Archive of Our Own

Knowing wasn't the hard part. She's known, probably her whole life, that she was a girl. Despite prefering to run around in the dirt at preschool or having a mild obsession with dinosaurs, she knew she was a girl. It didn't matter that her favorite color was green or that she found girls prettier than boys. She knew she was a girl. Like it was fundamental.

Somewhere between her mother slapping her when she refused to get her hair cut, becoming an addict, finding a brother, an identical one, becoming a murderer and trying to survive university, doing something about it went on the back burner. Did it matter that she was a girl if she was going to prison? Did it matter that she was a girl when her future was dependent on an exam that constituted 75% of her grade? Was it really more important than keeping the last remaining connection she has to Andrew?

Except now that the dust has settled, it gnaws on her. It feels like she's lying. Every time she asks Nicky to cut her hair and when she has to watch Dan, Allison and Renee enter their locker rooms while she goes the other way.

Every time Kate calls her a "boyfriend" and tells her she loves her stubble when she goes too long without shaving.

It happens again when she's sleeping over at her dorms, the two of them cramped into the small bed despite the top bunk being free. Kate smells like her rhubarb shampoo and Aaron's perfectly content with laying her head on her shoulder and watching the movie playing from her laptop with her eyes closed. She hasn't been able to sleep through the whole night for nearly a week straight and still, no matter how warm she feels and how comfortable Kate's shoulder is, the sleep doesn't come.

"Babe?" Kate asks quietly, keyboard clicking when she pauses the movie.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing, I just thought you were asleep." Kate brings a hand up to her head and brushes her fingers through the short hair, nails scratching her scalp. "You looked dead on your feet at practice."

"I was distracted." Aaron nuzzles further into Kate's body, nose touching her neck for only a second. She's ticklish and she doesn't do well with soft touches around her neck or thighs, prefers firm contact. "You look hot when you practice."

"I was wearing sweats," Kate says, like that changes anything. "Not our uniform."

Ah, yes. The uniform. The actual bane of Aaron's existence. The skirt ends just below Kate's safety shorts (booty shorts, more like) and the top is cropped to expose her abs. Not to mention she looks cute when she's monochromatic, even if it isn't on purpose. The Vixens like to do matching makeup: a weird orange shade of blush Aaron can't get behind and sparkly glitter all over their eyelids. She's kind of jealous that she'll never have the opportunity to dress up like Kate does, to embrace the kitschy makeup and short skirts and feel good about her body. Not like it matters. There's no universe where Aaron would actually do something about it.

Anyway, ten out of ten uniform designs. Maybe too good, because she has to purposefully look away at games in order not to get distracted and get an earful from Kevin.

"How many times have I told you that you look hot no matter what you're wearing? A hundred?"

"More like a thousand."

"Let's make that a thousand and one," She murmurs sleepily into Kate's skin.

"If you were any other guy, I'd be offended about how much you stare at my ass," She jokes, but Aaron inhales slowly to prevent the instant response of Not a guy. They're quiet for a second, just long enough to make it awkward for both of them. "Sorry?" Kate says, clearly not sure what just happened and why Aaron didn't just laugh, or even argue.

"Don't apologize." She rests her forehead on Kate's shoulder again. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired and cranky."

"I don't mind," Kate starts and Aaron knows she's biting her lip even with her eyes closed. "Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"

She's silent for a long while, but Kate waits her out anyway, petting her hair and not saying anything.

"There's something I want to tell you," Aaron says into the safety of her skin. "But I can't do it now. And I don't know when I'll do it, if ever."

"Is it something dangerous?" She asks, and it's a testament to how crazy Aaron's life has been recently that it's a totally relevant and understandable thing to worry about.

"I promise it's not. It's not about drugs or the mafia or anything. Just something personal I'm dealing with."

"I didn't think you were talking about drugs." Kate pauses her movements and looks down at her with those big, brown eyes.

"I am an addict." Aaron looks up through her lashes. "It would be fair if you did."

"But I don't." She leans down and presses a soft kiss on the top of her head. "And even if it was, I'd have your back. Recovery isn't always linear and I'm not letting you go through that again."

That. Like it's a thing she can't even bear to say out loud.

"I love you." It's easier to say it now. It still stings and takes a moment to force through her mouth, but it's real and it's true. Aaron watches Katelyn melt, smile going all gooey and eyes literally sparkling, and can't help but melt herself.

"I love you too."

Kate leans in to kiss her properly, their heads turned in an odd angle, and laughs against her lips when her laptop nearly slides down and onto the floor, Aaron's exy instincts coming in handy for once as she catches it, nearly headbanging Kate in the process.

With Kate's mouth on hers it's easier to forget everything but the taste of her strawberry chapstick and the way her hands feel on Aaron's waist.

Her peace doesn't last, because of course not.

It's almost like her brain is programmed to fit a bout of crippling dysphoria into the lone moments of peace she gets from uni. There's a lull in her classes, the beginnings of new units in almost every subject, so there's no point in studying besides revising her notes. Not being overworked for once is a perfect excuse for his brain to focus on other, worse things. For example;

The way her hands look next to Katelyn. The way Allison's blonde hair falls beautifully across her shoulders and Aaron's is cut too close to her skull. She can't stop thinking about her voice, not terribly low but not feminine either, the shape of her face, always too manly, always identical to her brother, her hips, the way she walks, the way she talks, the way her clothes fall on her body.

She can't enter the changing rooms. Not the men's, at least. She can't rationalize it because it's usually not a problem - it's not like any of the Foxes haven't seen her naked before - and she's fine with just an undershirt. But today was already bad, from the moment she woke up and realized she had to shave, to Nicky calling her "dude", and no, she can't just brush it off as a thing he calls everyone, to the way her shirt fell across her chest. She can't take off her hoodie and she can't look at her flat chest, better yet have others looking at it.

She doesn't realize how long she's been staring at the doors until Andrew clears his throat behind her. If he's here, then it was way too fucking long. She's always early because she comes straight after her afternoon classes and uses the extra time to study.

Aaron turns to see Andrew, as disinterested as always, with Josten right behind him, blue eyes drilling holes into her head.

"Are you coming in or what?" He asks, not harshly, but her hackles still raise.

"Why the hell do you care?"

"You're blocking the door," Andrew butts in before either of them can say something that will escalate this into a screaming match. Aaron understands why Andrew has… whatever he has with Josten, and she respects her brother enough not to be a bitch about it, but that doesn't mean she has to like him.

She moves out of the way and they pass without further comment.

And she still can't go in.

"Fuck this," She mutters under her breath and sends Wymack a quick text about having stomach poisoning. It's not like he'll check up on her. A lecture on food choices next practice will be better than having to change in a space she doesn't belong in when her skin is crawling and all she feels is wrong.

The feeling doesn't go away. Not for days, which she spends drowning it out with music and meeting Katelyn so often that she worries she's being annoying and overbearing. She already feels like a burden and taking away Kate's precious time is not helping. One of them is definitely going to become a successful doctor, and it's probably not her. It's not fair to make it even harder on Kate.

It's her weekly session with Bee and Andrew when things finally get to be too much. She doesn't know what sets it off, if it's Andrew, the therapist, the way her least favorite hoodie pools around her body, or the fact that their monthly haircut is coming around.

She isn't even participating in the session. Not really. Andrew's talking to bee about something completely irrelevant to Aaron, and she truly doesn't mind. It's not like she wanted to be there in the first place.

It's the fact that Andrew derails the conversation and starts talking about him. He hasn't slept in a week, he skips practice, he needs help because he can't handle anything by himself and he-

"Shut up," She snaps, rage boiling under her skin. "Don't talk about me."

Andrew just blinks, unbothered. He looks back at Betsy, something Aaron can only interpret as cruel playing on his lips.

"I told you there's something wrong with him."

And she can't take it. She takes her backpack and leaves, deaf to Betsy's calm voice asking him to just sit down. She leaves and doesn't put on her jacket and walks, breathing in deeply in order to calm down her beating heart. What the fuck is wrong with her? What the fuck is wrong with Andrew? No, what the fuck is wrong with Aaron? She blew up for no fucking reason over something she's feeling, something that isn't real, like a child. She can't handle feeling dysphoric for a hot fucking minute and now she ruined Andrew's session and he won't talk to her again for the next three weeks. She's useless. She can't play exy, she can't coexist in the same room with her own fucking brother and she shouts at him for nothing, just like her mother. Always like her mother. An addict, an uncontrollable, emotional mess.

Her cheeks are wet. She wipes them with the sleeves of her hoodie, chest stuttering as she fights her own body to stop crying. She doesn't deserve to cry over something that is her own fault. She doesn't deserve to act like a victim.

She's halfway to fox tower, cheeks dry but still red and sticky, trembling in the September chill, when the Maserati pulls up next to her. Andrew doesn't roll down the window, doesn't say a fucking thing, just drives at a snail's pace until she finally gives up and gets in the fucking car.

The drive is silent. The radio is off and neither of them say a thing. Not until they pull into the parking lot and Andrew locks the doors right before she can try the handle, forcing her to stay in the car.

