Chapter Text
Part 1 – How Hange Zoë Lost an Eye
And they called it puppy love
Oh, I guess they'll never know
How a young heart how it really feels
Puppy Love by Paul Anka (1959)
Hange Zoë was born in the right body. Bright, an explosion of colour and energy, ready to take on the world by storm. But the world was dull, black and white, and not quite ready for them. Maybe it'd never be ready for them, and that would have been okay until puberty hit, and it wasn't.
Hange had never been an ordinary child. From a working-class family with doting parents, they had the best home life any child can have. When they started primary school, they already knew how to read. Their parents didn't know why they were being called to school because their child was doing well, and they refused to send their child to a boarding school for kids who were brighter than most. They wanted to keep their child with them, so Hange stayed in an eagerness to know more and more about everything, hyper-focused, kind of out of touch with some aspects of human interaction, hyperactive mind, disorganised, and skimping on self-care and often skipping meals if nobody reminded them to eat in their hyper-focused moments. They got bullied in school for their appearance. Wearing only strange and colourful hand-me-downs and thrifted outfits made it difficult to gender them. Especially as a child when genders are still being indoctrinated into one's mind.
"I'M AN ALIEN!" they bellowed when the abuse got too much for them to just ignore it, and they snapped at last, "I COME FROM TITAN, A SATELLITE OF SATURN! IT LOOKS YELLOW IN THE PICTURES AND IT SMELLS BUT IT'S GREAT THERE! GREAT! THE PLANET WITH THE BEAUTIFUL RINGS! WE SEE IT FROM MY HOUSE THERE! AND I MISS MY HOME! CAN'T WAIT TO GO BACK AND LEAVE YOU ALL BEHIND, YOU MEAN HUMANS."
It wasn't true. Hange was human. Very human. The most human a human can be! But they were only half-lying, as an eight-year-old, telling the other kids they were mean and that they wanted to leave them all behind and move to Titan, the satellite of Saturn. And they told themself that as they pored over piles of books on aliens and outer space, learning everything they could about wormholes and black holes and satellites.
And they were known for being loud in class, always knowing everything, and not having friends. But they were also known for their wide grin and for being incredible at PE. Especially at jumping rope. They loved doing that. Jumping fast and slow, crossover, skier, side saddle, backwards, backwards with crossover, skipping. And seeing their rude classmates' looks of envy when their teacher praised them, they practised hard to do it with flips.
Their family worried about seeing them put old clothes on the ground in their unkempt backyard and practice the flips after seeing how to do them online. And they fell and scratched themself, and they got up and tried again, focusing on doing it, thinking of how to do it without help. They came up with a plan. They threw a long cable over a tree branch, wrapped it around their wrists and practised flipping like that. It worked, and they got the hang of it.
So, bloodied and bruised, after an afternoon of hard work, Hange happily showed it off to their parents, who were happy for them but fussed to bathe them, disinfect their wounds and dress the cuts. But the following day in PE they got the rope out and with a fire in their eyes grinned at their classmates and showed off their new tricks, relishing the looks of shock and jealously on their faces and the surprised look in their PE teacher's face.
"Zoë, you did very well," their PE teacher said after class, pulling them aside, "and I'm proud of you. But you hurt yourself to do this. Promise me not to do that again."
"Why!? I showed them! And it was cool!" they said, pouting a little, confused, "These cuts will heal Mr Shadis," they said looking at the kneeling man, "they will," they said and felt a sting in their eyes, and when they grinned, the tears slid down their cheeks, shimmering in the bright afternoon sun, "and I showed them! I'm an alien! I can do anything!"
"I know you can," their teacher said, wiping that hurt 8-year-old face with his hands, and clicking his tongue, "you're smarter than all of them. Just don't hurt yourself again because of them, okay?"
Hange sniffled and nodded a little, gripping the rope, the red welts on their wrists still inflamed. "Okay…"
They didn't. But they knew how to do those flips and all the tricks then and never missed a chance to show them off. They were energetic and good at running, but terrible at team sports.
"LISTEN UP," teacher Keith Shadis said one day when they were playing basketball, "BASKETBALL IS A TEAM SPORT AND EVERYONE IS PLAYING. AND IF I SEE YOU NOT PASSING THE BALL TO ZOË OR ANY OTHER PLAYER THAT'S OPEN, I'LL PUT YOU IN DETENTION!" he yelled.
