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Vi likes making people laugh.
Prides himself on being able to put people at ease, after all he knows what it’s like to always feel out of place and out of sorts. To be the one operating on a different frequency, never picking up the right signals.
And sure, it helps when the person he's making laugh is a pretty lady. Maybe he goes the extra mile, plays up his stories and anecdotes, finishes ‘em with a lop-sided grin as he watches their smiles grow and their eyes sparkle with amusement.
He likes knowing he’s put that little glint in their eye, makes him feel all warm and fuzzy.
Doesn’t hurt his ego either.
And today he's feeling especially proud, 'cause today the girl he's making laugh doesn't just chuckle, she snorts in a manner entirely unbecoming, and in way that makes her immediately bring up a hand to cover her mouth while her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink.
She’s then narrowing her eyes in his direction, features drawing sharp and hawk-like, taking the measure of him. He doesn’t falter under it, instead gets comfortable under the attention, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head while he meets her steely gaze with a smug grin.
Doesn't even know her name, ain't even seen her before. But there’s something about her, something that intrigues him and draws him in. Gives him the confidence to take up space when normally he’s fighting the urge to make himself small.
He reckons she's Ekko's new office mate, the one he's been going on about all week. She looks like the type at least, meticulous outfit, regal cheekbones, an accent that drips with money and privilege.
A dorky awkwardness that has Vi disregarding most of the above.
When Ekko finally appears, he’s sending Vi a resigned look, a warning to behave before shaking his head and clicking his teeth. Vi just gives a loose shrug, doesn’t possibly know what he’s implyin’. After all they both know it’s just good fun, ain’t like it could ever go anywhere.
Vi's still trying to find himself, ain't like he's got the headspace to find someone else too.
Her names Caitlyn.
Turns out she's not quite so harmless as Vi had first thought. Not by the way she gets him to place a friendly bet on a game of pool at the Union bar before absolutely smoking him. Should’ve realised he was in trouble when she immediately drew her hair into a ponytail and pulled her glasses out of her bag. It takes him three rounds of double or nothing before he realises he's close to broke.
Vi's already handed over his dignity, should probably quit before he hands over his life savings too.
When it’s time for him to cough up, he empties the contents of his wallet onto the least sticky counter-top he can find, pushing across a small pile of coins and a lone note before rustling around for a receipt to write an IOU. Before he can finish, she's pushing the cash back his way and leaning on the counter, looking over her glasses to catch his gaze.
Says he can keep his money. When he tries to protest, she cuts him off and tells him that if he's so committed to paying her, he can take her out for dinner.
This time he's the one blushing and she's the one with the wolfish grin.
And instead of handing over his meagre life savings he's instead handing over his number.
Yeah, there’s definitely something about her.
And that something’s trouble.
He’s barely home before she’s texting him.
Doesn’t have a lot of patience that one.
They text back and forth for a while before he heads to bed, brain scrambled and with something in his gut that feels an awful lot like a swarm of anxiety laden butterflies.
It’s a few days later that she’s sending him a message that feels like its teetering towards flirting (but he’s no expert, usually this sorta thing sails straight over all 5ft 6 of him). He realises where they’re maybe heading and instinctively pumps the breaks. She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself in for after all. And he ain’t exactly gunna start spilling his guts to a stranger, no matter how pretty and silver tongued they are.
Dinner suddenly feels a lot more loaded, like expectations have been set that he knows he ain’t gunna meet. And the last thing he wants to do is set her up for disappointment.
Vi
Not sure I can do dinner.
Sorry.
Not you, it’s me.
You’re great.
I just ain’t in a place to be dating people right now.
Caitlyn
Who says it was going to be a date?
Panic.
Ice. Cold. Dread.
He instinctively begs for the gods to strike him down or for the goddamn earth to swallow him whole.
For someone or something to just chuck him into the nearest volcano ‘cause his face feels like it’s heated up to 1000 degrees.
He throws the phone aside, watches as it bounces off his bed and winces as it lands with a worrying thud. Covers his head with his hands and lets out the most pathetically pained groan.
Gods he can't believe he just assumed, what sort of ego has he grown that he just assumes? Assumes that a beautiful, funny, could-crush-him-in-an-instant woman would wanna just go on a date with him?
His phone rumbles against the carpet, the screen lighting up with another message. Bottling his courage, he slowly reaches out as if confronting something venomous or poisonous or whichever one it is where if it bites you, you freaking die.
He’s pretty sure his stomachs about to fall out of his ass.
But somehow, he opens the message anyway.
Caitlyn
That was a joke by the way
In case the silence is you panicking.
He finally lets out a shaky breath. Chews his lip, watches his index finger bounce against his phone case.
Vi
Nah
Just dropped my phone down the side of the bed
What makes you think I’d be panicking?
Caitlyn
You looked very startled at the Union.
I suppose I may have a got a little carried away with my fun.
Vi
Nah, its fine.
Ain’t really used to people asking me to dinner.
or y’know telling me to take 'em to dinner.
Caitlyn
Really?
I find that quite hard to believe
It takes him a moment to catch the fact his cheeks are heating again. That he’s fucking blushing. Blushing over some girl sending him a text. Jesus. He's 30 going on 13.
Vi
Really.
Caitlyn
Odd.
Well, regardless you do still owe me.
If dinner feels too loaded for you, then maybe an activity that is more platonic coded?
Vi
That I can most certainly do
Caitlyn
Ah, what a gentleman.
Vi's doomed. Just. Put a sold sign on his soul and drag his useless body away.
Vi
You’re new here, right?
Caitlyn
Correct
Vi
How about a tour around town?
I’ve lived here all my life, should be able to show you a thing or two.
