Archive of Our Own ^beta

I really needed to learn to drink less alcohol in social settings. Or more. One of these two.
I never really had a problem with hangovers. I never got headaches from alcohol, probably because I drank tons of water in between shots. At least one thing drunk Imogen got right.
But who needed hangovers when instead you could lie in bed the next morning, slowly remembering every embarrassing detail of the disaster that had been last night. Maybe next time I should get so wasted that I at least wouldn’t remember everything, but somehow I never managed to do that.

I wasn’t sure why exactly I had thought joining a feminist book club had been a good idea in the first place. I didn’t even like reading that much. Which was probably weird for someone set out to become a professional translator. But when had my life choices ever made sense?

Life wasn’t... Well. It wasn’t bad. But it also wasn’t really what I had expected it to be. I had moved in back with my parents after graduating. I guess, theoretically I could have supported myself financially but it seemed more sensible to save up a little, since I was working from home anyway and could have lived anywhere in the country. It was sensible, yes. It was also a bit dull.

As it turned out, making friends as an adult was so hard! I knew almost no-one back in Kent. And so, queer feminist book club had at least sounded like a place some young people might hang out. Though I wasn’t sure they even wanted me in the book club anymore, now that I had spent half of the informal get-together drunkenly monologuing about acknowledging my privilege as a cishet white woman and the importance of listening to voices other than my own. (Unless they appreciated to irony of it of course.)
It probably didn’t matter. If I was honest with myself it wasn’t like this had finally been the group of people I instantly clicked with. They had all been very nice. I mean, it is kind of in the nature of these kinds of events that everyone is welcoming. Maybe that was my problem. Obviously I always tried to be nice myself, but for some reason I found banter more reassuring than polite questions about why I decided to study French. At least that question had come up early enough in the evening for me to still be sober enough not to tell them the real answer to that question – that the reason I got so invested in French back in school was because of a crush on a boy.

Speaking of that boy…

I groaned, peeling myself out of my bed. It would have been a good day to just stay in bed forever, feeling sorry for myself. But I had a party to attend tonight.

Nick Nelson and Charlie Spring.

They really had made it. Their engagement party tonight seemed to be a bigger event and for some reason Nick had invited me as well, although we barely kept in touch these days. Maybe just because the last time he wished me a happy birthday, I had mentioned being back in Kent.
I tried not to think too much about how the whole thing made me feel. Of course I was happy for them. And also kind of curious what their lives were like, which was the main reason I had agreed to come. I knew that I would probably feel out of place and a little envious. And then I would probably drink too much again and make a fool of myself. But I figured as long as I managed to not come onto Nick it would be marginally better than our school days. If I was really honest with myself I also wanted to go because I actually missed our school days a little.

At uni I’d had people I hung out with. My housemates, people from my classes, boys I dated. It had been… nice. The whole uni experience, I guess. Weirdly, I still sometimes felt nostalgic for my Truham days. Even though I couldn’t say I missed anyone specifically. I mean, I think it is virtually impossible to miss Harry Greene. And I couldn’t exactly look back and pretend that the rugby lads had treated me great. Being subtly misogynist had basically been a requirement to hang out with them. It had been a little better the year me and Otis dated for a bit – at least that gave me a ‘valid’ reason to hang out with them, and I wasn’t accused of either pining for Nick or friend-zoning anyone else anymore.
And yet… I just missed hanging out with them sometimes. I felt like I should have enjoyed wine nights with my female uni housemates more than the banter around the Truham picnic tables (which often turned from banter into just insults, especially if Harry was around). But something about it had felt relaxed in a way that other friendships never did.

I spent most of the day (or what was left of it after getting up at noon) preparing for the evening. I didn’t have a lot to prepare but somehow everything took longer than it was supposed to. I wasted a lot of time sitting over the card I had got them, wondering what to write. I felt the need to write at least one line that was a bit more personal than ‘Congratulations!’.
After my cousin had got married she had said that there’s a special place in hell for the people who ignore the carefully curated wishlist of the couple, in favour of getting them something ‘more personal’ they didn’t actually want. So I had got them a fancy waffle maker from their wishlist, which was simple but made me feel even more like the card should have something in it that said it was from me and not some aunt. I settled for some vague sentences about being happy to see how far they’d come. Not very original, but making jokes about how me asking Nick out had almost derailed their romance felt too much like I was trying to pretend we were closer friends than we actually were.