Hange was happy because they felt that the teacher was doing it for them and was happy to finally be able to play and score some points.
Their primary school experience wasn't good, but it could have been worse. They had no friends, but they had books, the X-Files, and straight As and the love of all their teachers and their parents. And the love of the aliens in Titan. Maybe. Who knew? The truth was out there, after all.
Hange didn't like puberty because their body developed in a way that made it easier for people to gender them and that bothered them. They were a space kid, not a biology kid, and at the time queerness and being gender non-conforming weren't things people talked about. Those things weren't on TV, either. They still wore thrifted outfits, and they still had no friends, but they started getting angry at the abuse and joined the hockey team their school had and wasn't exactly great at it. But they sure became a menace because of it. Once they started trying to bully them again, the stick started being used to hit things that weren't the puck.
And they were kicked out of the hockey team and were on their own again, angry in the library, studying advanced astronomy, getting their grubby little hands on everything they could. Fixed on the goal of one day becoming an astronomer and going to space and never returning.
Until they met Moblit Berner in year 6. They had seen him in the library a couple of times but had paid him no mind. They wanted to be left alone with their books and not be bothered by anyone. People were awful, and the older they got, the more they believed that. But that boy cautiously started sitting closer and closer to them and they kept getting mad and moving away from him, sitting elsewhere.
"What do you want from me?" they snapped one day when they were both outside the library, and they were holding a heavy book on astronomy. Moblit clutched the book he was holding to his chest and looked up, scared, but didn't run.
"I… I just think we could be friends."
Hange looked at him and gripped the book. "You're lying."
"I'm not, I… I see you here all the time… I thought we could be the same…" he said, voice small and squeaky, uncracked still, looking at the book he was holding, "I come here to hide."
Hange lowered the book and looked at him, their anger subsiding slowly. "Hide?"
"Yeah."
"From whom?"
"People…" Moblit muttered, "boys who stole my Gameboy and didn't return it…" he said, his face turning red and his eyes shining, "I thought we could be friends."
Hange was bad with humans, but they saw the truth in that small boy's shining eyes and his effort to appear smaller than he was. Skinny, short, scared. "What's your name?"
"Moblit," he said, looking up to face them, "Berner."
"What grade?"
"We're in the same class…"
"Oh," Hange said and scratched their head, "I don't pay attention to who's around me there."
"I know."
"And you still want to be friends with me?"
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because you're strong… and you're cool and smart," he mumbled, his cheeks turning bright red, "and you don't let people make fun of you…" he added, clutching the book to his chest.
Cool was something Hange Zoë had never been called in their life and they liked it because it felt honest. "You like jazz, then?"
"Yes," Moblit said, perking up, "I want to join the music club but I'm… I'm scared."
"Of what? Teachers own the clubs, not the students. And teachers won't be mean to you," Hange said, a bit confused.
"I'll be alone…"
Hange thought about it and made up their mind while looking at the book in his hands. "I'll join with you, then," they said and smiled at last. Moblit stared as if he was seeing an angel.
"Really? Do you… do you play an instrument?"
Hange shrugged. "No, but I can learn," they said, "I learnt how to jump rope with flips in one afternoon, you know?" they said and walked with the boy back to their common class, "They just kicked me out of hockey because I was using the stick as a weapon," they said and laughed, colder, "I don't like people… but I can like you. You seem nice."
Moblit smile a little, coy. "That's cool… I don't think you're a bad person or a dangerous person…" he said quietly, "I just think you're too smart, so people don't understand you."
Hange smiled at him. "It's because I'm an alien!" they said.
"No, you're not," Moblit said and chuckled, "You're human."
"How do you know that? This could be my terrible human disguise!" Hange said and grinned, feeling an odd fuzzy feeling. Something they'd never felt. Feeling like someone liked them for them.
"If you're an alien, then so am I," Moblit said in return and sniffled, "we're both aliens."
Hange looked at him and gripped their book. "I know a lot about aliens and," they lowered their voice, "Roswell," they said, "I can tell you sometime," they added with a conspiracy hint in their voice, looking around.
Moblit looked around as well, wary. "Okay… I want to hear it…" he said. "Aliens are real?"
"Shh!" Hange said, "later."
