Work Text:
Not being outed to your family is a burden that is getting hard to carry.
In school, by some of his closer peers which admittedly weren't a lot, he gets called Simon already. It was a name he picked up from some random joke he heard that didnt want to let loose. Something about the way it sounds makes his brain rattle just the right way, especially when others call him that.
But he would love for his family to call it.
Elise was starting to wear down on him, preferring it when some random druggies call him some random man name cause they can't quite see straight than hearing that god-forbidden name. He hated that name, he wanted to bury it six feet under and die with it. But he can’t, if he died now, there’d be the wrong name on his gravestone, he doesn't want that.
So he started to think about how to out himself. Logically, he was being irrational. His brother had beaten up someone for calling him a slur before and his parents went on riots for trans rights during the punk time together, some of the few pictures hanging in the hall being of the two aggressively rioting for those rights.
Those were some of his favourite pictures of his parents, showing the genuine love and care they had for each other before drugs and abuse took over, both now a shell of their former selves that both brothers have yearned for whenever told about. Oh, how he wished to see their genuine love just one time.
He decided to tell his brother first and then possibly scheme with him how to out himself in front of his parents but outing himself to his brother was the struggle first. There were a few times he could've told Tommy, while cooking, while in school, right before both of them fell asleep so none of them would remember. But he was always too scared to, throat suddenly seizing up.
It was only when both of them were doing their own thing in their shared room that he finally spoke up. They were each on their bed, Tommy reading some comic that his friend gave him, something about some superhero from World War Two that got frozen or something that was, to quote his brother “a bit gay for his emo friend” and Simon sitting on his bed reading books for his A-levels about biology, osmosis and cell breathing and lactose or so, he doesn't really care.
Their mum was at work and their father was at some random rave, they didnt care enough to listen. He decided to tell Tommy today, to get it off his chest before his A-levels so he can have peace on his mind as he writes about Shakespeare being gay or so.
“Tommy?” His brother hummed and continued focusing on his comic. “can you call me Simon?” His brother's eyes snapped over to him, no real emotion portrayed in them. No judgment either, though.
“Why?” He just shrugged, looking away. His brother was looking at him, he knew but just pretended he didnt. “Okay, Simon.” Those words made his chest warm and he looked over at his brother who was smiling just a tiny bit.
“Thank you.” “Always, Simon.”
They were quiet again, just smiling a bit at the freshly formed brotherly bond and enjoying each other's company. Only once they both finished whatever they were doing and were getting ready to sleep did they start talking about the subject at hand, talking about how their parents might react. A plan, one that was rational, was made as well.
but it was thrown out almost a week later.
They ate together as a family for once, usually at least one of them wasn't home and meals alone at 3 a.m. were more often than they'd like to admit. So it was… strange eating all together. Their father got a warning at work, that if he didnt act better they'd throw him out. He couldn't let that happen, how else was he supposed to sponsor his addiction? So he was forced to stay off drugs for a bit.
For some reason, being off of drugs made him want to actually find something out about his family. He started drilling his two kids with questions about their lives, focusing on Tommy for now, questioning whether or not he had gathered some experiences already or not. It was when his mum spoke up that the thread snapped.
“And what about you, Elise?” He cringed at that name. It felt sickening, he wanted it gone. He doesn't want to be called that. Not by his parents, not by anyone. His stomach soured at that name, a heavy stone in his gut pulling him down. “Elise?” His mum looked at him concerned “You okay?”
“Simon.” Tom stopped eating, looking at him in shock. They had a plan and he threw it out. Logically, he knew they would have nothing against it, both have been vocal in the punk scene and shown their support of minorities and the few pictures of the two in riots are a clear sign of that. but at the same time, people can pretend to support something and still go against it once it affects them. “Simon, not Elise.” He stuffed his mouth full of food, Tommy following close behind.
Cant question them with a full mouth.
His parents looked at each other with some sort of emotion for the first time in what felt like ages. He couldn't understand what emotion it was but it didnt look like anger. They were somehow communicating nonverbally and it was stressing him out, Tommy too. It's the first time they communicated like that, that’s scary. Their dad's head finally turned to him.
