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Roy should've felt great at home.
Wealthy parents, a big house, a large backyard, he knew he should be more than happy.
But he wasn't.
One thing he learned early in life was that respect and support was conditional.
Most times if he acted out or made a mistake, he wasn't grounded, he didn't get things taken from him.
He was given less attention or treated with less care.
Instead of going the route of becoming a picture perfect people-pleaser kind of child, he went the opposite way and acted out.
Hung around people his parents didn't like, dressed casually or in a way his parents would find “dirty,” he associated with people his parents considered lesser.
He found it much more natural, it felt better.
But it meant his parents rarely treated him with respect the average human being deserved.
This applied to many things, but especially his gender.
Support and understanding were privileges.
He had made the mistake of telling his parents how he felt at a young age, and went from Raya to Reynold quite quickly.
Well, he had preferred Roy, but apparently that didn't sound fancy enough for his parents or whatever.
So Reynold it was. Close enough.
He wasn't sure how much support he'd expected as he got older.
The town they lived in was mostly progressive. It wasn't filled with homophobes or transphobes, it was accepting and prideful and populated with many allys.
Roy had hoped his parents were the same.
But he didn't have that kind of luck.
They were kind and supportive in the public’s eyes. His name was changed in the school system, he was publically Roy to every family friend and neighbor, he was their son to everyone outside of their home.
Inside the house? He was seen as their daughter.
They never gendered him correctly indoors for the sake of doing it, they did it for the sake of habit. So yeah, he was frequently a he, a him, he was Roy, he was himself just so they wouldn't mess up and be looked down upon by others.
But whenever he messed up, he was Raya. They'd address him with his deadname and tell him to get over it, like a real man would according to them.
He hated it. Each use of his deadname and each use of the wrong pronouns felt like a stab to the gut, even though he'd learned their words shouldn't matter because they were so hateful to something that shouldn't be hated.
But at some point…
A period of time had gone by that was, well, better. Some months back, he'd begun dating his two best friends at the time—one of the happiest days of his life.
And for a while, his parents had just been in a natural flow of using the correct words with him.
He’d been happier and slightly less… argumentative towards them, so that might've helped. Although he got that trait from somewhere, although that fact was something he didn't usually say outright.
But those weeks of positivity, that uprise in his life, it only lasted for so long.
Roy wasn't sure what had happened. But one morning both his parents rolled off the wrong side of the bed with sticks up both of their asses, and that was the end of any kind of peace at home.
Suddenly, Roy was “Raya.”
Suddenly, he was a she.
It was relentless. They were back to their denial of him being well, him.
It hurt. Each word and insult and act of negligence a punch, wearing him down over just a few days.
With the newfound malice making its way into his system, his dysphoria skyrocketed.
It felt he didn't pass enough, his voice was too high, clothes too tight, face too… feminine. He was nitpicking himself in ways he hadn't before and it was entirely his parents fault.
Sure, in public, almost nobody misgendered him. If they did, he'd get snippy and correct them, and it wouldn't happen again.
But he still felt like what he was and what he'd done, hadn't been quite enough.
The change in demeanor was just noticeable.
He got quieter. His posture got tighter, sentences shorter, confidence lesser.
His parents didn't notice the difference.
But his partners did.
Ross and Robert noticed, they saw it.
At some point, they made the collective decision to check in on him.
They asked him if he was doing alright, and he lied. He said he was fine.
“You guys worry too much,” he'd scoffed, Ross giving him a questioning look.
But they left him alone for a while.
He got worse, slowly shrinking in on himself as he gradually lost confidence and was drained by his family.
It all broke on a random afternoon in Robert’s room.
The boy’s parents weren't home—they were out with his sister—and the Hatzgang had just spent the day hanging around.
Nothing serious had happened, just silly jokes and random games and other such games. Mindless fun and chatter.
Until Roy received a text.
He looked down at his phone—taking in a frightened breath at the mere sight of his mother’s contact.
He read the message.
It didn’t really matter what it was about.
It was the fact she used his deadname every chance she got, hammering in the fact that he wasn't him in her eyes. Like always, but was it like always? It didn't feel like it. This just felt like a nail had been hammered into his heart.
The world turned beneath him.
Roy felt his chest ache, like his heart was squeezing inside him. His throat suddenly felt tight and hot, and within seconds he was fighting tears.