"What was that about?" He asks and takes out a cigarette. Aaron thinks he should probably smoke outside if he cares so damn much about that stupid car, but she doesn't say anything. Most of the smoke escapes through the window Andrew opens after the first drag. So at least there's that.

"Nothing," She murmurs and looks out of her window. She can't stress how much she doesn't want to fucking be here.

"That wasn't nothing." Andrew takes another drag and Aaron tries to pretend she doesn't feel her brother's gaze checking out every inch of her uncovered skin in search of a bruise or a mark. "Do I have to kill her?"

"Don't fucking touch her," Aaron snaps. "Kate's got nothing to do with this."

"So there is something."

Aaron hates how well he knows her. How easily she's manipulated.

"Stop pretending to fucking care." She's too tired to argue. Too tired to even look at him. "Go back to acting like I don't exist if this is you caring. I hate Josten but I've never threatened him with a fucking knife or told him he's a tumour in your life." She doesn't even mean it, but the words come out ugly. She feels like a rabid dog, backed into a corner at its lowest, snapping and biting at the hand trying to feed it. "Let me go." Her voice breaks, her angry mask going right with it. It sounds pathetic. Like a plea.

Andrew clicks the button with an unreadable expression. And Aaron leaves.

She doesn't sleep.

She tries to, but it just doesn't come. Not at the dorms, not at Katelyn's. She spends the whole night staring at the ceiling, wishing for just an hour or two of rest, but the sun rises too fast and she has to attend practice unless she wants Wymack to chew her out for skipping again. She uses the time to rewrite her notes, scroll her Spotify playlists until she finds something she hasn't played on repeat to death already, and goes on with her life. Classes don't stop just because she hasn't slept. Neither does Exy, unfortunately.

Practice is a fucking nightmare. Changing is a nightmare, Aaron feeling practically naked even with a whole undershirt on. Gym is already bad enough, but strapping into her gear makes her feel nauseous. The Vixens are practicing alongside them, Kate dressed in her uniform, but Aaron can't even spare a smile. The raging jealousy that blooms in her gut makes her feel sick.

Later, she'll know exactly how stupid coming to practice at her lowest, sleep deprived, spiraling and mentally exhausted was. Now, in the middle of a scrimmage, all she can think is fuck as she fails to sidestep one of the easiest fucking plays in the world, Matt barrelling into her at full speed.

The impact knocks the air out of her lungs, but the fall is arguably worse. She bounces off of Matt like a ragdoll, barely has enough time to raise her arms and get into a safe position, before she meets the floor with a loud thud, her wrist snapping under her own weight and the force of her fall. The sound is deafening to her even through the rushing blood in her ears and she bites her tongue hard enough to bleed in order to suppress any noise coming out of her mouth.

"Fuck, dude, sorry." Matt's at her side in the matter of seconds, Wymack's whistle going off in the background. "Was that your hand?"

She nods, allowing Matt to help her sit up with her right wrist clutched close to her chest.

"Man, that was a hard fall," Matt rambles on, visibly worried and anxious all at once.

"My fault," Aaron grits out through her teeth, attempting to stand up. With the help of Matt, she manages before Kevin, Andrew and the whole fucking team come to gawk. "Fuck off," She says in their general direction, already heading for the infirmary.

"That was a beginner's play," Kevin seethes, unaware of Andrew glaring daggers at the back of his head. "Now we're down a player, Aaron, what the fuck?"

"Come on, dude…" Matt defends from Aaron's side. "Shit happens to all of us. He's already in pain, don't bite his head off."

"This shouldn't have happened," Josten comments from the side, and Aaron's just about done with every single one of them. Maybe except for Matt.

"Shut the fuck up and go away," She grits out through her teeth. "Fuck off, all of you."

Nobody really listens, but Abby finally arrives and the crowd dissipates after that. Matt still helps her walk to the infirmary, where Aaron tells him, as politely as she can, that her legs still work and he can go back to practice.

Abby fixes her with a weird look when they're finally alone. Aaron sits on the cot without even being asked, well accustomed to the tiny room, and tries to take off her gloves with her healthy hand, jaw clenched as pain lances through her whole arm with every jolt.

"Aaron," Abby tuts "Let me do it. You're going to hurt yourself."

It hurts just as much when she undoes the velcro, but whatever. She grits her teeth through it and doesn't make a sound.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I fell." Aaron stares at her for a moment before adding. "Something snapped."

"Oh dear." Abby's eyebrows furrow together as she gently turns her wrist, Aaron wincing the whole time. "Does it hurt when I do this?" She touches something in her wrist and Aaron jerks, biting her tongue.

"It already did hurt." She glares at Abby, more from the pain than anything.

"I don't think it's broken," Abby announces, but doesn't look very happy about it. "But I do think you've torn a ligament. It would be best to go get it checked out at the hospital, but…"

"I don't want to go." Aaron looks away, ears burning. She knows it's stupid for a future doctor to hate hospitals, but she does. A lot.

"We can take care of it here on the condition that you immediately tell me if the pain gets worse or you notice any bruising." She finally lets go of her wrist and goes to fish a fresh roll of bandages out of her cabinet. "You'll have to rewrap it after every shower or if it gets loose. I trust that you know how to do that, but it would be easier with someone's help. For now, we can ice it to reduce pain and swelling and I can offer you some painkillers."

"No drugs." She shakes her head firmly and winces when she tries to move her fingers.

"I would also avoid any movement if you can help it. Be careful with your hand and you'll only be out of commission for two to four weeks. I'll ask you to come for a check up once in a while." She directs Aaron to rest her hand on a nearby table and gently places a bright blue gel ice pack on her wrist. "Do you want me to let anyone in? Andrew?"

Aaron thinks back to their last conversation and shakes her head a bit too fast.

"I think your girlfriend saw you fall. Maybe her coach will let her step out for a bit to check on her injured boyfriend." Abby smiles softly, unaware of Aaron's internal recoil at the term. Still, she nods slowly, the idea of having Kate at her said to good to pass over. "I'll be back in a sec."

It's still disorientating to Aaron to be trusted enough to be left all alone with a shelf of painkillers just in her reach. She doesn't even look their way, but her skin still itches. She bites her lip to distract herself from the urge and from the pain still blooming across her wrist.

It really isn't long. Kate enters the room in two minutes flat, an adorably concerned expression on her face, and immediately goes to kiss Aaron on the cheek.

"What happened?" She asks, her eyes big and worried. "How long have you had this on?" She points to the ice pack.

"I was distracted, it wasn't Matt's fault. Torn ligament, I'll be good in three weeks." She reaches for Kate's hand, brushing her thumb on her knuckles. "Five minutes? Definitely not long enough to get frostbite."

"It looked so bad." Kate perches on the cot next to Aaron, immediately gluing herself to her side. "There was a thud and you wouldn't get up immediately and-"

"I'm fine." She places a quick kiss on Kate's frown. "It's Exy. Things like this happen."

"Do they?" She asks and Aaron blinks, confused.

"I mean, yeah, it's a contact sport-"

"No, I mean, do they happen like this? Kevin said it was a beginner's play. We all heard. And I know you're not sleeping and barely eating and I promised I'd wait until you were ready, but, sweetheart…" She sighs, switching their hands so that she can hold Aaron's. "This is eating at you badly enough to get you hurt."

Aaron closes her eyes. She knew it would come to this eventually, but she hoped, stupidly, that she would have more time.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm a burden, but this isn't something- I can't just turn it off." Her voice breaks again and she winces. "So if you're sick of me, that's okay, I'll just-"

"I'm not." Kate turns her face, gently but firmly, and looks her right in the eyes. "I'm not breaking up with you over this, Aaron. I love you." She's being honest, but she's still frowning, and Aaron doesn't get what she's done wrong this time. "I'm not sick of you and you're not too much. You never will be." She places a gentle hand right under her eye, catching the tears she didn't even know would escape. "I'm just worried about you. You're losing weight and you look like you haven't slept in a week." She hasn't, so. "You're too… scared to take off your clothes, even in front of me, and you won't let me touch you. And that's okay, I respect that, but there's a reason for it that's hurting you."

Aaron hasn't even realized she's been doing that. Has she really been that distant? From Kate, too? How could she not notice?

"I'm sorry." She closes her eyes, shame washing through her.

"I don't want you to apologize. There's nothing to apologize for. I just want you to get help. And it doesn't matter if it's from me, your brother, Abby, or a psychologist. But you need help before it gets even worse." Her hands are shaking on Aaron's cheek and she nods slowly, fighting to control the urge to break down and cry.

"If I tell you, you'll hate me," She manages to croak out, healthy hand clenched around Kate's. "I've been lying to you."

"I promise I won't blow up at you. No matter how bad it is." Kate squeezes back, thumb still brushing Aaron's cheekbone.

It's hard to force through her throat. It closes up, like her body's so used to keeping a secret that she physically can't say it. It takes a few tries, too many tries, all while Kate just holds her, one hand cupping her cheek and the other caressing her knuckles, like she's a sick animal.