"Later." Moblit nodded, a little scared. What if aliens were real and not just two kids saying they were aliens? You never knew!
They both joined the Music Club. Hange wanted to play the sax since it was on the cover of Moblit's book, and Moblit wanted to play the drums. He already practised at home, in the basement, with improvised objects that made the right sound when you hit them. And he played when his father wasn't home. He told Hange that, but his friend didn't understand. But to Moblit, it didn't matter that they didn't. What mattered was that he got to do something he liked. Hange's parents were happy to meet Moblit. He was their child's first friend after all and he was such a sweet boy, they couldn't dislike him. And they were happy that their Zoë was making a lot of noise with the instrument the school had lent them.
Moblit became a recurrent guest at the Hanges' household and would take his drumsticks to make some music by hitting wooden surfaces to practise with his friend.
"And they hid it all," Hange said to him when they were sitting together one evening in Hange's room, covered in X-Files posters and vibrant schemes of colourful planet pictures and scribbled notes, "there are pictures of the aliens and it's all hidden in Area 51. They dissected the alien," they stated firmly, "and they do top-secret experiments there."
"I thought it was just a military base…"
"Then why do they have it so heavily guarded and get so aggressive when someone comes just a little close to it?" Hange asked slapping the pages with the pictures of the alien, "One day I'll work for NASA!" they exclaimed, "And I'll get in there and find their secrets!"
Moblit looked at the picture of a spaceship and sniffed. "But you won't go to space and stay there, right?" he asked.
Hange hummed and shrugged. "I don't know, if they made a base on our Moon, I'd like to go there… but I don't believe we've actually been to the Moon yet so…"
"What about Mars?"
"It's too far away," Hange reminded him, "it'll only be close enough to safely get there around 2021 or so, because of its orbit," they said and smiled, "I told you this."
"You did, yeah, sorry, I…"
"Moby," Hange's mum called, "your dad is outside."
Moblit jumped to his feet immediately, the colour draining from his face. Hange's mum looked at him, but her child looked at their friend, a bit surprised.
"We'll talk tomorrow. Thanks for having me," Moblit said to both his friend and Mrs Hange, bowing and dashing out of the room.
Hange stared at the book, confused and wondered about that sudden change in the mood, but instead of thinking too much about it, they waved Moblit off and got a different book from their pile to reread information about Mars. Ignorance is truly bliss sometimes.
Moblit was a patient, soft-spoken, smiley boy who was an easy target for bullying. He was nervous at times, but he liked Hange's energy and how they faced the mean comments and the abuse. They became each other's only friend. And he was the only one who always understood them, even when he didn't. Sometimes understanding runs deeper than the words that define it.
Hange was a chatterbox, and Moblit liked to listen. When they were in Hange's colourful room, which smelled faintly like cheap incense, they talked about the music they both enjoyed and the outer space Hange was so passionate about. Hange took him to a thrift store, and they got their hands on ridiculously cheap Jazz and Blues CDs that they played at Hange's place. Hange said they would be like Charlie Parker one day, practising the sax like that, and Moblit laughed and said he'd be like Elvin Jones, then. Hange was good with the drums, but Moblit was the best musician of the two. Though he couldn't sing that well, his voice suited the old gritty blues songs.
"They always sing about love and happiness, don't they?" Hange said, smiling, one day when they sat outside with a Walkman plugged to a speaker, watching the craters on the Moon through Hange's refractory telescope, "Thanks for letting me know music, Moby. My parents never really cared much for it, but they like it too, you know?" they grinned and got their eye away from the lens, "your turn! Then you can draw it! You're better at that!"
Moblit smiled and got his notepad ready to draw the craters. Hange wanted a drawing of it. And they specifically wanted him to draw them because they thought he was the best artist. Unaware, Hange didn't see the twinkle in their friend's eyes and the quivering lip when he smiled and said he'd do it.
"I hope it's any good, this," Moblit said and smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face as he carefully drew what he saw through the telescope on the Hanges' dimly lit backyard, "and that makes me happy… music is my second favourite thing in the world…"
"What's the first?" Hange asked, not looking at him as the CD had stopped and they were getting another one. John Lee Hooker's The Healer. So, they didn't see their friend's red cheeks and the way he gripped the pencil and couldn't tell that he was lying when he said,
"Carrot cake!"