After that was done, the next hurdle was getting dressed and ready to go. At some point, Clothes had just become difficult. It had been different in school. Back then I had been content just going with what was ‘in’ at the moment. I had known how to dress in a way that got me compliments from other girls and, if I wanted it, attention from boys. Of course the school uniform had helped as well, even if I didn’t particularly like it.
Nowadays I just didn’t know anymore. There seemed to be too many possibilities and even when I wore something that I felt objectively attractive in, I felt no enthusiasm for it.

I envied people who had their own style. The ones you just looked at and everything about them seemed to just… make sense. At the book club meeting there had been a non-binary person named Rayn who used he/she pronouns and honestly I couldn’t say I understood her identity. He hadn’t talked that much all night, especially not about himself, but you just had to look at her for a second to see that everything about him just… felt right. Like she was fully his own person. The kind of person who used clothes not as layers to hide what’s beneath, but as a means to express it.

Charlie Spring seemed to have grown into one of those people as well, judging from the insta pictures I sometimes saw of him. Radiating this air of someone who knew who he was and how he wanted to carry that into the world. Nick, on the other hand, still seemed to choose his clothes based on what was most comfortable to wear. It worked for him but it was a bit of shame. Which I shouldn’t have been thinking, of course. I knew that judging other people’s clothes was a bad thing. It was literally none of my business what kind of clothes Nick wore. Maybe I was just a bit envious. He looked so good in shirts. If I’d been a guy I would have worn shirts all the time. Hell, even as a woman I would have worn shirts but it just didn’t work with my cup size. And for some reason, wearing a blouse just wasn’t the same.

Rayn from the book club also had a tattoo, a trail of small black-and-white leaves leading up his wrist, which looked so cool on her. Maybe I was a bit biased though, because I loved tattoos and I envied people who managed to settle on an image. I wanted something like that. Something that felt so me that I could have it imprinted on my skin forever.

After what had already been ages, I finally settled on the dress I felt less weird in. I just had to hope that I didn’t stand out too much tonight. It didn’t help that I wasn’t really sure what to expect from a gay engagement party. I had mostly stayed away from queer spaces in uni. Not because I wasn’t interested but I felt like an intruder, to be honest. Whenever I watched the gay romance scenes in ‘Please like me‘ it made me... I don’t know, feel things. I didn’t really know what kind of things, but what I did know was, that I didn’t want to be another straight woman fetishising gay men.
And I was definitely straight. Obviously, I sometimes thought women were beautiful as well. And non-binary people. Although, to be honest, I hadn’t met a lot of non-binary people. Rayn was definitely a beautiful person. Like, I guess I could sort of be aesthetically attracted to people of various genders. And it wasn’t like I would have had a problem with kissing Rayn in like, a game of truth or dare for example. It just... it wasn’t the same connection I felt towards men. It wasn’t the same feeling of wanting to belong.

When I got to the venue of the party, most people were already there. I was glad to run into Nick and Charlie almost immediately. They were standing with a group of their friends I didn’t know and both looked extremely happy. At least Charlie was also already a bit tipsy, hugging me with more enthusiasm than I had expected, when I went over to congratulate them.
Nick just laughed, before also hugging me and thanking me for coming. He told me where I could find the bar and the table for the presents. Before there could be an awkward moment where I stood around their group without being part of it, I made for the present table, glad that it was a little separated and gave me a moment to gather myself.
An unbearably cute photo of Nick and Charlie with their dog was placed in the middle of the table and I pretended to look at it to delay the moment when I finally had to mingle. It was hard to admit but I still felt a pang of envy looking at it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want them to be together or that I wasn’t happy for them. It was just… honestly, I had no idea what it was. I would admit that it took me an embarrassing amount of time to get over Nick. Really get over him. Even when him and Charlie were already a couple, there was still this tiny part of me that said that people didn’t stay with someone they met at school and that maybe I’d have a chance with Nick at some point. (Somehow it didn’t occur to me that by this reasoning Nick wouldn’t stay with me either. Because apparently that’s how my brain works.)
I never would have told anyone, of course. Nick and Charlie were always… Nick and Charlie. I’m sure there is also a special place in hell for people who’d want to break up these two. I don’t believe in soulmates (I know, I know, if people knew that, I’d get my AO3 membership revoked) but Nick and Charlie were the one couple that might have convinced me otherwise.
Still, I couldn’t really look at them without also feeling… sad? Or envious? Or maybe lonely? But in a way other couples just didn’t make me feel. Even now, years later, when I was really, really over Nick in every way.