Caitlyn
You have yourself a deal, handsome.
Saturday?
He says yes. Doesn’t check his diary, his watch, his brain. A pretty girl called him handsome and now that’s the only thing that’s spinning around in his skull like some giant word art windows screen saver.
Handsome.
Oh, he could get used to that.
She turns up in a pretty blue sundress, cinched in at the waist and paired with a set of heeled sandals that seem entirely unnecessary. Meanwhile he’s turned up in his comfort clothes, grey washed out jeans and a button up plaid shirt.
She teases him and calls his look farmer chic.
He insists he prefers the term cowboy.
Immediately Caitlyn’s eyes sparkle with a mischief he’s coming to quickly recognise.
Reckons that’s gunna become a new nickname real fast.
As they leisurely meander around the town, he gets the chance to learn more about her.
He’s not sure he’s had a more voracious appetite for facts in his entire life. The things he could’ve achieved at school if he could’ve unlocked this level of focus for more traditional subjects. Instead, here he is taking mental notes as if there’s gunna be some sort of quiz or exam.
He’s not bragging when he reckons he could get full marks.
Each place he takes her to teaches him something new, gives him just a bit more insight into what makes her tick.
Throughout the afternoon he learns she likes old books, that she knows more about art and classical music than he ever could. That she ain’t got a big sweet tooth, prefers something plain and simple over complex flavours. Has a comfort zone that he wonders if she can be coaxed out of but takes as a line in the sand for now.
She likes her coffee black, ain’t much bothered by the taste, instead drinks it in alarming quantities for the buzz.
He makes the mistake of thinking she feels the same about tea.
The incredulous stare, the frantic hand gestures, the twenty-minute monologue that continues through the record shop and for the entirety of the time he spends flicking through plaid he’s never gonna need, proves him wrong.
Then, like she’s hit by a bolt of lightning, Caitlyn stills. Slams her mouth shut, brings a hand up to her lips, turns with a pinched expression that looks intimately familiar. Afterall, Vi’s not immune to an impassioned rant and he sure as hell has listened to enough of Jinx’s.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, flashing a wry grin that grows as Caitlyn slowly relaxes.
“You could have stopped me, you know?”
“Could I?”
She gives a resigned sigh. “Probably not”.
Vi laughs at that, something he hopes is warm and inviting rather than a judgement. But she just looks so pathetic, rounded shoulders, head hung slightly. And he can’t have that, can’t have her thinking she’s less than for even a minute. Not on his watch.
So, he stands as tall as he can, throws an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in, ignoring the height difference that has become oh so very apparent.
“Quit worrying,” he says, “ain’t becoming of ya”.
He’s rewarded with a smile, something softer and shyer than he’s seen before. And if that same fluttering doesn’t come back, the butterflies or anxiety or a premonition of doom that he’s refusing to acknowledge. Instead, he pulls back is arm, turns to face her while lightly taking her hand. Pulls her down the street, looking all goofy at her until she’s chuckling at him and rolling her eyes.
Another thing he’s learned. He adds it to the list, tucks it away for safe keeping. Collects each precious little thing, memorising them. Memorising her.
Because she’s definitely trouble. But she’s something else too.
He spins on his feet, turns back to face forward so he doesn’t get so distracted that he takes out a little old lady just trying to go about her day.
It takes him until the next street corner to realise they’re still holding hands, that their fingers are now intertwined. He feels the panic prickle, the electricity of the unknown crackling it’s warnings. Ain’t even like she’s the one that got them into this, he’s the one that took her hand in the first place. He can’t back out now. Or can he? Does she think it means something they’re still holding hands? Does-
“You ok there handsome?”
Vi looks up, sees a warm smile, concerned blue eyes that shift in miniature movements to take him in. Eyes that don’t just look through him but also don’t just settle for the façade either.
“You call all your friends handsome, do you?”
Mischief joins everything else swimming in oceanic blue.
“No, I don’t. Does it bother you?”
Hmm, and isn’t that a good question. He doesn’t rightly know. Well, he does, but the answer scares him more than most.
“No, I suppose it don’t”.
“Is there something else you’d prefer?”
He gives an amused huff, bites down his mirth. ‘Cause ain’t much more that he likes in this world than compliments from pretty ladies. But he ain’t telling her that. She’s already got the height advantage; he doesn’t want to cede her anything else.
“No, handsome’s all good. But I hope you know that flattery won’t get you anywhere”.
Vi’s smile falters as she takes a step closer, as she leans in far too close for him not to lose all composure.
“I seriously doubt that, Cowboy,” she all but purrs, all slow and quiet and deliberate while blue eyes pin him to the spot.
After antagonising him for what feels like a lifetime, she relents with a smug smile.
Vi makes a mental note of that too, puts it aside with the rest of the treasures marked with her name.
This woman has the measure of him, and as flustered as he is, he ain’t sure he minds.
Ekko’s offered to buy him lunch.
Which, given Ekko’s a poor postgrad student, means that Ekko wants something.
Vi makes his way over to the university’s central campus, dressed in his gym gear still. His last client ran over a bit, so he decided to forego getting changed, instead heading over in his black gym shorts and grey tank top. In a poor attempt at making himself presentable he’s swept his sweat slicked hair underneath a backwards baseball cap.
Hell isn’t this what your average uni student wears anyway?
Not that he’d know, left the studyin’ to Powder and Ekko.
The campus is adorned with rainbows everywhere he looks, pride flag bunting criss-crossing between buildings, rainbow flags hung in windows and a chalk drawn rainbow meandering across the grey concrete quad.
The uni shop has a large trans flag in the window with “stand by your trans” written in looping chalk pen, with a table beneath that is displaying books with covers in pink, white and blue.
