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"Mae, are you alright?" George asks and fixes her worried gaze on her partner.
"I always am," Mae says. George guesses that it was supposed to sound teasing, but it falls flat.
"Talk to me. Nothing changes when you're keeping it all in."
Mae worries their lip and lets out a ragged breath. "Remember my fucked-up performance that went viral?"
George snorts. How could she not? It broke her heart in ways she couldn't even imagine before Mae came into her life. George hums noncommittally.
"I know it was all exaggerated but…"
"But there was a grain of truth in it?"
Mae nods. "Yeah. I mean we… We figured it out, right? I don't mean us. Most of the time I believe that you want me and not some imagined π male or whatever." They chuckle nervously. "But… I was thinking a lot about the gender part of that set. Like… I'm wearing my red hoodie again, but I'm still wearing hoodies a lot. A lot a lot."
George furrows her brow. "Are you coming out to me as trans?" she asks softly.
Mae scrunches up their face. "Under the umbrella, I think. Non-binary might be more precise."
George nods and smiles at them in that way that always twists Mae's heart. It's soft and full of understanding, but there's also worry laced into it—worry about Mae, about what it means that they are trying to fit in and never do, about what might happen when they stop trying so hard, about how the world might treat them and the potential aftermath of all of it.
Mae's been clean for a year now, goes to their meetings and has a proper sponsor now. They're strong and more settled into themself. Hence this conversation. But it still all weighs down on both of them. The potential of them getting lost in pain that no love can soothe. But George knows that Mae will only heal fully when they're allowed to be their full self and there's no way that she would let her own fears get in the way of it.
"Wanna tell me more about it?" she asks.
Mae nods. "Can you hold me during it?"
"Of course. Sofa?"
Mae nods again. They cuddle up, Mae's cheek pressed against George's. It's easier for them not to look at each other, George figures. She pulls Mae close and waits patiently until they start to speak.
"I don't really know what it is like to be a woman. It doesn't exactly feel wrong if someone says 'she', probably because I'm used to it. But whenever someone puts me in a clearly gendered box, it feels icky, like that person doesn't see me."
"Like when I call you my girlfriend?" George asks.
"Sometimes," Mae murmurs.
"Would you prefer 'partner'?"
Mae snuggles closer. "Yeah. I mean, I don't want to police your language."
George snorts. "Police away. What about pronouns?"
Mae smiles. "They/them. She/her is alright but…"
"They/them. Got it."