Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mazey’s room reminds Fabian of comfort. It’s cheesy, head over heels in its corniness. The room is a light yellow, Mazey insists on having a wildflower candle on because it smells nice, and it smells like running through a field of wheat. Like endless summers residing in her room, it’s warm, it’s comforting, he sees why she dances, the spotlight entrances itself to follow in her steps. He’s lying on her bed as she fumbles through her closet, pulling out old clothes for him to either keep, discard, or donate. It’s domestic in its simplicity, something old married people would do, not Maximum Legend romance. Yet, with her, Fabian doesn’t have to be anyone. He’s just Fabian, a half-elf who happens to fit into his girlfriend's old clothes, who also insists on giving him some badidas or fantasy nikes outfits. They share similar outfits, aesthetic yet also comfortable, important for any sudden dance competition.

“Hey-found this!” She holds up a black blouse. It’s something Fabian would find Adaine to wear, if she wore black. It’s frilly, intricate ruffles at the collar and sleeves, matching colored floral design across the sleeves.”It's like, pirate-flowery core.”

“You wear nothing like that.”

“Pfft-duh, it’s when I first started transitioning. I just wanted something really feminine.” Mazey explains with a small smile,”I think I have a matching maxi with it.”

Mazey hands him the blouse as she checks her pants section of her closet, rummaging through old outfits. Fabian looks at the blouse, it is gorgeous. He’s always been appreciative of well designed attire, and it doesn’t look cheaply made either. He’s always enjoyed outfits, even when he tried being peak masculine wearing only sweats and a varsity jacket, he hid a closet full of well designed outerwear and high expense pants. It truly wasn’t until sophomore year when he realized he gained no benefit from mimicking toxic masculine standards to convince the world he was a man when he’ll always be one, even if he wore gold necklaces or got extensions. If anything, embracing the features he denied himself of possessing gave him true self confidence. He wasn’t portraying what it meant to be a man, he was one, and no one could deny him that.

“Would you mind if I try this on??” Fabian calls from where he's sitting. Mazey snorts, her grin growing a bit,” of course! I did say you could try or take whatever you wanted.”

Fabian smiles back at her, his heart beats against his chest,” you gotta visit my room so I can give you my own clothes.”

And Mandy laughs, and it feels like sunshine. “One day, though, I got bigger biceps.”

Fabian dramatically gasps as he begins to put on the black blouse. It’s incredibly soft, probably made from georgette or cotton, sleeves bellowing at his wrists. He shakes his arm a bit, watching the oversized fabric sway. Fabian grins, and Mazey turns back to look,”oh you look so pretty in that.”

He beams, feeling his face get hot as he playfully rolls his eye,” I look great in everything actually.”

A shirt gets thrown at his face, and he laughs. It’s a bit, when he’s readjusting his locs in the mirror, he realizes that a year ago, anything feminine or even being called pretty would’ve made him self conscious for weeks. He decided to make his identity his sophomore year, when confronted with what it meant to take his father’s last name. Fabian wanted nothing more than to be his papa’s darling son, to prove that the body he was born with was simply another thing he had to conquer. It takes him a stupidly long time to understand that plundering doesn’t work when your body isn’t just the physical skin he can grasp. It’s not just the fat and muscle he builds or removes, it’s the heart that beats in his chest, his laugh, his friends who motivate his being. He’s a whole, an entity, and sometimes he likes getting extensions or riding his bike at night. Fabian is Maximum Legend, yet he’s also just some guy who fumbles with his girlfriend.

“You’re staring at yourself,” Mazey jokes, sitting beside him,” you’re going to become the next narcissus if you keep staring.”

Fabian gently punched her on the shoulder,” you should’ve seen me beginning of junior year- actually no you’re not learning about that-“

“No-No you have to explain!!”

“My dignity!!”

Mazeu laughs,”fuck your dignity did you fall in love with a mirror?!”

Fabian must really be down bad, because he admits about Ecaf, and Mazey laughs so hard she’s crying. He’s also crying, just from her laughter he has to steady himself by holding onto her shoulder as they both laugh into each other, holding each other as words become unintelligible. He admitted other things, trying to attempt a trick before immediately getting run over by the Hangvan, of how he fumbled every interaction he’s had with a crush including first meeting her, yet she still somehow found charm in their interaction. They’re hugging in the worst way, yet it’s the most comfortable Fabian’s felt holding someone. He’s not a touchy person, never had someone hold him other than Cathilda, but Mazey-he realizes he’s truly head over heels because laughing with her feels like a genuine connection.

