Chapter 4: To Refuse a Gift
Trigger warning: mentions of past physical abuse.
"Hey Dynamis, I'm really sorry for making you so stressed, that you puked. Like, really sorry. There's not much I can do to make it up to you, but… I hope you like it. -Kyoya"
It was, after all, disrespectful to decline a gift.
Dynamis shook the package gently in curiosity, too deep within his depressed stupor to even acknowledge the haphazard wrapping job. Tentatively, he peeled back the crumpled galaxy-themed paper.
Honestly, when Dynamis had discovered the package in front of his door, he was too distracted by the sadness to pay much mind to it. He read the card, set it aside, and promptly fell back asleep. It was as if all the sleepless nights at Mist Mountain were catching up with him. At the temple, he had terrible insomnia. Now, though, he spent most of the day struggling to keep his eyes open. Because he spent much of his time alone, it had taken months for his friends to notice his sleeping problems.
Dynamis inspected the package more closely upon waking again. He looked at the digital clock at his bedside: 2:00 A.M. He knew that he wasn't falling back asleep, so he lit the kerosene lamp he kept next to his bedside.
He read the card again before peeling back the wrapping paper. When Dynamis finished unwrapping the gift, he at first could not identify the object resting in his hands. He lifted the case closer to his face, inspecting the vibrant colors through frosted plastic.
Makeup.
Kyoya had given him makeup.
Dynamis felt his blood run cold as he wondered how on earth Kyoya could have known, all the while underestimating the craftiness of his two recent visitors. That pit of shame formed inside Dynamis's stomach. Blood hummed through his ears. It felt like a hand had squeezed his heart. Dynamis's fingers stopped articulating for about a minute before temptation overtook him.
He couldn't help it.
Hands, all on their own, slid a nail through the tape, and popped open the container. Within the remnants of the wrapper, Dynamis discovered some brushes, an eyeliner, and several lipsticks. He set aside the small, rectangular sheet of plastic buried at the bottom, unsure what to make of it.
Just as Dynamis's hand reached over to open the eyeliner, Dynamis stopped himself.
Of course, he could not just accept the gift without himself giving Kyoya something in return. The blood rushed down Dynamis's legs as he stood up, a familiar sensation after hours of sitting on his throne, gazing at the stars. Dynamis wobbled back and forth, steadied himself by holding his bedside table, and used his arms to practically swing himself to his door. After some deliberation, he finally decided he should leave his bedroom and enter the kitchen.
Dynamis admitted to enjoy cooking. Visitors to the temple always asked why he had learned to cook. Would his future wife not cook for him?
For some elders, marrying at 17 seemed too late. When Dynamis reentered the modern world, he felt relieved to learn that marrying late or not at all was considered normal.
Besides, he had already-
Dynamis tried not to think about how he'd done it without being married.
Dynamis tried not to think about the elders' horror if they discovered Dynamis had done it with a man.
Dynamis tried not to think about his fears of suffering eternal torture for his sin.
.
"Nothing's wrong with you! I'm pretty sure half the people in this building have screwed someone else before marriage, anyways! It's totally normal!"
.
If Dynamis could not cook for himself at the moment, then at least he could cook for other people. Chris, Aguma, and King had the kindness within them to give him nonperishable foods like canned vegetables, chickpeas, dried beans, and rice. It might have been a meager meal for Kyoya, but it was nicer than anything he had made for himself in a long while. For the past month, unless he was expecting company, Dynamis only made simple, palatable things: boiled vegetables, a serving of rice, or maybe just a slice of bread if he really did not have the energy – untoasted. For the past several weeks, he had not even bothered to season his own food, for the act of eating held no pleasure for him regardless.
Dynamis got to work, soaking some dried legumes in water. He mixed flour with water, then added a scoop of dried yeast. Dynamis tried pretending that he was making this for Rago. Without the man for company, the will to eat had left him.
Dynamis had grown sick of eating alone. He was no longer used to it, like the way it had been before Rago came. It had been months. Kyoya wouldn't know, but this was Rago's favorite dish. Dynamis had felt so complete those months ago, when Rago would constantly compliment the dishes he made.
Boil, chop, fold, roll. Onto the fire, went the dough. Into the boil water, went the legumes. Toast, simmer, spit, spackle went the spices in oil. Boil, simmer, stew. Toast, crunch, cut. As the sun rose, Dynamis finally packed the food he had made into a basket. Dynamis resolved that for the first time in a long while, he should finally leave his apartment.
He bathed himself. Keeping himself clean was one of the only things which hadn't fallen to the wayside. He could not stand being dirty. He could not stand the feeling of the oils in his hair or dirt underneath his nails. The shower had become Dynamis therapy. The warm, slightly dazed feeling he got whenever he washed himself reminded Dynamis of the way Rago held him.
Before leaving, Dynamis lined his eyes with the scandalous eyeliner, hoping no one would notice.
