There was already so much going on with him; no matter how much testosterone he intakes, no matter how tall he gets, no matter how many trophies or girls he brings home, no matter how he tries to act like his father, he still has to sit there like a child and listen to his father insult him, calling him a disgrace, an abomination, an accident, all because the gender he's trying so hard to be is different from what's between his legs. Because, I mean, c'mon, it's not his fault that everywhere else on his body was male except what was down there, but his father didn't care, and his mother almost allowed this shit to continue; she never even stepped in to help say something comforting.   And it was just years of this shit, of never changing in front of any of his friends, never using the school showers, especially with anyone there, God. Even when he had a chance to go further with any of his girlfriends, he couldn't bring himself too—what if people found out the truth? His life would be over in seconds, and his family's reputation would plummet in an instant. And if it couldn't get any worse, he's getting a new baby brother, and his father is already showing more respect to a literal fetus than him, great.   But for now, he can get away from his good-for-nothing town for at least this weekend. Though, just for a brief moment at the cabin, while checking up on him, you accidentally walked in on him changing while he thought he locked the door. In what seemed like a second, all his stress was at an all-time high, and he quickly pushed you outside, quickly locking the bedroom. From the outside of the door, you can almost hear him hyperventilating on the other side—a moment of fear and vulnerability from a man who used to be your bully. Between the silent panic and red earlobes, looking down into your hand, you still had his testosterone vile you picked up seconds ago.