Hange's bubbly laughter filled that colourful childhood bedroom, and they looked at him. "I mean, it's pretty great, especially my mum's!"
"Yeah… your mum's carrot cake is the best…" he said awkwardly, focusing on his drawing again, breathing and making sure to draw a good one. Hange wanted to have it on their corkboard. It was important.
"What's this? Is it Thai?"
"Yeah…" Moblit mumbled, rubbing the side of his neck, "it says, um, the craters of the moon from Moblit to Zoë… and that's the date, you already know that…" he said and sniffled as they packed up to go back inside.
"I love it!" Hange said, beaming when they hugged Moblit and almost made him drop the telescope and gasp, clasping it, "Oh, sorry… I just love it! It looks so beautiful! You're so amazing, Moby!"
Moblit's face lit up, red as the shirt Hange was wearing, and he looked at his shoes.
"I'm happy you like it…"
And that Thursday, late in March, when they were both 14, Hange Zoë was still oblivious to the fact that not only did they had a gifted best friend, but they also had someone with a little crush on them. Puppy love, they called it.
They were still 14 when they stopped being friends.
The only time anyone saw Hange go berserk as a kid was because of Moblit. Hange found him crying alone behind the school one day after the school bullies had been bothering them for over a week. Saying Moblit's girlfriend was ugly and that he was a wimp and needed her to protect him. Hange had begun to struggle with their gender but was unaware of that. All they knew was that they were nobody's date and Moblit was their friend.
They'd been looking for him for ages, scared that someone had hurt him when they split for a bit when they went to the bathroom until they found him. Bruised and bloodied, his knees and palms scraped and covered in blood.
Hange's anger boiled slowly from the deepest of their being and they knelt in front of Moblit, who quickly tried to wipe his eyes and smile. Hange shook their head. "No," they whispered, "they will pay."
"It's nothing, I-"
Hange slammed their fist on the floor. "It's not nothing!" they exclaimed, tears erupting from their eyes for the first time in years, blurring their vision, fogging up their glasses. "They will pay! Nobody hurts you! Nobody!" they stopped and stared at him, unblinking, "I know who did it and they will regret this forever," they said and Moblit's lower lip trembled. Hange's hurt and anger weren't something they were used to, and they didn't know what else to do but get back at them somehow. For hurting Moblit. For hurting the only friend they'd ever had. For hurting the boy who'd given them music they loved.
They smiled at Moblit through the hurt, wiping their eyes with the back of their shaking hand. "I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore," they said, and Moblit opened his mouth. "I really do. I'm an alien, after all! Bye-bye!"
Moblit looked like he wanted to say something to them then, but Hange had already dashed away, thinking about what they wanted to do to those bullies.
"Not the stick, no, not the stick," they muttered as they ran and thought about the weapon they'd use and how well it'd work. They knew they'd get in trouble for that but didn't care. They were seething when they grabbed a heavy tuba from the music room and ran around the school to find the bullies. There were four of them.
Hange blew the tuba as hard as they could, the shrill, deep sound echoing the first notes of the national anthem through the hallways as they grinned when they spotted them.
"INCOMING!" Hange bellowed as they charged against them. The bullies never saw it coming when Hange started hitting them with the hard metal tuba as hard as they could. Two of them ended up with split heads, gushing blood everywhere, and one of them got shoved on the floor, and Hange knelt over him and hit him repeatedly in the chest with the back of the tuba. The other got them on the side of the face, smashing their glasses. Hange barely felt the blood streaming down the side of their face. They didn't realise they could barely see from their left eye anymore.
They got off the almost unconscious bully, dropping the tuba on the floor with a loud metallic clatter and grinned. A crowd had gathered around them, inciting the fight. They didn’t knock Hange out. Dizzy but boiling in anger, they stood up and stomped to the one who'd smashed their glasses and reached their hands up to his neck, digging their nails into the skin, clasping them tightly around it. The bully's face turned red as he gasped for air, terrified, digging his nails into Hange's arms to try to get them to let go after seeing that punching wouldn't work. That didn't work either. Nobody did anything until they saw that Hange would kill the boy if nobody called for help.
"Zoë! Please stop! You're hurt!" Moblit's voice reached their ears, and they looked vaguely at him as some kids summoned adults to break up the fight.