Ain’t always been like that, or at least he don’t remember growing up and seeing trans flags in public places. Hell, even the pride flag bunting with the aromantic, asexual and intersex flags are new. As a kid seeing the rogue rainbow flag was something to be noted, a bold statement in an otherwise grey city.
Even if pride month does end up being a bunch of pink washing most of the time, still makes Vi happy that kids today grow up with a city that dresses up in all its queer finery, even if its just for show.
When he gets to Ekko’s office, Ekko’s got that laser focussed stare that Vi’s intimately familiar with, the sorta focus that a fire alarm couldn’t interrupt. Which is helped by the fact he can hear the thundering bass from Ekko’s headphones from the other side of the room, almost as loud as the rattle of his fingers flying across the keyboard. Ain’t no way that Vi can break his focus, but he sidles up to Ekko’s desk anyway, leans back against it and waits patiently for Ekko to look his way.
Instead, he’s almost immediately met with a hand held up far too close to his face.
With a roll of his eyes, Vi leans forward and takes a peek at the screen, realises he doesn’t understand any of what’s on there and retreats to an empty office chair pushed to the far side of the room.
Vi’s never been a good one with waiting though, that was always Claggor’s forte. No, Vi always had and still has a need to be doing. Just something to occupy his head, his hands. So, after several pained minutes of shuffling around trying to get comfortable in the chair, he’s left staring at the stained ceiling panels with his knee jostling excessively to the dull thud of Ekko’s music.
A deep sigh has him lowering his gaze, his eyes falling to the other desk in the office, to the figure with their own headphones on and focussed on their own work.
It’s tempting, oh so tempting. And he knows he shouldn’t, should let Caitlyn work and not go over and bother her just because his brother is ignoring him. But that would require an impulse control he just doesn’t have.
Which means it’s all of three seconds before he’s spinning around in his chair, aiming the back towards Caitlyn and pushing off as hard as he can with his feet.
A bit too hard with his feet.
So hard in fact that he barely manages to spin himself round before he’s crashing into the desk, his outstretched arms doing nothing to soften the impact. Stationery spills from the pen pot he’s sent flying, an open water bottle teeters dangerously and a couple of papers slide off the far edge.
A hand shoots out to steady the bottle, before headphones slowly lower and blue eyes narrow in his direction.
“Smooth,” Caitlyn comments.
It’s followed by a huff that hides the slightest upward tick of her lips.
It’s enough encouragement for him to set his elbow on her desk, drop his chin into his upturned palm and flash her a cocky grin.
“Thanks”.
She wrinkles her nose, leans back in her chair while he’s rapidly pulling his arm back down to his side.
Should’ve probably got changed after all.
Especially if he was gunna barge his way into a pretty girl’s personal space and all.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure today, handsome?” Caitlyn says, lacing her fingers together in her lap and cocking her head to the side slightly.
And there it is again, that word.
Handsome.
His real explanation is on the tip of his tongue but at the last minute he pivots. Compulsion takes the wheel for the second time today, and he takes a shot in the dark.
“Wanted to know if you’re coming to Pride this weekend?”
“Pride?”
“You mean Ekko hasn’t invited you?”
She pouts. “No, I can’t say he has”.
Vi spins in his chair just enough to flick out an arm and slap Ekko’s shoulder. He jolts at the touch, lowers his headphones and turns to frown in Vi’s direction.
“How come you ain’t invited Caitlyn to Pride?”
Before Ekko has time to formulate a response, Vi’s spinning back round in his chair, turning to face Caitlyn again.
“You should come, allies are always welcome”.
The choked laughter behind him and the pinched expression facing him immediately makes Vi re-evaluate his previous statement. He’s like a rabbit caught in the headlights, only its him caught in his own dang stupidity caused yet again by his big ol’ mouth.
“You think I’m an ally?”
There’s amusement in those eyes. And sure, it’s at his expense but he’ll take it over anger or offence.
He shrugs. Sure, as hell doesn’t think she’s a hater.
That or she’s in for a very rude awakening.
She gives an amused huff, chews her lip for a minute.
“You know when I told you I had a bad break up before I moved across here?” she asks. He nods, already feels he knows exactly where this is going. “Well she might have something to say about me being an ally. So would the list of other women that I’ve dated”.
Ok so maybe he didn’t know exactly where it was going.
At this point Ekko is howlin’ behind him. Fucker clearly knew already but was more than happy for Vi to dig his own grave.
But there’s also a whole other bunch of processing he’s gotta do because clearly what he thought was flirting was most definitely not.
Right?
As he replays things over in his head, he realises he’s looking down at his hands, fidgeting with the silver ring around his thumb, spinning the cool metal back and forth. Looks up to find Caitlyn waiting with a slightly confused expression.
Takes him a minute to realise it’s his turn to fucking talk. ‘Cause y’know, that’s how adult conversations work.
Gods, it’s a good job he’s pretty.
“Well then,” he muses, “suppose you’ve gotta come”. He forces a smile through the confusion, meets her gaze.
“Suppose I gotta,” she replies with a small smile of her own.
It’s not like he ain’t happy being friends it’s just… he could’ve sworn there was something else.
But maybe that’s just how she is.
Flirty.
An absolute menace.
Even though he coulda sworn he’s caught her staring. Lingering a bit longer than most do.
But in fairness, as Jinx rightly points out bluntly and with her usual air of exasperation, it ain’t like he’s any good at picking up on these things.
So, what the hell does he know?
Well that she ain’t an ally.
That’s for fucking sure.
Occasionally, Vi wakes up and he forgets. Forgets for a moment that he ain’t just some guy, that at some point he had a different name, a different body.
