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Acceptance of the Self - Chapter 2.

Published at 23rd of December 2022 05:32:05 AM


Chapter 2.

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Acceptance of the Self

Book 1: Attunement of the Hearts

Chapter 2.e - What’s in a Want

___________________ ღღ ___________________

 Erick

¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ •.¸ ¸.• ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

 

Matt and I keep talking about the weird sounds I’d heard for the first ten minutes or so of the car ride. 

 

They don’t return, and I‘m left to wonder what the hell happened to me to cause that bizarre hallucination and the accompanying headache. I’m still not convinced it wasn’t some light spike of drugs during D&D, and it makes me extremely uncomfortable that I don’t trust those guys enough to rule that out. Matt clearly wasn’t affected, but he also wasn’t going after douchey players in the game as overtly as I was.

 

I settle down into the cushioned vinyl seat as we lapse into a comfortable silence. As always, the inside of my friend’s car is pristinely clean. He can’t stand things being out of place in general, and that goes doubly so for his personal spaces. Even his normally carefree sibling knows well enough to bring the small SUV-ish vehicle back in mint condition or risk Matt’s eternal ire. As I watch the big rich houses go by, I feel very blessed to be riding with Matt instead of the random ride share I'd have gotten if he'd stayed later.

 

We come to a stop at a red light at the exit to Brandon’s ritzy neighborhood, and Matt speaks up again.

 

“Hey, so,” he says, a little quietly, “I know you just went through your own miniature hell, but I’ve been kind of wondering something for a while...”

 

He pauses uncertainly, glancing out his window. “Can I ask you a kind of personal question? Or would you prefer to just chill for the ride back?” 

 

He turns back to me, watching me nervously as I parse the question.

 

“Uh,” I start. I’m not really sure where this is going, but a conversation to distract me from my ruminations honestly sounds pretty good right about now. “I think I’m okay to talk now. What’s up?”

 

He nods, his expression turning all serious. “Cool, thanks.” 

 

There’s a pause, then he says, “So, why do you always play girl characters in D&D?” 

 

His voice seems entirely too neutral for the loaded question I feel like he's just fired at me. A roil of emotions swells in my chest, and I have to turn away from him quickly, my brow furrowed. Fuck. So he had been making a point with those comments after all.

 

The light turns green as I’m considering my answer, and Matt’s attention goes back to the road.

 

“I... well, I dunno,” I reply as I stare out at the passing forest preserve. I chew on my bottom lip for a moment, then continue, “I mean, ‘because I can’ is the simple answer, I guess? Like, I play D&D because I want to have fun exploring different social situations. And, well, I’d rather not play the same boring white dude I am in real life.” 

 

I finally turn back to face him, and add, “Why do you ask? And while we’re at it, why do you play women most of the time?"

 

His expression, which seemed carefully neutral, morphs into a strange sort of surprise. He looks almost... upset?

 

“Well...” he starts hesitantly, before he seems to steel himself. 

 

“To answer the second question,” he says more confidently, “I play women mostly because I want to see more representation of women in games and stories. And, y’know, I’ve especially been trying to bring more diversity of all kinds to Brandon’s group.”

 

He pauses as he turns his full attention back to the road, getting us onto the highway that will take us south towards home. I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the sisyphean task of diversifying that D&D group he’s apparently taken on, but I don’t say anything out loud. I can tell there’s something more important that he wants to say but isn’t sure how to word. 

 

I wait patiently, easing myself back into my seat in an attempt to relax somewhat. Coming up with words on the spot has always been a lot harder for Matt than it is for me, probably because he takes more time to choose the best ones. From the sound of it though, he had had his answer to why he plays women in games already prepared for conversations like this. Or maybe he’d prepped it for this specific conversation between us?

 

I’m lost in those thoughts when Matt speaks again. “As for why I asked,” he says at last, “it’s because Sky showed me a subreddit for trans women a couple weeks ago. I guess they thought I might like some of the memes there, even if I’m not trans.”

 

My eyes widen at the mention of his nonbinary sibling. I haven’t heard from Sky in a while, probably since the last time I was over at their house. They came out publicly as an enby a couple years ago, and they’ve been joining Matt and I on our hang outs more and more ever since. They didn’t usually talk too much about trans stuff when we were all together though, and I totally respected that.

 

“Anyway,” Matt continues, “I’ve been browsing this subreddit and a couple others like it pretty frequently to familiarize myself with the transfemme community. And uh, well, apparently there’s a lot of common signs that someone might be a trans girl, but not out to themselves about it yet. One of the big ones is a ‘guy’ choosing to play as a girl consistently, no matter what kind of game it is.” 

 

He shifts a little in his seat, eyes focused on the road but clearly a little uncomfortable about bringing this up.

 

“It’s definitely not a sure thing,” he adds quickly, “but it is a very common experience for a lot of the girls on that forum.”

 

My mind is very busy churning away with all the many reasons why I’m obviously not trans, but I stop myself from blurting them all out. He hadn’t actually said he thought I was trans. Is he bringing this up because he’s worried about me, or because he’s been doing some more introspection on himself? Maybe Matt’s not as cis as he thought he was, and he’s trying to find a way to explain that to me?

 

“Huh,” I reply after a minute, “That’s all really good to know, thank you for sharing it, seriously.”

 

It’s my turn to shift around uncomfortably, and I again end up staring out at the wilderness whipping past beyond the highway’s shoulder.

 

“I really look up to trans folks in general, actually,” I add before he can say anything, “Like, uh, I mean, I think it’s so cool that they embrace their true selves, and reshape their lives to better match those selves.” 