"I know and I don't care!" Hange yelled, but let go. The bully dropped on the floor as the teachers arrived and saw that scene. Hange looked from Moblit's crying face to the teachers and grinned through their tears and blood, eyes blurry, and reached their wrists over to them. "Take me in! Arrest me! I'm an evil alien!"
Moblit's crying face was the last thing they saw with their wounded left eye, and they winked at him with it.
The teachers took them away but only to rush them to the hospital. Hange didn't get in a lot of trouble. Several students attested that those kids that they'd hit with the tuba were bullies and had been bothering many people for many months. And the one who smashed their glasses permanently damaged that eye. They couldn't see anything from it aside from vague shadows. Nobody dared to comment on the pirate-like eyepatch. It pleased Hange that they didn't. They didn't like anyone, and the only person they did like they wanted to push away. And they were stubborn. Their parents worried and asked for Moblit, but they explained to them that being friends with Moblit was bad for him whenever he tried to call them on their landline.
Hange didn't speak to Moblit anymore after that and only waved and smiled at him from a distance. Just to let him know that they still liked him.
They didn't want him to get bullied because of them again. And once they went to high school, they lost contact because they went to different schools. And that was the last Hange heard of Moblit. Social media wasn't wildly popular at the time, and Hange didn't use it at all. Hange was alone, wore an eyepatch, and was famous for almost having strangled someone to death. They had no friends, but they had books, music, and had become aware of gender non-conformity. And things clicked into place at last, and they felt soothed for a while. They were rather androgynous, which had been a reason for bullying but had been a thing they'd always liked about themself. Coming out as non-binary and bisexual to their working-class, loving parents wasn't hard. They didn't want to change their name. It was neutral enough, and their parents were happy about that.
"Can you not use she and her with me anymore?"
"So, you want he and him?"
Hange scrunched their nose and shrugged. "Not really?"
Their parents were at a loss. They and them were still being reclaimed as neutral pronouns at the time, but their dad chuckled and said, "Well, we just won't use any pronouns, then," he said, "if we want to talk about you, we'll just say 'our child'."
"That will work," their mum said with a little smile, "and we don't need to use any pronouns aside from 'you' when talking to you, so…"
They hugged, and Hange Zoë was happy hearing their parents say they'd love them forever, and that would never change that. And at that moment, they were aware of how lucky they were to have those two folks as their parents.
Part 2 – Why Moblit Berner Raised His Head
"Beware of those who don't fight back. Sooner or later, they will."
― Joyce Rachelle
Moblit Berner never stood out. Maybe that was why he loved the drums so much. Nobody ever remembers the drummer, even though they're the most important member, leading the beat, holding the band together, keeping the cadence. Being the kind of child that parents show off as well-behaved but don't care about and neglect when nobody's around. And whenever he failed to obey a direct order from his father immediately, and in the way he wanted, he knew he would be physically punished. And his mother would stand back and pretend not to see it and then cry later, holding him. But Moblit didn't cry when he took it. For her. Because if it wasn't him, it'd be her. And in his heart, it was better if it was him, not her. It was his fault, after all. He'd been born and shouldn't have been.
"You should have never been born, useless runt!" his father yelled, often enough for it to take seeds deep into his being. "With these grades, what the hell will you be? A bum! A leech!"
That turned him into a wary, meek, and quiet child who didn't trust anybody and had no friends. A child who wanted to disappear without anybody noticing. But his mum would notice. And so would his grandpa, who he didn't see often because his father pushed both his mum and him away from his father-in-law, who hated him and saw right through him.
Moblit's trauma ran deep and lasted for many years. The unpredictability of it, the lack of safety at home, turned him into a distrustful and avoidant person.
But he'd still wanted to make friends with Hange Zoë, thinking they might be the same, since he always saw Hange alone in the library and they were from the same class. He was wrong, but in a way, he was right. They were a different kind of same.
That was the first time in his life he felt like he'd achieved something. A friend. Someone he admired for being the best in class without trying.
Hange was someone who was also bullied but didn't let anybody have their way and clapped back with that amazing brain and their lack of restraint with physical violence. Moblit wanted to be Hange Zoë's friend because he liked the energy and admired the astounding courage to stand out and be odd, unashamed, and with the nerve to grin and show off in PE class.
