Chapter Text
Diluc did not like his body.
He didn’t like the soft flesh on his chest, the way it didn’t stay flat without a binder. He didn’t like the way his hips curved out, the gap between his thighs, the thickness of said thighs. He knew these were things that other people sought - that they found attractive, cute, even a turn on - and he technically did, on other people, on girls, but not on himself.
Scrolling through photograph after photograph of male models online, seeing his flatmates, going to class and eyeing the male lecturer’s body from head to toe. They all looked the same - the chest to hip ratio was reversed, or at least the same, but none of them had these gentle slopes, these cursed curves, that Diluc did, and he hated it so, so much.
Sure, he could bind, and he could organise for hormone replacement therapy in the future, and he could wear flattering clothes, but none of that changed the fundamental truth of his body - womanly. The word burned his mind like a hot poker, agonising, and only hurting more after the original brandish. Womanly, girlish, feminine, curvy. Distinctively not a boy. He hated it. He loathed it. He had to hide it behind black cotton fabrics, but every time he looked in a mirror he could still see the clipped outline of his slim waist and his round hips.
Because he did not like his body, neither did Diluc like sex. Well… that was a lie. He did. He wanted to. He had feelings and desires and yearnings. But he couldn’t act on any of them, and instead let himself rot away under his layers and layers of fabric and insecurity. The odd jerk-off here and there to keep him sane, followed by acute, intense, searing guilt.
Because he wasn’t ‘jerking off’, not really. He was fingering himself and toying with his clit. Men didn’t have those. Men didn’t do this. He felt vulgar and vulnerable and vile. He felt utterly fake. Unreal.
Sometimes, that sense of reality, that sense of impersonality that came from sexual pleasure, sent Diluc spiralling. He’d come to hours later, face pressed uncomfortably to his pillow, creases imprinted on his cheek, hand tacky with dried discharge, boxers damp and cold, and with each throb of his abdomen came a throb of misery and disgust, synchronising with the pounding of his heart, and with each beat he willed for it to just stop.
The guilt? The misery? His heart? He didn’t know which one, most of the time.
Diluc lost himself to this circle of self hatred, until a brilliant idea struck him one day. Why not just stop? If he didn’t give in to his desires, the guilt would never surface, and he would never have to focus on this body that he hated so much.
It was a perfect plan.
-
It was a perfect plan, until stupid, tall, handsome, confident Ajax swaggered into his life, and ruined absoltuely everything by making Diluc so intensely horny that he swore he was going to die.
He didn’t even do much, which made it all the more humiliating. A lopsided smile, crooked canines, a hand rubbing the back of his neck when he got confused with the lecturer’s teachings. Just simple things, normal things, small gestures that showed his emotions so bluntly, so vividly, on his body; Diluc envied him relentlessly.
It wasn’t only his desires that Diluc kept under lock and key, but his other feelings, too. His mouth remained in a stern line even when he felt amused, his fingers didn’t twitch, he didn’t twiddle his thumbs, didn’t wring his hands when he was nervous. His eyes didn’t burn and tear up when he was sad. Everything was just blank.
So when he was partnered with Ajax for a research project, they clashed immensely.
Ajax was loud and boisterous and shockingly honest; Diluc was quiet and reserved and only spoke when necessary. It was clear that they couldn’t get along, because Diluc could never match Ajax’s pace, and he hated it acutely, almost as much as he hated himself.
“I don’t understand.” Ajax had groaned one day, when they were hunched together in the corner of the university library, Diluc’s laptop open in front of them, displaying a scholarly article full of confusing terms and annoyingly long sentences. He dropped his head into his folded arms, resting on the desk with a huff.
“It isn’t that complex.” Diluc said flatly.
“Then run it through for me!” Ajax grumbled, peeking up at him through auburn bangs, deep blue cutting into Diluc’s soul. He hated it when Ajax looked at him. It felt like he was scrutinising him, unveiling him, figuring something out.