Kyoya was training at the park, as per usual. As per usual, he had been trying to goad Tsubasa into a Beyblade battle. Tsubasa, on the other hand, just stared at the legendary blader of spring. He had crossed his arms, and his lips drooped in a slight frown.
Tsubasa was the one to notice Dynamis first.
"Hello there, Dynamis!" Tsubasa smiled at him. Dynamis waved and nodded, unsure if he should smile back.
"I made some food for Kyoya, but you can have some as well if you would like."
At that, Kyoya jumped slightly. He backed away, and Dynamis frowned. Dynamis did not know what to do.
Tsubasa laughed heartily. "Wow, it's a surprise that Kyoya's actually on someone's good side!"
"Don't try to 'someone's good side' me, eagle feathers! I'm never on someone's good side!"
"Why do you always seem to wake up on the wrong side of the bed, hm?"
"Oh, shut up!"
"This is why I don't like battling with you anymore."
"Oh, is that a challenge?"
"No."
Kyoya growled. He spun around violently on his heel, stretching out his foot in preparation to leave.
"Would you still like the meal?" Dynamis interjected.
Kyoya spun back around, not as aggressively this time.
Softly, with his lips pouted to the side, he said, "Yeah." Kyoya slouched, his hands in his pockets. His face turned a little red, as did the tips of his ears.
They settled down on the grass. Kyoya scarfed down his stuffed bread with bravado. Tsubasa ate more politely, and unlike Kyoya, in between bites he actually had the room to speak.
"It's really good. Where did you get it?"
"I made it," Dynamis answered. Tsubasa chuckled.
"Careful, Madoka might ask for the recipe some time."
"I would not mind sharing," Dynamis replied, unaware that Tsubasa was just joking. "I keep secrets, but my recipes are not one of them."
Kyoya interrupted. "Hey, are you going to eat some yourself?"
"I made it for you."
"But you gave some to Tsubasa, too."
"I apologize, I should have asked you first."
"That's not what I mean."
"What do you mean, then?"
"Like… I'm eating. And Tsubasa's eating. So why aren't you eating?"
Dynamis did not have a reply to that.
"Don't badger him too much," Tsubasa interjected. Dynamis sighed in relief.
"Hmf, whatever." By now, Kyoya had completely finished his stuffed bread. "Thanks. By the way. It was good." As he said that, he turned his head away from the group. His voice grew quieter with every syllable.
"Would you like another?" Dynamis asked. "You can take the rest home, as well."
"Nah, keep them for yourself. I'm good."
.
"Hey-hey-hey! Who's ready for a battle?"
Ginga emerged from over the hill first. Kenta followed, then Madoka. King and Aguma were chatting behind them. Of course, while Dynamis could barely pick out Aguma's words, King's voice rang out clearer than the sky.
"Don't try to change topics on me! You collect seashells, don't you!"
"Not so loud, King."
"I still don't get why you think that's embarrassing!" King turned his head away from Aguma, towards the group Dynamis sat with. He waved and exclaimed, "Ah! Dynamis! Kyoya! Tsubasa!"
Dynamis shyly waved.
"I have a score to settle with you three!" King continued.
Aguma groaned. "King, please…"
"Shush now; I'm settling this! Guys, do you think that collecting seashells is an embarrassing pastime?"
"Um, no?" Tsubasa replied. His eyebrows quirked together in presumable confusion.
"Why would I care?" Kyoya said next.
"I do not know why that would be embarrassing, King."
"Exactly! See, Aguma? Collecting seashells is a totally normal hobby!"
"Well, you didn't have to go around telling everyone!"
"This isn't exactly the biggest secret in the world, it's not like I'm telling everyone that Dynamis is -"
Aguma struck out like a leopard, his palm hitting King's mouth before Dynamis could even flinch. All the while, King's face turned red upon the sudden blockage in front of his mouth. Muffled noises emanated from his covered lips.
Too little too late, however.
"Dynamis is what now?"
Dynamis turned towards Kyoya, stomach dropping from the horror of the implications.
Aguma only let King speak once his eyes widened in realization of the situation's gravity.
"N-nothing! I-I was just making a hypothetical! Yeah! Yeah! That's totally it!"
.
"Would anyone like another bread stuffed with fava beans and olives?"
.
"Oh, yeah, they're great! Dynamis made them himself, too."
Somehow, Dynamis had diverted the course of the conversation. He pulled the food item from his basket, presenting it to the approaching group. Leave it to Ginga to take the bait.
"Would I ever!" Before Dynamis could so much as blink, Ginga scrambled up to him, legs twitching and grin as wide as the sun.
Dynamis gave one to Ginga. Madoka wanted one as well, and so did Aguma. King didn't even have to ask; Dynamis gave him three.
Just as Dynamis had finished handing out food, Ginga approached him once more, his eyes wide, wet, and shimmering with hope, "C-could I-I have another, pleeeeeeeeeease?"
Dynamis nodded, and he gave Ginga another. And another. And another.
"So good! This is almost as good as a burger!" Ginga practically inhaled the food.