Hange feared nothing and laughed in the face of danger. Bullies didn't stand a chance with Hange Zoë's counterattacks. Sometimes Hange destroyed bullies with their superior intellect and smiled while dressing them down and baring out the reasons those kids bullied others until they chose extreme violence and lost an eye because of it.
And it was because of him. It was because of their friendship and because of his visible crush. It was because he was a coward, too.
Moblit didn't think Hange would be so absolutely enraged about it, he never saw it coming, and the guilt followed him through the months that Hange stood back and waved with that beautiful smile, never speaking to him again, and then avoiding contact with him at all costs.
Moblit hated himself for his lack of spunk, for his cowardice, for his inability to protect Hange, for never having the chance to confess his true feelings. It was puppy love, but it stayed with him and changed him.
He heard the echoes of his father's voice.
A runt who should have never been born.
And, for the first time in his life, Moblit felt anger surge and boil over in his heart. If he was a runt who should have never been born, then why did Hange seem happier when he was around? Why did his friend light up when their eyes met? Why did Hange Zoë still waved and smiled at him after cutting off their friendship? He mattered. He mattered to Hange Zoë. And he understood why he was pushed away.
By pushing him away and isolating, Hange Zoë changed Moblit. In high school he still joined the music club and kept practising the drums, and practised hard to be recognised for it, to be heard. And he learnt how to fight. He joined a gym and learnt Muay Thai from his ruthless grandfather. They called him Cut, but his real name was Mongkut. Moblit's father tried to beat the resolve out of him, but for the first time in his life, he couldn't.
Battered and bruised, Moblit showed up at school and at the gym to get beaten more and more until he could stand up for himself. Until he could say he was no longer afraid.
"Are you crying? ARE YOU CRYING? DOES IT HURT? THEN LEAVE, MUAY ISN'T FOR WEAKLINGS! YOUR USELESS FATHER WAS NEVER GOOD FOR NOTHING BUT TO HURT MY FAMILY!" the old Thai man yelled when Moblit fell, and the physical and emotional pain made him cry. He was 16, and his heart was full of passionate and boiling anger.
He bit down and clenched his fists.
And Moblit stood up.
Bleeding from one eye and with a bust lip, he put himself in position again.
Mongkut's lips curled into a smile and then sparred again.
"ARE YOU IN PAIN?"
"YES, SIR!" Moblit yelled.
"WILL THAT STOP YOU?"
"NO, SIR!"
Moblit dedicated his heart. He wanted to learn how to fight; he wanted to stop being afraid; he wanted to fight back. And his hard work paid off. Moblit wasn't naturally skilled, but his sheer willpower and his grandfather's tough love turned him into one of the best fighters at the gym, and he was recognised by his ruthless coach when he left the gym at 18, to go to the conservatory and hone his music skills.
"You're a fighter, but your heart is with music, and you must be happy," Mongkut said to him when they were saying their goodbyes, looking him in the eyes and smiling with pride, "you came in here terrified against your father's will and you're leaving with fire in your eyes. I'm proud of you, my son."
"It was thanks to you," Moblit said, smiling back, then his heart raced, and he looked Mongkut in the eyes, "thank you for not giving up on me… father."
The two men looked at each other in silence, and the old man pulled his son into his arms and clasped each other in a hug.
"You are my son."
"You are my father."
Neither shed a tear. Instead, they smiled at each other, old Mongkut looking up at Moblit.
"You are my boy. I knew in my heart you had it in you to fight. It was you. All of you. You didn't give up on yourself. It wasn't me. I taught you Muay, nothing else," Cut said and patted his arm, "good luck with your life, and I wouldn't be angry if you visited sometimes. And don't forget who you are."
"I'll visit you. Thank you for everything," Moblit promised, and he left waving his grandfather off and walking up the bustling street, with his head held high and fire in his heart, ready to make some noise at the conservatory for music.
Part 3 – The Alien and the Humans who Embraced them
"One way or another, we all have to find what best fosters the flowering of our humanity in this contemporary life and dedicate ourselves to that." – Joseph Campbell
Hange Zoë graduating Summa Cum Laude came as a surprise to none. They didn't make many friends at university, but they excelled in all their courses and were awarded prizes for their intelligence. The only thing bothering them, though, was that they couldn't tell those people their correct pronouns. Their major was astrophysics and had nothing to do with the humanities or the liberal arts. Hange had studied modern biology in their free time and knew that being non-binary was scientifically backed up but, even after adopting they and them as their correct pronouns, they still chose not to tell that to people. They didn't have friends there, anyway.