“You're Trans?” His voice was soft for once, not aggressive like he usually was. It made Simon choke on the food he had in his mouth, his brother choking just like him on his. It took both of them a minute or two to calm down, almost choking to death from their father's sweet words, so unusual for them. “Well, are you?”
“Huh- EH- eh- Yeah. Yes, Yes, I am. What about it?” Maybe getting defensive wasn't smart, the man could easily take him down and has done so often enough but he would fight him if necessary. He’s fucking done with getting called the wrong name and the wrong way by his family. “You got an issue with that?”
“Calm down, boy.” Oh, how he loved that word, the shiver over his spine was a sign of that. His mum chuckled a bit at his reaction, their dad for once not yelling at her to stop but instead smiling at her. Their mum always talked about how much she loved the old Harold, the sweet father who loved his children more than the drugs once, only having changed once the heroin was sweeter than the love. It was a small glimpse of the man they never got to experience.
“You're good, Simon. We don't care. Just surprised us, ‘s all. If we didnt support ya, we bit hypocritic, nah?” His mum laughed at that. “Walk riots for years for trans rights only to end up hatin’ our trans son? Bit hypocrit for sure. We was walking those for a reason, Simon. Ye dumbarse, now eat your beans.” His parents smiled at each other, the memory of those riots warming their heart, their bond, which was usually cold as ice left behind to rot now blooming in a way neither of the sons had ever seen.
His smile was massive, warmth filling his chest at the answer that he honestly should have expected but was better than he thought. Especially when his dad asked him about his school day again, using his name almost obnoxiously much but he didnt mind. It was making him happy, telling his dad with genuine feelings for once what was going on in school, enjoying the moment while it lasted, enjoying it while the heroin didn't call his father back.
Both brothers talked more than they have in years, voices raw and broken at the end of the day, just excited to talk like a normal family for once, dumping any information there was on their brain out, just to keep talking while they got their fathers notice, their fathers love for once. It took 17 years but god it feels good after those 17 years.
They started talking about identity at some point, Simon complaining about the absolute bother that is getting testosterone, how he really wants to get certain things but knows it's more a dream and delusion than reality. His parents promised him they help him get it but he knew those were empty promises. They couldn't save up money sometimes for rent, how are they supposed to save up enough thousands of pounds for surgeries? He nods along in agreement.
At least they care enough to lie.
The dream of a normal family shattered when their dad got a call, their mum's phone ringing a second later. She got called to work and he got called to another gig to go to for some action. He has no idea how they both put up with each other and with their life styles, but they did. Probably delusion and praying.
Their mum hugged them both before leaving, whispering to Simon how proud she was of him to tell them such an important part of them and their father pat both of their heads before leaving, the sentiment behind those actions speaking greater than words. Tommy and him cleaned up after dinner, talking quietly about what just happened, dreaming about the new experiences to come and mourning the loss of the temporary normalcy they felt.
Of course, the next day everything went back to normal, their dad back on that dumb shit that Simon knew just as well how good it felt, this time yelling at Simon and not Elise about how much of a fuck up he is.
Their dad might be a complete piece of shit but he is not transphobic.
Somewhat like the Joker that was just a bad person, not an intolerant shit. He didnt kill somebody because of some ulterior motive, he was just a piece of shit. Just that the Joker was fictional and their dad was real.
At least he was supportive, he can't imagine what it would be like if he was.
Their mum was back to the silent emotionless doll that worked day in and day out to meet day's end but she took extra care to call him the right things when they did talk, just like when she came in at the end of the day with something black in her hands. He was tired in his bed, head roaring when she came in.
“Hey, Simon.” His mum sat down next to him, lifting a hand and running it through his short hair. He cut it some years ago already, keeping it short ever since, but he got it freshly cut yesterday and his mum loved running her hand through the short stubble. “How you doing?” She pulled him closer, leaning his head against his shoulder.
“Tired, ‘s all. Bit all over the place, you know it. I were up all night learnin’ so I'm just down now.” She hummed in understanding, running a comforting hand over his side. “My head hurts too.” Her gentle touch soothed the pain, some of the tension slipping away till she finally pulled him up to sit.