Forgets that it hasn’t always been this way. This easy to simply exist.
But then there’s something small, like the silver razor by the sink, that reminds him it’s not always been this way. He lifts it to his foam-covered jaw, remembers how Vander insisted buying it for him ‘cause he had taught all the other boys to shave and wasn’t about to exclude Vi. Even if the boys had been in their early teens and Vi was twenty-nine and easily capable of figuring out how to do it himself.
It had meant the world though.
Still does every time he picks it up to shave.
Ain’t much to shave, just a peach fuzz with a few hints of darker hairs that tease him every time. Gives him false hope of someday being able to grow something that doesn’t add to the boyish charm he’s so desperate to leave behind.
Doesn’t mean it ain’t still really affirming to go through the motions though, to follow a practice taught to him by his father.
It’s a level of care and dedication to himself that he never would’ve bothered with before, would’ve never seen the point. Back then his body was mostly a machine, a fleshy thing that got him about the place. But now he can acknowledge it for the wonder it is, as if he sculpted it from marble himself.
But that before person, that Vi. Well, they still feel simultaneously intangible and undeniable. Like he’s still the same person, he’s just shed his skin and become a newer, brighter version of himself.
Some days as he stands in front of the mirror waiting for the steam to dissipate, the past feels like a distant memory. Instead, his focus is on the now, on finally being able to be present in his body. No longer having to numb himself to the world, living in a dissociative haze while he waits impatiently for the promise of a better future.
These days he lives every day, rather than only acknowledging them with an X on his calendar. Takes the time to relish in the sensations of a body that’s his, that’s him. The soft fabric of the towel tied low over his hips, the sight of his torso bare and glistening, his skin relishing in the light breeze coming in from the open window.
There used to be a time where he could only ever catch his reflection out the corner of his eye, could never look too close for fear of what he wouldn’t see.
But eighteen months of T and two silvery scars have him looking a lot different.
Looking like him.
Giving up on the glass clearing anytime soon, he blindly rubs two pumps of gel onto his shoulders before setting the bottle back into the cabinet.
He puts on a blue pair of jeans but leaves his black leather waistcoat on the bed until the gel has a chance to dry. Reckons he might as well get some breakfast in the meantime, so he heads down the stairs towards the sound of chatter coming from the kitchen.
Thing is he ain’t much of a morning person, his brain refusing to spool up until the hours are in the double digits. So, he doesn’t really acknowledge anything amiss as he stumbles into the room, instead grabbing a bowl and the cereal from the cupboard before pulling open the fridge in search of milk. It’s only as he pushes it close that he notices the entire room around him seems to have stopped.
Slowly he turns, milk jug in hand.
Eyes drift over his siblings amassed in the kitchen, from Mylo sat at the table inhaling his cereal, Claggor at one end nursing a black coffee, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, eyes looking over the top at Vi.
Jinx is sat on the table, back facing him but head turned to stare at him with resignation.
And in front of her, sat on a stool, frozen like a rabbit in the headlights, is Caitlyn.
He watches sapphire eyes as they slowly trail up, over his well-defined adonis belt, past his six pack before pausing ever so slightly at his chest. He does the first thing that comes into his head, flexes his pecs, making the muscles dance. He’s rewarded with the faintest dusting of pink as Caitlyn almost reluctantly meets his gaze. Watches the way her throat bobs but she doesn’t make a sound.
It takes him a moment to realise why she’s in his kitchen, but slowly he starts to pick up the pieces. From Ekko’s “I swing both ways, violently with a bat” t-shirt, to Jinx’s purple and pink striped leggings and Mylo’s almost obnoxious rainbow sequin tank top.
Pride.
“Hey, hey, eyes over here,” Jinx tutts, clicking her fingers in front of Caitlyn’s face a few times before she blinks and looks back over.
With a dramatic sigh, Jinx pushes an array of face painting pencils around the breakfast table, picking up a few before readjusting her position.
“So, you’re the sunset flag, right?” she asks, a reddy-orange pencil held towards Caitlyn’s cheek.
Vi turns his attention back to his breakfast, dumping a few weatabix into a bowl before smothering them in cocopops and milk. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, he leans back against the counter, bowl in hand and looks back over.
Frowns as Jinx is still hovering, expression confused, left foot tapping impatiently against a spare chair. Meanwhile Caitlyn’s staring at the coloured crayons with a certain degree of trepidation, given they’re, well, crayons. A quick glance reveals Jinx has the correct one’s picked, and yet Caitlyn’s brow pinches slightly as she stares them down. Makes Vi wonder how long she’s been out for, that maybe she ain’t as comfortable being so blatantly out as they’d all assumed.
Jinx turns slightly, catches his gaze out the corner of her eye. He subtly shrugs.
Just knows that Caitlyn’s still staring at those darn pencils like this is the biggest question she’s ever been asked.
“Y’know I can just do a rainbow if you want?” Jinx asks, slowly moving her hand to put the sunset colours down and pick through to find blues and greens instead.
“Yes, that… sounds good,” Caitlyn finally replies, smile forced and unsteady.
The tension still hangs heavy, everyone watching not so subtly over their books and breakfasts. Jinx’s eyes flick between them all, before she’s pushing herself off the table and landing with a heavy thud as her knee-high boots meet the wooden floor.
“One sec toots,” she says, giving Caitlyn a hard slap on the shoulder before grabbing something from the table and marching over to Vi. His mouthful of cereal prevents him from forming a question and before he knows it something is slapped against his forehead hard enough to have him reeling slightly.
“What the hell is that?” he asks, blinking a couple of times and bringing up a hand to feel smooth plastic.