"I'm not a man," She finally manages, but the relief doesn't come. There's no floodgates, no pressure escaping her body. Still, she continues, because she has to explain and beg for forgiveness. "I've always known but there was always something more important, something that would make me unsafe, and it's not like there was a point in coming out, so I hid it and just lived as a boy because it was easier to lie to everyone than come clean." She takes a shaky breath in, too scared to open her eyes and see Kate's reaction. "I've had a bad bout of dysphoria for the last couple of weeks and it's making me want to crawl out of my skin and die-

She hears Kate inhale sharply and stills, prepared for her to start shouting, to hit her, anything.

Instead, she's pulled into a gentle hug.

Kate's chest shakes, like she's trying not to cry, and she holds the back of Aaron's head with a gentle hand. She doesn't know what to do with it. She doesn't know whether to cry in relief or wait for Kate to realize what she's done.

"Oh, sweetheart," Kate whispers and kisses the top of her head. "God, I'm so sorry."

Aaron still doesn't know what to think. She doesn't know what it means, if Kate understood, if she's just worried or if she thinks Aaron is an unnatural abomination.

Kate pulls away, just enough to hold her face in her hands, thumbs wiping away the wet tears gathered under Aaron's eyes. She looks like she's about to cry, too, mouth pulled down in a trembling frown, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm so sorry you didn't feel safe enough to tell anyone," She says softly, nearly whispering. "I'm sorry you didn't feel safe enough around me."

"It wasn't about you." Aaron's voice is barely a croak, so she clears her throat. "I haven't told anyone. Ever."

Kate makes a face like her words are physically painful. She closes her eyes for a second, inhales deeply, and then her eyes snap to the ice pack.

"Shit, we should take that off."

Aaron's forgotten about her hand entirely. She can't feel any burning or pain other than the fucked ligament, but she doesn't object when Kate takes the icepack off, as gently as possible, and deposits it on the counter. She assesses her wrist with a calculating stare and nods, satisfied.

"It doesn't look too bad."

"Thank you, doctor Mackenzie."

Kate cracks a weak smile and sits back down on the cot.

"You're trans." She states, but Aaron nods, like it's a question. It feels weird to admit and even weirder to hear it out loud. "A trans woman."

Hearing it feels like a dream. An auditory hallucination. She nods again, heartbeat picking up in the beginning of a panic.

"So you're my girlfriend now?" Kate reaches for her hand and Aaron nods dumbly for the third time.

"What?" She asks, as if her brain only just finished buffering.

"You're my girlfriend." Kate shrugs, gentle hands playing with Aaron's fingers. "We're dating and you're a girl, so."

"You don't have a problem with it?" Aaron asks, incredulous. "I was lying to you."

"You don't owe it to anyone to come out," She says and it's shocking that she can tell Kate is being honest. "I'm- I'm not mad, just concerned. Maybe I am a little angry, but not at you. I'm angry at everyone in your life who made you have to hide yourself for twenty whole years."

"They're all dead." Aaron shrugs, like it doesn't matter. Kate only raises her eyebrows, but doesn't verbally disagree. "Don't waste your energy on being angry on my behalf. I'm not angry. It's just shit, but the fact that it's happening is all my fault, so."

"It's not your fault," Kate replies immediately, but Aaron's thought this over in her head a million times already.

"If I wasn't like this, this wouldn't be happening. You would still have a boyfriend, I wouldn't disappoint the whole team and maybe Andrew wouldn't hate me. It's my fault that I was born like this-"

"Aaron." Kate interrupts. "There are so many things wrong with what you said that I don't even know where to start. You should go to therapy."

"I hate therapy."

"You don't have to go to Dobson." Her tone changes into something softer. "There are other therapists. Besides, her being your brother's therapist is a confidentiality nightmare." She cracks a small smile, probably only to cheer her up. "You need therapy because you're not doing well, first of all. Dysphoria is eating you alive and you have no healthy ways to cope. And don't even start, because I know you," She interrupts her before she can get a single word out. "Second of all, if you ever want to transition medically and legally, a psychologist's help will go a long way. Both in helping you find the right process and supporting you on the way."

"I've never even thought about that," She confesses. "I just guessed I'd never… I would always have to be a man."

"Baby…" From anyone else, this would sound like pity. From Kate, it's something entirely different. "Can I still call you Aaron?"

"What? Oh, yeah." She shrugs, wincing when it jostles her hand "I've never minded it. It doesn't matter much. And I like when you say it."

She watches a flush spread across Kate's cheeks in a dull, but warming satisfaction.

"If you ever change your mind, you can tell me." She reaches up to brush the hair out of Aaron's face. "If there's anything you want me to do, to help you with, I'm here. Anything. From painting your nails, finding new clothes to finding a therapist. But I won't do or say anything without your permission. It's not mine to tell."

She wonders, again, how she ever managed to find such a kind, wonderful, amazing girlfriend.

"Is it okay if I tell you I'm a lesbian? Or are two coming outs in a day too much?"

Kate laughs, wiping the last of the tears from Aaron's face.

"It's wonderful. I'm really happy for you, you know? That you told me."

"I don't know if I'll be able to do anything about it." Aaron admits a bit guiltily. "I feel like telling you just took ten years off my life."

"Don't even joke about that." She swats at her thigh. "You're growing old with me. No other option."

Aaron just stares at her, the first real smile in ages forming on her face.

"I love you," She says, because she always has a reason to say it.

"I love you too." Kate kisses her softly. "My beautiful, beautiful girlfriend. Let me help you with that bandage."

Aaron isn't magically fixed. The dysphoria is still there when she wakes up the next day, hand aching, too short hair sticking out in every direction and her shirt making her look like a little boy. The only positives in her life are: 1. She doesn't have to attend practice for the next three weeks minimum 2. Kate knows. Kate knows and she accepted it like it was nothing and Kate still loves her. It's the only thing keeping her going when she sits in class, unable to take notes, knee bouncing under her desk. It's the only thing she thinks about when her professor calls her over, asks about the injury and laughs about boys getting rowdy on the court. She shoves it all deep inside and moves on, mind already in Kate's dorm, watching her spin in her desk chair and sing along to Chappell Roan like she knows that Aaron wants to join.

When she finally does make it, she's tired to the bone. Kate welcomes her with a quick peck, rewraps her hand because the bandages tugged on her backpack and were too loose, and immediately tells her to just take a nap.

"There's no practice and you can't make any notes, so you might as well just rest. God knows you need it."

And although she's right, Aaron just can't do it. She lays there and listens to Kate's quiet sounds, the tapping of her socked feet on the floor and the rustling of book pages, something that always puts her at ease, but sleep doesn't come.

"I think there's something wrong with my brain," She says into the air, rubbing her eyes. "I'm tired and everything's perfect but I just can't do it."

"Do you want my meds?" Kate offers. She used to have pretty serious insomnia throughout high school, and although it hasn't disappeared, she's doing well enough to only need to take melatonin maybe once a week. Even less, if she's lucky. Still, Aaron shakes her head.

"You know, I kind of expected you to go bridezilla- transzilla, I guess, on me, and do my makeup and make me wear your skirts."

"I can, if it'll make you happy. But I don't think it would be a pleasant experience for either of us."

"Why not?" Aaron squints at her from the bed.

"Because you spent the last twenty years living like you do and that seems a bit jarring. I just thought it was more likely to make you feel worse than better. I'm not going to rush you into something you're not comfortable with. But if you want to, I can totally give you a makeover."

"I don't, not really. Maybe a little bit?" She hesitates.

"I'm listening."

"I just-" Aaron sighs deeply. "Nothing's helped. I constantly feel like shit, like I'm an ugly, weirdly shaped boy. I know it's my dysphoria speaking but I can't even look at myself. I'm desperate enough to at least try."

"We can. Just because I think something doesn't mean it's true, or a bad idea," She says softly. "You're the one living it."

"Unfortunately," Aaron grumbles but sits up. "Can you do my makeup? But just a little bit. Don't make me feel like a clown, please."

"I'd be offended if I didn't know you any better," She says, but she's clearly smiling as she reaches for her makeup bag. "Any requests, or do I just do whatever I want?"

"I trust you."

"Thank you, but that wasn't the question." Kate smiles sweetly and plops down on the bed next to her. "I mean, what do you want to look like? There's feminine, masculine, and like fifty styles and gender expressions in between that. If it was a spectrum," She makes an imaginary line with her fingers. "From feminine to masculine expression, where do you fall?"

Aaron blinks at Kate, mildly confused with the amount of information she was just given, and points to the ¾ way point towards the masculine side, her stomach twisting the moment she does. She is a woman, really, she is. But she still doesn't want to look like a 5'2 Barbie. Womanhood isn't just fashion and expression, right? So this is totally cool. Jesus, her mere existence is giving her a headache.

"So no colorful eyeshadow, no lipstick and no skirts and dresses?" Kate guesses.

"At least for now." Aaron shrugs. "I was never into dolls, pink things and super girly stuff. Not that all girls are, I just wasn't."

