Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seth Gordon is a bitter, angry man. Maybe it’s from the way he grew up, with Jesus’ blood, body, and soul being forced down his throat every Sunday. Or maybe it was more from the six brothers who tormented him every hour he was in that godforsaken house. But could he even use that as an excuse anymore? He lives in Fox Tower now, usually couch surfs during the summer and breaks. No brothers to torment him, no church he’s forced to go to. He should be getting better. He’s mostly clean, he’s on antidepressants, he has a girlfriend who understands him, nothing’s wrong. So why is he still so angry?

Maybe it’s because of Nicky. Seth would like to blame it on him, at least. Nicky got to be open about his sexuality, and still had a decent relationship with his faith. It wasn't fair. Why didn't Seth get to have that? Why did he have to stare in the mirror and want to rip himself to shreds? If Nicky Hemmick wasn't on the team, Seth was sure he would be fine. No, actually, that wasn't true. If Nicky weren't on the team Seth would still hate himself. Nicky just made him full of that sickening, suffocating jealousy and made everything nth times worse.

Today's bout of anger was brought upon by Nicky making some lewd comment directed at Neil. This had been going on since Neil got recruited, and it bothered Seth to no end. Every single day at practice, Nicky never let up. Maybe if Neil had reciprocated any of Nicky’s flirtations, Seth wouldn't be as bothered. He had said something stupid and mean, like he always did. Something about Nicky being a faggot, Seth was too angry to remember his exact wording. He had stormed off the court, after throwing a ball in Nicky’s general direction.

The showers in the changing room were nice, at least. Having the water beat down on him helped ease some of his nerves. The showers had doors, so none of the other guys could look in and see Seth. Seth knew he was the reason for the stall doors— it had been a long, hard conversation with Wymack. Having to explain that no, he wasn't a girl, even though he had all the parts of one, to a 40 year old man in 2002 was something Seth would not wish on anyone. Abby seemed to get it, at least. She was a doctor, so maybe they taught her about transsexuals in med school. Seth knew he was lucky. Wymack and Abby cared enough about him to not let even a whisper of Seth’s secret leak, and Seth himself had gotten blessed with looking masculine enough to pass even before he started taking testosterone.

Seth scrubbed the thoughts from his head. He had better things to worry about. Like his schoolwork. Like exy. Like Allison. They were supposed to have a date tonight, if Allison still wanted to. Seth was sure that if he were a girl and his boyfriend called some guy a faggot he probably wouldn't want to go out with him. How many times had they broken up because Seth was a homophobic asshole? He couldn't remember. Whatever. He could talk to Allison later. God, he still hadn't even told her he wasn't born a guy. It had been… what, a year of on-and-off dating, and Seth still hadn't worked up the balls to tell her. He would like to tell himself he’d tried, but he really hadn’t. Every time he even thought of it around her, he just shut down. Seth couldn't count how many times Allison had tried to get him undressed and he just froze up. She had never gotten mad at him for it, thankfully. She had pried, but when he didn't open up she gave up. She just left it and tried again another time, and the cycle repeats.

Seth would tell her tonight, he decides. He needed to, really. She deserved to know she wasn't dating a real guy. She should've known ages ago. Seth would have to pray she wouldn't tell anyone, if God still bothered to listen to him.

Seth turned off the water, and dried and dressed himself in the stall. His binder was all gross and sweat filled from practice, but he couldn't not wear it. Not like he had a big chest, but he couldn't risk anyone noticing. Abby had told Seth he needed to stop wearing it during practices and games, that it was doing more harm than good, that if his ribs got too fucked up he wouldn't be able to get surgery, but Seth couldn't bring himself to care. If he couldn't get top surgery, he would wear his binder to the depths of hell and back.

—

Date night with Allison went well. They had gotten dinner, and now they were sitting on Seth’s bed with Allison’s hand on his thigh. He needed to tell her, he knew that, but God. She was looking at him with those eyes that very clearly showed what she wanted, and Seth couldn't give it to her no matter how much he wanted to. He had learned when he was younger that no amount of praying would turn him into a real boy.