Madoka giggled. "Well, Dynamis, that's high praise coming from Ginga!" She then winked at Dynamis.
Dynamis admitted that he did feel a little better. He was at least talking to other people. He had cooked an actual meal for the first time in two weeks. He had even gone outside.
Dynamis stayed in the background as the group talked, battled, and trained. Tsubasa still refused to engage with Kyoya. Ginga had to sheepishly decline as well, as per his promise to Ryo that he wouldn't battle Kyoya for at least another week. Aguma and King were close by, but they were battling each other. King was talking so loudly that Dynamis could hear him all the way from where he sat. The Mars blader was still arguing to Aguma that he had no need to be embarrassed about his seashell collecting habits.
That left Dynamis and Kyoya.
And Kyoya wanted to do battle.
"You!"
Dynamis cocked his head up to see Kyoya. Kyoya stood over Dynamis, looming from above like an angry bear over Dynamis's sitting form. Kyoya jabbed his index finger towards Dynamis.
"I can't battle with Ginga right now, so you'll have to do!"
Fear.
Just, fear.
Dynamis had not done battle since… since the battle with Rago.
He had never enjoyed blading in the first place. Now, however, whenever he thought about Beyblade, he felt hollow. He felt like his heart had been ripped out all over again.
"Kyoya, you've already beaten me before."
Kyoya was already on the other side of the stadium, his hand halfway between his bey holder and his launcher.
"3."
Dynamis scrambled to his feet. He fumbled with Jade Jupiter, clearly out of practice.
"2."
"K-kyoya –"
"1."
Dynamis was trying to muster the courage to refuse. It was no use.
"Let it rip!"
"Whoa, check it out! Dynamis and Kyoya are having at it! Man! That's so cool! AW! NOW I WANT TO BATTLE TOO!"
Jade Jupiter wobbled. Dynamis did not want to attack. He didn't even want to battle. He didn't even remember if he had locked the balls inside Jupiter's spin track in place or not.
"Is that all you got!"
Leone collided with Jupiter. Dynamis's breath hitched in his throat.
"Your attacks are weak!"
Dynamis knew. He already knew that.
"Jupiter!"
Dynamis could only halfheartedly dodge Kyoya's attacks.
"Leone! Lion gale force wall!"
Dynamis tried his luck in seeing if he could pull off Jupiter's satellite move as defense.
"I already know all your tricks! Leone, lion wild wind fang dance!"
The winds picked Jupiter off the stadium and threw the bey into the air. Around and around Jupiter went, flung around the tornadoes like a rag doll. Dynamis gritted his teeth, trying to figure out what to do. He knew that he couldn't win, but if he lost now, Kyoya would never give him the end of it.
"Why are you even battling me?" Dynamis asked, desperate.
Kyoya didn't say anything for a while, instead focusing on intensifying Leone's winds.
"Kyoya, why? Why do you want to fight me so badly?"
Nothing.
"Kyoya, please, answer me!"
Nothing.
"Kyoya, I don't want to fight you!"
Something.
"Because I'm worried about you!"
At that, Dynamis completely lost focus. Jupiter, too, lost. The Beyblade exited through the top of the tornado, was catapulted into the sky, and stopped spinning upon landing into the grass next to Dynamis.
Dynamis took several steps back, sweat beading down his face. His knees felt as unbalanced as the launch angle he'd used. Kyoya recalled his bey with a huff.
"Dynamis, I'm worried about you!"
This time, Dynamis was the one to not answer.
"And don't you even start on asking 'well how on earth would you know?' I fucking know! I'm not looking for answers! I just want you to admit that you're not okay!"
By now, Aguma and King had left their battle after noticing the commotion.
"Calm down, Kyoya!"
"What does this have to do with you, King?"
For once, King was the voice of reason.
"Listen, I know you're worried, but you don't have to be so AGGREVATED in your approach!"
"But I know he's not okay! He's not okay and won't admit it!"
"And what are you going to do? Force some kind of confession out of him? Do you think that by defeating him, it'll somehow fix things? Not every problem can be solved with a bey battle."
To hear that come from King's mouth, truly, was the shock of the century.
"What would you even know about this, anyway?!"
"Kyoya, I know you want an explanation; I know you're worried, but Dynamis doesn't owe you a reason! He's not obligated to tell you what's going on! It's for him to –"
"WHY DO YOU CARE ALL OF A SUDDEN, BIG MOUTH?!"
"He's my friend! Of course I–"
"THEN TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH HIM!'
"IF YOU CARE SO MUCH, WHY ARE YOU SUCH AN ASS TO HIM ALL THE TIME?"
Dynamis stood with his knees locked in place. He couldn't even pay attention to what Kyoya and King were arguing about. He only knew that they were being too loud. They were screaming, screaming at each other. Dynamis took some steps back.
Too loud.
Too loud.
Too loud.
He plugged his ringing ears with his hands. He stared at King's and Kyoya's moving mouths. He watched their chests expand and retract as they yelled at each other.