 

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should stop here. A glance at Matt shows me him looking really intently at the road as we zoom down onwards, head cocked a little to the left as if to better listen to me.

 

“And uh, just so you know,” I say, even more nervously, “I am absolutely, one hundred percent, your ride-or-die best friend, no matter how you end up identifying, okay?”

 

Matt seems to choke as I finish that last part, like he’d been drinking water and suddenly encountered a bug. I feel trepidation wash through my mind. 

 

“Wha- me?” he sputters incredulously. “No, no, I’m absolutely sure I’m a guy... I was bringing all this up because I thought maybe you were trans!” 

 

I feel a wave of irritation towards him wash over me. I really thought he knew me better than that.

 

“Come on, Matt,” I say a little dejectedly. “We both know I’d make a terrible girl. There’s no way I’m not cis.”

 

I look out my window forlornly. I’m expecting him to give in, to abandon the whole conversation like I’m so ready to. But instead, when I glance back at him, he’s gripping the wheel tighter, and his jaw is set determinedly.

 

“Erick,” he says seriously, briefly meeting my gaze with a steely-eyed glance, “‘come on’ yourself. There’s no such thing as a terrible girl.” 

 

I blink. Oh, fuck. My anxiety surges forth, and I find myself blurting out, “That’s not what I meant!” 

 

I stop myself from adding ‘and you know it.’ Instead, I take a deep breath, and carefully clarify: “Of course all girls are fucking amazing. That’s not the debate here. It’s just that, I’m... I’m not cut out to be one of them. That’s just a fact.”

 

Matt sighs in response, and I catch him giving me another glance. His eyes seem full of... concern? Affection? Whatever it is, it does some weird things to my stomach, and also makes me want to slap him upside the head.

 

“Hey now,” he says, seeming to choose his words very carefully, “Even if that’s true, it’s also a fact that you, if you were trans and were a girl, would already make a fantastic girl as you are right now, simply because you felt like one. It’s as simple as that. There’s no such thing as a wrong way to be a girl.” His voice is quieter, and more... gentle?

 

My thoughts sputter and cough at the unexpected tenderness in the air. His words echo through my head uncomfortably. I know he glances at me as the silence drags on, but he doesn’t say anything more.

 

It takes me several long minutes for me to find my way back to myself from the truly bizarre surges of emotion that rushed through me as he’d spoken. As he’d called me a girl, like that was just, just something I could be. The blush that had risen to my cheeks seems to burn hotter the more I consider that thought. 

 

But, jeez. This was far from the first time I’d considered my gender. And all those worries and doubts and self-assurances come creeping back into my consciousness as I come back to myself.

 

Eventually, I let out a long sigh. “I... I really appreciate that, Matt,” I say quietly. “But... I promise, I’ve already thought about this a lot. There’s just... no possible way I’m ‘really’ a girl, or whatever. I’m just a normal dude.” I manage to make my voice come out fairly evenly, without the glumness I feel inside.

 

Silence descends between us for a few moments. I get the sense that Matt’s trying to decide whether he should press me further, and I pray to whatever Gods are listening that he lets this go. I sit quietly, feeling like all the energy has been sucked out of my soul. Talking about this with Matt openly, knowing how impossible it is... it hurts me in a way I don’t really understand.

 

Finally, as we’re exiting the highway and entering our neighborhood, he speaks again.

 

“Okay man, I get it. Sorry to make a big deal out of this. I just... you’re really important to me, y’know?” His voice is filled with more of that surprising softness. “I want to be there for you in any - in every - way I can.”

 

I feel anxiety rise up in me, as the risk of spurning the vulnerability of the moment clashes with my stubborn need to assert that of course he’s there for me - far more than anyone else in my life has ever been! I desperately reach for words I can use in return, to repay him for the tenderness of this conversation. I’m out of my element, but I feel so, so grateful for having this beautiful soul in my life. 

 

“Damn dude,” I say, almost reverently, putting as much of my emotions as I can into the words, “I... thank you. You’re... you’re really, really important to me too, okay? I want to be there for you just the same.” 

 

I feel like I’m on the verge of tears, and I desperately try to drag myself back from it. I take a shuddering breath and keep talking, hoping that will get these feelings out of me.

 

“Maybe... um, can you send me that reddit Sky sent you, when you get home?” I ask, “At least then I can follow along with all these memes you’re talking about.”

 

“Yeah, of course I can do that,” Matt responds, “More jokes are sorely needed in this hell of a year.”

 

cw: fear of parents

 

We pull up to the curb outside my two story house. I stare at the building, and suddenly I don’t want to get out of the car. I feel so vulnerable, and I do not feel up to facing my parents with my defenses this far down.

 

Matt sits with me patiently, and I know he must see my shudder as I stare at the building.

 

“Um,” I say after a tense minute, “If you don’t have any plans, could we maybe drive around the block for a bit? I don’t, I don’t want to go deal with my folks just yet.”

 

End cw

 

I turn away from the window, and am met with warmth and worry in Matt’s eyes that makes me feel a confusing combination of both anxiety and relief.

 

“Of course, Er,” he says softly. Then he holds out his right hand above the center console between us, almost like he... wants me to hold it?

 

I glance at his face, then back to his hand. Fuck. I take his hand in my own before I can psyche myself out of it.

 

He squeezes gently, and now a few tears do come, tracing silent tracks down my cheeks. Matt’s hands are about the same size as mine, and he takes a moment to interlace our fingers, then squeeze a little tighter.

 

Ever so gently, he says, “We can take as much time as you want.”

End of 

Chapter 2.e - What’s in a Want

 





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