It's been this bad before, even since Feliciano started on the hormones. Hasn't been actually debilitating since he still had periods. It's been this bad before but it's still really really bad right now and he really really really wants to throw up and to be honest it's half out of nerves because Ludwig is wonderful but he's also pretty solidly gay and what if he doesn't want to be with Feliciano because Feliciano's got—

—not that Ludwig doesn't know. He's known for a long time, Feliciano told him and everything.

He'd have left by now. Breathe in, breathe out.

It'll be better.

And he wants to laugh at that, he really does, because it won't be it won't it won't—

—Feliciano curls his head over the toilet bowl again, and he doesn't throw up but oh God does he ever want to and could Ludwig have picked a worse moment to walk into the bathroom?

"'Lo," Feliciano says weakly from his position on the floor.

"Are—are you okay?" Ludwig kneels next to him on the cold tile.

Feliciano opens his mouth to say yes actually I'm fine except for the part where I'm not actually a guy not really and never will be and everything feels crawly and I still can't throw up but what comes out is a weak "no" and he pitches forwards against Ludwig's chest (broad and solid and everything Feliciano isn't because biologically he lucked out a bit and doesn't have much in the way of chest but surgery is expensive and frightening anyway) and buries his face in Ludwig's neck.

"Are—did you get sick?"

"Uh-uh," and Feliciano curls up his fingers in Ludwig's shirt.

"What's wrong?" Ludwig's wrapped one arm around Feliciano's back, and he's petting through Feliciano's hair, and it's a little bit calming.

Feliciano waits a long time before answering. "Y-you love me, right?"

"Yes," and little hesitation.

"Even if I'm not—even if I'm—" Feliciano holds his breath and spits it out. "Even if I've got a vagina?"

The answer is instant. "Yes."

"But you're gay."

"And you're a man." Ludwig has pulled Feliciano closer, warm solid arms. "Is—is that what this is about?"

"Yeah," Feliciano mumbles.

Another pause, and Ludwig scratches at the spot right behind Feliciano's ear that he likes. "You told me, though. Second date. I'd have left then, if it was a problem."

"I know but—" Feliciano sighs. "It's just—I—I really really want to be a guy but I can't ever not really and I hate this—" He has to clamp his mouth shut before the nausea can fight its way back up.

Ludwig sighs, and his shoulders slump. "You are."

"And who else thinks so?"

"Well, there's me. Felicja and Yao. Kiku. Alfred. Jules." The nausea goes back down, a bit. "Tolys. Francis." And Ludwig goes on, lists people (he's always been good at listing), and rubs slowly between Feliciano's shoulderblades over the binder and the shirt.

Feliciano does start crying, he can't help it and it's been like this all day and he's still not sure what set it off exactly and he's tired of it, tired of feeling crawly and out of place, and Ludwig maneuvers them so he's sitting up in a corner with Feliciano still clasped to him. He looks a little overwhelmed, but he holds Feliciano and rocks him a bit, still rubbing his back.

He feels a little better, not much but some.

"For what it's worth, you're definitely one of the most attractive men on the planet," Ludwig murmurs.

And he holds him for an hour, talking, of course I think so, of course I do, it's what you are, if your genitalia were the issue I'd have left and they're not what makes you what you are anyway, on and on until Feliciano can breathe steady and the crawly feeling has retreated and he doesn't need to cry.

Ludwig kisses him on the top of the head when they stand up, smoothing down some of his hair (hopeless task, but he tries). "Love you, Feliciano."

And Feliciano gives him one last squeeze and wipes his face and says "Love you too, Ludwig," and takes a deep breath.