They just smiled and accepted the misgendering even though it was clear that they wanted to present as neutral, and people were already aware of non-binary gender identities. However, there was one girl in their degree who targeted them. Her name was Janice Kamila Rutherford.
"Why don't you dress womanlier? It's easier for everyone to gender you correctly, and you don't scare anyone in the bathroom," she said when they were sitting outside waiting for their professor to arrive. She started talking to Hange out of the blue when they were reading a book. The book was just a regular novel. Fahrenheit 451.
"I dress the way I want," Hange said, dog-earing the book and closing it to pay attention to her. The girl eyed them with a look of slight disgust.
"Are you a lesbian?"
"That's none of your business," Hange said simply, then, "why are you talking to me?"
"Because you're friendless and are always alone," Janice said and made a face, "I'm just trying to be nice."
"You're being rude and invasive," Hange said softly, scratching the back of their head and sighing, shocking the girl, "the way I dress, or my sexuality has nothing to do with you."
"You make people uncomfortable! So it does!" Janice demanded, and Hange blinked their visible eye at her.
"My existence bothers you? Well then that's your problem, isn't it?" they said, "You shouldn't be sitting near me or talking to me."
Janice Kamila Rutherford was lost for words for a moment.
"You make women uncomfortable to use the bathroom because you dress like a man!" she yelled instead of replying.
Hange laughed, which surprised the girl. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life. How did you get into this degree?" they asked, ready to go.
"You don't get a pass in being misogynistic just because you get the best grades in our degree," she snapped, raising her voice, making no sense, "just admit that you hate women and don't want to be one!"
The accusation threw Hange off, and they clutched the book. "You just suggested I was a lesbian. Now you're saying I hate women. You really are an idiot," they said simply and shook their head, "I don't understand why you're angry but you're being rude, and those accusations are serious and false. You are a bigot and I had already noticed that," they said, standing up and towering over Janice, glasses glistening under the lights of the white hallway, "I don't owe you anything. Now, do me the favour of never speaking to me again," they pointed at their eyepatch, "do you know how I got this? It was because of people who didn't know I don't just look crazy," they smiled softly.
"Are you threatening me, freak?" the girl said, stepping back. There were people around, and everyone was hearing what was happening.
"I'm demanding that you never speak to me again," Hange told her firmly, "which is something I can demand from anyone, unlike your ludicrous demands."
"Bitch," a girl among the onlookers said, glaring. Janice turned her head so fast it looked like she'd broken her neck.
"That's a slur!" she shrieked. "You won't silence me!" she bellowed. "You won't silence women's voices!"
"Woman? You? No, sweety, you're a twat in all meanings of the word," another girl said, stepping forward and standing between Hange and Janice, "since that's all people like you think women are."
Janice gasped and spluttered incoherently. "I AM A WOMAN! HOW DARE YOU TRY TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME!? THAT FREAK OF NATURE," she pointed at Hange, "IS A THREAT TO SOCIETY!"
There was silence, and Hange stared at her. Seeing that she didn't have any allies in the audience, Janice stormed to the class because the professor arrived then.
The girl who'd defended Hange looked at them. They were about the same height. "I'm Nanaba Gunnarsdóttir, don't know if we've ever talked," Nanaba said, Hange was chewing hard on their tongue and licked their lips, "I should have stepped in earlier, I knew that idiot was a bitch, I didn't think she'd go that far, I'm sorry. You're not a freak of nature, don't listen to her."
"No, no, it's not your fault, Nanaba," Hange said and smiled, gripping their book, "thank you… for defending me," they said, then, "you didn't have to, but thank you. That was so unexpected."
Nanaba explained to them that the reason old Janice was having a go at Hange out of the blue was that she wanted to be the best in their degree and couldn't even get close to Hange's level. Money doesn't buy brains, Nanaba said, and that made Hange laugh.
Hange was a bit bummed they were making someone feel bad, but then, that girl didn't seem like a good person and had insulted them and slandered them, so they meant it when they said they didn't want her to talk to them again. And that being pushed hard enough might end in violence.
