Chapter Text
He walks down the slushy sidewalk hurriedly, not to get to his destination quicker but to escape the biting cold he’s in. He nuzzles his face deeper into the neck of his coat. He always loved winter as a kid. He loved all the flannels he could wear without getting a second look, he loved the season, and he loved having an excuse to stay inside and read. He loves snow, its natural soundproofing. He always felt calm when it snowed; it was quiet and the world was untouched.
He looks up at the night sky, a void of black. The streetlights and neon bar signs keep him feeling anxious, like everyone can see him and is picking apart his every move. He feels like he’s performing the most when he’s walking down the street by himself. It’s the stillness. He can’t be distracted by other people’s voices. He can’t be distracted by a task. He knows no one is watching him, but he still feels like a man on the moon when he walks alone.
He’s going to a bar to meet up with his girlfriend and her new friend from work. He’s excited to see Mia. He always is. She makes him feel safe in a way most others don’t. She’s loving, protective, and goofy. He loves her because she makes him feel like himself.
Maybe that was the problem with Jackie.
He loves Jackie, even if she’s not in his life anymore. He loves Jackie, but Jackie always tried to put him in boxes. Maybe that’s why he never told her he was trans. Maybe that’s why he fucked Jeff. And maybe that’s why he got the hell out of Wiskayok and never looked back.
Eventually, he reaches the bar. A faint smell of beer and body odor hits him as he walks in. He takes off his coat at the door and squeaks down the steps, green paint chipping off of them, to reach the warmth. He stands at the entrance, scanning the room for Mia. He spots her among the crowd. Her hair is kind of shaggy, framing her face, and about shoulder-length. The chestnut brown matches his. She’s about an inch taller than Shaun, something he’d never admit and she’d never say out loud, but something they both know. She has striking blue eyes that Shaun loves.
He strolls over to her and pulls her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. He was never one for overt public affection. He can tell she’s already a bit tipsy by the way she’s swaying around, or “flowy,” as she calls it.
“Hey baby,” he says to her, almost sighing. He always feels a bit small when he hasn’t talked for a while.
“Hey Shaunie,” she says back, drawing out the “e” sound playfully. “This is my new friend from work.”
He recognizes her instantly, because who wouldn’t. Before him stands one Jackie Taylor. Jackie Taylor, who he had been friends with from age four to age seventeen. Jackie Taylor, his ride or die and partner in crime, so kindly dubbed by Deb Shipman. Jackie Taylor, the one he’d promised to marry at age five. Jackie Taylor, the one he betrayed at age seventeen. Jackie Taylor, his first crush, first love, and first heartbreak.
His Jax.
She gives him a polite smile. It’s practiced, mechanical. He can tell it’s empty and that she’s tired. He can always tell. It’s strange to realize that even after all these years, he can still read her so easily.
There were layers to a real Jackie Taylor smile, layers most people didn’t see. They didn’t see the way her face scrunched up, or how she threw her head back when she really meant it. It hits him, all at once, that she doesn’t recognize him.
And somehow, he still recognizes her completely.
His ‘Jax’ does not recognize him.
Sure, maybe he looks a bit different now. His hair is shorter. He’s put on some muscle. He’s finally honed his style. Oh, and also, he transitioned into a man. He knows he looks different, but he’s still shocked that Jackie doesn’t recognize him.
“Hi, I’m Jackie.”
He hadn’t heard her say her name in ten years. The sound of it floors him. The seconds stretch out like hours. She seems different now, lighter, more at ease. Maybe he could finally tell her who he really was.
Most of the vivid memories he has of Jackie are moments when he truly hated himself. The years he spent living as someone else were the hardest. Nothing was more painful than keeping everything in. He hated himself then.
He told himself that it was other people’s fault for loving the fake version of him, not his fault for never telling them who he really was.
He gently unlaces his fingers from Mia’s and extends his hand for Jackie to shake.
“Shaun.”
She takes it with the kind of uncertainty you give a stranger, and shakes it politely.
“So, my girlfriend will be here soon,” Jackie says.
Shit. Jackie Taylor has a girlfriend.
He owes himself twenty dollars.
Shaun’s longest-running inside joke was that Jackie Taylor was a lesbian. It started with little things he noticed, and one too many “practice makeout sessions” with Shaun. He always kind of knew she didn’t really like Jeff. She complained about him constantly, broke up with him repeatedly, and used Shaun as an excuse to get away from him more times than he could count.
“Sweet. I’m gonna go grab a drink before she gets here,” Shaun says.
He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel a little girly.
Not girly like in the locker room, where he had to fake his way through conversations he didn’t belong in. He always found it more interesting to watch girls interact in the locker room. He felt like he was intruding, witnessing a whole category of conversation they never had in front of guys.
The truth was, he always thought “locker room talk” applied more to girls. They spoke in detail, with intensity, and it always made him freeze up. Guy locker rooms were silent. Everyone stared at the floor.
