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If you asked Fig what her gender and sexuality situation was, she'd probably say something along the lines of, ‘What are you, a cop?’ After that, she'd probably follow it up with, ‘Who gives a shit?’ Then, she would walk it back a little and say, ‘I don't really care, who needs labels, anyway?’
She likes to think she wouldn’t eventually say, ‘I think I know, but I’m not really sure.’ To be honest, she's not sure if she could hold herself back if she were ever given the opportunity to say that out loud. Fig almost wants someone to ask her, so she can say ‘I think I'm a genderfluid bisexual, but I don't really think I know what it means to be either of those things’ without having to work up the courage to just say it unprompted.
Almost. But not really. That’d be a dumb thing to ask someone, so no one is ever gonna do that. Besides, they already know she’s some flavor of queer; she has a girlfriend, and even if she didn’t, everything else about her screamed, ‘I do not subscribe to heteronormativity.’ Maybe Fig’s not genderfluid or bisexual or any of that; maybe gender was just invented by the bourgeoisie to keep us down, and she’s so counter-culture that she’s transcended the need for it.
But she kinda does need it. Fig doesn’t hate gender or think it doesn’t matter. It matters to her. She’s not sure why, but it does. To her, gender is like music, a way to express yourself. You can play different songs using the same bass guitar, but they’ll always be from your point of view. And when she likes someone, ignoring their point of view would be an insult, wouldn’t it? She wants to hear their song, how they play it with the instrument they’ve been given.
Heh. Instrument sounds like a sex thing. Well, she guesses this is a sex thing, literally, in both senses of the word, but she really doesn’t care about that as much as she thought she would. It’s more just… a people thing, a life thing.
Fig checks her watch. Which is to say, she checks the time on her crystal. There aren’t really people she knows that she thinks will get this. Or maybe there are, and she’s too chicken to talk to them. Either way, she chose the person she’s most confident won’t get her at all, so that way if she’s wrong, she won’t look stupid.
She hears the Hangman before she sees it.
Fabian rolls up and stops in front of her. He gives her a nod, taking off the helmet the Cubbys made him get that he occasionally even remembers to wear. Leaning onto the handlebars, he looks her up and down. He raises an eyebrow.
Fig feels at her freshly buzzed hair. “Is it cool?”
“...You summoned me to this Denny’s at 11 pm on a Wednesday to show off your new haircut?”
Fig flushed, “No!” She looks away, “I wanted to talk about something!” Hesitantly, she looks back, “but it is cool, right?”
“Obviously it’s sick as shit,” Fabian rolls his eyes, as though it really were that obvious that her impulsive hack job of a buzz cut was cool. “I can’t believe you people make me eat at these places just to talk.”
Fig scowled. She knows Fabian’s dark secret is that he likes greasy potatoes as much as everybody else. “You don’t have to get anything.”
“I can’t just sit there, it’d be rude,” he lies, waving his hand. “Let’s sit.”
“They don’t care if you’re rude in a Denny’s” she follows him in, “it’s a lawless land.”
He makes one of his patented ‘Fabian noises’, proving she had won.
“Anyway,” she sits down, "Business."
Fabian leans in on his elbows.
She looks away from him, because suddenly this felt really weird, and scary. Fabian is cool. He's a cool cishet guy. Those are rare in this part of the country— shit, more like on this plane.
“Fig?” She hears him ask.
She turns back. “I’m going a little crazy, I think, because it’s like… Okay, look, I know it doesn’t matter, and that it’s like, totally lame to care, but… I’ve been thinking a lot about like… gay shit.”
Fabian chokes on his lemonade, more from laughing than anything else.
“It’s not funny!” Fig pouts.
“It’s just how you phrased it,” he coughs, then clears his throat. “So, what, you came here to talk about your girlfriend?”
“No!” She runs her hand through the short hairs at the nape of her neck. “I mean, I guess… It’s more about me. I’m… I mean… It’s stupid.”
Fabian gives her an incredulous look. “You think I don’t already know you’re gay?”
“I’m not, though!” Fig says, exasperated, bringing her head to the table. “I mean, I’m bi, I guess. That’s what I wanted to say. Plus I’m not even a woman all the time, I think, so… god, how does that even work? Are Ayda and I gay?”
Fabian hums. “So— you’re— let me—” he takes a moment to find his words. “You’re coming out to me? As a nonbinary bisexual? That’s— Just to make sure I got it right.”
“Yeah,” She groans, “It’s stupid, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve dragged you here, I mean, it’s like, who even cares?”
“Me too.”
Fig’s head snaps up.
Fabian’s face is hard. He’s looking out the window. “It’s not… I get… It’s hard to talk about… sometimes… with people.” He waves his hand vaguely in the air. “It’s not like… I think anyone will be awful about it. I think maybe I’m more awful about it then they could be. To myself, I mean. I would never be awful to you.” He sighs. “I just feel… it’s sort of like… this is going to sound silly, but it’s like dancing, you know? A performance, but… not a bad one. A fun one. I feel… excited and nervous, all at the same time.”
Fig smiles at him, a little dumbfounded. “Yeah.” She agrees. “That’s exactly it.”
Fabian releases a breath. “Should I be… calling you… something different?” He says awkwardly.
“Oh!” She blinks. “I guess I hadn’t thought about… Uh, I guess all pronouns are cool, and Fig, I mean, that’s already sorta gender neutral, so, just not the long version, which, nobody calls me that anyway…” She picks at her chipped nail polish. “Um… you?”
“You think I would dare relinquish the name Fabian Aramais Seacaster? The name my very own father and mother picked out for me?” He looks incredulous. Then, he deflates, looking back out the window. “Well… maybe I will, someday… if I ever start caring less about that sort of thing. It’s… difficult for me, though. As for pronouns, in public, just he, but… maybe when it’s just us, we can try other ones out?”
Fig grins. “Deal.” Then, her grin turns sinister. “So, Seacaster. We all know who my bi awakening was, but what about you?”
He makes an X with his arms. “You’ve reached your secret quota for the day. No more secrets shall be shared.”
Fig boos, then laughs, then cries a little. She decides she doesn’t mind if Fabian sees.