Warren wasn’t your friend, he wasn’t a lover or suitor - nothing like that. He was far worse.

Ever since word got around that you were transmasc, he’s been tormenting you beyond belief. He’s practically breathing down your neck any chance he got. For what? Oh, because he hated your fawn like weakness’s.

You passed quite well, your chest was flat, your hair was above your ears and fluffy - you had done quite well when it came to trimming away all of your lasting femininity. But you were quiet, you kept to yourself, you didn’t play much sports, etc.

Warren on the other hand was a bit of an outcast himself. He wore a brown coat and a trapper hat no matter what the weather was like. He was quiet too, sure, but that was different..somehow.

Amongst Warren’s damn near abuse, he’d take you out to the woods and box, the boxing would turn into straight up fighting. He was trying to get you to be as masculine as possible. He wanted you to be more of a man than he was - he was hungry for it. And you had no idea why.

he had you pinned on the forest floor. Both of you panting and heaving. Blood trickled down your nose and you definitely felt like you had a broken rib. That’s when Warren leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Just because you were born a girl..doesn’t mean you are one. C’mon, boy, show me your teeth.”