Honestly, most guys would probably feel girly in that situation too.
He knew it was unconventional, but he didn’t care.
Shaun Shipman loved Malibu and milk, goddammit.
He strolls back to the table, tropical drink in hand, and plops down at the booth Mia and Jackie have claimed.
Mia turns to him with a mix of pity and judgment.
“Oh, baby. No. You have got to stop with that drink,” she teases, sticking her tongue out.
“What? I like it,” he replies. His voice lifts a bit, unbothered.
Mia smacks her hands on the table. She’s clearly going to be hungover tomorrow.
“Jackie,” she says, “please settle this for us.”
“Oh,” Jackie starts, looking like she’d rather not get in the middle of a couple’s squabble. She puts her head down for a second, then lifts it again. “Sure. I’ll bite.”
“Please tell my boyfriend he is way too old to be drinking Malibu and milk.”
“It tastes good,” Shaun says, trying to defend himself.
“Shaunie,” she says, more serious this time. “You know I love you.” He nods, mirroring her exaggerated seriousness in this fake argument. “But you are not sixteen anymore. You have got to stop with that,” She pauses and takes a deep breath in. “‘concoction’ you call a drink.”
He rolls his eyes and turns toward Jackie.
“What do you think, Jackie? Acceptable or not?”
It feels weird making casual conversation with Jackie after all these years.
For so long, he had to perform in front of her. He’d make jokes he didn’t find funny and say things he didn’t mean. It wasn’t just for her—it was for him too.
Being himself in front of Jackie feels like an out-of-body experience.
He thinks back to all the times he wanted to tell her. Not just that he was a man, but everything. All the secrets. All the self-hatred. All the love he buried under silence.
“Hmm,” Jackie says, thinking for a beat. “On one hand, the last time I had Malibu and milk was when I was fifteen.”
Mia crosses her arms and gives Shaun a smug look.
“But on the other hand, he’s the one drinking it. So…”
Shaun and Mia stare at her, way too seriously.
“I’ll allow it.”
Mia groans and drops her head onto the table. Shaun turns to her, quirks his eyebrows, and leans back in his chair with fake confidence.
From the front of the bar, a voice cuts through the noise.
“RUDDER!”
Shaun almost falls out of his chair.
‘Rudder’—or ‘Rudman’—was Shaun’s unfortunate nickname in college. It started the way most cursed nicknames do: frat bros.
These weren’t just any frat bros. These were Ivy League frat bros. Naturally, they were different. No hazing. No football obsession. But they loved soccer. Shaun never joined the frat, but he watched the occasional match with them.
After one too many beers, he told the brothers they weren’t allowed to call him ‘Shipman’ anymore for personal reasons. They took it very seriously. Shipman became Ship. Ship became Boat. Boat became Boat Man. Boat Man turned into Boat Rudder. And Rudder stuck.
Unfortunately.
He can only think of one person who’d call him Rudder five years after graduation.
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “Natty?”
Natalie Scatorccio beams back at him, a wide smile plastered across her face.
They met in college working together at a record store. The kind of friendship that forms fast and deep.
They were drawn to each other for the same reason: they both stuck out. Shaun wasn’t the typical college guy. He couldn’t join a frat or hook up with random girls at parties. Nat wasn’t typical either. She was there on scholarship, too blunt for people to be comfortable with, too real to be ignored.
Shaun had never been intimidated by her.
They loved each other in a messy, sibling sort of way. Eventually, they became roommates. When the frat bros stopped calling him Rudder, Nat picked it up and kept it alive. Much to Shaun’s dismay.
Mia turns to Jackie and mouths, “Rudder?”
“You still flinch every time I say that,” Nat laughs. She turns to Jackie. “Hey, baby.”
Shaun turns to Mia and mouths, “Baby?”
He feels like he’s in an alternate universe.
In one night, he’s seen one of his best friends for the first time in ten years, and she didn’t recognize him. He found out she’s dating women. He saw his second-best friend unexpectedly. He got outed as Rudder in front of his girlfriend.
And now he’s found out that his two best friends are dating each other.
Neither of them knows about the other.
Fuck him.
“This is my girlfriend,” Jackie says brightly. “Although it seems like you two have already met, right, Rudder?”
Shaun’s face goes red. He stares at the floor.
He takes a deep breath.
“Natty, this is my girlfriend, Mia.”
Mia smiles at her. “There’s gotta be a story here.”
“Shaun and I met in college,” Nat says. Shaun nods. “And the frat bros gave him all kinds of nicknames.”
“Boat Man.”
“What are you, a big boat guy?” Jackie grins, a real smile spreading across her face.
Shaun takes her in again.
He thinks about shaking her and saying, “It’s me, Jackie. How can you not see that it’s me?”
He thinks about dropping to his knees and telling her everything.
