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Dain waits until the right time. He needs this to be perfect. It glances at Doom, making sure the man is comfortable, and relaxed as he can be. Good.
Dain does not take a breath to calm down, it does not need to. He carefully does not tremor as it sits down next to Doom and says, “Doom?”
“Yes?” Doom continues to look at the book he is reading as he speaks, but Dain can tell his focus is on him. Dain makes certain his voice is level as he asks:
“How would you feel if I went by ‘it?’”
Doom stiffens, and Dain can see the hands on the book tighten ever so slightly. He puts the book on the table very slowly and turns to Dain, movements far too deliberate to be calm, and all but hisses, “Has anyone been calling you that?”
Dain shakes its head in a rush, not mentioning that people have, and that is what caused this, “No, no- I mean, if I were to call myself it, what would you think?”
Doom stares at Dain for several minutes, and Dain meets his stare. Dain is no longer a crying, weeping child, or dedicated, proud- hollow- slave, desperate not to be thrown away.
“Dain…” Doom begins, and all Dain can think is Oh. Oh, no, as Doom starts to use his ‘For delicate, traumatised, survivors’ voice- while most people would not notice a difference, Dain has lived with Doom for a while and is more observant than most, “I know you are still getting used to… not being a tool, but I do care for you-“
Doom sounds as if he is killing himself speaking in such a way, so Dain hurries to reassure him, “I know you care, I never doubted that, but this has nothing to do with me seeing myself as an object.”
Doom untenses slightly, “You are certain?”
“Yes, completely,” Dain lies. He does not actually know if this is a carryover from that- but always using ‘he’ is restrictive, “It has to do with… I do not think I am a boy.”
Doom stares.
“And I am even less so a woman,” Dain adds, just to be certain.
Doom shifts for a moment, “Why not use ‘they?’”
Dain freezes for half a second.
“I also wish to go by ‘they.’” Dain declares, straightening themself.
Doom gives him a glance over, “They and it?”
“And he,” Dain adds with haste, “I just… there’s nothing wrong with ‘he,’ it is just that everyone uses it for me, and, well… it feels rather… restricting.” It feels like my lie. He does not add. To constantly go by that would only push it closer to before- to the the way it had separated ‘Dain’ from it’s true nature for so long.
Dain does not need that distance anymore.
Doom hesitates for a few moments before nodding, “If it would make you comfortable, then… Yes, I am fine with it. I do not control your choices, Dain. Just… let me know if you feel uncomfortable the moment it happens, understood? I do not wish for you to feel like you need to be something else for my sake.”
Dain nods, but it knows Doom is lying- to an extent. They do not doubt Doom would want to know when Dain is uncomfortable, but Doom is human, and has spent most of his life killing Ols on sight- because otherwise they would have killed him, Dain knows and understands. It knows if he were to change form in front of Doom, it would terrify him. Doom is not anywhere near ‘fine with it.’
Still, it nods, because he knows what Doom means, and he understands.