He knows he’s close with the Bad Kids, literally been to hell with him. Maybe it’s love, maybe it’s being trans and in love, but Fabian doesn’t want to stop feeling alive without her light. And he realizes he truly, utterly, accepts himself and how cringe he is with her, and it’s the most blessed feeling in the world. He doesn’t have to repress himself, to act, he’s just Fabian, and he
wonders-he hopes Mazey feels the same as he does.

They have to physically push away from the other to calm down, to return back to reality, to a messy closet and clothes scattered on the floor.

“Of all the things you and your friends dealt with,”Mazey says with a chuckle.”Even just you!!”

Fabian shrugs,” ain’t it wild that hrt is easier to get than figuring out the school had two fucked up teachers??”

“Literally getting my name changed was easier than being vice principal.”

“What was it like?” Fabian asks, their laughter falling back to a quiet serenity.”I mean- for you at least, to transition.”

Mazey hums, tilting her head at the question. “It was interesting. You’ve met my dads, incredibly supportive through my transition.”

Fabian nods, and Mazey continues,” I mean, in terms of actually beginning to transition and figuring it out?? It was tough, I thought everybody had a thought about wanting to be a girl. I thought I was just jealous because the girls in my ballet class got to wear tutus and I got tights. Then, when I wore my first tutu, I absolutely hated it. I thought I was just weird.”

“What changed?” Fabian asks, moving a bit closer so their shoulders touch. “I was just performing what I thought meant to be women when I just was one, I knew being called a man and he him pronouns wasn’t right, but the comfort I took in being seen as a women couldn’t have been legitimate if I wasn’t proving it though being feminine, and that sucked! I like wearing sweatpants and baggy clothes, it’s comfy!”

She turns to gently tug at the black blouse he was wearing,” like, I bought that outfit with one of my first paychecks because I thought it was gorgeous, and it is! It is on you, but I would’ve rather gotten the new fantasy jordans than a costume. I’m confident in who I am just as I am in dance, and I think that’s enough validation.”

“Have I ever told you how cool you are?”

She laughs, eyes crinkling, gently patting his shoulder in jest,” you’re horrible.”

Fabian chuckles lightly as their laughter falls back into serenity. She does eventually find that maxi, it's gorgeous in its detailing. It doesn't quite fit Fabian, Mazey is taller, but he adores it regardless. They finish packing the last of the donation box as pink sunset scatters through cumulus clouds. Mazey looks at Fabian, in expensive attire that she bought with her first paycheck, and her casual sweats and cropped shirt and the dichotomy of it is a bit silly. She doesn't care for appearance, not the way Fabian used to perform it. Mazey knows who she is, an up and coming dancer who could sweep the floor with anybody, and knows she doesn’t owe anyone a thing. Her joy, the thing that moves her, is dance, it’s the rhythm, the closest she can get to feeling the waves of the Earth underneath her feet. It’s corny, but she really is happy to be here at the moment.

“Hey,” Mazey calls, standing to her hooves.”Do you wanna get Basrar’s?”

Fabian stares up at her from his crystal,”uh, yeah always. Any reason?”

She shrugs,”why not, you spent all day in my room, I should treat you-and I'm paying.”

Fabian goes to retort, but a stare from Mazey just makes him sigh and accept. He can always pay her back later, plus getting to hang out with his girlfriend in an over dramatic outfit at an ice cream diner is not a thing he would deny himself. Even at a gas station, Fabian has to be the best dressed. They debate a moment about if Fabian should keep on the fantasy Jordan’s, but Fabian decides he wants to go more femme. He borrows her boots, and thankfully it fits. Mazey just stays as casual, but elevated, baggy bags and a crew neck, and Fabian really fits her beautiful in it.

“You know, you should really let me give you extensions or different braids,” Mazey says as they head out the door.

Fabian makes a gesture of running his hand over his locs,”yeah?”

She nods, then widely grins,”your face shape, I think long locs or twists would be really fitting. Or maybe even like butterfly braids or something really short.”

He trips over his boots, letting out a yelp as he catches himself that makes Mazey chuckles,” can you still ride maximum legend??”

“Uh,”Fabian looks at his outfit,”probably not?”

Mazey snickers as she swings her keys, unlocking her small car and the two get in. They make small talk over some blue music she has on her radio, the sky now a dark indigo that barely reflects off the black outfit the pair decided to match in. There’s little traffic, and as the two enter the most they can think of is the comfort they feel. In their outfit, in their presences, the fluorescent lights and twinge of sweetness in the air. It’s comfort, is all they think as they share a split sundae.