Archive of Our Own ^beta

You stood in front of the mirror. It had been 15 minutes since you first put on your button-up. And no matter what you did… you didn’t look… right. That rotten feeling still lingers in your stomach as you see yourself in the mirror. Something just wasn’t right… it wasn’t right about you.

A few months after you came out to him, Patrick had invited you on a date to a nice restaurant. Transitioning had been really hard. You struggled with correcting people of your pronouns and new name, scared of how they might react. Patrick, when with you, would correct them for you, which you always appreciated.

It was hard trying to appear as a man to others when that’s not what people were used to seeing or sometimes even wanted to see. But Patrick somehow didn’t care that you had breasts and more estrogen. You were a man to him. You were nothing but a man.

You turned sideways in the mirror, running a hand over your chest. You placed a binder on, but it just wasn’t flat enough. The shirt wasn’t as loose as you wished, either. You unbuttoned the first two buttons on the shirt before lifting it over your head along with the binder, you dug around your bedside drawer for the binding tape. You knew you shouldn’t use both at once but… you were desperate. You wanted to look like a man. And with a little bit of hair styling maybe you would.

You avoided looking in the mirror as you placed the tape over your breasts before putting the binder on top. Your chest felt… tight. It was hard to breathe normally but you looked… flat. You excitedly put the button-up back on and looked in the mirror, only to feel disappointed again. You felt ashamed of what you saw. This isn’t what you were supposed to look like.

You hugged your body as tears came to your eyes. This wasn’t fair. Your body felt wrong and rotten. Your body wasn’t supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be a man’s body not… not this. Not what you saw in the mirror. Your heart ached at this realization that you felt wrong for seeing this in the mirror, that you felt guilty for having this body that wasn’t your own.
You weren’t hideous, no. Your face was a nice shape and you had nice curves, pretty lips, and a nice nose… but it wasn’t your body. Someone else would be happy to have it. Someone else might be jealous of your figure, yet here you were. Standing here crying over something you couldn’t really change. You felt trapped like this. Trapped inside a curse of perpetually hating yourself. And it wasn’t fair.

A knock along with your chosen name took you out of your thoughts.

“Are you okay in there?” Patrick called out, “You’ve been awfully quiet in there for a while.”

You panicked, god you couldn’t go out like this. You couldn’t go out at all. You didn’t want to be seen, be perceived. This wasn’t fair.

“Y-Yeah! I just uhm…” you stuttered, hating how much your voice cracked in your response, your voice clearly sounding close to tears.

“Honey, are you okay? I’m coming in,” Patrick spoke, opening the door slowly, checking if you were decent. He was surprised and saddened by the sight of you standing there, hugging your body in front of your full-length mirror with tears running down your cheeks.

Patrick frowned, approaching you, asking for permission to touch you before wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He gently caressed your cheeks before pulling you in for a hug, shushing you, and quietly comforting you as you cried softly.

“It’s just not fair… I don’t want to look like this, I don’t look right no matter what I do.” You cried out.
“I know, I know sweetheart. It’s gonna take some time, but just know I think your body is beautiful just the way it is. You’re so handsome sweetheart, I know you are. Your brain may tell you otherwise, but just know that I think you’re the most stunning man on this earth.” He assured you in such a genuine and kind voice, that you knew there was no way he was lying.

You sniffled a little and he quickly grabbed you a tissue to wipe away any snot and tears from your face.

“Can I help you with your outfit? Maybe give you some tips?” he asked softly. You liked the idea, so you nodded. You unbuttoned the shirt and took off your binder. Patrick was about to protest that you didn’t have to do that, but he saw the binding tape and frowned.

“You gotta protect yourself, sweetheart. I know you wanna be flat but we can’t have you hurting yourself,” he spoke, as gently as humanly possible getting the binding tape off your breasts. Despite being shirtless, he didn’t ogle at your form or drool like a man would seeing boobs because, to him, it was just your chest. Yes, your chest was beautiful, but that could wait for later tonight if you were up for it.

Patrick had always been such a gentle lover, ever since he had first asked you out. Always very softly holding your hand or your waist. Lips always barely pressing into yours as the kiss first started. He always asked permission to touch you before touching somewhere more intimate. Sex didn’t feel like sex with Patrick. It felt like making love. Because that’s what he was doing. Pouring his heart out through the form of sex. Like he needed to show and prove to you that you were deserving of all this love, attention, and affection.

“If you bind too much you might hurt your chest, we don’t want that, even if you don’t like it all that much,” he spoke, helping you put your binder back on. He wordlessly helped put your shirt back on, helping it sit better on your body in a way that made you look a little more flat.

“And just know, not all men have perfectly flat chests, I mean you’ve seen me shirtless, I still got a little chub there.” he chuckled, and you did too.

“You’re beautiful head to toe already love,” he kissed your temple, “I promise you that.”

Patrick grabbed the tie you planned on wearing with your outfit and tied it for you, something you were planning on asking him to do anyway. He explained what he was doing and each step very carefully, but you weren’t entirely paying attention. Just admiring his face and the love he had for you in every movement and word he spoke.

You weren’t exactly sure what gave you butterflies about this moment. The way his eyes sparkled when he saw you, or how his cheeks flushed a little as his front was pressed up against your back. Or maybe the proximity of the moment as his lips were so close to your ear, gently explaining how he tied the tie. Maybe it was how his pupils darted up to look at your lips occasionally… then back down at the tie.

Despite you not loving your body, despite you despising looking in the mirror, Patrick adored you, and he wasn’t afraid to say it. And even if he didn’t say it, every little thing he did showed you otherwise.

He helped you put your blazer on and straightened it out for you. He then smiled, admiring how you looked in front of him.

“You look so handsome sweetheart.” his hands took yours and he squeezed, before leaning in to kiss you.

You were handsome. I mean, Patrick said so. And Patrick would never lie to you about something like that.