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The bus ride is almost meditative, the way the chassis sways from side to side, tilting one way and then the other as it turns corners. People grasp the stabiliser poles for balance, clutching handbags and children’s tiny hands so they don’t go flying across the aisle.
Barty taps his thumb against each of his fingertips in turn, a nervous habit. It was better than chewing his cuticles, he supposed.
For all his piercings and tattoos, he really hates needles, hence the anxiety. And sadly, none of his friends were available to accompany him on this particular journey so he couldn’t even hold someone’s hand. He practices some square breathing taught to him by Lily - bless her and her psych studies - and remembers why he’s doing this at all.
It’s not to feel like a “real man” or even to “correct” his body. All types of bodies can be male, no matter what their parts are. But Barty… Barty feels itchy under his skin, too tight, like he should be able to unzip it from the back and step out of it, letting it pool on the floor at his feet. He wants all the changes, even if there’s no guarantee he’ll get them. The increased body hair, the voice changes, and yes, even the bottom growth. He can deal with anything else, but these… these he’d be stoked to achieve.
When the breathing exercise doesn’t help, Barty cranks the volume on his earbuds, letting the sounds of thrash metal drown out his anxious thoughts. It’s only once per month, and Lily promised she would be able to go with him next time. After that, if everything is stable, he might be able to extend the periods between each visit, postponing his anxiety.
Picturing the bus ride with Lily’s hand tangled in his is what finally settles him. He imagines her soft fingers stroking soothing patterns across his knuckles, her hair tickling his ear as she rests her head on his shoulder, her bell-chime laugh infiltrating the air between them.
When the bus reaches his stop, he feels a little braver. He practically marches his way down the street and into the clinic. His voice doesn’t even falter when he tells the receptionist he has an appointment.
Bat
Made it on time
Waiting room is empty
I did the breathing thingy you told me to do
Lils
Did it help?
Bat
You know it did lmao
Lils
I can’t help that im always right ;)
I gotta get back to class
Msg me when ur at home? X
Bat
Always, my queen xx
Barty doesn’t have to wait much longer, being called through to the doctor’s office almost as soon as he locks his phone again. The doctor is kind, runs through the procedure one more time and makes sure Barty is comfortable before administering the shot. He’s proud to say he only whimpered a little bit , thank you very much.
He waits the fifteen minutes it takes for the doctor to ensure he’s not going to pass out and then he’s on his way, back on the bus, grinning from ear to ear as it sways around corners and makes little old ladies clutch their handbags. He practically skips home from the bus stop, ecstatic and accomplished and so fucking elated he thinks he might be levitating.
He makes tea after checking the time - t-minus twenty minutes until Lily’s class gets out - and dances around the flat to the music he blasts on his stereo.
When Lily gets in, he just about sweeps her off her feet, kissing her with fierce gratitude and minimal tongue (this time).
“I take it it went well?” she asks through her giggles, clutching at Barty’s shoulders as he continues kissing down her neck and over her exposed shoulder. “You never ended up texting me back.”
“Was too busy,” he explains between kisses, fingers creeping under her cropped halter neck to tickle her ribs. “Only got in just before your class finished.”
“I suppose that’s acceptable,” Lily acquiesces, carding her fingers through Barty’s hair and scraping over the shaved underside.
“I made tea,” Barty offers, pulling back enough to kiss the tip of his girlfriend’s nose.
“Well aren’t you sweet,” she coos at him, pinching his pink cheek. “I think we should leave the tea for now, yeah? Come and snuggle with me.”
She leads him by the hand to the bedroom, where they curl up facing each other and holding hands on the pillows.
“I’m so proud of you,” she tells him quietly, spinning his thumb ring around and around.
He grins, pulls her hand in to kiss her fingertips.
“Thank you, my love,” he whispers.