Diluc didn’t want anyone to figure him out. What exactly, he wondered? The fact that he’d been born a girl? That his indifferent facade was just an extended method of keeping his identity a secret? That he was so pathetic, he couldn’t even bear to shower with the lights on? He didn’t know, but he did know, from their time spent studying together, that Ajax had an uncanny ability to read people. He could pick up on the smallest of changes in the air, the slightest downturn of a persons lips, could read between the lines with such detail, it scared Diluc, and, shamefully, made him squirm at the same time. He didn’t want anyone to figure him out, but Ajax’s eyes on him made him hot, and his heart stuttered pathetically in his chest, the embers of arousal a low, yet unavoidable, heat in his abdomen.
(He hadn’t jerked off in months, not since he made that promise to himself, to avoid embarrassment and misery, to prevent falling back into that spiral of guilt and hurt).
He fought through his devolving thoughts, sighed, and twisted the laptop screen so its white light shined directly onto Ajax’s face, making him squint and wince away from where his gaze had been locked onto Diluc.
Diluc talked him through the material with frustrated monotony, jabbing his index finger at the screen, tracing beneath the words with his fingertip. He noticed that his nails were long, and wondered in the back of his head if that made him seem effeminate- feminine- and if he should cut them.
He didn’t want to cut them. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck at the thought. Cutting them could open the floodgates to his misery, the temptation to trail his hand down his stomach until it rested between his hips, between his legs, fingers crooked and hot, enveloped in pulsing warmth-
“Diluc?”
He blinked, snapping back to attention.
“What?”
“You stopped mid-sentence…” Ajax said with an uncertain grin. “Something bothering you?”
“No.” Diluc said gruffly, willing the heat beneath his eyes to, quite crudely, fuck off. “Let’s continue.”
He finished explaining the material to Ajax, and got a thanks. It would have been enough, but Ajax clearly thought differently.
“You’re so good at this.” He said mildly. “I’m probably going to pass because of you.” A pause. His eyes trained on Diluc’s face. “I like you being my teacher.”
Diluc’s heart shot into his throat, and he had to swallow back a splutter. He was wet; he was actually wet; and he’d never felt so horrified with himself before that moment, not even in his lowest points, crying silently in the bathroom, staring at photos of near-naked male models in magazines, biting back a glower when his flatmate walked around shirtless. Nothing was as shameful, disgusting, as this.
Getting turned on by a mindless compliment, a throwaway comment, nothing even related to the erotic; just how desperate had he become? In a public library, too. It couldn’t be any worse.
“Thanks.” He choked out, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Ajax’s expression didn’t change, and his eyes didn’t leave Diluc’s, empty blue, calculating, curious. Then, they widened a fraction, and he nodded slowly, seemingly to himself. Diluc slammed the lid of his laptop, grabbed it til it was pressed against his chest, and stood with such suddenness that his chair scraped across the wood floor, loud and creaking. He got a few irritated glances, but didn’t care, eager to escape.
“I need to go.” He said, voice a mumble to prevent drawing any more attention to himself. “I’ll text you for next time. Bye.”
He heard Ajax call after him as he turned on his heel and walked fast to the double doors, shoving them open with one shoulder and rushing away, breathing uneven, stomach flipping. He needed to be alone, to calm down, to take a moment to think and berate himself, to tell himself to stop being so fucking weird.
The walk home was long, and far, far too sticky.
-
Lying in bed, curtains drifting open from the cool night breeze, blue moonlight occasionally filtering over his face, Diluc stewed.
He’d showered, and nothing more. He’d eaten dinner and written up a draft for a paper he had due in the next month. Mundane. Normal.
But now there was nothing to distract him, nothing to focus on besides the thrum in his chest, persistent and unbearable since that afternoon, even though nothing had happened.
I like you being my teacher.
God. God. Diluc ran his hands through his hair, dragging his bangs over his face, palms pressing against his closed eyes, as if he was trying to smush some sense into himself. He tossed and turned, eventually flipping onto his front, sighing heavily into his pillow, arms bracketed under his face, and thought.
Ajax looked at him often; but Ajax looked at everyone often. He watched people, understood them innately, calmly solved every puzzle before his eyes. He didn’t need Diluc, closed-off, miserable Diluc, to teach him anything. He already knew far more than Diluc ever could, and the notion sent a spark of upset through him, lodging thickly in his throat. Ajax knew his flatmates better than he did, for Christ’s sake. How many friends did he have? Diluc didn’t think he had enough fingers to count. It hurt, but in a way that admiration for the other still shone through, which only made him want.
