Oh… [ Will takes the hand offered and squeezes it. A couple of the tears he’s been trying to hold in escape and his shoulders leave their tense position up by his chin. He manages a shaky exhale even though he can’t look Gregor in the face. ] No that’s exactly what it’s like. I’ve never met anyone who has it too, or gets it.

[ Some of the weight on his chest leaves. He feels less guilty for all the times he’s hidden in bed trying to stop feeling like he doesn’t fit his own skin anymore.

Maybe it will be okay. Maybe. ]

So I guess what it’s trying to make me share starts with getting kidnapped to a hell dimension when I was twelve. I only remember bits of it, but I know I died and I don’t know how I came back from it other than really messed up.

Or it starts when I was a kid and my dad hated me because I wasn’t the perfect sports playing, tough and manly kid and he used to constantly call me queer for… basically anything he didn’t like and it was a really small town so when people heard they believed it so I’ve spent my whole life seeing it as this thing that I can’t be, that needs to be stopped, that I deserve to be made to feel terrible about. [ He has to stop there to try and swallow the lump in his throat and push out the memories it dredges up. ]

Sorry, I never talk about this.