But he won’t ruin the night. And he loves Mia too much to make it about him.
Mia had heard bits and pieces about Jackie before. Never the full story. Shaun always said it was too long or too complicated.
But it wasn’t.
When Shaun was sixteen, he realized he was transgender. He hated that realization and buried it deep. Jackie helped him bury it, too. She picked out dresses. She did his makeup. He hated her for that.
So, in a drunken mess, he fucked Jeff. Jackie’s boyfriend.
He thought it would shake Jackie into realizing who she was. Then maybe he could tell her who he was. But it didn’t work.
The friendship ended, just like that.
“Um,” he clears his throat, chuckling softly like he’s seventeen again. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Nat steps in to break the tension.
“B-Money,” she says.
“Boat Rudder,” Shaun follows.
“Phony Boat-loney.”
Mia and Jackie giggle at that one.
“Boat.”
“Sail Man.”
“The wind beneath our sails.”
Mia nods like she’s taking it seriously.
“Titanic.”
“Jack.”
“Door.”
“But the one that stuck,” Shaun says, using finger quotes, “was ‘Boat Rudder.’”
“Rudder, for short,” Nat adds, as if that explains everything.
“Okay,” Jackie says, raising an eyebrow at Nat. “I get why the frat guys called him that. But why did you? And why have I never heard anyone call you ‘Natty’ before?”
Shaun and Nat both shrug.
At the exact same time, they say:
“We were bored and broke.”
“Alcohol.”
When Nat started calling him Rudder, she got their whole college friend group to do the same. Shaun tried everything to get it to stop. He refused to respond unless people said Shaun. That didn’t work. He kept answering to Rudder by accident.
He bought everyone dinner to bribe them into dropping it. That didn’t work either. They ate his food and kept calling him Rudman.
He tried to get people to call Nat “Natalie.” That failed. He said it once and she didn’t talk to him for three days. They lived together.
Eventually, she let him call her Natty. It never caught on with anyone else, but he still insisted on using it.
“Well, that about clears it up,” says Mia.
After another hour of drinking, catching up, and calling Shaun Rudder, they decide to call it a night.
“So,” Jackie claps her hands together like the captain of a winning soccer team, “I think the four of us should get brunch next week.”
Everyone hums their agreement, and they all stumble out of the bar, going their separate ways.
Shaun and Mia make it back to the apartment after a walk through the cold. Shaun pulls his keys from his coat pocket and fumbles them into the lock.
Mia stumbles through the door first and drops onto the couch with a sigh.
“Careful there,” Shaun says. “I’m not carrying you to bed again if you fall asleep out here.”
“I’ve never fallen asleep on the couch,” Mia pouts.
“Okay.” Shaun leans down and kisses her forehead. “Liar.”
“So that was fun,” she says. “Meeting Nat was fun. This ‘Rudder’ was fun too.” She smiles wide at him. “What did you think of Jackie? You seemed a little off.”
Shaun knows he should tell her. He knows Mia would take it well. She’s taken everything well.
He cried when he told her he was trans. She held him the whole night. She didn’t ask a thousand questions. She just stayed.
He knows it wouldn’t change anything if he said it now.
But it’s late, and he’s drunk, and he’s tired.
“Jackie was great,” he says quickly. “I’m really glad you’ve got a friend at work.” He gives her a tight smile.
“You okay?” she asks gently.
“I’ll be okay. I’m gonna shower.”
He smiles and pads over to her, tossing a blanket over her legs.
“And don’t fall asleep on the couch.”
“I. Would. Never,” she says, feigning innocence.
The truth is, he wouldn’t mind if she fell asleep on the couch. He likes doing boyfriend things for her. It makes him feel solid. Real.
He turns on the shower. Steam fills the bathroom instantly. He washes up quickly, dries off, and pads back into the living room in warm clothes.
He peeks around the corner.
“You awake?”
Mia rubs sleep out of her eyes and lies. “No.”
“Okay,” he replies, his voice singsong.
“Can you carry me to bed, Shaunie?”
“I don’t know,” he says, standing over her, clearly about to do it anyway.
She smiles up at him, and he picks her up easily.
“My big strong boat man,” she teases.
He groans and drops his head back in fake agony.
They’re in bed now. Mia’s been sleeping for about an hour. Her breathing is even, steady.
Shaun stares up at the ceiling.
He feels like an asshole.
He lied to the two people he cares about most in the world.
He lied to Jackie. Again.
He was going to tell her who he was. And why he did what he did.
The thing is, he had one of the best nights of his life tonight. He loves his girlfriend. He’d do anything to protect her. Fiercely.
But he always kind of mourned Jackie.
First, he mourned the friendship. Then he mourned the girl who got him completely.
He missed the way one look used to say everything.
He missed them practicing together.
Most of all, he missed the fact that he never got to tell Jackie who he really was.