Seth grabbed Allison’s hand, with maybe a bit more force than necessary. He felt like he was fading in and out of consciousness. This was worse than when he had told his mom. At least he knew how his mother would react, and he had a place ready for him when he got kicked out. But Seth had imagined a hundred different ways this conversation with Allison could go, and he had no clue which one was the most likely.

“We need to talk,” Seth managed out. That was a start, at least. Seth realized his choice of words probably wasn't the best when he saw the look on Allison’s face. “Not about— No, nothing bad. I don't, I mean, I hope not. Just something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Seth sat up. He stared at Allison’s face, waiting for some type of confirmation. His heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. Allison followed him up, and kept her hand in his. Seth would never say anything, but he was grateful for something to ground him.

“Okay. Did something happen?” The genuine concern in Allison’s voice was on track to making Seth sick, if this conversation didn't do that already.

“No,” Seth answered. “Um. I just… we’ve never done anything,” that was one way to say it. Seth had planned this out, but talking out loud was making him forget ever even learning the English language. This was terrible. He never got nervous. He got mad, he yelled, but he never stumbled on his words like this. Seth sucked in some air, trying to steel himself. It helped, a little bit. But then a second later that anxiety was crushing into him like a semitruck. “You, um, deserve to know why. I don't know why you think I’m so… hesitant, but, uh,”

“You don’t need to tell me if you’re not ready. That’s fine,” Allison told him. God, why did she have to be so nice right now? It was killing Seth. He would be dead before this conversation was over.

Seth shook his head. He tried to remember those stupid breathing techniques Betsy had taught the team a few weeks ago. Maybe they would help.

“I wasn't born like… this,” Seth gestured vaguely to himself. He got himself to look at Allison’s face, and was met with blank confusion. Seth swallowed, and tried again. “A guy, I mean. I was born a girl. But I’m a guy.”

“What?”

Seth cringed at himself. That was a terrible explanation. No wonder Allison was confused. He would be too, if he were in her position.

“I… grew up as a girl. When I got into middle school I had a tomboy phase, and people thought I was a boy, and I realized that… maybe I was. So, uh, so when I graduated high school, I told my mom, and she kicked me out. I looked masculine enough for people here to not realize, and Abby got me on testosterone, so—”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Wymack. And Betsy. That’s it. I don’t want anyone else to know.”

Allison seemed like she was trying to wrap her head around this. Seth could appreciate that, at least. It was better than her blowing up at him, telling him he was a freak and leaving him.

“And Nicky?”

“What?”

“Why are you such an asshole to him?”

Seth hadn’t exactly anticipated that question. He and Allison rarely had serious conversations like this. Normally their nights consisted of making out and her talking about her girl drama. Not stuff like this. Seth was so unaccustomed to it.

“I don’t know,” Seth answered. “I’m jealous, I guess?” At Allison’s blank look, Seth couldn’t just leave it there. He had to explain, or Allison would pry it out of him with those gorgeous eyes of hers. “He… he gets to be happy, and out, and no one cares. I can't do that. If I tried, everyone would see me as a girl, and people would care. It’s not fair.”

“Well, it’s different. Nicky just likes boys, and you’re…”

Allison didn't have to finish her sentence. Seth knew what she meant, and it absolutely and utterly sucked, but what could he do? She was right; like someone the same gender as you and switching genders were completely different things.

“Yeah,” Seth answered. “Yeah, I know, it’s different.”

Chapter Text

Seth had barely talked to Allison since he told her what he was. She barely responded to his messages, and avoided him at practice. She tried not to make it too obvious, tried to keep the peace, but obviously people noticed. The team was too small for something like that to go unnoticed, unfortunately. When he and Allison were together she was practically hanging off him, and when they were on the outs she loved giving him glares and making loud comments about how she was swearing off ‘white trash dicks.’ It was never like this. Never so tense.