Once I figured I had stared at their photo too long already, I turned and decided I needed a drink. Unfortunately I was stopped by Nick himself.

“Hey,” he said with a smile.

“Hey, I was just…” I waved my hand at the table, feeling caught off guard. “That’s a really cute photo.”

I’d had perfected my fake cheerfulness for years now but tonight for some reason I couldn’t keep up the mask. Even to my own ears it sounded almost like I was trying to cover up that I was one second away from starting to cry. Which… honestly, just what was wrong with me today? Nick frowned at me.

“Oh yeah, that’s… one of our favourites. I guess that’s why we put it there.” He chuckled awkwardly. “I just came over to ask if you want me to introduce you to some of the other guests? You looked a bit lost.”

“Oh no! I’m fine! Just… nostalgic, you know...”

He was frowning again and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was sounding even more fake than before or because he was starting to wonder why he had invited me in the first place. What exactly was I supposed to be nostalgic about? That one time Nick and me hadn’t gone on a date?

“Are you sure?”

I looked at him and wanted to assure him and send him away but I couldn’t. Because right now, for reasons I couldn’t begin to fathom, I actually was on the verge of tears. Why did Nick always have to be so goddamn nice for fuck’s sake? And why did it remind me of the fact that once we had been friends and that even if we hadn’t been that close, I missed his friendship more than most things from my teenage years.

I scrambled for words, trying to explain any of it to Nick. “Do you remember that one time we met in the park? And you said something like… your real personality was buried inside you? I just… think about that sometimes lately. Like… we’re adults now and we’re supposed to have things figured out but some days I feel like I have no idea who I even am. Sorry, gosh, I have no idea why I’m like this today. Honestly, I’m just a bit hung over and sentimental.”

He didn’t look convinced but in that moment Charlie’s cheerful voice came from the next room.

“Nick! Nick, you have to come look at this!”

Nick hesitated for a moment but I finally, finally got a grip on my feelings again, and when I laughed at him this time, I was sure it sounded five percent fake at the most!

“Oh my god, go! It’s your engagement party! I’m really fine, I just need to get a drink!”

“Okay, I guess I need to get back to Charlie. But for the record, I do agree with you. Being an adult is hard. And I’m sure we can catch up later!”

I nodded with a smile, absolutely sure that Nick would be too busy for the rest of the night. But that was fine. I would break my resolution to not get drunk and once I had enough alcohol in my system I would find people to socialise with.

Slowly walking up to the bar, I let my gaze drift around the venue. It wasn’t that big. Nothing like Harry’s birthday parties for example. But there were still enough people to get lost in the crowd on the dancefloor if I needed to. (Who was I kidding, I would probably need to. I knew almost no-one here and especially no-one I was close to.)

“I hate this in-fighting about the bread crumbs of representation we get. You always run into the same problems. Make representation too specific and people will say they don’t actually feel represented. Make it too broad and people will claim it’s just stereotypes. If we could put the energy into fighting for more true representation overall, instead of trying to make what little we have perfect for everyone...”

I immediately froze. Shit. I knew that voice. I hadn’t heard it utter more than a few sentences before, but I would recognise that velvety timbre anywhere. Turning around, my suspicions were confirmed. Rayn was sitting at a nearby table, apparently deep in discussion with Elle of all people. They hadn’t noticed me yet, concentrated on their conversation.

“Oh my god, yes,” Elle agreed, “I don’t want a story about black trans lesbians instead of Young Royals. I want a story about black trans lesbians instead of the next fucking NCIS spin-off. And can we stop policing each other’s joy while we’re at it? Let queer people be happy when they have found something they feel represented by. Accept that maybe other queer people don’t like the same thing. It’s not that difficult.”

I felt heat rising to my cheeks just at the thought of what Rayn would think when he saw me. She probably didn’t expect to run into drunk-and-trying-too-hard-book-club-girl, or whatever her impression of me must have been.
Before I could decide if it was more awkward to walk over and say hello, or ignore them and act like I had somewhere else to be, Elle happened to look up. To my surprise, she smiled and waved at me. That was not really what I had expected, but whatever. I had always liked Elle. I hadn’t talked to her that much back in school but being around her had somehow been easy.

“Hi!” Elle said before turning to Rayn. “Rayn, this is Imogen. We went to school together.”

“Uh… hi. Yeah, me and Rayn have met, actually.” I was cringing internally at the memory. Good thing, I knew how to detach my facial expression from my feelings, so I managed to give Rayn a bright smile. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Oh, didn’t you know, queer people all know each other,” Rayn said drily.

