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Branzy was doing something that he did not so often. Because normally, he was fine. He was him and therefore, he was okay.
…right now he was scared and disgusted.
Branzy was standing in front of his wall mirror that he usually used to check his outfit before going out and working on the casino. He wasn’t doing that right now.
He was standing in front of the mirror in only his boxers and staring at his chest. Staring at the scars under his pecs.
He crossed his arms to try and hide them. They peeked out a little. His tail tucked between his legs and wrapped around his thigh.
His thin, lithe thigh. He hated that.
He hated his slightly too thin waist. He hated that he couldn’t get bottom surgery. He hated that it had taken a year and a half for his voice to pass as male and it was still pretty high pitched. He hated that once a month he got horrible cramps and he had to try and pass them off as stomach aches.
He hated that the parts that he hated most had to leave scars. Permanent reminders of what he was born as. Something he found revolting. (Not all of them, of course, Branzy was still pretty pro women. Go women.)
Someone he found nauseating and disgusting.
He could cut his hair, deepen his voice, eat more than he probably should to thicken out, take birth control to stop stains, but no matter what he did, his scars, his body kept taunting him.
Fake.
Broken.
Confused.
Mistaken.
Wrong.
Imposter.
Branzy absolutely despised that. Feeling like an imposter in his body. Like he was exactly what those people told him, all those horrible years ago.
‘Oh, you’re just confused!’
‘But you were born as a ĝ̴̼ḯ̵̘̏r̵͔͑͘ĺ̴͑͜, that’s what you are!’
‘That's so weird and gross, why would you do that?’
‘Quit dressing like that, grow your hair back out.’
‘You’ll never get a boyfriend if you keep dressing like that!’
‘No, no, s̸͙̪̎h̸̻̱̓ẻ̵̼ͅ might get a boyfriend! S̷̥̓h̵͖̰̾͠e̶͈̗̕’̸̭̔̀l̵͉̍ļ̴̞͘ just attract all the weird gay boys.’
He was absolutely disgusted with himself. Not to mention how he was scared.
Scared that the one person he feels safe around, that gave him a home, will someday see who he really is and either think he’s ugly and wretched or weird. And then he’d be kicked out, killed, or just be looked down upon more than he already is.
He wouldn’t be able to handle that.
Branzy got startled out of his mind by a knock on his door. Three quick taps. Clown. Branzy yelped and scrambled to his bed, quickly throwing back on his sleep shirt. “C-come in!”
Clown poked his head inside the room. “Hey, Branzy, I was coming to check if you were up yet. You’re usually up and doings by now.”
Branzy winced and mentally slapped himself. “R-right, yeah, um, I just slept in a little later today, I guess.”
Clown tilted his head and moved a little more into the room. “Mhm… you’re fisting your boxers. The poor things are going to rip.”
Branzy glanced down. Sure enough, he was holding his boxers in a slightly too tight death grip. He forced himself to relax and release them. “S-sorry.”
Clown hummed. “It’s fine. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t lie to me, Branzy.”
Branzy’s head snapped up so fast his neck popped. What? How could he know?
Branzy didn’t have any binders anymore, he got rid of all of those, no need for them anymore, so how? His voice was low enough to be casually perceived as male (right?) and there wasn’t anything else that could give him away. Or so he thought, so how did Clown find out?
“W-what?”
Clown sighed and walked closer until he was at the edge of Branzy’s bed. Branzy had to crane his neck to look up at him. “I know something is off with you today, so don’t pretend that you’re fine when you’re not. You tend to have a habit of not acknowledging when you aren’t okay.”
Branzy blinked. He didn’t know. Branzy was safe, Clown didn’t know. “Oh. Yeah. Um, I- I’m just- I feel a little under the weather today.”
Clown tilted his head. “How so?”
“I- my stomach is a little bit queasy.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
“Hm. You didn’t try another one of Spoke’s potions, did you?” Clown’s tail flicked and Branzy focused on the movement instead of his racing heart.
“Gods, no, I’ve learned my lesson on that one, Clown.” Branzy allowed himself a small smile. Just play along. Tell half truths, not lies, and it will be fine. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.
“Good,” Clown drawled and sat next to Branzy. He unclasped his mask and set it aside. That was fine. Branzy had long since grown accustomed to Clown’s face. “I think I know something that will help you feel better.”
