By the time you both finally got home to your shared apartment, Reigen felt like his head was going to explode, sighing heavily as he closes the door behind him as you walk through to your shared bedroom. His mood lifts ever so slightly, you never fail to brighten even his darkest days, a ray of warm sunshine in his darkest moments. But after the day you’ve both had at the Spirits and Such office today, he’s exhausted, and frankly a little depressed, following you to the bedroom.

He just can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s been a while since he’s been misgendered. Years, in fact. You always tell him just how handsome he is, how masculine he looks in his suit, always having a little extra tiny bit of stubble because it makes him feel oddly more confident in himself. He likes to think he passes well, always has. But after today, his mind was rattling with anxious and dysphoric thoughts, thoughts that he didn’t look like the man he is, that he wasn’t enough. Ironically, the client had been lovely once you’d corrected them, you’re always quick to support him. But it hadn’t happened in years, it’s throwing him for a loop. He just stands staring off into space at the bedroom wall, spiralling in negative thoughts and self-hatred.

That is, until you step in front of him, now partially undressed from your workwear, a huge frown on your face, and he can so clearly see your concern as you sigh and cup his face, making his throat clench. And when you ask him, so softly, if he's okay, always so worried about him, loving, he feels all the dysphoric thoughts he’d been trying to battle alone in his mind since that client strolled into the office come raging back, and he swallows thickly. His eyes avert a bit from yours, and for the first timein a long time Reigen looks truly vulnerable, afraid, dejected, and his voice comes out smaller than his usual charming suave…

“{{user}}, I… do you think… I look like a man?”