By miracle of miracles, Aguma yanked Dynamis away before another one of his episodes could occur. Dynamis just wanted to go back inside. He wanted to curl up in bed, into a little ball, so that other people could stop arguing about him and he could stop hearing about it.
He hated causing such calamity.
He wondered if it would be better if he never existed at all.
His fault.
His fault.
This was all his fault.
Dynamis was shaking from hunger, dizzy from shock, and tired of all the loud, loud voices screaming at each other. Kyoya was over there, challenging King to yet another battle. Dynamis did not know Kyoya well, but he knew this well enough: Kyoya's default solution was to battle it out.
Dynamis, most definitely, did not need to witness another battle.
"That's not the point, Kyoya! No, I'm not battling you this time!"
More screaming.
"No, I don't care that you haven't defeated me yet! Now is just not the time!"
By now, Tsubasa, Madoka, and Ginga had arrived at the scene.
.
"Madoka, would it be possible for us to take him to B-Pit and let him sit down for a bit?"
"Yeah, no problem."
.
It had been some time since Dynamis last went to B-Pit. The first time, he remembered, Madoka had just finished repairing Jade Jupiter. He did not mind in the slightest that he was the last to be given back his Beyblade.
They descended the spiral staircase down into B-Pit's basement, and Dynamis was given a sofa to rest on. Dynamis played with his fingerless glove as Aguma, sitting next to him, gently scribbled in one of Madoka's adult coloring books. Dynamis had tried to color as well, but his hands shook too much to even hold a pencil comfortably. Madoka returned a while later with a small cake.
"Here, I thought you'd like some. I made it yesterday!"
Madoka gave herself a slice, then gave Aguma a slice, and Dynamis was about to decline, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
Dynamis prodded and pressed the dessert around his plate with a fork. He tried to enjoy the cake's sweetness. It was delicious, but he could not stomach food. Whenever he put a bite in his mouth, he wanted to vomit.
It was, after all, disrespectful to decline a gift.
"You prefer something savory?"
Dynamis almost jumped out of his skin. A peculiar jitter vibrated through his shoulder blades. He caught himself just before he dropped the plate of cake.
"I-I…"
"Like, you want chips? Or burgers? I've got plenty of burgers. Oh, oh, what about those stuffed breads you made earlier?"
Madoka stood, then walked to the other end of the room. She rummaged through Dynamis's basket.
"Dang it, we're out! Did you even eat some yourself?"
Dynamis stammered pathetically.
"I'll be back!"
Madoka left Dynamis and Aguma alone again. Dynamis looked at Aguma, eyes wide and face red.
Aguma did not speak, not that Dynamis knew what to say.
Dynamis felt small.
Aguma inhaled, then sighed. He pinched the bridge of nose. He, too, had turned red. Dynamis was about to apologize for whatever wrong he had committed, when Aguma stuck his large hand into an equally big pocket.
He dug around, his hand hesitating on its way out. From Aguma's pocket emerged a seashell, with lines of orange and white running from pole to tail. A soft, satin-like pink lined the shell's inside. Aguma asked if he could grab Dynamis's hand, and Dynamis nodded. Dynamis's fingers were guided towards the shell, where they touched the external ridges and spikes.
The shell felt smooth, yet the ridges gave it texture. The shell kind of looked like a crown. Dynamis ran his fingers up and down the shell for a while, while Aguma, through soft, baited breath, whispered to Dynamis.
"It's called a conch shell. A snail used to live in it. The snail probably lived somewhere near the Caribbean, or Florida, or somewhere near there. It probably spent its days crawling on rocks and eating algae. I'd like to think that it lived a long and happy life, before passing peacefully one day, before its shell washed ashore for someone to find. And now, I have it, and I carry it around with me."
"And why do you carry it around with you?"
"It makes me happy."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Why does it make you happy?"
"It doesn't need a reason."
.
"What other shells do you keep?"
"You are going to therapy. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."
Chris was forcing Dynamis to go to therapy.
Dynamis didn't even know what the word really meant.
"I know it sounds kind of weird, but you're in a room, and you're talking to someone, and don't worry! They're not there to judge you or nothing!"
Dynamis had wondered if it were possible that he go to "therapy" in something other than his robe.
"Here's the store catalogue. Pick anything, literally anything you want, and I'll get it for you. Doesn't matter the price. Doesn't matter the color or design or gender designation or any of that. Anything."
A knock resonated from outside. Dynamis stopped brushing his hair to answer the door, and there he met Chris, shopping bag in one hand and two small paper boxes in the other.
"I don't know if you like pad Thai… But like, it's important to eat, you know?"
They sat on the cushions in Dynamis's living room to eat.
"Now, you don't have to finish it, but I'd like you to eat at least some of it, you hear?"
Dynamis nodded as Chris opened the paper boxes. Chris gently nudged the box towards Dynamis, which was brimming with noodles and vegetables and meats and onions and all sorts of other odds and ends. Chris slurped up his portion while Dynamis struggled with the chopsticks.