Branzy smiled a little wider. Just smile. Play along. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” Clown leaned closer and rested his hands on Branzy’s waist.
Branzy leaned closer despite himself. He liked this. When Clown would distract him from something that was bothering him. That was always nice.
Clown closed the distance and kissed Branzy. Branzy let his eyes shut, focusing on Clown and only Clown. This was nice. One of Clown’s hands slipped under Branzy’s shirt and he sighed into Clown’s mouth.
That’s fine.
The hand moved up his stomach.
That’s fi- wait. Not fine. Too close.
Branzy froze, but just a second too late for Clown to stop in time. A second that let Clown’s fingers brush the underside of his pecs. And the definitive change in texture there.
Branzy went stone still. Clown pulled away to give him an unreadable look, his hand unmoving.
Branzy was surprised Clown couldn’t hear his heart with how fast it was beating. He could probably feel it, hammering underneath his fingertips. Branzy’s vision blurred with tears.
No. No, no, no. This is bad, this is so bad, actually, because Clown will either hate him or think he’s gross and fake and broken and worry.
He was actually kind of surprised he made it this long, he thought he’d have been outed in his first week on the server. Which honestly might have been better because he wouldn’t have been so attached to Clown and desperate for his approval. But he is. Which will only make this part hurt more.
“…Branzy? Are you t-“ Whatever else Clown was going to say was drowned out as Branzy finally broke down.
Tears streamed, fast and hot, down his face and he covered his mouth to try and stifle his sobs. It wasn’t much help. His tail wrapped tightly around his leg, nearly cutting off his blood flow. His free hand dug into his arm and almost drew blood.
Gods, he couldn’t take this. This was horrible and awful and he was so utterly gross and-
Firm, strong hands took his. “Woah, woah, it- it’s fine, it’s okay, Branzy, gods, calm down. Breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Clown released Branzy’s hands to wrap his arms around him. His tail gently wrapped around Branzy’s, letting blood flow normally through his leg again and sending pins and needles down it. “Breathe.”
Branzy drew a couple of mangled, hiccuped breaths before he managed an actual deep breath. He buried his face in Clown’s neck. He tentatively hugged Clown back and then mumbled, “…please don’t hate me.”
Clown squeezed him a little. “I don’t. Why would I hate you?”
“B-because I’m weird and gross and fake.” Branzy mumbled tearfully.
Clown rubbed nice, soothing circles into Branzy’s back. “You’re not weird, gross, or fake for that. You’re just you. Beautiful, pretty, handsome, brilliant you. And I love you. You know that, right?”
Branzy sniffled and nodded.
“Good. Then you know this changes nothing. I don’t care if you’re trans, you are a gorgeous and handsome man to me. Always.” Clown kissed Branzy’s neck and he sighed.
Clown loved him. Clown thought he was handsome and a man. That in and of itself was amazing.
“…can I see them?” Clown asked quietly after a moment and Branzy blinked.
“See what?”
“Your… scars.”
Branzy hesitated. Then nodded. Clown gently pulled Branzy’s shirt over his head. “Oh. Wow. That-“
Branzy braced himself.
“You’re so beautiful.”
…huh.
Clown leaned forward to kiss Branzy again. “So beautiful.” He mumbled against Branzy’s lips, then pulled away a little. “Do you want to take today off?”
Branzy hummed and slumped forward against Clown’s chest. “Yeah… emotions make me tired.”
Clown chuckled and Branzy felt it echo through the former's chest. “Oh? Do they now? Lay down, I’ll be back in a moment.” Clown gave Branzy a quick peck before he stood and disappeared out of the room.
Branzy sat for a moment, processing the past few minutes. Then he sank down into his warm and cozy bed. He had come out. And the world didn’t collapse or burn him. That was good.
Better still, Clown seemed to actually like his scars. That felt better than good. It felt incredible and lethargic. Freeing.
Clown returned a moment later in shorts and a tee shirt. He climbed into bed and curled around Branzy (despite being shorter than him) like a clingy koala.
“…I love you, Branzy.”
It took a second for the words to register. “…I love you too, Clown.”
Then Branzy drifted into a deep, quiet sleep. Happy. Comfortable. Safe.
Real.