"I wasn't either, trust me." Kate laughs and starts sorting out her eyeshadow palettes. "Don't get me wrong, I grew to love pink and makeup is one of my favorite things now, but throughout my childhood all I could think about were lego bricks and high fantasy books way too complicated for my age. Neither of us fit in very well."

"I'd argue one of us fit in better." Aaron comments, not even meaning for it to sound as bitter as it does.

"Cheer the fuck up," She says with a smile and shows her some eyeshadow palette. "I think a very light smokey eye will fit your face. And you already dress kind of emo to Eden's so it should be your style."

"I've never tried that." Aaron stills as Kate takes an eye pencil and prepares to put it right in her waterline. "Please don't blind me."

"Haha." Kate says with a deadpan tone, applying the eyeliner in record speed and moving onto the second eye. "I've been doing my makeup and nails at home for years. I have a steady hand." She lets go of her face and squints. "All done. Blending out the eyeshadow is the worst part, trust me, baby."

"I think I only put on makeup once. When mom was gone for two days on a bender and I figured there'd be no harm in taking her lipstick."

"Did you like it?"

Aaron shrugs. "She beat me over it."

Kate stops breathing for a second, like she always does, hand clenching over her makeup brush so hard it creaks.

"Did you like the lipstick, at least?"

"No. It made me look too much like her." Another slow inhale.

"What color was it?"

"Light pink. Really bad, like the highlighter you use in your Psych notes."

Kate cracks up despite the fact that she's clearly upset, and accidentally jabs her in the eye. One soft kiss and a whole twenty minutes later, she's finally finished with Aaron's face.

"I think some chapstick will do you good. Not that you need it, but it always makes me feel more put together on the days I don't wear makeup." She passes over her favorite strawberry chapstick, just barely tinted red. "Keep it."

"But it's your favorite." Aaron protests, but Kate shuts her up with a kiss.

"That's exactly why I'm giving it to you. Just use it, I know it'll work." She watches her apply the chapstick like it's monumental.

"Done. Am I a pretty girl now?" She's clearly being sarcastic, but Kate eagerly nods like it's a fundamental truth of the world that Aaron is, in fact, a pretty girl. It makes her squirm, but it's not entirely unpleasant.

"Go, look in the mirror."

At first, Aaron doesn't understand why she just sat there for 20 minutes if Kate barely did anything to her face. And then, slowly, she notices. The smokey eye is just a step more feminine than the stuff Andrew usually does when he gets ready for Eden's, accentuating Aaron's lashes. Her cheeks are lightly dusted with blush, high up, and the light contour is barely visible on her face, but still placed so well that it looks- different. More feminine. Did Kate research this? Did she know Aaron would ask?

"How do you feel?" She asks and wraps her arms around Aaron from the back, chin easily resting on her shoulder, and Aaron's taken aback. It's like, if she squints, they really are just two girls. Girlfriends. It helps so much that Kate is so tall and that she just did her makeup and that she's looking at Aaron like she's her whole world.

"Thank you," She says instead of answering.

"You can thank me by smiling for a picture." She pulls out her phone, chin still hooked on Aaron's shoulder. "Come on, cheese!"

She does smile, mostly because she's looking at Katelyn and the way her cheeks dimple when she grins. But she guesses she's just happy, too. It's a nice development.

Even with her wrist in a brace, Aaron can't afford to not study. Taking notes is obviously off the table and the one time Andrew saw her with a highlighter between her bandaged thumb and palm, he grabbed it and threw it all the way across the dorm. Using her left hand is not an option, either, because her writing looks like a four year old's attempt to draw a straight line. Aaron's stuck reading her and Kate's notes over and over again. She goes through the presentation slides, too, but she still feels like she's not actually learning anything if she doesn't have the neat notes to prove it, which is objectively stupid, but still true.

She's on her fourth time repeating what the fuck a retinal pigment epithelium is when Matt comes back from practice with Dan in tow. Nicky's supposed to be on a call date with Eric, where they both sit in a restaurant and look really sad and kind of pathetic to other people, and Aaron's sure Kevin, Andrew and Neil are together off doing god knows what, so she doesn't even ask.

"Sup." Matt throws his bag on the floor next to the door to his dorm and sighs. "How's your hand?"

"Just fine." Aaron chews on her knuckle, rereading the same sentence for what feels like the fifth time.

"I'm really sorry, dude, I didn't mean to hurt you." When Aaron looks up, Matt looks at her like a kicked puppy.

"I said it was fine. It doesn't hurt a lot and I'll be back on court in two weeks."

"Babe, he's fine," Dan says to her boyfriend, putting a comforting hand on his arm. Aaron's skin crawls at her words, but she stays silent.

"Did you see the way he hit the floor?" Dan nods and pats his arm again.

"He said he was fine then and he's saying it now-"

"Can you stop talking about me with- Like I'm not here?" Aaron snaps, interrupting Dan mid sentence. Her notes crinkle in her grip and she looks down at her own knees, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Sorry, dude," Matt apologizes and Aaron groans.

"Stop fucking calling me that," She says into the floor, blaming her exhaustion and sleep deprivation for what she says next. "I'm not a dude."

There's silence for a few seconds, and then a confused "Huh?"

She said that, didn't she. Way to fucking go.

"If you tell anyone I'll fucking kill you." She turns slowly towards the couple, entirely too aware of how non-threatening she is with her wrist fucked and her height being 5 foot something.

"What are you saying?" Dan asks, squinting at her. "You're not a dude?"

"I said what I said." Aaron turns back, done with this fucking conversation and in disbelief that the second coming out of his life happened with Dan and Matt. She loves them, of course, in the fucked up way all Foxes love each other, but?

"Are you non-binary? What pronouns should we use?" Matt asks, prompting Aaron to groan again.

"I'm not."

"I don't understand, then."

"Is it really that hard to believe I could be trans?" Aaron mutters into her own notes, weirdly upset. It's not like she's given them any reason to believe she could be trans, but it still hurts.

"You're a girl." Dan approaches the coach, immediately causing her to tense up. "We didn't know."

"Because I didn't tell you." Aaron sighs, giving up on coming back to her notes and tugging her reading glasses off her nose. "Kate's the only one who knows."

Matt stands at the back when she looks, a bit flabbergasted.

"What pronouns do you want us to use?"

She cringes at the question. "I'm not planning on coming out to anyone."

"We won't out you. But I guess you don't really want to be misgendered, either?" Dan perches down on the couch and Aaron nods. "We can try to avoid it. Use your name and just avoid pronouns entirely."

"Great. I love making my friends speak in riddles for my sake."

"Aaron." Dan gives her a deadpan look. "I know we've never really talked often but as team captain and as your friend, it's my responsibility to be here for you. If you ever plan on switching changing rooms or if you want me to deal with the rest of the team, just say the word."

"Same goes for me," Matt adds, coming around the sofa to smile sheepishly at Aaron. "If we ever make you uncomfortable in the dorms or anything, tell us."

Aaron stares at them dumbfounded for a good minute. She doesn't know what to think or how to react. She settles on a choked out "Thank you".

It's odd how easy it is to relax with Matt and Dan's quiet chatter next to her and the knowledge that there's two more people who won't ever call her a "dude" again.

Kate's Girl 1.0.1 continues as Aaron heals from her injury. They go through some topics Aaron has questions about - does she really have to shave her legs and everything? If it's a feminist move to keep the hair, she'd rather just do that like the lesbian she is. Also, is there a way to give her a chest without taking Estrogen? Won't a push up bra look too silly? Can Kate's friend pierce her ears for twenty bucks and a Kevin Day autograph? Does perfume really matter?

Poor Kate tries to answer all of her questions with the minimal experience she has in anything that has to do with trans women. Together they scour blogs, tumblr tags and even reddit in search of some answers. Aaron finds out that being a trans woman and masc lesbian all at once is a terrible idea, but it's not like she can change it. A lot of people seem really put out about the idea of her existing, too, which she doesn't know what to think about. She's scared to use the word butch because there's an actual subculture that goes into that and she's scared to present too femme or too masc because people will notice and she feels fucking crazy. It's maddening because nothing is actually happening. All there is are her own thoughts and preconceived internet trends and notions.

"I'm going insane," She tells Kate when she's in the middle of pulling her hair into a ponytail for practice. It's their uniform day, so Aaron has an excellent view of Kate's muscular arms and lean back, plus the obvious abs and the perfect swell of her chest and- her girlfriend's gorgeous, is all.

"Are you going to elaborate or just stare at my ass all day?" Kate looks back at her in the mirror and finally snaps the elastic, focusing on pulling her bangs out of the hairstyle next.

"I've talked to you about this for like forty hours total at this point," Aaron plops down on the bed. "Everything's just so-" She throws her hands in the air. "And I don't know what to do about it."

"Well, you could talk to that therapist whose number I saved in your phone." Kate turns around, skirt fanning, and props her hands up on her hips. "You know, someone who has experience working with trans youth and knows more than me based on some wildly biased blogs."

Aaron doesn't respond, sick and tired of the topic of therapy and the concept altogether. Her and Andrew's last session was spent in complete silence.