Chris chuckled. "Don't worry, I wasn't great at chopsticks when I first started, either."
Dynamis finished a quarter of the portion, finding the noodles surprisingly palatable. They were chewy but easy to bite. The sauce coating them possessed a smoky note to them, with a hint of sweetness that was cut by a punch of lime and coriander.
"The noodles… taste nice."
"Pad Thai… I had a lot of it, out there. It's a comfort food for me, I guess. No matter where I went, there was at least one Thai joint in the area. It was a good way to celebrate a successful mission."
"May I save the rest for later?"
"Of course! They make for great leftovers!"
Dynamis looked self-consciously at his food, realizing that while he had barely touched his, Chris had finished his entire box.
"Now, without further ado, I've got the goods." Chris reached over and slid the shopping bag across the floor. His arm stopped in between the two of them. Dynamis stared at the colorful bundle, unsure if his heart raced because of nerves or excitement.
Dynamis couldn't believe that Chris had actually agreed to buy him a pick sweater, a skirt, and some jewelry.
"Also, I got you these, too." Chris presented Dynamis with a folded parcel of thin, black, stretchy fabric. "We call them pantyhose where I'm from. They're like, really thin pants. People like to wear them with skirts. But no pressure! Just thought that maybe you'd like them."
Dynamis blinked harshly. He almost wept because he could barely believe that Chris, no questions asked, had so graciously gotten him the items he asked for and more. And he had done it all without once questioning Dynamis, or belittling him, or telling him that boys weren't supposed to wear that.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Try it on!"
That was how Dynamis found himself standing in front of the mirror. His eyes were wide to drink in every detail. Was it vain to say that he felt enchanted by his own reflection?
Was it silly to say that being allowed to wear pastel pink almost brought tears to his eyes?
Dynamis swished his hips, and he watched the skirt spin with him. He turned around, examining the back of his sweater. A mild state of disbelief befell him.
A part of Dynamis feared that even after all he had done, Chris would make fun of him once he came out of the bedroom. Even still, Dynamis took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and tentatively opened the door.
"You look great!"
Chris smiled, so Dynamis smiled.
"Oh, do you need help with that?" Chris pointed to the necklace that Dynamis was holding. Dynamis nodded. "Can I step behind you?" Dynamis nodded again. Dynamis stepped forward as Chris walked behind him. Dynamis tilted his head forward, and he felt Chris's fingernails tickle him as the fellow legendary blader fiddled with the accessory.
"Does this necklace have a special name?" Dynamis asked. "I've never seen an item like this before today."
"Yeah, yeah, they're called chokers."
"A… choker?"
Dynamis sensed Chris's hands shifting. Out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed Chris shrug.
"Beats me why people call them that, though."
Dynamis hugged his abdomen again.
"And done!"
Dynamis crossed his arms, the buried his hands into his armpits.
"Thank-you. May I see how it looks?"
"Of course!"
Dynamis entered his bedroom again and looked in the mirror. He examined the "choker", which appeared to be made of an impossibly pink faux leather. It looked almost like a ribbon. Dynamis inspected the metal accents of his chosen jewelry, and in particular, the silver heart that held the center of the piece together attracted his eye. The tips of his fingers played with the chains that dangled from the necklace.
Strange. But he liked it.
"Would you be opposed if I put on some makeup?"
Butterflies fluttered through Dynamis's stomach.
"Go for it!" Chris softly touched Dynamis's shoulder as he said that. Dynamis impulsively winced, yet he didn't know why. "Your appointment doesn't start until an hour from now, so we've got some time!"
Dynamis proceeded to brush his eyelids in an eyeshadow he could only describe as bubblegum pink. Kyoya had given Dynamis more colors to play with than he really knew what to do with.
"You know, you're really good at eyeliner," Chris commented. Dynamis's face went a little red, embarrassed yet bashfully pleased with the compliment. Surprisingly, Dynamis's shaky hands didn't damper the smoothness of the stroke.
Dynamis felt a little sick. He wanted to blame it on the food, but he knew he couldn't. Still, for the first time in years, Dynamis left his room feeling pretty.
"Your name is Dynamis? Am I saying that correctly?"
Dynamis nodded curtly. He fiddled with his thumbnail, then hugged his waist, then went back to fiddling the nail. He folded his hands over his lap upon realizing that the therapist might have considered it rude if he kept fidgeting.
"My name is Dr. Taiji." The woman smiled at him. She scribbled some things on her notepad. Dynamis turned away from her gaze; he felt as if he was being stared down. "A pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine," he managed to stammer. He looked at the doctor, and the doctor looked at him, and he wondered what he was supposed to say.
A prickling sensation lined his shoulders. His mind felt… buzzy. He felt Dr. Taiji look him up and down, and he clenched his fingers in – perhaps embarrassment. A chill ran up his spine, yet sweat beaded down his cheek.
"I'd like to know a little more about you, Dynamis."
