Work Text:
Saturday, October 7th, 2023
“Charlotte?” Percy tilted his head to the side, flicking his right wrist, hand balled in a fist, as he was prone to do when anxious.
“Is it a bad name?” Charlotte bit their bottom lip, wringing their hands as they rocked back-and-forth. “I can go back to Oliver….Or I know you have a brother named Charlie, so—”
“It’s okay.”
“What?”
“The name Charlotte is okay, you can be called that if you want.”
“Is it too girly? I know I still look like a boy, but….” They didn’t know how to explain all these thoughts and feelings to their boyfriend, if Percy was still their boyfriend after this conversation, but it also seemed like something he should know. Maybe the only reason he wouldn’t end the relationship.
“You don’t look like a boy….Gender is just a social construct of rules made so companies can sell more; i.e. making two identical products and claiming one is just for women and one just for men. And then there’s the Pink Tax….Point is: you don’t look like a boy because you’re not a boy, other people may mistake for a boy because of their previous experience with gender but that doesn’t mean you actually look like one, and certainly doesn’t make you one.”
“....” They didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to feel….It was all numb.
“Char?”
“I just….Is it all pointless?”
“Is what pointless?”
“Charlotte.”
“You?” His wrist moved faster. “Are you asking if you’re pointless?”
“Yeah….Me, my name, my pronouns, our relationship….I mean: you’re worth it, that I’m not questioning, but….Am I good enough for you?”
“Of course you’re good enough for me, more than enough. I love you, Charlotte.”
“I love you too, but am I holding you back?
“Holding me back?”
“I spent so much time denying my autism which you could have spent with someone who already accepted it, now I’m having this gender crisis. I’ve just figured out I’m genderqueer, but there are still so many questions, and….I don’t want to waste your time when you could be spending it with someone who already knows who they are.”
“We’re seventeen, Char, no one knows who they are yet, I certainly don’t. Anyway, I don’t care about being with this perfect, storybook prince, character, people who pretend to be like that are boring. And I do mean pretend, because no one is really that perfect. Okay? I just want you, regardless of your gender, your neurostate, or whatever else.”
“Neurostate?”
“A word I made up because it’s quicker to say that then ‘whether or not you’re neurotypical or neurodivergent’ .”
“It really doesn’t matter?”
“As long as you’re Charlotte, I really don’t care about something as insignificant as a name. I don’t mean to say that it doesn’t matter in the sense that I should be able to call you whatever I want to, but that I won’t be angry no matter what you choose. Because it’s your name, not mine.”
“I don’t want to make life harder for you.”
“You won’t, I promise. Prime example: Jossy has only been going by Jossy for six-and-a-half months and I knew her by her deadname for half-a-decade, but I genuinely don’t remember what it is.”
“Will you forget my deadname?”
“Probably….I’ll try not to if you would prefer, but naturally, almost definitely.”
“You don’t have to try to forget, but please don’t try and remember it.”
“Got it, Char….By the way, is it okay for me to call you ‘Char’? I know you said you were okay with me giving you nicknames when we first became friends, but I want to make sure.”
“Yes, love.” Charlotte giggled, tension leaving their body. “Char, and other nicknames you may think of, are just fine.”
“Perfect.”