Bottles

Content Warning: Poor Mental Health

“Hey, what’s the matter?” I sat down on the plastic-covered sofa next to my boyfriend. He didn’t look too happy to see me. I’d never been to one of his corporate parties before, but I didn’t expect him to be this grouchy during them. Raayan loved his job.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m all good.”

He plastered a smile on his face, and that’s when I clocked his bad mood as discomfort. Something was bothering him.

“Your presentation went really well.” I put my hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze. “Your coworkers seem to like you—they were hanging onto every word.”

“Mm.”

The smile had already faded. I pouted a little, and massaged his neck near the base of his skull, wishing I could read his mind with my fingertips. I played with the curly dark tuft of hair beside his ear, twirling it in circles because I knew it calmed him down.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” I asked.

“Like I said, it’s nothing.”

“Oh, come on, Raayan. I know you better than that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Have the nerves not died down yet?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Annu.”

All at once, my energy faded. Raayan had remarkable control of his temper. He could be irritable occasionally, but the snippiness never lasted. Unless he was on his period. Then he could be really mean. Was that the issue? He hadn’t had a period in years… though it couldn’t hurt to ask.

He grimaced as the words left my lips. “You can tell?”

“Why didn’t you say anything? I would have picked up more ibuprofen.”

He squirmed like he had just spotted a spider on his body. 

“Do you need some now?” I asked.

“What?”

“Ibuprofen. Should I run across the street and buy some?”

“No. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? You’re normally incapacitated without a couple Advils. I mean, it has been nearly a year since the last time you had your period, but—”

“Please stop saying that word,” he whispered.

I nodded. “Dysphoria, huh?”

His entire body tensed, and his arms jerked up to cover his mouth. He kept them there as he ran to the nearest trash can. I didn’t do well with puke, so I watched him vomit from a distance, then joined him once he stopped heaving. 

I lightly rubbed his back, trying to calm his breathing. “Are the cramps really that bad?”

With one hand pressed over his lips and the other holding his stomach, he sank to his knees. I sank with him as my concern rose.

“Raayan?”

He clawed at the middle of his chest, scrunching up his dress shirt. His face scrunched up, too, and soon the sobs were escaping.

“Raay, what’s happening? Are you okay? Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“No,” he wheezed. “No, no, no, no…”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me. This wasn’t like Raayan at all. None of this was.

The clack of heels got my attention. A woman passed by the hallway, but stopped at the sight of the poor man still gasping for breath. I asked her if she could find us a cup of water somewhere, and she scurried off with a panicked look on her face.

“Please stop,” Raayan said. “Stop getting everyone involved.”

“It was just one person, Raay. And I didn’t tell her why.”

His distress was highlighted by angular brows and a thin lip. Anger. Like that one time he’d stepped on a thumb tack that fell out of his briefcase in the dining room.

“I think we should go home,” I said. “You don’t look well.”

His knuckles shook against his knees as he clutched his fists so tight I thought his palms would burst open. I was too scared to comfort him with touch, convinced his skin would burn me like the flames engulfing his pupils. 

“I stopped it,” he said. “I stopped T.”

 “You stopped taking testosterone?”

He made a whiny noise of agreement. Ah, so that explained why the tiny bottles suddenly stopped collecting on his nightstand.

Raayan took a long breath. “My liver’s struggling. Has been for a while. Dr. G drafted a treatment plan, says I should be fine, but I can’t handle the hormones anymore.”

After a few more minutes of silence, Raayan’s skin finally looked cool enough to touch again. I rubbed his arm, then clasped his hand so he had something to hold other than his pain.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” I said with a huff.

“Didn’t really want to talk about it.”

I exhaled slowly. “How long have you been off of it?”

“A few months. It wasn’t so bad at first but now I feel like I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked for… like I’m going to revert back into what I hated.”

“You know you won’t, right? That’s not how HRT works.”

“I know. But it’s all symbolic, isn’t it? I’ve never felt right in this body, and now it’s rejecting the thing that’s supposed to change that. It’s like the universe is telling me I don’t belong inside it.”

“My god, Raayan.”

I pulled him in against my chest, and he crumpled into my lap. He didn’t start crying again, but after minutes of complete silence, I sort of wished he would. I could feel how numb he was through the embrace, and I didn’t know how to fix it. This wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t fix it.

“I wish I could do something for you,” I said.

“I don’t think you can, Annu.”

I shook my head. It really wasn’t fair.

“Can we go home now?” he asked.

I gave him one more squeeze before he sat up. He removed his tie, and I fixed his collar for him. He gathered his stuff from the couch, and with his hand still in mine, we headed downstairs. His gloomy mood still lingered, coating my heart with a heavy smog. This cloud wasn’t something I could hold for him, but it was better off roaming the air between us than bottled up.