Dynamis nodded again as he continued to dodge eye contact.
"What compelled you to come here today?"
Dynamis tried to formulate his response, but he couldn't find a good way to answer the question. His lips trembled as he muttered a timid apology.
"Take as much time as you need."
"A-ah, yes."
Dynamis thought about how he should answer the question correctly.
"My friend referred me. The affair was non-negotiable."
"Ah, I see. There is no shame in that. I see that your friend cares about you deeply, if he's making you come here today."
"Indeed."
The doctor continued writing on her notepad. Dynamis noticed how the sound of a pen writing differed from the sound of charcoal against parchment.
"Before we begin, Dynamis, if you are comfortable with sharing, do you have preferred pronouns?"
"I do not quite understand," Dynamis admitted.
"As in, do you prefer being referred to as male? Female? Both? Neither? Something in between?"
"I was born male."
The doctor looked at Dynamis for a bit, then went back to her notes. Dynamis felt her eyes linger in particular on his skirt. He just had a feeling.
"Yes, but I ask my patients this question because some do not identify as the gender they've been assigned at birth."
"Would you mind elaborating?" Dynamis feared that if he asked too many questions, the doctor would snap at him.
"For example," Dr. Taiji explained, "someone could be assigned female at birth, but they may prefer being referred to as a different gender. They may use he/him pronouns, or they/them, or both, or something else entirely. For me, one of the ways I show respect is by referring to people as the gender they prefer."
"I suppose, then, that I am not quite sure what gender I prefer. If any at all."
"Do you like your current gender presentation? How do you feel about the clothes you are wearing?"
Dynamis admitted, quietly, that, "They make me feel pretty, and that makes me happy."
It felt strange to admit that out loud.
"What do you do?" the doctor continued. "Are you in school? Do you work somewhere?"
"I Beyblade, I suppose."
"Oh really?"
"Well… I did. Now I do not do much. I did. But not now."
"And what do you mean by that?"
Dynamis thought some more.
"I had… duties. Duties to Beyblade. To my religion. To my home. And my family. And my community."
"What duties did you have?"
"I read the stars. I guarded a shrine."
"Please excuse me if my questions ever upset you. I mean no offense. But I admit to not knowing much about such an occupation."
"No offense taken."
"These duties were inherited from your family, I'm guessing?"
"Yes. My father, and his father, and his father, and for many generations before, we guarded a temple. It had been gifted to the family very long ago."
"And how was your relationship with your father?"
"He died, when I was very young."
"Do you remember anything about him?"
.
"I remember that at times, I thought of him to be frightening. But I suppose that that is typical. Is it not?"
.
"What was your relationship like with your mother?"
.
"I do not know much of her. She was sent away soon after I was born, from what I know."
.
"So your relationship with your parents, from what I am gathering, was either non-existent, or at least somewhat negative."
"I suppose you can say that."
"Dynamis, do you realize that that is not as typical as you say it is?"
"What do you mean?"
"You said that you feared your father. Why is that?"
.
"It was scary when he whipped me."
.
And silence.
And silence.
And silence.
Dynamis's right eye twitched. He bit his lip in an attempt to not frown too severely. He looked straight on at the plant on the desk, unblinking. He suddenly became conscious of his eyebrows, hoping that they did not betray his distress. To be calm and stoic – it was one of the many tactics he had employed in his childhood and adolescence to avoid getting yelled at.
"Are you comfortable with sharing the extent of the whipping? Remember, this session is confidential. What we discuss here stays between me and you.
Dynamis hesitated for bit, then rolled up his shirt a bit. There, on his stomach – normally hidden underneath layers of clothing – rested a network mesh of big, wide, crisscrossing, raised pink lines.
He was not sure if he had followed Dr. Taiji's instructions quite right, or if she had intended for him to lift his shirt. The way her face fell, though, that was a sight he would seldom forget any time soon. The way her eyes widened as her pupils dilated. The way her jaw dropped, bottom lip hanging slack. The gasp that escaped her mouth. Her eyebrows knitted together. Dynamis observed her forehead, where wrinkles had appeared.
"Dynamis, this is serious. Dynamis, I believe that as a child, you were physically abused."
.
"But is it not typical, for a father to discipline his son?"
.
"How long ago did you receive those scars?"
"About ten years, I presume."
"He hurt you."
.
The session continued. Dynamis could not stop looking at Dr. Taiji's eyebrows as they raised and lowered. Her jaw seemed clenched, only tensing further the more they spoke. Dynamis tried to figure out what he was doing wrong, but the answer to his conundrum alluded him.
"And you said that you stayed up late for multiple nights in a row, gazing at the stars?"
"Yes. I know an elder who would have had my hide had I fallen behind on my readings."
"Were you raised by these elders?"
"They visited me occasionally and told me of the mistakes I made in my duties."
"Did they ever say anything pleasant to you?"
"Of course not. Why would they? I did an awful job."
"Did they care for you at all?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your mother and father were absent for most of your life. Who took care of you?"