“A warning, to all the folks at the parade who are gunna be oh so willing to affirm your gender when you turn up looking like a shirtless extra out of broke back mountain”.
He frowns, picks up his phone, uses the camera to see the demisexual flag sticker now pressed into his forehead.
Jinx is waiting expectantly for him to look over, a smug grin turning up her lips.
“This way they’ll know there’s a 12 to 16 week wait time for any possible return of affections. No wam, bam, thank-you ma’am here. Y’know just so you don’t set nobody up for disappointment”.
Mylo’s already guffawing from the table, Claggor’s trying to stifle his laughter from behind his book. Even Caitlyn’s got a hand to her mouth, eyes creasing and sparkling with something that can only be amusement at his expense.
Best Vi can do is roll his eyes and go back to his breakfast, ain’t like he can deny it after all.
“So blue eyes, we’re doing a rainbow flag, eh?”
He glances over, watches as Caitlyn nods with a smile and Jinx brings up a red crayon and begins to draw an impressively straight line along her cheek.
Turns out what Ekko had wanted to ask Vi was if he could maybe, possibly, collect some samples for him. Samples that happened to be six hours north in a part of the country that was sparsely populated and would require a couple of weeks of camping to collect.
Vi protests, points out that if he had wanted to spend days being assaulted by salt water and mud, he would’ve just done a degree himself. But turns out the samples needed to be collected like yesterday and Ekko’s got some once-in-a-lifetime prestigious conference on the other side of the country that could really open doors for him. So, in the end Vi relents, calls the gym and blocks out a two-week section in his calendar.
Only silver lining is that Claggor’s volunteered to come too, so at least Vi doesn’t have to spend a fortnight with an overly enthusiastic undergrad student who turns out to be even more of a liability than he is.
Still doesn’t mean he’s thrilled about leaving though. Especially when leaving means not seeing Caitlyn for two weeks. A fact that he knows is ridiculous, that surprises him the first time he feels it and takes him a good minute to figure out what the pang in his chest is all about. But he guesses they’ve been hanging out a lot recently, seeing movies, taking walks, playing video games. It’s just that she makes him feel so at home, the sort of person he can relax around and just be himself.
In fact, he’d go so far as to say she likes it best when he’s just himself.
It’s got to the point its hard for him to imagine that she hasn’t always been in his life, that there was ever a point before now, a time when he couldn’t just grab a couple of pizzas after a long day and turn up on her doorstep to watch old re-runs of nostalgia inducing sit coms and complain about their respective days.
And through some small miracle he reckons she feels the same way about him.
Everyone teases them about how domesticated they are, how they basically skipped all the steps of dating and went straight to an old married couple. And as bizarre as it is, it ain’t a thought that scares him, it’s even one Vi entertains every now and again. It’s not like he thinks it could ever happen, he respects who Caitlyn is, knows he ain’t on her radar like that. But he can’t ignore the fact that when they’re laying side by side on her couch, huddled under her fancy feather-filled duvet for warmth, her pressed into his side, head resting against his shoulder, that it’s nice.
Comfortable.
Simple.
Makes him wonder sometimes if he even needs there to be anything more than this, if something like this is enough for him. Wishes sometimes they could just stay within the four walls of her apartment for ever.
But that ain’t how life works. Especially when you previously agreed to go into the arse end of nowhere to collect samples for your brother.
Caitlyn must be feeling some of his regret too, given she’s volunteered to come help him pack, which of course means he’s been procrastinating from packing for the last couple of hours while they both lounge on his bed with his belongings haphazardly scattered around an empty backpack, letting the hours slip away unobserved as they talk of everything and nothing at all.
Eventually when it gets past far too late he reluctantly kicks her out, accepts he ain’t gunna get anything done with her there distracting him.
At this rate he’s barely gunna get any sleep, but somehow, he still considers it worth it. Probably will in the morning too.
But as they reach the porch, she abruptly stops, hands fiddling in front of her, pinched expression caught by the soft yellow glow of the porch light. Vi lets the screen door fall softly shut behind him, takes a few steps forward on socked feet towards where she’s stood on the top step. For once he’s at eye level with her but it only serves to highlight the fact she won’t look at him, eyes darting in the space around him before staring off down the street.
He waits patiently, listens to the sound of the summer cicadas and the wail of a siren as it fades into the far distance. Tries to give her the space she needs to assemble whatever’s on her mind.
“Vi?” she says, voice low and hoarse.
He takes a step closer to the point that they’re almost touching, but there’s something in the static between them that prevents him from reaching out. That gives him pause. He swallows past the lump in his throat, waits to see if she’ll turn.
“Yeah?” he whispers.
But she doesn’t turn, instead bringing her arms up to hug herself tightly.
“I need to tell you something”.
Vi grits his teeth, he don’t like the concern in her tone, the pinch of her brow, the way she’s worrying her lip and won’t meet his eye.
“Sure, anything, you know that”.
She gives a huff at that, shakes her head and stares off at the street. Closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
It ain’t just air that spills past her lips on the exhale.
“I like you,” she confesses.
Hits him like a punch to the gut. It’s the way her voice trembles as she says it. Like she means it. He tries to give her an out, to back away from the rapidly approaching ledge they’re both hurtling towards. The one that’s gunna swallow at least one of ‘em whole.
“Course you do, we’re friends”.
“Not like that. It’s different”.
Vi grits his teeth again. Doesn’t wanna do this here, on his porch in view of the street. Doesn’t wanna do it at all. Not when she’s now turning to look at him so earnestly and nervous and with an expression that tells him she knows what he’s gunna say is probably gunna hurt.
“But you only like girls, right?” he asks, slowly. He doesn’t wanna leave any room for misinterpretation.
