Two Doms - Ch. 24 (Part 1)

To read the first 23 chapters,  check out my ScribbleHub.

Hey babes, I figured it was about time I post some Two Doms content, just to show I'm not a total flake. Here's the first scene of the new chapter I'm working on.

CWs: Mild dysphoria, swear words :'(

Length: 1200 words 

This was a mistake. Oh god. No, no, no.

Nick pounded on the bathroom door, “Come on, dude! I need to take a shit!”

“Just a second !” I yelled. Nick groaned and stomped away. I looked back in the mirror with utter dread. 

Today was my first time displaying my art in public, and I wanted to do something special to celebrate. But this was a huge mistake. 

I was wearing makeup. 

And I looked awful.

I didn't know what I had done wrong! I had followed the tutorials exactly. I had bought all the exact makeup brands they recommended, even some stuff I had to order online cause the mall’s selection was so limited. And it wasn't like I was going for some crazy dramatic glam look! I had deliberately opted for a subtle, understated look, some gentle contouring which I had blended in perfectly, a soft tinted lipgloss, light mascara instead of false lashes. I was being sensible! Even if big lashes would've looked great on me! My one concession to drama was adding a delicate wing to my eyeliner, which I had applied precisely using the steady hand I had developed during my painting.

But it was all too much.

You could still tell I was wearing makeup, was the thing. You could tell I was trying, that I desperately wanted to look pretty. And, okay, I did, kind of! But I didn't look pretty the way the girl in the video looked pretty. I looked like a pretty boy. Which should’ve been fine! I mean, I almost definitely was a boy. It’s just… makeup was one of the things that was supposed to make a difference. 

Nobody could see me like this. 

Nick pounded on the door again. I whipped it open and glared at him. 

“That wasn't five fucking minutes!” I said.

“It’s already on its way out, dude!” said Nick. He shouldered me out of the way.

“Ew!” I gasped, “TMI Nick! Ew!”

He slammed the door behind him. I clasped my hands to my ears and yelled out, “Turn on the fan at least!”

“No shit!” said Nick. I could still hear him through the closed door and my covered ears, “Also you never even said five minutes! You said just a second!”

I groaned, “Obviously I didn't mean a literal second! It's, like, commonly understood that the standard amount of extra time is five minutes!”

“What the fuck? No it's not!”

“It's the social contract!” I said. Nick didn't reply. I cautiously removed my hands from my ears, and heard a relieved sigh and a splash, “Ew! Nick!”

“Give me some fucking personal space, okay!”

“Ugh,” I retreated to the couch and flopped down in a huff. By this point I was familiar enough with all the lumps and bumps to avoid bruising my tailbone again.

I wanted to take my makeup off and try again. Or maybe not even try again. Maybe I wouldn't even go to the showing. Maybe I was stupid for ever coming to this stupid school in the first place. Maybe I should just go back home and be a stupid straight guy like my father wanted in the first place. 

Unfortunately the choice was out of my hands right now. My makeup wipes were still in the bathroom. I wrinkled my nose. Ew. Did I even want to go back in there right now?

I curled up into a ball on the couch and moped. Stupid Nick. Everything in my life was his fault.

Nick finally finished up in the bathroom and opened the door.

“Hey, can you clean up your makeup stuff?” he said. 

“I was going to, obviously,” I scowled, “But I wasn't actually finished yet, obviously.”

“How is that obvious?” he said.

“Because I look fucking stupid right now,” I whined.

“Oh my god,” said Nick, “Not this shit again. You’re worse than Anika, and she's fourteen.”

“Hey!” I uncurled from my mope ball and glared at him, “Don't talk shit about Anika. She's cool.”

Nick rolled his eyes but didn't protest. Well, I was right. I had caught a few more Skype calls with Nick's family and Anika really was a lot cooler than her older brother. 

“Anyway, will you clean up?” Nick said, “Karl’s coming over soon, so.”

I groaned and hunched back into a ball. Nick had been spending more and more time with his irritating sprinter friend Karl recently, and it was really getting on my nerves. As well as being loud and obnoxious, Karl had this really smug, condescending way of talking to me. For some reason he really seemed to dislike me. Probably Nick poisoning him against me.

“No,” I pouted, “Tell Karl to go home. I'm gonna stay here on the couch. Maybe for the rest of my life.”

“What?” said Nick, “But you have your fucking art thing today! You've been talking about it for weeks!”

“Well I'm not going!” I whined.

Nick threw his arms up, “What the fuck? Is this because of the makeup?” 

I looked away, “No. It’s for more important reasons that you wouldn't get.”

“Fuck, Nick,” he said, “You wear dresses and skirts every day and now you're nervous about a little makeup?”

“I don't wear dresses and skirts outside!” I protested, “And you better not be telling people about that!”

“Yeah, somehow I manage to avoid discussing your fucking outfits in my spare time,” said Nick. He sighed, “Come on dude, They're all a bunch of dumbass hippy artists. You shouldn't give a shit what they think.”

I flushed red. The problem was, I was starting to feel like maybe I really did give a shit what they thought. Miel and Kermit and the rest of the studio people weren't dumbass hippy artists. They were cool hippy artists. And even though they had never said anything about the subtly feminine clothing I wore, I was worried that makeup would be pushing it too far. It was cool when they experimented with gender presentation, but maybe that was just because they were cool. I wasn't cool at all. I was just a pathetic little perv.

I didn't say anything, I just turned my head away again. 

Nick groaned, “For fuck’s sake. Look at me,” he snapped his fingers in my face, “Hey. Nick. Look at me.”

I scowled and looked up at him. He leaned forward, craning way down to study my face. I waited cautiously, unsure what he was doing.

He nodded firmly, “Yep. Looks good. You look real pretty or whatever. Come on, let's go.”

He grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. I squealed, “Nick! What the fuck!”

“Come on!” he said brusquely, “Grab your shit. We’re going to your art thing.”

“Ow! No!” I said, “Just… okay, I'll go. It's fine. You stay here and play with your stupid friend.”

“Nice try,” said Nick, “You're gonna run off and hide in the library or something. Nah, I'm walking you there.”

I blushed. That was pretty much what I had been intending to do. Nick dug his phone out of the pocket of his old grey hoodie and fired off a text.

“There,” he said, “I told Karl to gimme a half hour. Look, Nick. I know you’re nervous, and I know you don’t really like talking about this stuff. But trust me, you look completely fine right now. You look great, actually. And I get that it’s a fucking, like, artistic statement or whatever. But I see how much happier you are when you dress up and shit. And fuck, dude, if nothing else, it makes my life easier when you’re not in a shitty mood. So just suck it up, okay? Let’s go to the art thing, cause I know you’ve been looking forward to it, and if anyone gives you shit about wearing makeup…”

“You’ll beat them up?” I said quietly.

“I was gonna say we rat on them to Lucy or something,” Nick shrugged, “But yeah, fuck it. I’ll beat them up.”

I smirked to myself. I would never condone violence, of course, but the idea of using Nick as my personal enforced did sound pretty appealing. I bit my lip in quiet contemplation. 

“Come the fuck on!” said Nick, “Let's fucking go!”

Oh, those two crazy cis boys. What will they get up to next?

A lot of the earlier 2D chapters were single scenes like this of about 1K words, but recently I've been trying to commit to longer chapters (5K+) with a more satisfying narrative arc. I write chronologically so I could keep posting chapters scene by scene like this, or I could wait a bit longer and post the whole chapter when it's complete. What would you prefer?