"I care for myself."
"I see."
Dr. Taiji looked all the graver, and Dynamis could not identify why.
"Dynamis, do you eat regularly?"
"As regularly as I can."
"Please elaborate, if you do not mind."
"I am not hungry most days, so I eat what I can keep down."
"May you provide me an idea of what you eat on a given day?"
"Of course. Yesterday, for example, I ate a slice of bread."
"And what else?"
"That is all."
Dr. Taiji cleared her throat. She adjusted her glasses which did not need adjusting. She cleared her throat yet again, then coughed. "How much do you sleep?"
"I used to have insomnia. Now, however, I find myself sleeping for most of the day."
"Dynamis, do you find yourself tired most of the time on most days?"
"Yes."
"In a given week, how many days do you feel so tired you can't get out of bed?"
"Five or six, on average. But it is normal to feel tired, yes?"
"Yes, but not that tired."
Dynamis abruptly bowed his torso, face towards the ground in a respectful manner. "I apologize. I hope that you still desire to help me, even if I am lazy."
"Dynamis, I don't think that this is simple laziness. Dynamis, do you wake up at weird times of the night? Fall asleep at weird times of the day? Do you feel exhausted no matter how much you sleep?"
"It is just easier to sleep. And to forget all."
"What do you wish to forget? I do not want to push you too far, but if you can, please share with me what you wish to forget."
Dynamis, at the time, did not know that he currently felt a mixture of sad, cornered, confused, and shameful. He attempted to soldier on, as he had been taught. However, try as he might, tears slid down his face, smudging his eyeliner in the process. He did not sniffle or weep, nor did his voice shake. Had the tears not been there, one would have assumed that he held a neutral expression.
"I want to forget the bad things I feel."
"And what are these bad things, Dynamis?"
"I'm an abomination."
"And who said that?"
"The elder."
"And why did he say that?"
"Because I am a sodomite."
"Gay, you mean? I would prefer that you do not use the derogatory term 'sodomite' when describing yourself."
"Dr. Taiji, I want to forget him."
"The elder, you mean?"
"No. Dr. Taiji, I want to forget the man whom I loved. Because he's gone, and nothing will bring him back, and now I'm all alone again, just like before, and I had sinned, and I had lain with a man, so now I am condemned to live with my sins, and my secrets, and my desires. I want to forget how badly I want him to come back."
"What happened to him?"
"He died."
"How long ago?"
Just now, Dynamis noticed the frantic sound of scribbles.
"Five months, one week, three days."
"Dynamis, it's okay to grieve, you know."
"I should have never been with him."
"You're not an abomination for loving someone."
.
"I loved him.
.
.
.
"Does three in the afternoon work for you?"
Dynamis was not making eye-contact with the receptionist as he replied. Instead, he seemed to be looking at the ground. His shoulders appeared slumped while his hands were clasped together, arms straight and stiff.
"Y-yes."
Even with his head downturned, Chris noticed the line of eyeliner that went down either cheek.
"Okay, so I have you in for a follow-up appointment for next Wednesday, at three. Have a nice day."
"T-thank-you."
As Dynamis and Chris boarded the elevator, Chris smiled gently at Dynamis. "I'm proud of you. That was really brave. Really."
"I should thank you. I would have never come had you not made me. I thank you for the care you have shown me."
"Aww, don't be so formal about it." Chris playfully elbowed Dynamis, but he noticed Dynamis flinch. "Well, the day's still ours! You wanna do something? And if you want, King and I are headed to Aguma's place for dinner tonight. Bao will be there, too! They're roommates. Ha, roommates."
"I appreciate the invitation, but I fear being an uninvited guest."
"Oh, I think it's all good. King and Aguma like being around you, you know."
"I-I… I don't know."
"Pfff, Aguma admitted to you that he has a seashell collection. I think he trusts you enough."
Dynamis remained silent.
"But first, do you want to wash your face off? There's a bathroom down the hall, I saw."
Dynamis nodded. Chris made sure to direct Dynamis to the gender-neutral bathroom, hoping that he'd feel more comfortable in there.
Then they were off to Aguma's apartment, situated in the same building as Dynamis's place. Dynamis confessed to never actually visiting the others' homes before, but Chris supposed that late was better than never.
Somehow, by the Heaven's Will or God's luck or Budda's hand or whatever, Dynamis told Chris that he felt brave enough to show the others his new outfit.
"I suppose it could not hurt. They… the others, they already know that I'm… I'm gay."
At least Dynamis had stopped using the word sodomite and started referring to himself as gay. They technically meant the same thing, sure, but the word 'sodomite' was just so… loaded.
Talk the talk, and you'll walk the walk. Or something like that. Maybe Chris had made it up. He wasn't great with figures of speech.
"That's the spirit!" Chris tried his best to encourage the decision.
Aguma wasn't the judgmental type, and Chris knew that King would throw hands with anyone who dared to make a disparaging remark towards his friends – Dynamis, especially Dynamis, included.