His mom was always like this, his dad was always like this, putting on some show and pretending they gave a shit about how he felt and how he identified to the public but treating him like he was nothing more than the daughter they didn't want behind closed doors.
He felt sick, he hated this, he was weary of being worn down by them. He wanted to be appreciated, he wanted to be accepted, he wanted to just be seen as who he was. Their son, that's who he was, but they couldn't accept that and he was pretty sure they never would.
Only a few beats later, Ross and Robert detected something was severely wrong.
What had been a normal conversation between the three, had decreased by one person—who now looked more distressed than either Robert or Ross had seen the boy in ages.
“Roy?” Robert quickly asked, moving from one side of Ross’s bed to the other in a split second.
Ross stepped away from his desk, a concerned look on his face.
Roy was quiet, unsure of how in the world he was gonna play this off. He breathed in slowly, carefully setting his phone down beside him.
“Dude, what’s wrong?” Ross asked, hand now firmly placed on Roy’s shoulder.
“Nothing,” was the first word out of Roy’s mouth. His voice was shaky.
Robert furrowed his eyebrows—neither of the boys believed him.
The former glanced down at Roy’s phone—expression shifting to shock, and then anger.
Roy looked at him before drawing in an unsteady breath and lifting his head so as not to cry. This was embarrassing.
Robert let out a noise of annoyance, taking the phone and showing Ross the message.
Roy didn't mind really, easier than trying to explain it. Because there was absolutely no way he could get around this now.
“Oh my god,” Ross breathed. Robert sighed irritatedly.
The two were well aware and fully accepting of Roy’s gender, they knew his parents weren't the best about it—but the words used and the tone communicated over the text was startling.
Roy was probably shivering. He felt horrible, he hadn't meant to break this easily.
“Hey, you’re okay, man,” Ross quickly said, rubbing his thumb over Roy’s shoulder.
Roy sucked in a breath before giving up the fight with his tears. They spilled down his face as he quickly hid his head in his hands.
“They won't stop acting like that,” he choked out.
Ross sat beside him; Robert looked to the side, unsure of what to say.
“I'm nothing more than their daughter,” he sobbed.
“Woah, don't let them get to you like that,” Robert replied hastily. “You aren't their daughter, you're their son—like, completely their son.”
“Yeah, and they aren't right to be saying that stuff to you,” Ross added.
“...They make me feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like maybe I’m just screwed up, or maybe I'm not doing enough to be a real boy,” Roy spilled. “Maybe, if I did more, they'd see me as their son.”
“Hey, you don't have to do anything to earn their respect or acceptance. You're a boy, you don't have to prove that to them just because they're… dumb,” Robert announced.
Ross nodded in agreement.
“You are a real boy, man. Or I’m straight.”
Robert let out a quiet giggle.
A moment of quiet.
“I… ugh, I can't stand it anymore.” Roy shook his head, rubbing at his eyes and trying to stop crying. “Every day I leave the house I feel… okay, but when I come home it’s all I hear.”
“I'm sorry they're like that,” Robert muttered.
Ross nodded, “You don't deserve that.”
He shifted his arm around Roy, and Robert simply kissed the top of the boy’s head. Roy’s cries slowed, the boy simply hugging himself.
“You'll be alright,” Robert told him with a reassuring smile.
Roy was tired of his home.
He was tired of the exhaustion of just wanting to escape.
“I don't even know what I did. They were so… okay with me, for a while, and then it just… stopped, and got worse than ever.”
Robert bit his lip, looking down.
“I think your parents are just assholes, dude,” Ross deadpanned.
Roy’s eyes widened a bit as he looked up, caught a bit off guard. But he managed a smile, nodding.
“Probably.”
Robert snickered lightly.
“Sorry, but Ross is right. If they can't accept that you're their son, they're either stupid or just lousy parents,” Robert said. “Or both.”
Roy felt a bit better.
“...Thanks, guys,” he murmured.
“It’s not a problem, dude,” Robert quickly responded.
“Yeah, man.” Ross shrugged.
“Just, please tell us when something's going on,” Robert added with a small frown.
“...I will.”
Ross let Roy lean against him, and Robert reached down to hold Roy’s hand.
Roy felt safe for a minute.
Because this was as close to perfect as he could get at the time.
Instead of dreading leaving, he decided to cherish the moment while he was in it.