"I want to help you, babe, but there's just not much else I can do." Kate looks at her apologetically. "One session won't kill you, you know?"

"It might."

Kate shoots her a terrifying look.

"How are you holding up?" She walks up to the bed and reaches for Aaron's hip, patting it softly when she grunts. "With, you know, the dysphoria and Dan and Matt finding out?"

"He keeps trying to call me dude and then awkwardly coughing or making really bad attempts at changing the subject. It's still more than anyone's done for me. Except for you." She puts her hand on Kate's.

"And the dysphoria?"

She was trying to skim around the issue, but Kate's ability to sniff out a diversion has once again proven superior.

"It's not as bad as it was."

"Aaron."

"On the scale of feeling great to I want to kill myself it's a solid six."

Something tells her Kate would react better to the suicide joke if it was any other topic.

"Don't even joke about that," She grumbles. "Call that therapist. Tell Betsy. Tell your brother, who the hell knows how he'd try to help. Just do something to help yourself before it goes back up to nine again."

And Aaron hates this. She hates that Kate has to worry about her every single day. She hates that she made Kate use so much of her time and energy on researching shitty trans self help blogs just for most of it to not even help her. She hates that she's made it all about herself for the second year in a row.

"I love you, okay? See you after practice." Kate kisses her softly on the lips, completely unaware of how Aaron's gut has started rolling with shame.

The moment she's gone, Aaron calls the one person she swore she'd never willingly talk to again.

"Hi, Bee."

Bee doesn't mention their phone call on Wednesday. She doesn't even hint at them having any sort of arrangement and Andrew clearly doesn't know, either. Aaron knew that therapists had to obey a confidentiality clause, but she didn't really trust Betsy to actually follow it when it came to Andrew. It always seemed like Andrew was her special client, her pupil, and he had privileges no one else did. Their bond made Aaron's skin crawl. She didn't know what it was exactly - the idea of her brother being this vulnerable and trusting with someone who isn't her, or the fact that she's a mother figure Aaron will never have because she flinches away from any older woman who raises her hand in her fucking direction too fast.

She sits through the session in silence. She sits through the drive back in silence, too, and for the ten second period when Andrew allows the engine to cool down, all he does is look at her. Like he's disappointed. She can't fucking stand it.

Her session with Bee falls on Friday. It's the first free slot she has and the way it sounded, she made it free, which is now making Aaron feel bad about taking space from people who actually need therapy. Unlike her.

She walks to the appointment by herself, sits in the uncomfortable, plastic chairs by herself, and contemplates running away at the last minute, also, by herself. Kate asked if she wanted her there for moral support, but Aaron wasn't about to waste even more of her time.

She's ashamed to admit she panics a little when the door opens, a young girl steps out and waves her in after herself. Aaron nods politely, but doesn't move for a long moment. She's never seen Bee by herself. Yearly evaluations don't count, because they're done in Abby's office and all she does is tell Bee that, no, she doesn't want to kill herself, and then some other stupid questions.

Now, Aaron closes the door behind herself with a soft click and avoids looking Bee in the eyes until she has a cup of green tea steeping at the little table next to her usual armchair spot. She crosses her legs, then uncrosses them again, then kicks off her shoes, puts them in a neat row on the floor, and tucks her socked feet under herself.

Bee waits for her to start. It's uncanny. She's always chattering and asking questions when she's in her session with Andrew- Or more likely Andrew's sessions with her. Maybe that's the answer. They were never really Aaron's.

She wants Bee to ask. She wants Bee to fucking guess, psychoanalyze her and have all the conclusions in the palm of her hand.

"I realize it might be hard for you to break the silence," Bee finally says, as if she's noticed Aaron's nervous fidgeting. "So let me ask: Is there a reason why you made this appointment?"

Aaron bites her tongue, looking anywhere but at Bee's face.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

The words, as always, get stuck in the back of her throat. She rubs her face, hopeful that Betsy has developed mind reading powers in the last five minutes, but she's met with silence.

"I have gender dysphoria. I've ran out of ways to deal with it." Aaron bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. "I've known I was trans since I was a kid, but I was able to suppress it pretty well when everything else in my life was total shit. Either my mom would kill me, I'd lose my new brother, my new scholarship, or my girlfriend. And then I fucking murdered someone." She takes a big breath, hands pressed into her cheeks and eyelids hard enough for her to see bursts of color. "But there's nothing going on now and I think my brain took it as a chance to remind me that I've been lying to everyone, including myself. The dysphoria has been awful for nearly a month now. I've come out to my girlfriend and two of my teammates, although that was an accident, and Kate has been trying so hard to help me, but it's just not enough. She said a therapist would help me but, no offense, I hate therapists and if I already have to see you weekly, I might as well spare myself another person I need to come out to." She shrugs, finally uncovers her face, and looks up to see Betsy Dobson looking shocked for the first time in her life. "If I knew I'd finally get a reaction out of you, I would have told you earlier."

"Sorry, it's a lot of new information to take in," Bee gives her a soft smile and pushes her glasses up where they're nearly falling down her nose. "Can I ask you some follow up questions?"

Aaron nods shakily and focuses on taking the tea bag out of her mug before it gets bitter.

"You're a trans woman." Aaron nods again, spoon clinking furiously in her mug as her hands start to tremble. "What pronouns do you want me to use? Privately, at least?"

"She and her. Just don't… Out me. I haven't told Andrew."

"The oath of confidentiality applies to your sessions as well, Aaron. Can I still call you that?"

"Yeah, I don't have a problem with my name."

"It's a nice name," Bee comments and Aaron's cheeks burn furiously. "You want my help with alleviating gender dysphoria, yes?" Another nod. "Do you want my help with transitioning medically? Or at least deciding on what steps you want to take or not?"

"I'm not sure yet. I haven't thought that far ahead."

"That's alright." Betsy hits her pen on her notebook and scribbles something down. "We can come back to that later, when you're ready. Not all trans people transition medically. I do think transitioning socially would be a massive help, but that would require telling Andrew and the rest of your team, at the very least. So let's put that on the back burner as well." She waits for a disagreement, but it doesn't come. "Well, now that we've got that settled, I have to say, I'd consider reassigning you to a different therapist. One that specializes in trans youth."

"But I don't want to see anyone else. I don't want to see anyone at all." Aaron protests weakly. "If you make me see someone else I won't go." She sounds like a petulant child, she knows, but the panic that rises inside her is real. Therapists have never helped her, ever, not when they pulled her to the side at school and asked how she got that bruise and not a single time when she was waking up, every single night, the feeling of warm, sticky blood covering her face. Andrew was more important, he's still more important, and she's only doing this to make Kate happy and to be less of a problem but she won't be able to stand it if she has to learn how to trust someone new, again, to bare her fucking soul to a stranger-

"Aaron, you need to breathe," Betsy reminds her and Aaron nods, regulating her panicked breathing as much as she can. "I won't make you do anything. I just think it would be better, for your sake, because I don't specialize in trans youth at all. But I won't make you see anyone else. This is clearly a hard boundary and I respect those."

Aaron wants to ask: Really? Since when does Betsy respect her fucking boundaries? But she stays quiet.

"Aaron, do you have any trans friends? People who you can relate to and share your struggles with?"

"No," Aaron scoffs. "I'm only friends with the Foxes and Kate. You know this."

"How would you feel about finding some?"

"How would I even do that? Unless there's some kind of secret trans club you want me to join." She means it as a joke, but the face Betsy makes tells her she's about to be corrected. "No fucking way."

"It's not secret, and it's not really a club, but the trans support group one of my colleagues runs meets every Thursday in the art department gymnasium."

"Of course it's the art department." Aaron comments, not maliciously, and Betsy nodes with a twinkle in her eyes like she's secretly amused.

"I'll send you the time and address. I'm sure Kate's support is great, but you've both probably noticed that she doesn't have all the answers and simply can't relate to your experiences enough to solve your problems single handedly."

"I know," Aaron admits and bows her head. "But she's been trying so hard. She wastes so much time just trying to make me feel better."

"She's not wasting her time," Betsy corrects softly. "She's using it to help you in any way she can. You can have a conversation if you want her to slow down, but to say she's wasting her time insinuates that you're unimportant to her. Is that how you feel? Unimportant?"

"She loves me," Aaron answers defensively.

"They're your words, Aaron."

"I just-" She groans quietly. "I don't want her to spend her time trying to help me when she has to prioritize her future. She wants to be a doctor, she has cheer. That's more responsibilities than I currently have and she still spends so much time with me, helping me do stupid things she's been doing her whole life."

"Why do you think they're stupid things? Is it because they're associated with womanhood?"

"It's because I'm too fucking old to be discovering how to paint my nails and it shouldn't be more important to Kate than her grades."

"You mean that you shouldn't be more important than her grades."

Aaron can't even disagree. Betsy writes something down in her stupid notebook and looks at her through her glasses.

"I think we should meet regularly." Before Aaron can disagree, she continues. "Our time is up and we've still got things to discuss. As for a short-term fix for your dysphoria, please consider attending the support group meeting. You'll get more useful tips from your own community than from me. The only thing I can advise you for now is to find a hobby that doesn't include Exy or your major."

