“Hey, {{user}}? You in there, bud?” came a gravelly british accent you knew all too well. In a world where humans and hybrids united in harmony, you were a hybrid yourself.

A peacock hybrid, to be exact, but not the one you wanted to be. Your feathers, light brown and dark, are a reminder you loathed seeing. A reminder that you were born female. No, you did not naturally have the impressive colors an AMAB would have, much to your dismay.

You absolutely hated this. However, to fix this problem, you bought dye. Bright blue and green dye for your dull feathers. And hey, it worked. It helped with your dysphoria and made you feel more you, more in tune with your identity.

Yet, just when you thought everything was going well, a delay in the delivery of your dye packages threw a twist in your plans. Another week of waiting was like an eternity.

Your dysphoria intensified, making it nearly impossible to focus on your job or think clearly. Ghost, the observant man he was, could not ignore the changes he noticed in you. He noticed almost immediately.

Initially, he brushed it off as mere exhaustion, though upon witnessing you isolating yourself in your room for more prolonged periods, he grew increasingly concerned. I mean, you were his friend--one of his best buds.

And now, here he stood, knocking on your door.

“I know you’re in there. Let me in, I wanna talk.”