"Hating women," Hange said to Nanaba when they finished their classes for the day and left, together, "I actually like women a lot," Hange said with a little smile and Nanaba chortled, "I'm a freak in all senses of the word!" they exclaimed, cackling. Nanaba stopped and looked at them.
"You're not a freak, Hange," Nanaba told them, "you're really not. I don't know how you feel about hanging out with me, but I would like to be your friend," she said, and Hange stopped, laughed and looked at her, smiling.
"I don't want you to get in trouble because of me, Nanaba," they said and meant it.
Nanaba looked at them and smiled a bit. "Have you seen me?" she said, flexing her ripped arms. "Do you think playground bullies and jealous assholes will bother me?" she grinned and winked.
Hange was quiet for a moment, clutching the strap of their shoulder bag and unconsciously touching their eyepatch. "I wouldn't mind not being alone, I guess," they mumbled. "I had a friend once," they said, voice barely above a whisper, and trailed off, "well, you're strong! So, if you want to be friends, let's be friends! I can share my notes with you!"
Nanaba cackled. "You'll make me feel like I'm only hanging out with you for free notes," she said and Hange laughed at that, "but I've seen your handwriting. It'll be pretty hard to decrypt."
"I can turn them into word files for you!" Hange said happily and Nanaba opened her mouth, "It's no trouble at all, and helps me get cleaner notes for the future! Thank you, Nanaba!"
Nanaba didn't know what she was being thanked for but had a hunch it was about the friendship she was offering. "You're a cool person, Hange. I get it if you don't want to be in big groups of people, but there's a party on Thursday, and you're welcome there. We didn’t invite Janice. It's a house party with people I know from other degrees," she said and Hange smiled.
"I'm fine with groups, don't worry! And thank you!" they said, "Just let them know I'm a weirdo beforehand!"
Nanaba opened her mouth but said nothing and smiled instead. "Well, give me your number, then, I'll text you the address."
Hange made sure to shower thoroughly and dress nicely for the party. But found that the extra care wasn't needed. They were welcome there. Nanaba's friends weren't from their Astrophysics degree. Most of them were from the Humanities, and Hange meekly told them that their pronouns were they and them because people asked. That blew Hange away, and the joy showed. Their energy filled the room. They weren't misgendered once the whole night after letting people know their pronouns, got high and drunk and had the best night of their life thus far with people who accepted them and their energy. So, the few friends Hange Zoë made at university were Nanaba and some people majoring in humanities degrees. Also, Mike Zacharias, a massive, brawny boy who spoke very little and liked to sniff people, and was getting a degree in sports, and would forever be thankful to Hange Zoë for their lack of filters when they noticed him eyeing Nanaba that fateful night.
"Mike!" Hange exclaimed, looking up at him and grabbing his cheeks. He was growing a bit of stubble. Mike's face was warm, and he was a bit drunk, "If you like Nanaba, go tell her! She's cool! The coolest! She won't be mad!" they said almost angry, high and kind of drunk, "And you're also cool, warm now because your face is warm, but go tell her! Or I will! I also like women, you know!? And beautiful, ripped women are just my type!" they threatened playfully and let go of his face. Mike straightened up and pursed his lips, nodding and clenching his fists.
As it turned out, it was mutual and Nanaba, who also pretty high from the hotboxing inside that flat, was overjoyed when he looked at her in the eyes and said,
"I fancy you!" loud and clear, "Ever since we met at the gym and I saw you lift almost double your weight, I've fancied you!"
Nanaba blinked up at him, gripping her empty plastic cup. She blushed and grinned and got mad all at once.
"You big oaf! What made you speak up now!?" she asked and saw Hange grinning and grinned back before looking up at Mike's bright red face, "Come here or pick me up to kiss me, you idiot!" she said, grinning. Mike didn't need to be told twice before leaning over and picking Nanaba up to kiss her right on the lips, clumsy but full of feeling. Hange shrieked, pointed, and clapped, and most partygoers joined them in the cheering and clapping.
Hange was happy that night. Happier than they'd ever been in years and cried, laughing. They made friends, and nobody misgendered them. They felt like a typical human and didn't know how much they'd wanted to feel like one. Nobody there thought they were a freak. And that made all the difference.