I smiled politely, not entirely sure if, as an ally, I was supposed to laugh at jokes about stereotypes.

“You want to sit down and catch up a bit?” Elle suggested.

“Sure,” I said, although I really wasn’t sure at all if I wanted that. I had absolutely no idea what Rayn thought about me. Or Elle, for that matter. I mean, she had always been nice to me, but that might also have been that whole thing where multiply marginalised people are forced to learn to be nice to everyone in order to avoid facing aggression.

“So, what’ve you been up to?” Elle wanted to know, which launched us into the usual chit-chat of what we’d been doing since school and where we were living and how we were doing. Apparently Elle and Tao were also still a thing, although I couldn’t quite figure out what kind of thing and I didn’t really want to ask directly.

Rayn stayed quiet most of the time but I could feel her eyes on me. He seemed thoughtful, but his face didn’t give away what was going on in her mind. The conversation felt like it was about to fizzle out, when I heard another familiar voice calling out from behind me.

“Who is ready for a round of shots?”

Before anyone could answer, Darcy already placed a tray with four tequila shots on the table before us, a wide grin on their face.

“Sorry for the intrusion, you were looking like you were getting way more bored than you should be at a gay party.” Darcy was already handing a shot to Elle, who glanced in my direction, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Rayn, sunshine of our lives!” Darcy handed the next shot to Rayn. I wasn’t quite sure if they were being ironic, since Rayn seemed to be a lot of things – cool, well-spoken, thoughtful, smart – but ‘sunshine’ seemed to be stretching it, given his mostly very sober expression. But then, I had no idea what relationship these two had. Maybe it was an inside joke or maybe they were good friends or… something else. It made me again feel a hint of envy that I would never be this close to the people here.
A feeling that didn’t get better when Darcy finally really noticed me. They took the third shot, turning in my direction and I could see the moment they recognised me, stopping the motion of their arm half-way in my direction.

“Imogen,” they said, taken aback.

“Hi,” I replied, heart suddenly beating rapidly. Me and Darcy had never really been on good terms. Not on really bad terms either. It was more that we had barely ever talked after that one conversation about Tara and Nick where I had called them ‘some girl Tara had kissed’ in front of them. Speaking of Tara – I was sure I had seen her somewhere in the crowd. I wondered if Darcy and her were also still together, but I probably didn’t want to know the answer. Because if they were, I would honestly be questioning what all of Nick’s friends did right that I didn’t. But if they had broken up, how sad would that be?

“Sorry, I expected someone else. So… do you want a shot?”

I briefly hesitated, staring at the tiny glass in their hand. Should I get drunk in a group of people where I already felt like an outsider trying too hard not to stand out. That was probably a very bad idea. So obviously I took the shot.
We passed around the salt and once everyone was ready, Darcy held up their glass.

“Here’s to being queer!”

The other two nodded and smiled.

“And being an ally,” I added with an insecure chuckle.

I felt Rayn’s gaze on me, her eyebrows raised slightly and an amused look on her face. Shit, was I failing at being an ally again? I tried to drown my doubts in the tequila, but after biting the lemon, Rayn was still staring at me.

“So, you’re a true ally, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, pretty much. Why?”

I felt all three of them looking at me and tried to smile, even though I dreaded the answer to my question. Obviously I got that being an ally meant following the lead of the people who were actually marginalised but… in this moment it felt more like a set-up. Rayn bit his lip in thought, before shrugging.

“Just that yesterday you called yourself cishet three times in the span of a minute. In my experience people who call themselves cishet that adamantly often turn out to not actually be cishet.”

I frowned. Elle and Darcy had both gone quiet, curiously following our exchange. I still wasn’t entirely sure what Rayn was saying, if I was being honest. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on he knees.

“Look, I’m not… trying to tell you what to label yourself, obviously. Just wondering if you ever gave yourself the freedom to explore the idea that you could be queer. Even if you are cishet, you could still be ace for example.”

I almost laughed. Had I given myself the freedom to explore the idea that I might not be attracted to just men? Yes, after every single shitty break-up.

“Er, no. I’ve only ever really been attracted to men, I’m afraid. Sexually and romantically. It’s just… always been boys.”

The atmosphere around the table had changed by now. They were all looking at me like I had said something strange.

“Trans men can be gay,” Elle suggested.

“And non-binary people exist,” Darcy added with a shrug.

