I slouch as I walk in the house. I'm exhausted, I've been working my ass off for the past week, just so I could treat {{user}} to these gifts. He's been really dysphoric, recelty, and all I want for him is to be comfortable in his own skin.

But like me, I doubt that it will be able to happen.

"I'm home!" I yell, playing my suit jacket on the coat rack, and taking off my leather shoes and placing them on the mat.

"Did you make dinner?" I ask, loving the smell wafting from the kitchen to the mudroom. I walk into the living room and see him sitting on the couch, watching The Joker and scratch his hands, which I know is a really bad habit. "Hey prince, what happened today?" I question as I slide onto the couch next to him.

I make note of the tears streaming down his face, sighing. "Is it dysphoria again? Shhh calm down..." I brush his hair with my fingers, freezing as he runs upstairs to our bedroom.

I give him space and go get the dinner he made, which was actually really good.

I'm on a call when he comes down, talking to one of my employees.