“Talked with old contacts of mine and someone in the hospital. Got a bit of help for you. Think you'll like it.” She handed him the black cloth, hands shaking a bit in exhaustion. The Clothing looked normal at first, a simple black tank top, till he pulled to stretch it a bit, feeling some resistance and some weird texture beneath his palm.
He pulled it inside out, looking at the clasps sitting there and the weird material that barely moved, almost like the compression sleeve he had to wear after falling badly on his arm. His mum looked at him with peace, like she was waiting for his brain to work which probably was accurate. “Well? You want to try it on? might be bit big on you but should still flatten your tits.”
He gasped as he finally recognized what it was, pulling at his shirt to get it off as quickly as possible, his mum turning away to give him a semblance of privacy as he pulled it over his chest and tightened it to the tightest setting. It worked wonderfully, fitting perfectly to his body, his chest looking flat in it. His shirt was on a second later before he stood up and walked to his mirror, his mum smiling at him in pride
The effect was crazy and made him tear up a bit. For the first time in his life, he was not feeling like complete shit as he stared in the mirror, hand rubbing over his chest and taking in the look with absolute glee. His mum was tearing u herself a bit, watching her son be comfortable for the first time in his life. Tiny tears were filling her eyes and he felt bad for making her cry.
“Thank you, I can-” “Shhh, shut up, it's fine. Just be responsible, okay? No longer than 8 hours, no sports in it, not too tight, don't sleep in it. I will take it away if you are not responsible, Mister Riley.” His mum laughed at his full body shivering at those words. He nodded and just kept staring in the mirror at the figure that looked a bit more like him.
“I'll go now, have another shift” he sighed at those words “If you go back to bed, take it off, okay? be careful, Si. The world isn't a nice place for you.” She hugged him as she said the last words, holding him close to her and giving him a peek on the cheek before going out, pride swelling in her chest at the thought of her boy feeling good.
He, like promised, took it off and laid back down, the binder now on his school uniform ready to be worn the next day. His day was awesome, there was no way they could-
Knock knock knock.
Ah, he forgot his father existed for a moment.
There was another knock at the door. “Come in.” Not like he'd care if he said he shouldnt come in. He sat up, looking at his father coming in with something in his hand, a box, that he promptly threw at Simon who caught it with ease. There were multiple syringes in packaging attached to it, glass bottles clanking inside of the box against each other.
“What are those, heroin?” His father rolled his eyes at his reaction, muttering something he didnt quite get. He doesn't get why his father would give him drugs, he has his own dealer and if he wanted more serious drugs, he knew where to get them, it's the one thing his dad taught him. So he just stared at his father, waiting for an explanation.
“look at the packaging.” He did just dad, the Ibuflam 600 on the box not explaining anything. “The one inside the box, Simon. On the bottles.” The box opened easily, 20 or so tiny bottles filling it. He pulled one of those out, expecting the name of some weird drug his father brought for him to try, instead seeing “testosterone” written on the front of it. His father got him Testo, somehow.
“I- Why?” the question was genuine. out of all the people, he didnt expect his father to go out of his way to get him something to help him. That man has ruined his life so, so often. Fucked him over, pushed him to his limit, terrorized him, put him in dangerous situations, hit him over and over again, why would he do this.
“Trans healthcare is universal healthcare, that's why. Tell me when your prescription is empty, I'm sure you can find syringes yourself. Once a week, I'm sure you know how to use it, just in the muscle.” After saying that he left before Simon could question him more or run behind him to thank him. Instead, he scrambled to the bathroom for his first shot.
Liquid up the syringe, disinfect the area you're about to stab, stab quickly into the skin, don't drag it out, push the plunger down, pull out and cover it with a bandaid.
And for the first time in your life, feel the testosterone through your body, feel it flow through your veins to your heart to the rest of your body, carried to your cells to be taken and changed for the very first time of many.
And for the first time in years, look up in the mirror and see yourself.
And for the first time in your life, be happy to look up to the future and see the change that comes in first.
And for the first time in your life, feel like a man.
Feel like Simon Riley.
Feel like yourself.