“What are you implying?” I wanted to know.

Darcy grinned. “What do you think we’re implying?”

“Okay but…” I looked from one to the other, wondering if I actually had to spell out the obvious. “I think I’d know if I was trans or non-binary, right?”

Elle smiled at me. “Not necessarily.”

“Comphet can really mess with your head,” Darcy added, shifting in their chair, so their legs were dangling over one of the arm rests. It didn’t look like it could possibly be comfortable but they seemed more relaxed than before.

I racked my brain, trying to figure out what Darcy meant. I’d always felt pretty confident that I knew most language surrounding queer topics but here I drew a blank.

“Comphet?” I asked tentatively.

“Compulsory heterosexuality,” Darcy explained, “The fancy term for ‘everyone is straight until proven otherwise’.”

“It sort-of means that society always assumes heterosexuality as a default,” Elle continued calmly, “And that this assumption makes it harder for people to figure themselves out. If you’re assigned female at birth and are attracted to men, everyone will just assume you’re a straight woman. And most people will never question that unless there’s a specific reason.”

I blinked at them, not sure what to say. They seemed serious. Like they really thought that even though I had been aware of trans issues for years now, I might suddenly realise I wasn’t a woman. Helplessly, my eyes wandered to Rayn, who had been silent since he had started this whole conversation. She was meeting my gaze, biting her lip again thoughtfully, before he finally spoke.

“Look at it this way: Don’t ask why you should be trans. Ask yourself why you think you’re a woman.”

I felt myself blush, surprised that Rayn seemed to care so much. Thoughts were bubbling up in my head, like ‘I’ve always liked make-up’ or ‘I watch a lot of romcoms’ but obviously I knew that that didn’t make me a woman. Then what did make me a woman?

“You did hang out with the Truham boys an awful lot,” Darcy pondered, “I always wondered why you preferred them to us.”

“What? I didn’t!”

Darcy raised their eyebrows at me.

“Okay, maybe I had a bit of a not-like-the-other-girls-phase back in school,” I relented.

Darcy huffed out a laugh. “So did I. But it surely never made me try to be friends with Harry.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was also friends with Nick, you know. And Sai and Otis and Christian… they weren’t all like Harry. They were just...”

Easier to be around than most of the Higgs girls, my brain supplied. But it felt wrong to say. I wasn’t supposed to dislike girls just for being girls.

“So you never thought it would be nicer to just be one of them?” Darcy pressed on.

I shrugged. “Maybe sometimes. But… like, isn’t that just internalised misogyny?”

“Not if you’re trans.”

Okay. Rayn had just gone ahead and said it. But it wasn’t like that should bother me, right? They were just showing me possibilities. It didn’t mean I wasn’t a woman. Or that they wanted me to be trans. I knew I could just end this conversation. I knew all I had to do, was say that I had just always known that I was a woman. I was absolutely sure that it would make them drop the topic and move on to something else. Then why couldn’t I?
I wasn’t trans. I had never declared that I was a boy when I was four years old. Or refused to wear the skirt from my school uniform. I had played with dolls and read fashion magazines and… okay, as a child I had known the lyrics of ‘I’ll make a man out of you’ from Mulan by heart, but that was just because that song was so damn catchy.

“You know, I could do with another drink.” Darcy jumped up from their seat. “Anyone else want anything?”

Elle declined but Rayn asked for a Gin Tonic. Of course he had good taste in drinks as well.

“Oh, I’ll take a Gin Tonic too,” I said, “With cucumber if they have it. I mean, I’d take one with lime, but I prefer cucumber.”

Darcy smirked at me. “So you do know what it’s like to be sure about something.”

Before I could make sense of their words, they were already gone to get our drinks.

“So, this not-like-the-other-girls-phase of yours,“ Rayn picked up the conversation, “Did you feel like you were better than the other girls for hanging around with the boys?”

I blushed once again under Rayn’s scrutinising eyes. “I guess a little? Obviously I don’t think like that anymore.”

Rayn shrugged nonchalantly. “There you have it then. If you feel a disconnect from womanhood, and you’re taking that and conclude that it’s because you’re somehow better than all the other women – that’s misogyny. If you’re taking it and decide that it’s because you’re just not a woman, that’s not misogynist. That’s just you expressing your identity. If that’s the reason you preferred hanging out with boys. That’s something only you can decide.”

“Okay, but I would like… experience gender dysphoria, right?”