Instead of giving an answer, Caitlyn looks away again, eyebrows dipping.
“I’m not a girl Caitlyn, I’m not non-binary, I’m not masc. I’m a man”.
She sniffs again, turns her head slightly to catch him out the corner of water lined eyes.
He steels himself. Knows he’s come too far to compromise, that he owes it to himself to be who he authentically is. Even if it hurts other people.
Gods, he just wishes it wouldn’t hurt other people.
“I can’t change the fact that I’m a man. And- I can’t comprise myself again. I did that for far too many years, too many shitty, painful, awful years. It was killing me, not allowing myself to be who I am, not allowing myself to be happy. So, I’m sorry, but…” he swallows down the discomfort, takes a deep breath. “I can’t change that”.
“I know,” she croaks. And with the pained way she looks at him he reckons she really does. She worries her lip, stares back across the street. He watches as a silvery tear spills down her cheek. Gods she looks so damn scared and sad and lost. It’s something so intimately familiar, that fear of change, the feeling of being entirely out of control with no idea of how to get back to the safety of before.
A silent cry for help.
“Come here,” he says softly, gently drawing her in, holding her as she sobs into his sweatshirt, as her hands bunch into the fabric at the back.
He rests his chin against her head and just holds her. Wraps her up, tries to shield her from the incoming storm that threatens to upend everything.
He just hopes their friendship’s still standing on the other side.
They agree they’ll talk more in the morning. It’s only as he watches her taillights fade that he remembers he’s about to disappear for two weeks into a part of the country well known for its lack of signal.
He kicks an empty beer can and watches as it clatters its way across the porch.
He spends the next 12 days finding any and all excuse to chase after the faintest hint of signal, to catch just a single bar of service. At first Claggor doesn’t seem to notice, is oblivious to the fact that Vi keeps “forgetting” his tools in the car, or needing to check his emails at the one layby that provides something resembling service.
But as the time goes by, as the lies get more tenuous, as the number of grocery store runs becomes ridiculous, he can tell Claggor just ain’t buying it anymore. But through some sort of miracle he doesn’t pry, just hands Vi the keys to the truck with a sigh when he says at gone 10pm that he’s going to go and try and take some pictures of the Milky Way. Doesn’t even bother to question why Vi’ll need to drive twenty minutes away to do that when they’re camping in a dark sky reserve.
He just lets him go, tells him to be safe and not to be back too late.
If any of Vi’s siblings knew the lengths he was going to just to talk to some girl then they would never let him live it down.
Hell, Vi’s not sure if he’ll ever let himself live it down.
“You know I cried when I first tried on a binder?”
Vi’s parked up at the edge of a cow field, pulled off the dirt track where there’s the first bar of signal he could find. Ignoring all the dust and mud from the last two weeks, he’s laid out across the bonnet, back to the windscreen, looking out over the moonlit field across to the edge of the cliffs and the glittering black ocean beyond. He’s not sure how long they’ve been talking, long enough he can feel the metal beneath him has gone cold, that the same cold is starting to seep into his bones.
Luckily the warmth of his company is keeping him distracted.
A hum of acknowledgement comes down the line, it’s all the encouragement he needs to keep talking.
“It was so weird. I think I’d spent so much time agonising over it that I built it up an unreasonable amount in my head. Like I somehow thought this was going to fix all those niggling doubts and questions that I’d only just started to really ask myself, y’know?”
“I was so excited, tracked the damn thing all the way to our house, was waiting outside for the parcel when the guy came to deliver it.”
“And when I first looked into the mirror it was just a sudden bolt of rightness, I guess? Like when you don’t know you’re missing something ‘cause you never imagined there could be more than what you have, but now you realise something has always been lacking there’s no way you can ever imagine living without it.”
“Where before you never noticed an ache, you now become hyper aware of it all the time? And I think it hit me then. That there wasn’t any going back. Y’know ignorance is bliss and all that”.
“And that thought was…” He pauses, scratches absently at the fluffy hairs that have slowly built up along his jaw.
“Terrifying?” Caitlyn offers.
He gives an amused huff. “Yeah.”
“I guess I just realised that everything was about to change, and I had no idea what the fuck I was doing or how I was going to do it. How other people were gunna react. Where to even start. For the first time in my life, I was gunna have to put myself first, say I was worth all the chaos I was about to cause. That my happiness was worth chasing after. And that just wasn’t how I was, I’m not wired that way, was brought up to be the one looking out for everyone else. I didn’t even know how to begin to prioritise myself, y’know? It just felt so fucking overwhelming that I just broke down right there and then and cried.”
“And I don’t cry, not really. But I just felt so lost, so out to sea, caught in the centre of a storm of my own making. Twenty-nine and my whole reality has just shattered in the palm of my hand”.
“I mean later, I felt really guilty about it, being so sad on a day that was supposed to make me so happy. Like I was somehow being trans all wrong. Somehow managing to fail both at being cis and trans all in one fucking go”.
A melodic laugh filters through the speaker, his grin in response is instant and automatic.
“Yeah, yeah I know, ridiculous thought but hey we all have ‘em.” He huffs.
A thoughtful hum comes down the line. “And did it get easier, with time? Less overwhelming?”
“Yeah, it did. I mean don’t get me wrong, being trans ain’t ever gunna be a walk in the park and some days those feelings still come back and make me doubt myself but… it gets better. I’m just hoping I don’t have too many other revelations like that in my future. Coming out twice is enough for one lifetime”.
“Tell me about it.” Caitlyn sighs.
“Oh?”
Theres a pause, long enough to make him wonder if he should just change the subject and move on. But then he hears a sigh followed by the ruffle of fabric.
“You should probably get comfortable; I feel this might be quite the monologue”.