Seth was incredibly, horribly paranoid. Allison wasn't going to tell anyone, he knew that, but he felt like everyone's eyes were lingering on him more than normal. Maybe Allison let it slip to Renee and Dan. Renee might tell Andrew, and Dan would tell Matt. Matt would tell Neil, Neil would tell Andrew, and Andrew would tell his little group of freaks. Then everyone would know, and Seth would lock himself in his room until he died and decomposed to the point they wouldn't be able to tell he was ever there.

Seth’s train of thought, which was leading down a very bad path, was rudely interrupted by the door to his dorm being opened by Matt.

“What happened with you and Allison?” Matt asked, whilst unceremoniously throwing himself down on the couch in the opposite corner from Seth.

Seth thought for a second. There was that small urge, deep down in him, that wanted to tell Matt the truth. He wanted someone to know. Someone who wouldn't run away, who might understand. Not like Allison, where she got uncomfortable and left. But who knew if Matt would be like her or not? And, going back to what he was thinking earlier, maybe Matt already knew. Maybe he was just playing stupid to try and get it out of Seth and see if it was true.

“The usual,” Seth settled on saying.

“Really? Dan said she’s been acting weird. Like, super quiet. Was the fight serious, or…?”

“As serious as they usually are.”

From Seth’s non-answer, Matt probably got the hint he wasn't going to get a proper response, because he stopped prying. At least Seth could get some semblance of relief from that. Matt and him were friends, sort of. As close to friends as Seth would be with anyone. Matt would say something if he knew he was rooming with a queer freak.

“You’ve been seeming off too, man,” Matt added.

Seth hoped the glare he shot Matt was as horrible as he thought it was. In reality, he probably looked a lot more shocked than he meant to.

“I’ve been normal.”

“Not really. You’ve been all jumpy. Nicky glanced at you in the locker room and you, like, screamed at him.”

“Yeah, well, Nicky’s gay. I don’t want a faggot staring at me while I’m trying to change.”

Matt kicked Seth’s shin at that. They had talked about his language regarding Nicky. Seth didn't care much, and Matt wouldn't say anything out loud, but he was trying to get Seth out of the bad habit of calling Nicky slurs.

“He wasn't even staring,” Matt added, as if he needed to come to Nicky’s defense when the guy wasn't in the room.

“Why are you defending him? Jesus, are you a queer too? What, you think he’s gonna come running into your arms and kiss you for standing up for him? Fuck off.”

Seth himself honestly wasn't sure what caused that outburst, but he didn't want to stay sitting with Matt on the couch in tense silence. He got up, threw the blanket he was using at Matt’s face, and stormed into their bedroom. He might've slammed the door a bit too hard, from the way he felt the whole dorm shake. It reminded Seth of his mom, a little bit. The way she would come home after work, and slam the trailer door so hard Seth was sure the whole trailer park would’ve heard it. Their house was never quiet, not with 6 boys and a little girl. But when Mom came home and slammed the door like that Seth could only remember silence. Whoever got too rowdy before Mom drank herself to sleep normally got screamed at, told to go outside and not come back for the rest of the night. Sometimes Seth liked to open the window and let the night air prick his skin so he didn't forget what it felt like.

Seth needed to clear his head. He had used up the last of his cigarettes, and he couldn't exactly go ask Matt for one right now. Instead, he decided to slide down the door until he was seated on the ground. Seth pressed the heels of his hands against his eye sockets, and dragged his hands down his face. He hated this. He hated this stupid body, this stupid team, all his stupid teammates. He wished he could just rip everything apart.

Seth could feel stupid, hot, angry tears pricking his eyes. He managed to get himself off the floor, and up to his nightstand. He was sure there was something sharp in there, but it was hard to see through his watery eyes. At least if he didn't have anything, Matt or Neil might have a pencil sharpener he could pry apart. Seth was right, too— of course he was, he knew his roommates well enough now. He himself didn't have anything, but Matt had a sharpener just laying out on his desk. Seth managed to get the screw out with his thumbnail.