From what Chris had heard, King almost punched Kyoya after he had challenged Dynamis to an extremely one-sided battle the other day. A friend like that wasn't about to abandon Dynamis just because he decided to wear a skirt.
When they arrived, Aguma and King didn't even question it.
King had been the one to answer the door.
"Dude, like dude, you look great! Get on in here, you two!" King didn't even give them room to speak. "I love the skirt, and the choker, and Chris, my man! What's crack-a-lacking?"
"Crack-a-what-now?" Chris could not help but scrunch his face in playful contempt.
"Oh, don't mind him," said a familiar redhead.
King, Chris, and Dynamis stood now, face to face, with Bao, who had emerged from the hallway.
Shirtless.
Chris looked suspiciously at the large purple blotches and faded bite-marks along Bao's neck and chest.
Yeah. Aguma and Bao were "roommates."
Chris gave Bao that look. Bao shrugged, then slugged off.
Judging from the condom wrapper Chris found under the couch cushion, Bao couldn't have cared less if everyone knew that him and Aguma were doing the "horizontal mambo."
They were ducking.
But replace the d with an f.
Aguma was frying something over the stove. Bao sauntered over – because of course he did – and draped an arm around Aguma. He didn't seem to care much about the height difference, or the fact that Aguma looked busy.
"Hey babe."
Good god, Bao wasn't even trying to hide it.
"Hmpf, you're up late," Aguma commented.
"Can you blame me? Long night."
Aguma choked on some imaginary water.
"Could you at least put a shirt on?" – code for, "Stop being so sexy in front of our guests."
Chris noticed the way Aguma leaned into Bao's arm, the way Bao casually plucked a piece of chicken right out of the pot, the way he looked at Aguma as he sipped the broth Aguma had requested he sample. The fact that Aguma had asked Bao and no one else whether he thought the salt was right.
"Fancy seeing you here." Bao smiled at Dynamis, who didn't seem to notice the greeting. Dynamis, instead, was looking at the floor again. Bao, like the others, did not even question Dynamis's choice of clothes. Didn't even comment. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. Because after all they had been through, it really was.
"As promised, here's the rest of my collection."
Aguma opened the door to his room.
Dynamis looked around. He saw a bed. He saw – Bao's? – dirty clothes strewn about the floor. He saw pictures of Aguma and Bao together. He saw a wooden board on the wall the said, "Live, Laugh, Love." He saw fairy lights and sticky note reminders. He saw a desk with a closed book on top, and on the book was a collage of chameleon pictures, with big, bold, purple letters that spelled, "DIARY." He saw a cup of pens with purple fuzzy tops. He saw a large vertical terrarium filled with plants and vines, inside of which resided a strange, googly-eyed lizard, outside of which hung a small wooden sign: SPOT THE CHAMELEON.
Aguma chuckled. "If you don't already know, that's Spot." Aguma walked over to the tank, opened the front panel, and he retrieved the shockingly calm lizard. Aguma was smiling, wide as the sun. "Bao wanted a pet ever since we were little. But because we were always travelling with the Beylin Fist, we knew that having one was a bad idea. This green little guy, I suppose, just fell into our care one day. There was a pet store, they had a baby chameleon, but he was missing a leg. And Bao fell in love with him. And by that point, we had already settled in Japan. Heh, you know, for all our lives, we were looking to defeat Beylin Temple."
Aguma chuckled.
"But, if I'm to be honest, I think I'm more content just… living. With Bao. And Spot."
Dynamis could not help but smile at that.
"May I hold him?"
"But of course."
Dynamis felt soft scaled feet grip his arm. He gently stroked the creature's smooth, green skin. He had never thought that reptile skin would be dry like this.
"I had always thought that things like snakes and lizards would be slimy."
Dynamis played with Spot for a bit. He even got to see Spot's pink, long, bulbous tongue, which he found fascinating. Spot looked at him curiously with one eye, and he used the other eye to stare at Aguma. Fascinating, how chameleons could turn one eye in one direction and the other eye in another.
Then, Aguma and Dynamis sat down on the rug, next to a shelf on the floor, and Aguma showed Dynamis the entirety of his seashell collection.
From mussels and clams, to abalone and cowry, and even a shell referred to as "Glory of the Sea." Aguma showed them all to Dynamis, and Dynamis held each and every one of them. He felt the ridges and bumps, the nicks and the smooth parts, the holes and crevasses. From pink to orange to white to black, every shape and size imaginable. From a snail shell the size of his pinky nail, to a cone as large as his face.
"Before we got Spot, I had seashells. You know, sometimes, the little things are what help you make it through the day. You make do with what you have. And when you survive the next day, you realize that today was a little better than yesterday, and you look at your seashell collection, and you can't help but thank it for helping you through it all."
When Dynamis got home, he didn't feel the normal pang of guilt when he broke out the makeup set. Kyoya had, after all, so graciously given it to him.
It was, after all, disrespectful to refuse a gift.