"Really? You're telling me to get a hobby?"

"Really." She smiles warmly at Aaron. "It will take your mind off of things without making you feel like you're at work. Pick something easy, relaxing. Maybe you already have one."

"Do video games count?"

"Of course. Ideally, I would pick something to do with creativity, something hands-on that will make you feel accomplished at the end of the day. Like crochet, sculpture, writing, and music. But for now, video games are a good start. No pressure."

"Did you tell Andrew to find a hobby?"

"I can't tell," She says and closes her notebook. "Our time is up. Can I pencil you in for a weekly session? Same time next week?"

"Sure." Aaron sighs and looks at her tea. She didn't even take a sip. "Thanks."

Damn. She's never thanked Betsy for a session in her life.

"Remember about the support group. I'll send you the information." Betsy smiles again and walks her to the door. "Have a great week."

"Thanks. You too." Aaron tells her and walks out, feeling uncanny in the small waiting room now that she's bared her soul to Betsy Dobson and walked out actually feeling better.

It's fucking weird.

She saves the meeting in her google docs calendar.

By the third week of having her wrist immobilized, Aaron is going insane.

She keeps trying to grab her coffee mug with her right hand or picks up her pen when the slide changes in class. Worst of all, she kind of misses Exy. No, scratch that, the worst part is the fact that Kate refuses to accidentally hurt her during sex and she's now celibate against her will.

(But also, she's not sure how sex will look now that she's officially a girl. And maybe she's scared of finding out. So she doesn't fight Kate on it too much.)

It's Matt who usually helps her rewrap her hand if Kate's not around. He's doing it now, humming a Britney Spears song while Aaron watches the tv to her left.

"The girls are doing their nails today," Matt says innocently once he's tucking the metal clip in her bandage. "You could join them."

Aaron stills.

"Not that I'm saying you have to or that Renee and Allison know. But you could join. Dan said so." Matt smooths a hand down the shaved back of his head, one of the telltale signs that he's nervous. "If you want."

"I'll think about it," Aaron mutters and looks down at her hand. "Thanks."

She's not going to go. Right? It isn't her place. It's girls' night and she's… Well, a girl, but still. She'd have to tell Allison and Renee and god knows who Allison would tell. Would she? Are her gossiping tendencies bad enough to out someone? Aaron doesn't think so. And Betsy did tell her to surround herself with her community, which she guesses includes cis women, too, and spending all of her free time around Matt and Kevin isn't helpful in alleviating the persevering feeling of dysphoria under her skin. So maybe it will be good for her.

She regrets this the moment she opens the door and is met with Allison's pink top. She has to look up to see her face, because everyone on this team is giant and she looks like her growth spurt never hit.

"What? It's girls' night, no boys allowed." She cringes as she says it. "Sounds like I'm in Mean Girls."

"You always do." Aaron looks between Allison and the doorframe, desperately searching for Dan, but she's nowhere to be seen. "Can I come in?"

"What did you not understand when I said girls' night?" Allison mutters but moves. "Make it quick."

This was a bad idea, Aaron thinks as she enters the dorm. Renee waves at her from her spot on the couch, an array of nail polishes laying on the table in a disorganized pile.

"Where's Dan?" She asks, and Renee points to the bathroom.

"What do you want?" Allison plops down on the couch next to her girlfriend. "Quick."

"Can we wait for Dan?" Aaron fidgets with the strings of her hoodie, feeling particularly unwelcome here. She should have stayed in her dorms. One girls' night isn't going to fix her and she's clearly unwelcome here - might as well leave.

Allison groans loudly and yells: "Dan!"

"Coming!" The bathroom door opens and Dan finally comes out, some kind of hair product lathered all over her hair. "Do you know how long it takes me to put the conditioner in? Oh, hi Aaron." She smiles at her and takes the remaining seat. "Is there anything you wanted?"

"Well, I…" She looks between Dan, her socks and the TV. It's playing Gossip Girl. "I wanted to join you?"

Two things happen at once. Dan says "Sure!" without a second thought and Allison bursts out laughing.

They both look at each other, mostly confused, before Dan realizes. She looks at Aaron, Allison still laughing next to her, and raises her eyebrows. Right, she should explain.

"You seriously have nothing better to do? Did the monsters finally drop you? Did Kate get tired of putting up with you?" Nevermind, she should probably leave before she's tempted to punch Allison in the face.

"Jesus Christ, Allison." Dan looks at her in disbelief. "Will you let Aaron explain or are you going to be cruel for no reason again?"

"Cruel? I'm not-" Allison protests, but she's cut off by Renee.

"That was harsh, baby. We talked about this."

Allison rolls her eyes and motions for Aaron to go on. She kind of wants to turn around and leave, as a fuck you, but she takes a deep breath instead and looks Allison in the eyes, before saying:

"I'm a trans woman. Dan invited me here. If you're going to be a bitch about this, I can leave."

The silence is long. And very awkward.

"That's wonderful, Aaron," Renee is the first to break the silence. "Or should we call you something else?"

"Aaron's fine," She replies. "Dan and Matt know, but no one else on the team does. Please don't tell anyone."

"I'm not that much of a bitch," Allison finally speaks up.

"And me and Kate are fine." Aaron feels the need to defend her relationship from Allison's assumptions. "Not that that's any of your business."

"Well, a girl-friend would tell me everything, so it is my business."

"I'm not your girl-friend." Aaron frowns. "Ew."

"You literally are." Allison turns around to face her girlfriend. "Right, babe?"

"You are a girl and you are her friend." She says, like a traitor.

"You can take the bean bag!" Dan interrupts them with a strained smile. "If you want anything to drink or eat, just take it from the fridge. Now, colors."

"Pink. Obviously." Allison claims a hot pink bottle. She picks out five pastel colors and pushes them onto Renee's side of the table.

"I can't do it myself," Aaron tells Dan, raising up her bandaged hand as an explanation. "Can you help?"

"Sure," Dan smiles warmly and picks out her color. A dark plum purple. "Which one do you want?"

There are so many. Every color of the rainbow and then some. Aaron blinks furiously, feeling an oncoming headache at the variety of choices and picks out one of the glittery, but transparent ones. A safe choice.

"Subtle. It'll look nice on you," Dan comments and Aaron isn't sure if it's honest, or just for her sake.

Then, she finds out just how many steps there are in nail painting. Like three too many for it to be considered normal in her opinion. Dan has to help her push back her cuticles, puts on a dehydrator - which Aaron thinks is just alcohol - on her nails and then paints the base. Then, when it's dry, she switches with Allison because her back still hurts after practice, and Allison takes Aaron's hands in hers and paints them perfectly. The glitter is barely visible and holographic, which Aaron likes. She says she'd look better in some kind of sage color and Aaron silently agrees, but tells her she's not ready. Allison seems weirdly understanding. Two episodes of Gossip Girl later, all of them have top coats on and are shit talking that one character Aaron doesn't even know the name of but still hates because he's a massive dick and reminds her of Jack.

"You can change with us, you know." Allison drops the bomb during one of the transition scenes and Aaron nearly snaps her neck turning around to look at her. "It probably sucks to be surrounded by men in the changing rooms. Or the showers." She shrugs like she doesn't even realize how much this actually means to Aaron. "The new girls still give us a wide berth, but we can threaten them into secrecy if you want."

She's going to cry.

"I have your back as captain," Dan reminds her, bumping her knee into Aaron's elbow.

"And I have knives," Renee says in her sweet angel voice.

"Thanks," Aaron says with a watery voice. "I really appreciate this."

"You're one of us, yeah? We have to stick together." Dan winks at her and then they're all focusing on Chuck doing another shitty thing again, but Aaron can't stop replaying the conversation in her head.

You're one of us. It's the first time she actually feels like she is.

She spends so much time around Kate and the girls that she genuinely doesn't see any of her other teammates for the remainder of the time. Not to mention her brother. They don't live together anymore and Aaron still has a few days left of medical leave, even if her wrist is completely fine and she doesn't even have to wrap it anymore. That's probably why she sees him for the first time in a whole week, back in the Maserati on their way to the session. Maybe she did want to avoid him a little, but not for a whole week.

Andrew doesn't talk. He smokes one cigarette outside of the clinic and doesn't even nod towards the door when he's finished, just goes. Aaron follows him, a bit like a lost puppy.

She smiles politely when she sees Betsy, ignores the way Andrew's eyebrows raise when he notices, and accepts her green tea with a quiet thanks.

"You went without me," Andrew accuses before the session can even properly begin. Aaron stills, looks at Betsy to see if maybe she was the one who told, but she looks just as shocked. "You never told her you like green tea when you were with me. And you're nice to her now. You went without me."

Betsy doesn't say a thing. She probably can't, at least not until Aaron admits it.

"I did," She confesses quietly, shame rolling in her gut. She shouldn't have gone. It was selfish.

"Why?" Andrew asks and it's the first time he's properly looked at her in ages. Aaron can't stand it. She looks down at the carpet.

