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Jake stood in front of the mirror, staring down his reflection.
This is something he'd grown used to doing, like if he looked long enough he'd find the flaw he was looking for.
He never found this flaw. No matter how hard he looked he couldn't find what made him not feel like “him”.
He sighed, let go of the sink that had been keeping him up for the past who-knows-how-long and sat back down in his wheelchair.
He left the bathroom, still feeling like shit, and went back to his room.
He closed the door behind him and just sat. What was he supposed to do? Write in his journal more? He had nothing to write about as he did a whole lot of nothing all day and he didn't want to repeat the same mirror sentiment again.
He looked around his room for something to do and spotted his closet.
Perfect!
He always felt better when he dressed up, he didn't know why, maybe something about the colors or just feeling pretty?
Either way he liked it.
He rolled himself over to the closet and opened it, looking at the selection of clothes before picking out an outfit.
It was simple: a white T-shirt, yellow overall dress with flowers on it, black shorts, and knee-high white socks.
Once he was dressed he took a picture of himself. He felt pretty.
“If I had long hair I'd look even better,” he said aloud to himself.
He shook his head. Nobody would like it if he grew out his hair.
He sighed and put his phone away.
“Hey Rich!” He called out. He wanted someone to see his pretty outfit and Rich always loved his dresses.
He heard Rich’s footsteps come upstairs.
“Yeah?” He said opening the door.
“I, uh, made an outfit!” He was overly nervous for some reason. “Do you like it?”
“Uh, of course? You look so pretty!” He walked over and kissed Jake. “You dress better than half the girls at our school,” he said half joking.
“Thanks, Rich,” Jake responded.
The microwave began beeping from downstairs.
“That's mine.” Rich walked to the door. “Need anything from downstairs?”
“No, I'm good.”
Rich nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
“I dress better than half of the girls at our school…” he repeated. It was an odd sentiment, but not one he was upset about. He liked the thought of dressing up, especially if the other girls helped him.
He sighed. He loved dressing up and doing his makeup but that's not what boys were supposed to do, especially not him.
Ex-captain of the football team, the “hottest guy” at school, the one everyone wanted to be.
But not him.
Why couldn't he just be happy in his own body?
He wanted to talk to someone about it but he didn't want to burden Rich more. So he pulled out his phone and looked at his contacts, deciding to talk to Jeremy about it.
It felt like the correct choice. Jeremy seemed like the type of guy to feel uncomfortable in his own body and his SQUIP might give some good insight.
Jake> Hey Jeremy?
Jake> This might sound kinda weird and out of pocket
Jake> But
Jake> Do you ever feel like you're in the wrong body?
Jeremy> What?
Jake> Idk I just feel wrong
Jeremy> Do you like wearing dresses?- SQUIP
Jeremy> fuck off
Jake> Um, yeah?
Jeremy> They just called you a doll
Jeremy> Whatever that means
Jake stared at the message. “A doll”? What did that mean? He went to search it up and one of the results involved “trans”. He clicked it out of curiosity.
Turns out “doll” was slang for trans women.
Did Jeremy's SQUIP just call him trans? Well he wasn't angry about it.
He liked dresses and makeup, he wouldn't mind having long hair, and honestly, being called a girl wouldn't make him mad…
Oh.
She was definitely trans.
~~
She sat with this thought for weeks, maybe even a month or two.
She found a name that was good. “Izzy”. She liked it. But at this point she needed to tell the Squip Squad, and especially Rich.
She'd been in the closet long enough.
She walked down the stairs into the living room. It'd be easier to come out to one person then have them help her come out to everyone else, so she started with Rich.
“Hey Rich?” She spoke up.
“Hey Jake,” Rich said, looking at her. “You need something?”
She shifted on her crutches.
“I, uh, have something to tell you…”
“What is it?” He turned his full attention to her. He looked nervous, like she might say she did something bad to herself.
“I… I'm transgender.”
Rich sat for a second before speaking again.
“Oh, okay.” He smiled. “Got a new name?” He asked.
“Izzy…”
“I love it.” He got up and picked her up, making her drop her crutches. “My girlfriend, Izzy.”
She let out a sigh of relief, glad he took it well.
“I love you, Rich.”
“Love you too, Izzy.”