Did he want what Ajax had? Did he wish he had his confidence, his suave manner of speech, his skill in socialising and involving himself in the lives of others? Or did he wish he was him, to have his lean, masculine body, his freckled face with the straight nose and short, copper hair? Neither seemed quite right, so Diluc kept on thinking.
Did he want Ajax?
That… couldn’t be it. Shouldn’t. But the more he thought, the more it dawned on him, like ice cold hands on the back of his neck, frozen water tipped down his shirt, he wanted Ajax. He wanted him to want him, felt so queasy and nervous under his gaze for that very reason, couldn’t bear the way he stripped him of his secrets with nothing more than a raise of his brow, because then Ajax would know. He’d know Diluc was a liar, a fraud, a fake, and then how could he want him at all?
This distressed him, which he made apparent through a groan, tapping his forehead repeatedly against his pillow, wishing distantly it was a brick wall so he could knock himself out and avoid thinking about this ever again. But, he realised with a jolt of guilt, he didn’t think about anything else, not really. He may go through the repetitive motions of life, take each day with a certainty that nothing would change, but despite his resolution to never succumb to pleasure, to never get himself wet and messy, all he thought about was that: sex, his body, how much he hated both, how much he longed for the former. It hadn’t been so hard, he swore, until he met Ajax.
That proved it, then, he thought with a numbing acceptance.
Diluc wanted Ajax, and he couldn’t have him.
He sighed, eyes fluttering shut, and reluctantly let his hand trail down his navel.
-
The next time they met to work on their project, Diluc could not look Ajax in the eye.
This was a problem, because people usually looked other people in the eyes when they spoke, which Diluc was, well, not doing, and Ajax noticed immediately, expression turning quizzical as he leaned into his space, chin resting in his hands, lips twisting into a frown.
“Something is bothering you.” He stated, plain and simple, and Diluc went stiff in his seat. They’d opted to work at Ajax’s flat, because his two flatmates were out of town, which meant peace and quiet - the ideal studying environment.
“It doesn’t matter.” Diluc said, knowing it would be fruitless to deny his accusation - or, more accurately, observation.
“I dunno.” Ajax said, shifting so that he was ducked down, forcing himself into Diluc’s line of sight. “It’s only normal for me to be worried about my teacher, right?”
“Quit saying that.” Diluc snapped, and then drew back, affronted with himself for reacting too strongly to something so insignificant. Ajax was looking at him knowingly, a soft hum escaping him, as if he had everything all worked out. “Never mind.” He quickly amended, words leaving him in a rush. “Let’s just get back to work.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
Diluc finally looked at Ajax, a harsh glare. The other shrugged, painfully casual, and Diluc wondered briefly what the fuck was going on.
“I don’t understand.” He said slowly, carefully, but still with an irritated bite, mirroring Ajax’s words from their past meetup. Ajax rolled his eyes, and pushed the laptop and papers in front of them away, leaving Diluc’s hands hovering over nothing. He found it frustrating, and rounded on Ajax, turning to face him with furrowed brows. “Quit acting like a child. We have work -”
“I’m not helping until I find out what’s bothering you.” Ajax said resolutely, folding his arms and legs in turn, a challenging smile on his face. “It’s distracting.”
You’re distracting. Diluc thought with growing annoyance, clashing terribly with the anxiety swirling in his gut, alongside that other feeling, the one he’d so wrongly given in to nights before, leaving him trembling and swallowing his shame alongside breathy moans. He was being watched, torn apart, pressed into the floor with Ajax’s boot keeping him down, wriggling in a desperate, yet pathetic, attempt to free himself. He drew in a breath, eyes hardening, and stared back into Ajax’s narrowed gaze, taking the challenge head on.
“You’re being a dick.” Diluc said bluntly. “I’m here to work. Not to be psychoanalysed by someone I barely even know.”
“You could get to know me better.” Ajax said flippantly. “It’s not hard. I’m a pretty easy guy.”