"I don't want to tell you," She says, caught off guard. She wasn't prepared to say it now. She didn't even think about it, refused to contemplate the idea. "I'm not ready."

Andrew turns to Betsy instead.

"He's never around. He doesn't sleep, he's losing weight, things about him are changing."

Aaron closes her eyes, willing her hands to stop shaking. It's stupid. They're just pronouns. Just words. It doesn't matter.

"Andrew, let's slow down-"

"No," He interrupts Bee and gestures to Aaron. "Something's going on."

"Have you considered that Aaron doesn't want you to know?" Betsy asks gently and both of them still.

"He's my brother," Andrew replies, like it's obvious.

"I'm not," Aaron finally speaks up, hands clenched with the effort to sit still. "I'm not your brother."

"What the fuck are you talking about-"

"Andrew, let Aaron finish-"

"He's not making any-"

Aaron can't listen to this. She puts her hands on her ears and shuts her eyes, rocking in her armchair. This is going so badly. This is not how it was supposed to go, not how Andrew was supposed to find out. Now he's going to hate her and he's going to lose his only brother and Aaron's the one taking that away from him. She should have kept it all shut, like she did her whole life, and now everything's going to shit because of her, always because of her.

"Aaron, you need to breathe," Betsy talks to her from an arm's length, Andrew hovering over her shoulder. "Follow me, okay?" She inhales in exaggeration, and then exhales. Aaron follows as best as she can. And again. And again, until the world comes back to focus and she can think clearly, until her mother's face doesn't scream at her from the edge of her vision anymore. "You're doing great," Betsy praises and Aaron flinches against her own will at her outstretched hand.

"Don't touch him," Andrew says and glares at Betsy.

"Can you stop calling me that?" Aaron asks, close to tears. She's so tired. "You keep calling me that. Like I'm not here, but I can hear everything and I hate it, just please-"

Both of them flinch at the word.

"Stop calling you what?" Andrew asks after he takes a deep breath and looks her over, assessing every inch of her skin. Like he's looking for a bruise or a scar. "I said, Don't touch him. The only thing I called you was him." He looks at her, stares at her, really, as Aaron sits and shakes, teeth biting into her lip. "You missed your haircut." His mouth twists.

"I don't want my hair to be short," Aaron says, voice still shaky and uncertain.

"Why?"

It's a simple question. It makes Aaron want to cry because now Andrew has to know. And she has to confirm. She isn't ready.

"I think you know," She says, finally, wiping her face with the sleeve of her jumper. "Don't make me say it."

And Andrew leaves.

Aaron doesn't stop crying for a good fifteen minutes. She doesn't know why, if it's Andrew leaving or the fact that she was basically forced to come out prematurely, unprepared, not how she wanted to. She wanted to do it by her rules, she wanted to tell Andrew I'm your sister when the time was right. But it wasn't. None if it was right. She wanted to come out to Andrew eventually, so maybe her pathetic breakdown in Betsy's office is completely unreasonable. Betsy still consoles her as she sobs silently, head in her hands, whole body shaking with the force of it. Tears are still falling down her face after she tells Betsy she's okay and she'll just go because this isn't her session. That doesn't make sense, either, but she just needs to go.

She doesn't even have a ride. She walks twenty minutes to Kate's dorm, just for her roommate (who is never home except for, apparently, now) to open the door and tell her Kate's got practice, duh. So then Aaron walks another ten minutes to her own dorms. At least she's mostly collected when she arrives, eyes bloodshot and cheeks sticky, but dry. Aaron avoids everyone inside and immediately climbs into bed, wishing this day was over, and promptly starts crying again the moment the duvet is over her head.

She never cries. She doesn't understand why it's happening now or why it's so damn hard to stop.

When she wakes up the next morning, the urge is still there, but she squashes it down as best as she can. She forgoes the bandages, deciding that nothing in her wrist or hand hurts anymore and it's been nearly three weeks anyway, and heads out to class with the sole purpose of surviving the day and leaving that mess behind her.

It's ridiculously hard.

Aaron doesn't think she listens to more than fifty percent of the lectures. She's always distracted, thinking about the face Andrew made just before he left, how much he must hate her right now. It's maddening.

She gets the notification about the meeting right after her last class. With her relationship to her brother ruined and her emotions about to boil over, she puts the place into google maps and just goes. What the hell does she have to lose?

The place is nice. Aaron thinks the art department must have been a regular high school a long, long time ago, because it looks like one and has a gymnasium that clearly hasn't been used for actual sport in years. There's only around three people inside when she arrives, backpack strap clenched hard in her fist. She doesn't recognize any of them. There's an older Black woman at the coffee table and Aaron approaches her warily, assuming she's Bee's colleague.

"Hello," She says in the most awkward tone she's ever used in her whole life. "Betty Dobson sent me here for a support group. I think you're the person she told me about?"

"I think you're right," The woman replies and puts her paper cup under the coffee dispenser. "I'm Martha."

"Oh, sorry," Aaron says, realizing she never introduced herself. "I'm Aaron."

"Do you want any coffee? It's not great, but it's something." Martha gestures towards the cups. "Sorry to ask so indirectly, dear, but what pronouns do you want us to use?"

"She and her. And no, thank you, I don't really like coffee."

"Well, if you have any more questions, I'm here. You can stay after the meeting, too." She smiles warmly and nods towards the chairs. "I think that's everyone."

Only one more person has joined them. Aaron sits down closest to Martha, who she already has started to like, and soon the circle is complete, not a single chair left empty. It's only five people, but still, Aaron feels her breath pick up when she looks at their eyes, every single one of them watching the newcomer.

"Welcome, everyone." Martha takes the time to look at everyone, her wrinkled cheeks dimpling when she smiles. "Since we have a guest, I hope we can all introduce ourselves one more time and then catch up on how we've all been. I can start." Everyone nods and she continues. "I'm Martha, I've been an openly trans woman for about forty years now. I know that I must seem ancient, but I hope it reassures you that we do, in fact, live to see old age, if you can call being sixty five that." Aaron stares at her in shock, taken aback by the fact that she's trans and this old. She can't rationalize why she thought older trans people just didn't exist. "I know the statistics make it sound quite dire, but this group was opened specifically to help you not become another statistic, if I can put it that way." There's a sad kind of silence until Martha speaks up again with a more cheery tone. "I'm a psychologist, but I like to kayak in my free time. I have a wonderful wife and two kids. But that's enough about me. Nick, would you like to start?"

The person next to her nods, purple bangs falling into their face. They're dressed in what Aaron can only describe as emo, with multiple piercings and scene bangs adoring their face. It's kind of badass.

"I'm Nick, he, they. I study English literature." He looks straight at Aaron, like he's trying to assess her. "I play bass in a band with my friends."

They don't continue, so the next person starts introducing herself. Her name is Susan and she's a Black girl with blonde braids woven into her hair. She's on the cheer squad, apparently, but transitioned so early in life that nobody there knows. Aaron assumes that includes Kate, because she never mentioned Susan. She doesn't think they're even friends, just teammates. Susan also studies economics and is really into art, but couldn't justify doing an art degree to her parents. She looks, to put it simply, incredibly nice. Like the perfect girl next door who has never done anything wrong in her entire life.

The next person is Daniel, a korean transmasc person who likes to use all pronouns. He studies psychology and currently lives with their girlfriend. Aaron gathers that his parents aren't the most supportive. She's into photography as well, but doesn't have the equipment to pursue their passion professionally yet.

And then it's Aaron's turn.

"I'm Aaron. I recently came out as trans, a trans woman, to my closest friends and girlfriend." She says slowly, doing her absolute best not to mess this up. She can feel everyone's eyes on her. "I'm on the university Exy team and I'm pre-med."

"You're on the Exy team?" Susan asks immediately. "I can't believe I didn't recognize you!" Aaron nods.

"My girlfriend's with you on the cheer squad."

"So you're not the gay Minyard?" Nick asks, baffling Aaron into silence.

"She's the lesbian Minyard," Daniel speaks up and Aaron fights the urge to hide her face in her hands.

"My brother's the one you've all heard about. I'm just kind of a nobody," She explains, hoping the topic will die down.

"Come on, I recognize you," Susan says "You're the backliner."

"I mean, yeah, but next to Kevin and Josten, it's not that impressive. Besides, I don't even like Exy that much. I'm definitely not going pro."

"You want to be a doctor," Martha speaks up for the first time, silencing the ensuing discussion.

"Paediatrics." Aaron nods.

"I assume that this is exciting to you all, but I want to remind you that Aaron didn't come to a support group to talk about her teammates." She addresses the rest of the group. "Can we ask you some meeting related questions, or would you rather listen to the others?"

"I can answer some questions," Aaron replies, mostly because she wants to get them all over with before she goes insane with anxiety.

"Can we ask why you sought out a support group?"

Aaron thinks for a moment, turning the words over in her mouth.

