[Elijah would like that too, honestly. He liked being close, being cuddled up with them, feeling a little bit less alone. The only reason that he'd shied from making out with K up until now was because he hadn't wanted that moment- the one where Kavinsky realized that he didn't really have a dick in his pants and suddenly he was... not good enough.
Getting top surgery was more or less good enough for him for now. He didn't know if he wanted more than that. He has the luxury of having the money for it, and his parents' support, the ability to get on a plane to see whatever doctor could offer the best care- but he had yet to hear about a procedure that would give him a dick like any other cisguy. And if he couldn't have that, he didn't know if halfway would be better than what he had.
And so even if he was more or less okay with his body, it was other people he worried about. Impossible to tell who would be okay with who he was and who wouldn't, unless he asked, outed himself, or if he waited until his clothes came off. Needless to say, as much as he wanted, he'd never been willing to make himself that vulnerable for someone.
Except that he'd ended up like this anyway. And K's hand is a comfort on his shoulder, the way that he says he's safe- in all the ways that he's never been safe. Not outside of home. He nods slowly, murmuring a soft thank you when he says he wont tell the other guys.
And then he just gives into the urge he's been fighting and just steps in, pressing up against the other boy, one hand clutching against his ribs in the fabric of his shirt. Eli presses his face into his shoulder and he's maybe- he maybe sniffles a little bit. He's not upset, he's just a little bit overwhelmed. So many things he could say, but instead it's one of the things he'd meant to say earlier, when Kavinsky had killed one of his nightmares.]
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Getting top surgery was more or less good enough for him for now. He didn't know if he wanted more than that. He has the luxury of having the money for it, and his parents' support, the ability to get on a plane to see whatever doctor could offer the best care- but he had yet to hear about a procedure that would give him a dick like any other cisguy. And if he couldn't have that, he didn't know if halfway would be better than what he had.
And so even if he was more or less okay with his body, it was other people he worried about. Impossible to tell who would be okay with who he was and who wouldn't, unless he asked, outed himself, or if he waited until his clothes came off. Needless to say, as much as he wanted, he'd never been willing to make himself that vulnerable for someone.
Except that he'd ended up like this anyway. And K's hand is a comfort on his shoulder, the way that he says he's safe- in all the ways that he's never been safe. Not outside of home. He nods slowly, murmuring a soft thank you when he says he wont tell the other guys.
And then he just gives into the urge he's been fighting and just steps in, pressing up against the other boy, one hand clutching against his ribs in the fabric of his shirt. Eli presses his face into his shoulder and he's maybe- he maybe sniffles a little bit. He's not upset, he's just a little bit overwhelmed. So many things he could say, but instead it's one of the things he'd meant to say earlier, when Kavinsky had killed one of his nightmares.]
You can make dreams too.