Knowing that that warning should always be taken seriously, Vi grabs his jacket from where he’d hung it on the wing mirror. He shrugs it on, pulling the sides in tight before leaning back against the windscreen again and tilting his gaze up at the clouds that are flying through the sky, at the tiny pin pricks of light that peak through the gaps.
“Ready,” he says.
Another heavy sigh filters through.
“In hindsight, I can see the signs that I wasn’t straight from a very young age. I think my earliest memory was not seeing the appeal of Aladdin and very much wishing I could take Jasmine away for a magical carpet ride.”
Vi tries to stifle his laughter and fails, comes out in a coughed-up cackle.
“Shut up. I was like six. Get your head out of the gutter, you ass.” Caitlyn chastises, all bark and no bite.
“Yep, sorry. Please continue.”
He can almost feel her roll her eyes on the other side of the line; knows the look she’d be giving him if she had half the chance.
“Well, they aren’t exaggerating when they say comphet is one hell of a drug. Every time I had strong feelings towards girls, I just justified that they were intense feelings of friendship, that I just felt all warm and fluttery inside because they were my best friends and that’s how friendship feels. That friendship between girls is just more intense. It was only as I got older and more and more of my friends started getting feelings for boys, and talking about boys, and dating boys, that I started to wonder if something wasn’t right”.
“But I grew up in a very posh, conservative area of the country. It wasn’t like anyone was outwardly homophobic but being gay just wasn’t spoken about. I didn’t know anyone who was gay, or at least at the time I thought I didn’t. On reflection my shooting teacher Grayson did have very immaculate butch lesbian vibes. And I did have quite the crush on her”.
He’s laughing again, earns the scoff he gets for his antics.
“Oh shut up. You can’t tell me that looking back there weren’t signs you might not have been cis,” Caitlyn counters.
“Well yeah sure. Look, I’m just laughing in solidarity,” he replies, smiling hard enough his cheeks are gunna start hurting soon.
“Oh really?”
“Of course,”.
He knows he’d have earnt himself another eye roll there if he hasn’t already. Instead, he gets a dismissive huff.
“Well, being surrounded by heteronormativity it’s probably no surprise that a lack of attraction to boys didn’t exactly stop me from trying to date them. I just figured that maybe I needed to experience it for myself and then maybe the feelings would follow”.
“And how did that work out for you?”
“Have you seen teenage boys? They are gross and stupid”.
This time when he laughs, he hears her joining in.
“Then there was a game of spin the bottle when I was 17 and I was dared to kiss another girl. Her name was Lauren, and she was one of the girls I had been harbouring those “intense feelings of female friendship” for. Well, we kissed and when I pulled back, I realised two things: A) I had never felt that way about kissing a boy ever and B) she was looking so repulsed that there was no way that I was supposed to be feeling what I was”.
“So, let me guess, you repressed the hell out of it?” Vi asks.
“Exactly. Or at least I did until I went away to university, to a bigger city where the people were more open minded. There were queer club nights, people with lesbian flag badges on their bags, women who would sit in the quad holding hands and kiss their girlfriends without anyone batting an eye. It opened up a whole new world to me, one where maybe the feelings I had weren’t bad or wrong. Just different. In second year, I even got my first girlfriend, Lisa. She was captain of the football team and just, incredible. But she was also very out, very proud. I was still emerging from my closet, trying to unlearn all the internalised homophobia I’d grown up with. We didn’t last long, she needed me to be proud of who I was, and I still had a long way to go”.
“But it got better with time. I came out to my parents that summer. My father took it well, didn’t mind at all. My mother took a bit longer, it was a lot for her to process and accept. But they are both supportive now, have happily met girlfriends, have made inappropriate parent comments about children and marriages.”
“So, I foolishly thought I had everything figured out, finally was content with who I was”.
Caitlyn pauses for a second.
“And then you came along”.
Immediately Vi’s heart is trying to escape his chest, planning its getaway across the fields and to the ocean that lies beyond.
He manages to force out an “Oh?” that sounds more pained than casually interested. Rather than putting him out of his misery she just gives a thoughtful hum.
Vi reckons he’s far too tired to deal with this but also, they’ve been skirting the topic without actually talking about since the incident on the porch. So, he guesses it’s now or never. Gods give him strength.
“At pride, the rainbow flag?” his voice trails off.
“Yes, that was… I had realised that maybe what I was feeling for you extended beyond platonic. I think maybe I should have realised that a lot earlier, but I don’t think I really wanted to have to deal with what that would mean. I didn’t want to have to face the reality of having to figure myself out again”.
“Sorry”.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, it’s just been… a lot to process.” Caitlyn sighs. She sure sounds tired, like she’s been turning things over and over instead of sleeping.
“How are you doing?”
“Honestly?” Caitlyn takes a deep breath, he can hear her fidgeting with something in the background, the repetitive tap of finger against object. “I’m still really confused. If what I’m feeling for you is real, then it changes a lot of what I think of myself. And will definitely change what others think of me. I just really don’t want people to think me being a lesbian was a phase, or that I just was in denial the whole time. Those feelings were real and valid and are not made immaterial by me having feelings for you now”.
“But I also don’t want to mislead you, to string you along just to find out that I misread my feelings and that I am still only attracted to women. This is so new to me and I’m just so worried that I’m misreading everything. And the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you. But… I just don’t know. It’s all been really confusing and I’m still not entirely sure where I stand”.
Vi gives a thoughtful hum.
“But I guess it’s somewhat of a moot point for you, anyway, given you said you weren’t really in a place to date,” Caitlyn muses.
True. He had said that. Somewhat regretting it round about now though.