Now that could be misinterpreted.
“I don’t want to.” Diluc lied. “I don’t have an interest in knowing people.”
“I figured as much. But I’m interested in knowing you.”
Diluc blanched, face falling. Ajax must have picked up on it (of course he picked up on it) because his posture slackened, his face softening as he let his gaze drop down to his hands, now tangled together in his lap. He was a lot less intimidating like this, and Diluc found himself sinking back in his seat, relieved to have those ocean eyes off him.
“Sorry.” He said, and Diluc startled back to attention. “This whole time I’ve been trying to drop hints, but if you’re really not interested, that’s fine. I’ll back off.”
What?
“What.” Diluc croaked, throat having suddenly gone very dry. Ajax looked up to him again, but not in that pressuring way; this time, he looked nervous.
“Um.” He said, ineloquently, shifting in his seat. “I’ve kind of been trying to get us talking. Did you seriously not notice?”
“No.” Diluc said quickly. “No. I didn’t.”
“Oh, right.” Ajax perked up a bit, reminding Diluc vaguely of a labrador puppy. “Well, now you know, so, um, are you interested?”
“Interested.” Diluc scrambled for words, finding none that could accurately portray the catastrophe-site that was his brain. “Interested. In you?”
“Yeah.” Ajax didn’t back down, leg bouncing, clearly nervous (or perhaps excited) and seeking an answer.
“I don’t-” Diluc started, and then paused, memories playing through his mind like a movie-reel, fast-paced, black and white. His hand between his legs, Ajax’s name on the tip of his tongue, the spearing of three fingers in and out and in and out -
“You’re blushing!” Ajax proclaimed, almost like a cheer. Diluc wanted to smack him over the back of the head and throw him out the fucking window. He was being laid bare once again; he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. If Ajax knew what he’d done… if Ajax knew he was lying…
“Are you… Are you gay?” Diluc asked, then, clearing his throat quickly and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He needed to know, first, because if Ajax said ‘yeah, I’m gay’, then Diluc would have to let him down gently. He couldn’t live up to those expectations - he didn’t have the right parts. He wasn’t right.
“Yeah, I’m gay.”
Fuck.
“I’m sorry.” He said, sounding totally empty, even to his own ears. “I can’t.”
“You can’t be interested in me?” Ajax tilted his head in confusion. “‘Can’t’ is very different to ‘am not’. Sounds like there’s something in the way.”
“Because there is.” Diluc hissed through his front teeth, those feelings of guilt and shame and misery and anguish sloshing around inside of him again, not helped by Ajax’s expression of loss and indifference.
“What is it?” He asked, sounding so genuine and concerned and desperate, it made Diluc feel sick; sicker than even his own body managed to.
“I thought you knew. You always know everything about everyone.” Diluc said, fingers curling into fists over his knees, nails (three cut short) snagging on the denim.
“I know things about people because they tell me.” Ajax said softly. “People tell me things, because I strike up a conversation, and I like to have a lot of friends. You’re the only one I’ve been… less confident with. Because I’m interested in you.”
All that staring, observing, scrutinising - he hadn’t been picking Diluc apart? He’d been wondering, curious, hopeful, trying to incite some connection between them? Fuck, did Diluc feel stupid! But, that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t live up to Ajax’s expectations. He was still a liar, and still couldn’t reciprocate.
“I can’t.” Diluc said again, though he choked up around the words. “I want to. I’m interested, Ajax, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“There really is something bothering you.” Ajax said, sounding a little more miserable, not even Diluc’s confession of mutuality quelling his tone, and Diluc felt a firm hand rest upon his shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin over his collarbone. No, no, no; Ajax would feel it, he would feel the thick hem of Diluc’s binder beneath his sweater, surely. “It’s alright.” He mumbled, and Diluc tripped over the gentle honey of his tone, so sure, so kind. “You don’t need to tell me. Like you said, we barely know each other. But, just know I’m… willing. More than willing. I’d love to get to know you, if whatever is in the way ever… goes away.”
It would never go away.
