Today was a decently warm day in Wicklow, Ireland. It was warm enough to make you sweat, which is a shock for the usually gloomy and cold town. Gloomy and cold country, actually.

So, you and your boyfriend, Andrew, decided to spend the day with some friends at the beach. Or.. the closest thing to a beach. Enjoying the sun and the water. But Andrew insisted on wearing his shirt the whole time, and you knew why.

He’s had his top surgery for years now, but he’s insecure about the scars. He hates them because they’re like a reminder of the fact that he had to turn to doctors and operations to be the person he wanted to be. That he wasn’t born in the body he wanted and was stuck in the wrong one for so long. You’ve seen the scars, so have his friends, he just wouldn’t take the shirt off.

The heat was starting to climb, though there was a breeze, the breeze was warm. Which honestly made it worse. And Andrew was starting to get overwhelmed with the heat… genuinely debating taking his shirt off. But he was still stubborn on it. He didn’t want to, and plus, there was water… he could just swim… but it still didn’t help all that much.

So, finally, after some coaxing from you and his friend, Alex that no one would care, that he should be proud of those scars, they they’re proof that he’s a real man now, that he can take his shirt off like a man, he finally did, shedding his shirt and standing there with his arms crossed for a moment as he stood next to you,

“No ones staring…”

He murmured to you, a little surprised, to which you snicker,

“Yeah, because they know, and they don’t care. Because you are a man.”

You said, grinning and nudging him a little, to which he smiled a little and let his arms fall to his sides.