"I've known I was a girl basically forever, but there was always something that let me repress it and forget about it. I didn't have a great childhood, and then things just got worse and worse. I won't bore you with the whole story, but this is the first year where nothing bad is going on, so my brain just… Didn't have any threat to focus on other than the dysphoria. It's been really bad these past few weeks, to the point where I had multiple breakdowns and subsequently came out to my friends." She takes a deep breath "But, also, I attend therapy with my twin brother on Wednesdays. He noticed that something was wrong and unknowingly forced me to come out. That's why I decided to come here. I shouldn't have reacted that badly." Because she thinks she lost him, but she doesn't say it.

"I get that," Nick speaks up. "I was outed to most of my friends by someone I considered close. It's the loss of control, yeah? You want to do it on your own terms and then it's taken from you."

"He didn't do it maliciously," Aaron defends Andrew, probably unnecessarily. "But, yeah, you're right."

"While this isn't something we can help you with, we are here to listen," Martha interjects softly. "We can also share some tips for dealing with dysphoria. Particularly me and Susan."

Aaron nods, desperate for literally anything. The next half hour passes with Martha and Susan sharing their favorite tips, like the brands of bras they like to buy, how to tuck (which Aaron never in her life would have even considered) and what Estrogen actually does to your body. Susan is particularly keen on sharing makeup and clothing hacks and she promises to team up with Kate to maximize Aaron's slay. Whatever that means.

The rest of the meeting is just the four of them catching up on their weeks. Aaron doesn't participate much, but she still listens, figuring out the group dynamics as they talk about the latest call Daniel got from their mom or how Susan's doing in her art class. And it's nice. It's so nice to be surrounded by people Aaron can relate to and trust. By the end of the meeting, when everyone's throwing away their coffee cups and folding the chairs, she truly feels like this is the place for her.

"Aaron, dear, can you stay a minute?" Martha asks her and Aaron nods. She puts away her chair where the others have, in a neat row propped against the wall, and helps Martha clean up the coffee station as they wait for everyone to file out. Susan gives her her number, of course, and promises that if the four of them ever go out for a non-meeting activity, Aaron will be invited. And then it's just her and Martha.

"Every time a new soul comes here for the first time, I feel the need to ask," She starts, kind of ominously. "Are you safe around your friends? The Foxes? Your brother?"

It takes Aaron aback. She thinks about Andrew's knives. The bathroom. About his hands around Kevin's throat.

Is she?

She hesitates for too long. Martha looks at her with a frown in her eyebrows so deep that all of her forehead wrinkles pool into one.

"It's not-" Aaron rushes to defend her brother. "He's in therapy with Bee. If she thought he was a threat to me she wouldn't… I want to trust him."

"You still haven't talked to him after he pressed until you had to come out, right?" Aaron shakes her head. "I just want you to be safe. I don't know Andrew personally. But I do know that women like us are statistically more likely to get hurt. I know that when we come out, live and just breathe, people get violent." Aaron takes a shuddering breath and Martha puts a hand on her shoulder. "Promise me to stay with someone you trust until you're sure your brother is okay with this."

"Okay," Aaron agrees. "But I really don't think he would-"

"Do it for my sake, kid." Martha fixes her with a sad, but stern look. "I've had too many beautiful, young women die because they thought they were safe."

God. Aaron doesn't know what to say.

She used to be so sure that Andrew would never turn those knives on her. On Nicky and Kevin, yes, if they did something really wrong. But not on Aaron. Why isn't she sure now? Why is she actually scared of her own twin?

She says goodnight to Martha feeling like there's something stuck in her throat. Then, she calls Kate and asks if she would come pick her up.

"Is this crazy?" Aaron asks, face pressed into Kate's neck. "Am I just projecting everything Martha told me onto Andrew?"

Kate's quiet for a second.

"I don't think I'm the best person to answer this question. I don't doubt that Andrew would hurt me." Aaron's breath hitches in her throat. "But I'm not his sister. You are."

"Am I?"

Kate doesn't respond. And Aaron doesn't sleep. Not for the whole night.

"Aaron," Betsy says with something like relief when she sees her in her office the following day. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." Aaron sits down on the armchair, tense, like she's already subconsciously planning to leave. "I went to the meeting."

"I'm glad. Did you like it?"

"I'll go again. It was helpful." She takes a deep breath. "Martha said that she's worried for my safety. Because of Andrew." Aaron looks at Bee and immediately notices the deep frown that appears on her face. "I don't know if she's right."

"Aaron, as Andrew's therapist I legally cannot tell you what happens in his private sessions. What I can tell you is that he's never hurt you with malicious intent." She can't even say that Andrew's never hurt her. That would be untrue. "His behavior towards you shows a deeply protective streak. It may not be healthy. But it is protective. Not malicious."

"I'm being crazy," Aaron mutters into her own lap.

"You're not being crazy, Aaron. You're rightfully scared because you're in a vulnerable position." Betsy takes off her glasses and sighs quietly. "Do you want me to call Andrew? We can wait for him here and try to resolve this situation before it spirals. I don't think letting you stew in your insecurities until Wednesday would be ideal and I don't want you two to resolve it by yourselves."

"We can't even talk without a fucking therapist," Aaron laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Not when you're this concerned about your safety. Aaron, I need you to understand that you're going through something right now. You're in a vulnerable, fragile state. You deserve some extra support while you deal with it."

"I always thought you only sided with Andrew, you know?" Aaron brings her legs up to her chest and rests her head on her knees. "I used to be so mad that you only ever listened to him."

"This is why I told you to choose a different therapist, Aaron."

She nods and closes her eyes. She'll ask Martha. Betsy makes a call, and then they wait for Andrew in silence.

When he comes, it's quiet. He doesn't bang on the door and doesn't glare. He doesn't do anything. He looks at Aaron for a very long minute and then, slowly, sits down.

It's a game of who will break the silence first. Aaron loses.

"Why did you leave?" She asks, head turned so that she can look at her brother.

Another long minute. Another silence.

"I didn't know what else to do."

Aaron laughs. It's sad and quiet.

"You could have stayed, for one. Listened to me. Tried to be my brother."

Andrew doesn't respond.

"I went to a support group." Aaron doesn't even know why she's talking. Maybe she's sick of the silence they always end up in. "For trans youth. The leader pulled me aside and asked me if I felt safe around you and the Foxes. She's worried I'll end up dead."

She's sure Andrew doesn't breathe for a long, long moment.

"I thought it was ridiculous, at first. And then I remembered how you choked Kevin. How you threatened my girlfriend with a knife. Killed my mom. Locked me in a bathroom for a week knowing that it could have killed me."

Andrew closes his eyes and inhales sharply.

"I did it to protect you," He says quietly.

"I think that's the worst part," Aaron whispers back.

Silence.

"I'm not saying this to hurt you, you know? I just don't understand." Aaron shakes her head. "You force me to tell you what's wrong, practically wrangle the words out of my mouth, and then leave me. I had no idea if I even had a brother anymore. I still don't." She rubs her eyes and looks down at the carpet, sick of looking at Andrew's face. Always neutral. Unmoving, since he got off the pills. "Maybe I overreacted, maybe I shouldn't have started crying, but saying the words, telling you I'm your sister, was so important to me. I wanted to do it right. And you took it from me because you don't fucking trust me to take care of myself." She takes a deep breath, suppressing the urge to cry that rises in her chest. "I'm not sixteen anymore. You successfully eliminated every single one of my problems but there's nothing you can do about the dysphoria. Okay? There's no magic cure. You can't kill anyone or make me go through withdrawal to get it done in a week." She feels like she's begging, even though she's not saying the word please. "I just need you to be my brother."

Do they even know how to be siblings anymore?

"You haven't talked to me in two weeks," Andrew says finally. "Because you think I'll try to force you into being my brother again."

"I didn't know what to think."

"You think I would hurt you."

"You haven't given me a reason to think otherwise."

They look at each other, mirror images despite the recent changes, until Andrew says: "I won't."

He won't make Aaron go back to being a brother. He won't hurt her again. He won't…?

"Is it a promise?" She asks, hopeful. Maybe she shouldn't be, not when Andrew is still Andrew. There's always been something cruel about her brother, but she'll never know if that's how he was born or if it's what he became.

"Yes."

"I'm still your sister?"

Andrew looks at her like she's stupid.

"Obviously."

"Obviously." Aaron mimics, because it's really not that fucking obvious. "I want to grow my hair out. We won't match anymore."

"I noticed."

Of course he fucking did.

"Is it a problem?"

"I think I'll survive." Andrew deadpans.

And that's that.

Andrew doesn't say anything on the way back. Once they stop, he pulls out a cigarette and rolls his eyes when Aaron wrinkles her nose. But it's not so bad. Sitting there, with her brother, smelling the smoke and finally secure in the knowledge that he's alright with her being who she is. She didn't even realize how much Andrew's opinion weighed on her until she was finally sure he wouldn't leave her. She didn't realize how much Andrew still meant to her until she was about to lose him again.

The words are at the back of her throat. She can't get herself to say them. She wants to, so badly, but she can't. All she can do is make a pitiful noise and look at him.

Andrew turns his head and looks back.

She thinks he understands. And she hopes he's thinking it back.