Seth held the blade to his wrist, but stopped before he could really do any damage. He could hear his mom, screaming at him for being so stupid to slit his wrists where people could see. How was she supposed to keep up appearances at Church now, she had asked him. How terrible it was that her little girl was so unhappy with her life that she was doing this to herself. She didn't really care that Seth was cutting himself, but she had made Seth kneel and pray for a long time. All it had really taught Seth was that he would have to cut himself where people couldn't see, and if he prayed afterwards it would all be fine.

Seth rolled up his pant leg, and added a few more cuts to the plethora of scars already there. It was hard to move over to his bed— he was already sore from practice, and now he had a bunch of brand new cuts to worry about. Wonderful, really. But he would manage, he always did. He knelt next to his bed, and held his hands together. It had been a while since Seth last prayed properly. It almost felt foreign, until the memories came back quicker than Seth could manage. He felt like he was going to throw up, but he had to push through it.

“Dear God,” Seth started. It felt awkward, saying it out loud. He hoped Matt couldn't hear him. “I’m sorry for cutting myself again. I know I said I would try to stop. I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuses.” Seth’s throat felt like it was closing up. He was trying to whisper, but even then he could barely get the words out. “Please help me heal quickly. I think I got an infection last time because I didn't pray. I’m sorry. Amen.”

Hopefully that was good enough. Seth felt horribly dizzy, and terribly nauseous after that. He pushed himself up, and stumbled over to the trashcan. His whole world was spinning. He slammed into Matt’s desk, and knocked over a lamp. Seth just watched as it smashed to the ground, before he dropped back to his knees and hurled in the trashcan.

It wasn’t a shock when Matt rushed into the room. The walls weren’t thick, and Seth was pretty sure if he heard glass breaking and someone heaving he would be concerned too.

“Jesus Christ, what did you do?”

Seth opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn't get any words out. His throat was burnt raw from throwing up. Matt had knelt down next to Seth to pick up the larger shards of broken glass when he saw the bloodied blade.

“Seth, what the fuck? Did you cut yourself?”

“No.” The blood that was seeping into the fabric of Seth’s sweatpants told a different story. Matt was looking at Seth like he was stupid. Seth hated it. “I’m fine,” he hissed. Seth had to use Matt’s desk as a crutch to get him back onto his feet.

Matt, unfortunately, followed Seth up. There was a hand on Seth’s shoulder, and another on his side. Matt was trying to keep Seth from falling over, but Seth couldn’t stop himself from tensing up.

“Let me help.” Matt’s tone sounded like he was trying to talk to a cornered animal. It made Seth feel even worse about himself. He didn't need Matt’s help. He didn't need anyone’s help. Seth was fine on his own. Seth didn't know why, but he couldn't find it in himself to answer. He let Matt walk him to the bathroom, and he felt so fucking pathetic.

“Should I call Betsy? Or Abby?” Matt asked, after sitting Seth down on the bathroom floor. Seth just shook his head. He didn't want to talk any more than he had to— his throat was still sore. Matt acknowledged the shake of Seth’s head with a slight nod, before he went to rummage around in the cabinets.

Seth wasn't exactly sure why he was letting Matt do this for him. He didn't want another man’s hands on his legs. He didn't want Matt to know just how many times he had done this. But he let him do it anyway. It was stupid, really.

“We don't have any gauze. We only have bandaids. Are these big enough, or…?”

Seth nodded. Matt stood up, and wet a rag. He grabbed a dry one too, and the whole pack of bandaids before he settled right next to Seth on the floor. Seth rolled his pant legs up for Matt, and decided staring at the door across from him was better than looking at Matt or his wounds.

Seth didn't like the feeling of bandaids on his skin. It made him a bit claustrophobic, but it was better than fabric rubbing up against new wounds. He should probably thank Matt. Seth wouldn't have done this for himself.

When Seth turned his head to look at Matt, the other man was already staring right at him. Matt reached over to push some hair out of Seth’s face, the same way Allison had done a thousand times. It upset Seth all over again.

“Don’t be a faggot about it,” Seth managed out. His voice was hoarse from vomiting, and it hurt to speak. Seth smacked Matt’s wrist, in an attempt to get him off. He pushed himself off the tiled floor, and left Matt sitting in the bathroom.