Aran

Aran lies in bed, eyes focused on the ceiling. His phone sat on the nightstand to his right. The screen lights up, and he can see the flash of light out of the corner of his vision. He doesn’t move to check whatever messages he’s received. Sadly, he knows what most of them will say. Messages from earlier in the night flash in his might, and he attempts to push them out quickly.

Mom: ull always be our daughter, u kno that

Dad: ur mom’s right, kelsei.

The texts are burned into his mind, like he’s kept them open on his phone screen far too long. Seeing his parents deadname and misgender him made his stomach drop. He hadn’t expected for them to find out this way, or… at all, until he had started on his hormones.

Inviting his sister to his birthday party had been an absolute mistake.

“You’re not a boy, Kelsei. Just because you always wanted to play boys’ sports and wear boys’ clothes doesn’t make you what you aren’t. You never have been and you never will be.”

He hadn’t told her, but he thought that, just maybe, she had some inkling of an idea. They were twins, for God’s sake, he thought that she would at least try to understand. But, when his girlfriend had referred to him by his actual name, the one he had chosen not even a year ago, he’d figured she would just take it in stride. But the face she’d made. Kaycee’s face had screwed into a frown so quickly that Aran didn’t have any time for prevention.

There were only the incendiary sparks afterwards.

“Why are you calling her that? I’ve never heard that nickname.”

He hadn’t thought anything of it until he recognized the sharpness in her tone. She’d turned to Yara with confusion clear on her face. The rest of their friends, ones that the couple had found through multiple activist outlets in town, were already bristling, but they kept their distance. Many of them had gone through or knew someone who’d gone through something similar.

“I…” Yara started, then looked to Aran. Her expression screamed, “I’m so sorry,” as she sat his birthday cake down onto the counter. He had smiled down at her through his slight unease and put his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. He pulled her in and tucked her in against his side, her frame fitting perfectly against his. Then he turned his gaze to his sister.

“Kaycee, I wanted to tell you when mom and dad were here, but,” he shrugged. With Yara by his side and his friends surrounding him, he felt like then may have been the perfect time.

“I don’t go by Kelsei anymore. Or ‘she’ or ‘her’. I go by Aran and ‘he’ and ‘his’ because, well… I realized a while ago that I don’t feel like a woman. I’m not sure if I ever really have.”

Kaycee had stared at him, eyebrows furrowed and the frown still etched onto her lips. He could almost see the cognition happening as she attempted to understand what Aran, her brother, was talking about. He couldn’t remember ever having brought up the topic, so he understood if she didn’t quite understand it yet. He released Yara with a gentle squeeze, and she set about cutting the cake the two had picked out: simple, chocolate icing with layers of baby blue, pastel pink, and white cake on the inside. It was moreso a symbol than anything: Aran wasn’t the biggest fan of sweets, but he thought it was a cool idea when Yara brought it up. Plus, he didn’t think any of his family would be able to make his last-minute birthday party, so it wouldn’t have been a secret.

“... What does that even mean? You've ‘never felt like a woman’? You are a woman, Kelsei.”

He’d kept his smile up even as the energy in the room began to shift. His sister’s tone worried him: he knew what she sounded like when she was confused, but this seemed like pure obstinance. The two of them generally got along, even when he had introduced Kaycee to Yara, under the impression that he was a woman interested in other women. This was uncharted territory, and he felt the need to tread carefully.

“Kaycee, I’ve never thought that I… fit into the ‘mold’ of what a woman is. It didn’t feel right being called a girl or being forced to wear feminine clothes--”

Kaycee took in a deep breath and stood to her full height, a few inches taller than Aran and much taller than Yara since she was in heels. The hand she had on her drink glass was strangling it so that Aran thought it may shatter.

“You’re not a boy, Kelsei. Just because you always wanted to play boys’ sports and wear boys’ clothes doesn’t make you what you aren’t. You never have been and you never will be.”

His sister stormed out then. No one stopped her, not even her own brother. In reality, he was shocked by his sister’s sudden, harsh words. As she made her way to the front door of his and Yara’s shared apartment, the clickclickclick of her heels echoed in the small space for what felt like an eternity. Then, they stopped. She opened the creaking front door, stepped over the threshold, and slammed it behind her as she made her way out.

There was the fire, burning low and warm in the aftermath of his sister’s outburst. The flames licked at his feet and created a nagging heat.

Yara hadn’t even cut the cake yet. Kaycee’s gift, a little, pink box wrapped in a white ribbon, sat atop all of the other gifts, unopened. Their friends watched the hallway to the entrance, as though waiting for her to return. When she didn’t, one of them spoke up.

“Hey, let’s not ruin a good time. There’s still a lot of stuff to do!”

One after the other, his friends all agreed until they were shoving their gifts in his face to distract him from his sister’s absence. He was able to ignore the soft buzz his phone made throughout the entire afternoon. There were cards from people from the community center that he barely even remembered the names of and well-wishes and video chat requests from his friends back home. Most of them took the news much better, and some even congratulated him on this new step in his life’s journey. He’d even had a piece of the cake that Yara insisted he try before everyone left, and he liked it.

But, now, as he stares at the ceiling, there isn’t anything to distract him from his thoughts. Kaycee’s words replay continuously in his head, stuck on a loop that puts needles in his throat and makes it hard to breathe.

There’s shifting next to him. When he looks to his left, it’s his girlfriend, rolling over to face him. He thinks she’s still asleep, but finds himself thinking incorrectly when she cracks an eye open to look at him.

“Mmm… Baby… you’re still awake?”

He hums quietly in the affirmative, eyes averting from hers. He hasn’t felt this way in… a very long time. The rejection and sour words are things that he tries to shield himself from, but coming from his own family? It stung far more than he was willing to admit.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Her voice is soft, obviously giving him the option to say no if he wants to. He glances away from her, towards the window behind her and the lights in the distance. She moves her head slightly, into his field of vision, to regain his attention. He blinks and snaps his eyes back to her.

“Do you wanna cuddle instead?”

Aran is still before he shuffles closer to her. Yara opens her arms and lifts her head, already accustomed to which position she’s going to be drawn into. He pulls her to him, settling his face in her neck and curling his body around hers. Their legs tangle as Yara’s arms loop around his back. Her fingers draw imperceptible shapes along his sleep shirt, giving him something else to focus on.

A quiet, neutral silence floats between the two of them before Aran decides to speak.

“. . . Can we talk in the morning?”

Yara continues to draw little patterns on his clothing as she replies.

“Of course we can. Please just try and sleep for now, okay?”

He doesn’t respond. Focusing on her breathing and the feel of her hands on him, he lets her drift back off to sleep. His own eyes are dropping by the time her quiet snores fill his ear. The soft noise lulls him off to a dreamless, restless sleep.