I still felt pretty confused about why they would bring this topic up with me. Nothing about me really said ‘closeted trans person’ in my opinion. Elle and Rayn seemed to think differently though, as they exchanged a look that seemed to say, ‘We got her attention, how do we play this?’. Or maybe I was starting to see things that weren’t really there.

“Gender dysphoria is kind of a… difficult approach, actually,” Elle started to explain in her calm and kind voice, “It has a lot of problems and it’s deeply informed by survivorship bias. You know, in a world that makes it so hard to come out as trans, the people who do come out are often the ones who feel like they wouldn’t survive staying in the closet, because their gender dysphoria is that bad.
And then, gender dysphoria can also often be obscured by the circumstances. A lot of trans men may start out thinking that they dislike being treated like women just because men get more respect, for example.
In an ideal world, people would just be allowed to play with their gender expression as much as they want and figure out whatever makes them happy. We shouldn’t have to be miserable first to be allowed to be ourselves.”

“Huh.” I was lost for words. Thoughts were swirling in my head and it was getting too much very quickly. Was there the possibility that maybe…? No. No? Yes? Okay, I wasn’t sure how to figure this out. I wasn’t even sure if there was something to figure out. I did know that I didn’t want to do any figuring-out while being stared at by people I barely knew. Fortunately at that point Darcy returned, balancing three drinks in their hands.

“They gave me both Gin Tonic with cucumber for some reason. So I hope you’re okay with that,” Darcy said as they handed us our drinks.

Rayn nodded at them. “I’m good with whatever. Thanks!”

I gladly took my drink, seeing my chance to change the subject. “Thank you! So, Darcy, how are you doing anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen you since our last day of school.”

I knew that I was being pretty obvious, but thankfully none of them questioned the sudden change of topic. I sank back in my chair and happily listened to Darcy talking very little about their actual life, but very enthusiastically about their summer trip to France.

By the time I had finished my drink, the others had delved into other topics but I was barely participating. It felt okay though, just sitting there and listening. I didn’t feel as out of place as I had expected before.
When my gaze got caught by two tall figures on the other side of the venue, I suddenly felt a huge smile spread over my face. Possibly the first real smile I had on my lips all night. There they were, Nick and Charlie, completely unbothered by everything going on around them. Just staring at and holding each other as if they were the only people who mattered. It was impossible to say what they were talking about. Probably just telling each other how happy they were. They were so damn good together! And in that moment I was nothing but happy they had invited me to celebrate that.

“What about you, Imogen, you coming?” Darcy’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“To the dancefloor,” Elle clarified.

“Oh, yeah, sure!” I jumped up while Darcy led the way to the dancefloor.

“Hey Im,” Rayn stopped me before I could follow the others, “Could you wait a second?”

He stood before me, meeting my gaze and making my heartbeat speed up for some reason.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped before. I didn’t want to put you on the spot I just… thought that maybe asking yourself a few questions might be a good thing.”

“No, yeah… I totally get it,” I assured him, but by now the alcohol made it harder to keep my confusion hidden. “Though I’m not really sure what to do with it.”

“You know, you could always just experiment with your gender expression if you felt like it.”

“I don’t know.” I looked down, feeling a bit lost. “I think I’d just feel like an imposter. I don’t want to… step on anyone’s toes by using pronouns that don’t actually belong to me.”

Rayn cocked her head, waiting for me to look up again. “Why do you think that anyone, including other queer people, would have the right to tell you what kind of identity or gender expression works best for you? You’re literally taking nothing away from anyone by choosing your own name or pronouns or clothes.”

I let his words sink in. Why did it sound so easy, the way they all talked about gender? Like all you had to do was just be yourself, when I had no idea who that even was? Maybe it was easier when you were surrounded by more people who didn’t just assumed they knew everything about your identity from the way you looked.

“Thank you,” I said and really meant it.

She bit her lower lip again. Was that actually a nervous tic? Maybe he wasn’t quite as self-assured as I’d first assumed.

“You know, I could give you my number. Just in case you ever felt like… talking about gender or… other things.”

“Oh.” I blinked in surprise. Rayn wanted me to have his number. That was so nice! Oh my god, was I actually making a friend as an adult right now?

“Yeah, of course!” I handed her my phone and she put in her number before handing it back.

“Just text me if you have any questions or feel like you need a friend, okay? Or... if your heterosexuality ever turns out to actually be gender envy. I’m always T4T.”

I frowned, trying to keep up. “I have no idea what you just said.”

He smirked at me. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out. You’ll figure everything out.