, messy hair, wrinkled clothes, mostly sitting in Stone’s lap —but you try not to let yourself care. He quirks an eyebrow and you offer a weak smile.
“Am I interrupting something?” Stone’s head swivels to look at him, then back to you. You bury your head in his chest.
“No.” You mutter into Stone’s shirt. You hear footsteps, then the bed shifting under a new weight, then arms wrapping around you and Stone. You smile.
“Do I get to know what’s happening here?” Robotnik asks. His tone is playful, but you can tell that he’s a bit concerned.
“Do you want to tell him?” Stone asks you. You whine into his shoulder in response. Not really. You love both of them, and you want Robotnik to know what’s happening— especially if he’ll be able to help your transition —but spilling your guts to Stone took a lot out of you, and you don’t know if your up for repeating that at the moment.
“Do you want me to tell him?” You nod. Stone will get the basics across, you can always elaborate or answer questions later. “Okay. I hadn’t heard from him today,” he starts to the doctor, “so I came to check up on him. He said he was—“
“Can you tell him without me there?” You blurt. Having to hear the interaction replayed and all of your words repeated right in front of you was embarrassing and made you feel weird.
“Yeah, sure.” You hesitantly let go of Stone and slide out of his lap, allowing him to get up. You sit up on your knees and stare down at your rumpled comforter. You feel the bed shift as Robotnik gets up as well.
“How long have you been wearing that binder?” Stone’s hand lightly rests on your shoulder. You don’t answer. The truth is you aren’t sure. Definitely too long. Your non-answer speaks for you. “Please take it off while we talk.” He says gently, placing a kiss to the top of your head and leaving the room. The doctor does the same and the door clicks shut behind you.
You sigh as you begrudgingly remove your shirt and binder. You look down at your chest and a wave of disgust hits you. You quickly avert your eyes and find a baggier shirt and one of Stone’s hoodies that you had stolen and throw them on. You flop back down onto your bed, feet dangling off the side as you await your boyfriends’ return.
Faintly, you can hear them talking. You try to make out what’s being said, but decide that’s just going to give you a headache and accept the occasional bits and pieces you make out. You hear “depression”, “dysphoria”, “love”, and “help” among Stone’s words and Robotnik’s muffled response. There’s a brief silence before footsteps heading towards your room and the door creaking open. You don’t bother to get up from where you’re sprawled sideways on the bed. You feel someone sit down near your head and a gloved hand sweeps your hair out of your face. Robotnik enters your field of vision, upside down, and leans down to kiss you gently.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips, “that people are such imbeciles.” You smirk slightly. He leans back, hand still playing with your hair. “I’ll do whatever I can to get you whatever you need.” You feel tears prickling again and wipe your eyes roughly. You sit up and lean yourself against the doctor, who wraps an arm around your shoulder. Stone sits on your other side and takes hold of your hand, kissing your knuckles. You smile shakily at him and he smiles back.
You still kinda feel like crap, and for now you still have the same problems, but you also have two incredible boyfriends who are willing to break the law to aid your transition. Things wont just get better over night, but maybe, sometime soon, they’ll be okay.