IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG MY COMPUTER BROKE DOWN!

I wrote this on a friend's laptop, and I'm so sorry it took so long. I should have a new computer by tonight, so if that works out you may get another chapter then or tomorrow morning.

Thanks for the patience!

So the sadstuck starts in this chapter. So does the JohnDave, at least somewhat.

Reviews/favorites/follows are always nice.

Have a great morning/day/evening/night lovelies!

~Dave POV~

You walk out into the terminal, swaying slightly as you blend in with the crowd surrounding you. People of all different shapes, sizes, nationalities and ethnicities are in a wave, and you just happen to be a part of it. Looking down quickly, you skim through the messages on your phone. John said he would be outside in the pickup of terminal 4, so you head there and separate with most of the crowd. They all head to baggage claim as you walk away, having brought your only bag as carry on.

Much of the airport is loud, and you can hear people's noises all around you. It seems to enfulge you with your own silence, a bubble of calm in the chaos; but not for long as you slip on your headphones and once again let the sound of rap and beatboxing fill in your own absence of noise.

The walk isn't too long before you step outside and see John's car, sitting a ways down the line of cars pulled up beside the curb. You smirk when you see his face through the driver's window; he looks just like he does in the pictures. Dorky glasses, a resting, open mouth smile, buck teeth, clear, blue eyes. He's absolutely adorable.

Striding over in a crowd so he doesn't see you, you make your way over to him. As soon as you get to him you bend down and knock on the passenger window with a smirk. He looks over, surprised at first, but it quickly turns into a grin and he unlocks the car door. You slide in and he offers a hand. You shake it and he seems to grin wider.

"Hi, I'm John. Well, I guess you already knew that." He giggles.

"Dave, for confirmation." He giggles again and begins to talk up a storm, bring up the house first.

"So, the two of us will be in different rooms. I'll stay in my usual room and you'll be in the guest room. They're connected through the bathroom, so we'll be sharing that. You can go anywhere in the house…" You stop listening. Sharing a bathroom? That could be dangerous. If he finds you naked, or getting into the shower, or putting on your binder or anything of that sort, he would find out your biological gender. You have no idea how that would go down. He could kick you out, he could rape you, he could hurt you, hate you for not telling him….

Or he could accept it.

You shake your head slightly, not enough to be visible to John and try to listen, but the entire 30 minute ride to his house the only thing you can think about is what if he finds out?

John pulls up to the house and you both pull open and slam the doors shut before walking up to the house in the dark. He slips the key into the lock and opens up the mahogany door to a huge home filled with jesters. The living room and kitchen are about twice the size of your entire apartment alone, and for once the place you're going to be living in is actually clean! The house almost looks new, with high ceilings and tall doors that make it look even more spacious.

John leads you straight to your room and lets you shower and change. You grab a spare set of clothes from your bag and walk into the bathroom, making sure to lock both connection doors before taking off your shirt. Below it is your binder and after your remove it, you stare like you always do.

Red lines and scars run across your chest. You hate the balls of fat that just sit there, proof that you're actually a girl. You've cut them multiple times out of anger and hate. You wouldn't be surprised if it was also connected at least somewhat to depression. You sigh and slip off your pants and boxers, equally as disgusted by your v, although you haven't gone as far as to cut it. After slipping off your shades last you step into the shower and turn on the water, letting it run cold over your body.

You remember as you were growing up, you never knew what to do with yourself. Until you were about 11 you had long hair, then cut it into a pixie cut. That was the first step to becoming a guy. Then you started shopping in the boys section, and your bro was ok with that. He just said "Sure, lil' sis." And so you dressed like a guy. On your 12th birthday you were sat in front of the computer, looking through binders when you called out, "Hey bro, can I get one of theses for my birthday?" He walked over and looked at the screen before saying "Sure, lil' sis." A few months after, you asked him; "Hey bro, can you call me Dave from now on?" And he simply responded "Sure, lil bro."

Ever since you had been rejecting the changes that your body had been making. You hated your breasts and began to cut them. When you got your first period at 13 you were so depressed you didn't eat for a day and a half. Ever since you've had lingering depression. The pills you take are in your bag;

Yet another thing you have to hide.

You sigh, wondering if this had actually been a good idea or not, before you turn off the faucet and dry off your body. The first thing you put on is your binder and boxers, then sigh again and turn to your shirt and pants. Slipping on your shades, you walk out and down the stairs, hair still dripping onto your shirt.

John smiles when he sees you and you smell the aroma of nachos.

"Sorry, I'm pretty limited when it comes to cooking, but I made something without burning it!" His grin is so wide you smile slightly as well and grab a plate over his shoulder. You're easily a foot taller than him and tower over his head, but he doesn't seem fazed. You suppose he's used to people being taller than him, he's barely 5 feet tall.

The two of you sit in front of the TV to eat, John putting on one of his shitty Nick Cage movies. You make fun of it and laugh when he tries to defend it, but somehow he doesn't seem to mind. Sure he pouts, but you can tell he's not seriously angry; you've known him for years, although you've just now met him in person. For some reason you find your gaze wandering over to his lips and teeth. How sweet they look, and soft…

You stop and look away. Love outside of family or platonic relationships can mean sex, and sex means him finding your… less favored parts. You sigh and turn your attention to the nachos, wondering how long you can keep this up….

If you can stay you to him forever.