Chapter Text
I look at myself in the mirror. God, I look like a lumpy mess with baggy clothing, short hair, and odd jewelry. I’m most likely passing today, the first day of sophomore year at Lane Tech. It’s so big, though, that no one will really care. I start walking to school, nervous the teachers’ll read my deadname, nervous I won’t pass, nervous someone’ll know me before I was Dillan.
I get to my new locker, set a code (1818), and shove my backpack in it. I go to homeroom and chill for a few minutes, then I walk to my first class, trigonometry. I hate math so much, yet I’m technically advanced. The teacher has a seating chart on the screen - like many other classes, we’re seated in pairs. I scan the chart. I’m with a guy named Justin? If he’s a jock that’ll tease me, this’ll be a horrible first quarter.
But the bell rings, and Justin still isn’t there. All of a sudden, this really hot guy walks in. He’s like a ‘90s grunge guy, with a cute pullover and a gray beanie. He also has a messenger bag with some pins on it, which I think is so, so, so cute.
“Take that hat off. Hats are not allowed in this school unless it is a religious garment.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” He looks at the chart, and starts walking toward me. God, this is Justin? Holy motherfucking shit, a cute boy. He stares at me, and I’m captivated by his green eyes. “You’re…Dillan?” I nod. Keep calm, Dillan, you’re meeting a cute boy, chill OUT! His eyes flicker to the board. “Dillan R. Why isn’t your last name Pickle. The universe is upset with your parents right now.” I have the urge to make a trans joke because I picked my Name (with a capital N, because it took me like a year to pick it out), not my parents.
He shrugs off his messenger bag, and I get a good look at the pins on it. Nirvana, one reads. Weezer. But the last one reads I Love Yaoi. Yaoi means Boys’ Love in Japanese. As in, two boys loving each other. Hopefully that means he’s gay? But even if he is, he might not even like me. So like a 1% chance, which is better than most crushes I’ve had - straight boys who think I’m a fucking weirdo. I have to find out, no, I can’t ask personal invasive questions this early on, why am I picturing our future together within five minutes of meeting, GOD HE’S SO FUCKING CUTE.
Trig is boring, like all math classes I’ve ever been in, but lunch is exciting, because I get to see my friends: Jax, Lola, and Bug. It’s been us in our queer little friend group since freshman year last year.
I see Justin in the lunch line, and I whisper to Bug, “Isn’t he cute?”
They shrug. “He looks like a ‘90s wannabe. Honestly, he might even be a jock.”
I fake-gasp. “Jock? Him? Let’s just see where he goes.”
He pays for his food, and looks around. He makes eye contact with me. “Dillan! Yo!”
I hear a jock scoff, “Ugh. Another one left to the freaks.” I roll my eyes. Just because I’m trans and gay, Jax is biromantic and ace, Bug is nonbinary and pan, and Lola is transfemme and lesbian, doesn’t mean we’re necessarily freaks! We don’t dress exactly normal, and we’re not cishet, though…I mean, I try to dress not makeup or anything, still passing, but kinda early 2000’s skater boy. Justin sets down his school lunch next to me.
“Uh, guys, this is Justin.” My friends start to introduce themselves with their pronouns, and I’m 99% sure Justin is a cisgender guy, but on the off chance I pay attention to his face as everyone shares
“Bug, they/them! But also bug/bugself, or ze/zir.”
“Jax, he/him.”
“Lola, she/they.”
“Justin! Um, he/him. Yeah.”
“Nice to meet you!” Lola says.
“Oh! Dillan, he/him.”
“Hi, nice to meet you guys! I’m Justin, he/him.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s not weirded out by pronouns or anything.
“So…not to be rude or anything…do we have a GSA or somethin’ at this school?”
Lola laughs. “It’s basically us. I mean, we’re the only queer kids here, that we know of.”
“Oh, nice! I didn’t want to assume but, you’re all queer?” We all nod.
“Yeah, I’m gay,” he sips his juice. I flash a smile at Bug. “Y’all wanna hang out after school today? My place. I know I just met you all, but I’m new in Chicago, so I need some new friends, and you guys are real friend material.”
“Yeah, where do you live?” Jax has his phone out.
“Uh, Marshwood and Creek.”
“Nice, walk home together?” I ask.
“Uh, I can’t go,” says Bug, firing texts on their phone. They wink at me.
“Yeah, me neither,” says Lola.
“Me too,” says Jax. “Sorry, man.”
“Just me and you then, Dill!”
* * *
We walk to his house together. I hear an Instagram alert ding on his phone. He sighs.
“Jus?” I say, trying out a nickname for him. “You…you good?”
“Yeah…I mean, my ex just posted a pic that said #movingon.”
“Oh, I’m sorry…I mean if my ex did that I’d be sad. But I don’t really have one…” I laugh nervously.
“Dating’s fucking stupid. I mean, it’s not, but my ex was…”
“Yeah?”
“Well, here’s the house.” It’s a nice house, honestly.
“Wait, oh my god. My house is literally five doors down.”
“I guess I’ll see you around, then!”
We walk into his house. It’s really nice. “This is my bedroom,” he says, walking me down to the basement. It’s definitely his aesthetic, CDs everywhere and posters of bands I’ve never heard of.
We hang out for a couple hours, talking about how we grew up, and just anything about anything. He’s so cute, and his Adam’s apple bobs when he’s talking. But then it’s 5:00, and I gotta go home, and he insists on walking me home.
“Bye, Dill!” My heart flutters.
“Bye, Jus!”