Diluc felt his heart break, snapped clean in two in the kitchen-diner of Ajax’s flat, and he sucked in a haggard breath, feeling, for the first time in months, the hot prickle of tears, threatening to overflow. Yes, he cried, but it was always in the safe darkness of his bedroom, muffled into his pillow, where no-one could hear. Never in public, never in front of people, never in front of someone who’d just declared their feelings to him. This was pathetic - he shouldn’t be crying; it wasn’t Ajax’s fault. Like he said, he didn’t know, because Diluc didn’t tell him.
But the dam wall had cracked, broken open by Ajax’s words, and Diluc saw the splashes on his legs, grey fabric turned black, and realised too late that his tears weren’t stopping.
“Hey, hey,” Ajax cooed, nudging his chair closer to Diluc, hand rubbing more firmly into the junction between his shoulder and neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re okay, I’m here.” He shushed him, other hand coming up to swipe away the rivulets of tears, sure and steady, so unlike Diluc’s trembling form, slouched over into his own lap, breaths barely coming in through the tightness of his throat.
It would never go away, oh God.
“I can’t.” He said through shaking breaths. “Because you- you’re gay.”
Ajax’s hand paused.
“And you’re a guy…so?” Ajax said, sounding uncertain, now that Diluc had put him on the spot.
“No, no- I’m-” he pressed his face into his palms, elbows digging into his thighs painfully. “I’m not really. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The guilt was neverending - he felt like a conman, like he’d tricked Ajax somehow, but he couldn’t put that feeling into words. It was too raw, too honest.
“What do you mean, Diluc?” Ajax whispered, cupping his face, drawing him upwards to meet his eyes, brimming with concern and confusion. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, I promise I just wanted to express how I felt. I didn’t mean to cause this-”
“You didn’t.” Diluc choked out, closing his eyes, so he didn’t have to see Ajax’s expression. He couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear the drop of disappointment he knew was about to come. “You didn’t. It’s me. It’s my fault. I have a girl’s body. I’m sorry. I’m sorry-”
As he readied himself for the inevitable, Diluc felt something, a sensation, soft warmth against his temple, bangs pushed back by slender fingers, and opened his eyes, blurry from tears, to see Ajax’s jaw in front of his face.
Oh. He was kissing his forehead.
That was odd.
“Dude.” Ajax said, breath fanning out over Diluc’s hairline, making him swallow. “It’s okay. C’mere.” Then there were arms around him, calm and containing, and he went limp in the embrace, tucking his face into Ajax’s shoulder to hide his red-rimmed eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Diluc said again.
“What for?” Ajax breathed, exasperation lacing his tone, before he pulled back, face stern. Diluc felt the nerves rise in him again, acutely, but his frets were put to rest as Ajax continued to speak. “You don’t need to apologise for being. And you didn’t have to come out to me. I’m sorry if it felt like… if I forced you.” He clasped his hands together, something Diluc had deduced he did when he felt anxious. “I know we aren’t really friends. I know we’re only together for this project by chance. But I meant it. I’m interested in you. That hasn’t changed.”
Diluc’s shoulders sagged.
“But I’m not… made right.”
“Who’s planted that in your head?” Ajax grumbled. “Being gay means I’m into men. You’re in that category, Diluc. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”
He made it sound so simple. Diluc didn’t know what he was supposed to say. His entire view of himself couldn’t be shifted by something as meaningless, as tiny, as one person saying he was a man, but there was a spark in his chest, small, but bright, white light like the sun, a speck of hope, like a newborn star, that maybe, maybe, he didn’t have to do everything alone.
“Okay.” He said, throat raw.
Ajax smiled, and stood up.
“Let me make us some hot chocolate. What say we skip the studying and watch a movie? Totoro?”
“That sounds good.” He rasped, a watery smile finally finding its way onto his face as Ajax blinked at him like a cat, eyes creased in the corners, lips turned upwards. He left for the kitchen, giving Diluc time to collect himself.
He breathed in deeply, scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeves, and closed his laptop firmly. Ajax was right. No more work could be done today.
He’d listen to him. He’d sit with him and watch a movie and drink cocoa. Then, he’d think about what Ajax had said, what he had offered, and make a decision. He could do that much, at least.