“Yeah, I did say that,” Vi admits, tilting his head to look up at the sky again. “And at the time I meant it. But mainly ‘cause I feel like I’m still figuring myself out too. Still growing and learning. Most people our age seem to see themselves as set, like they know who they are, what they like, what they don’t, and they’re done changing. I mean I reckon for most folks that ain’t true, that we’re always changing and growing. That it would be a bit sad if we didn’t have the ability to continue to grow as people y’know? But I also know for most people that means finding a new food they like or discovering they do actually like red wine, rather than like, discovering they’re trans”.
“Or having a sexuality crisis,” Caitlyn interjects.
Vi gives an amused huff. “Yeah, pretty much. But the thing is, sounds like you and me might both still be figuring ourselves out. And sure, that might mean we find out that we ain’t a good match. But it also might mean for a while we could grow together, support each other through that”.
He takes a deep breath and dives in, decides if he’s gunna pour his heart out he might as well make sure he gets every last drop.
“Cause in case you hadn’t noticed, I like you, ain’t no denying it. You’ve got me down pretty bad. I drove twenty minutes just to sit on the bonnet of my car and freeze my ass off in a cow field just to talk to you. But I reckon I might do that regardless of whether you wanted to date me. ‘Cause I guess above all else I just really care about you. And I know that might seem kinda intense, but I’m just like that, I kinda go all in on the people that matter to me. So, I want you to know, even if you just wanna stay friends, I’m always gunna be here. To listen, to distract you. Whatever you need. I just want to take you as you are.”
There’s quiet and although it kills him, he allows it to hang over them. Instead stares at the sky, traces the edges of the constellations that he can see peeking out between clouds.
“How about that dinner?” Caitlyn asks, voice so soft his almost misses it. “Nothing fancy, no expectations. But… we could see where we end up?”
If she could see him grinning now, she wouldn’t need to hear his answer.
“Sure, I’d like that,”.
“Well then handsome, I reckon you’ve just got yourself a date”.
Vi reckons he can hear the smile in her voice, punches the air in victory.
“Please know I’d be whooping and hollering right now if I wasn’t afraid of starting a cow riot.”
Caitlyn’s laugh is light and free and sends a thousand different things fluttering and sparking in his chest.
“So, you, me and dinner huh?” he asks.
“Apparently so”.
“Alrighty then”.
It’s quiet again. Not a heavy one though. He’s far too giddy for that, smiling stupidly up at the stars.
“I should probably try and get some sleep. And you should probably go back before Claggor sends out a search party” Caitlyn says.
Checking his watch, Vi gives a huff.
“Yeah, probably should, poor guys probably still awake making sure I come back safe and all”.
“Good on him.” Caitlyn says softly, affection warming every syllable. “Goodnight, Cowboy”.
As Vi approaches the camp he dips the headlights to their lowest setting, just enough so he can see where he’s going without waking Claggor. Instead, he’s met with glowing embers, a figure in a camping chair and a tent lit with the warm yellow glow of their solar lamp.
Claggor doesn’t look up from his book, bundled up in his puffer jacket and woollen blanket, head torch slowly drifting across the page.
“How was Caitlyn?” he asks, glancing up from his page briefly as Vi jumps down from the cab.
“Dunno, just went out to go and catch some pics of the milky way”.
A scoff meets the comment.
“What?” Vi asks, pushing the truck door closed and walking across crunching gravel to the fire pit.
He then watches as Claggor points to the side of his camping chair, to the camera bag that Vi forgot to take with him. His gaze then tracks the movement of Claggor’s finger as it points towards a sky that is far too cloudy for anything to be visible, camera or not.
“Fine,” Vi sighs, “I’ll tell you in the morning on the drive back.” As he walks over to the tent he rolls his eyes at the smug grin on his brother’s face.
Vi’s barely back in town before he’s throwing on a black shirt, his best jeans and trying to get his still wet hair to cooperate with him. Ideally, he’d have re-dyed it, the pink’s fading out, his dark roots are showing, and his undercut is getting far too long for his liking. But that’ll have to wait, ‘cause he’s got a dinner date he can’t afford to miss.
Vander lends him the old chevy truck, claims the ladies love it as he hands over the keys with a knowing glint in his eye. Vi can hardly blame them, the things a beaut, been a labour of love of Vander and Ekko’s over the last few years to restore it from a lump of rusting junk to its 1970s glory. But now with a fresh coat of navy paint, new rims and a brand-new engine that roars as Vi presses down the accelerator, well, it’s a sight to behold for sure.
It’s a warm night, one of those summer nights that feel like they might just last forever. So, he takes his time, drives with the windows down, the radio murmuring something familiar in the background as he drives down streets he knows like the back of his hand. Revels in the nostalgia, in all the different versions of him that have driven down these roads leading him to where he is now, to a night that feels like every other and yet promises so much more.
Promises that by the time the night’s over, nothing’s gunna be the same again.
And yet he has no idea how this is going to go, what Caitlyn’s gunna say, or what she’s going to want. But tonight, the usual anxiety doesn’t rise, the usual creeping suspicion of disaster just beyond the horizon. Instead, he feels nothing but calm, confident for once in his ability to weather any storm, to take on anything and come out swinging.
After all, he’s learned to become well acquainted with change, to accept its blessings and its challenges. Experience has granted him the confidence and grace to take change as an immutable fact of life, to accept that stalling only works for so long. And tonight, the thought of change brings a goofy grin and a fluttering in his chest that feels like a bunch of care-free birds.
Because no matter what Caitlyn says, he knows he wants her in his life.
He presses down the accelerator and the engine roars again.
Only way is forward, ain’t no point standing still when the future’s out there waiting for you.
Especially if the future involves a pretty girl.