Archive of Our Own ^beta

“beat, you good?”

Treble’s monotone brings me back from my thoughts. It’s a Thursday night after a gig. We’re ordering food. Shit, was I on auto-pilot this whole time? “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“see, that’s the kind of thing someone who isn’t good might say. i know, cheap platitude, sorry.”

Treble and I seem to be in the queue picking up food for the table. Oh. I know what this is. It’s tradition now (the idea of even having band traditions feels weird but I don’t linger on it), we do a gig and then spend a solid chunk of what we just earned on dinner at a trashy food place. It’s as much necessity for our weekly budget as it is a bonding thing.

“You can’t possibly know that. I’m fine, alright?” I reply extremely casually.

“suppose i don’t. i mean, what could i possibly infer from your total silence tonight.”

“Hm. Yeah.” I look at the overhead menu. I don’t know who I’m fooling, the menu literally never changes.

“not interacting with anyone. sneaking looks at my sister the whole time.”

My back straightens instantly. “Why would I-”

“beat, i still have two perfectly good eyes. it’s not subtle.”

My hand lands firmly around my forehead. This is so stupid. “Treble, this isn’t me being coy, it really isn’t what you’re thinking it is.”

He just stares at me for a moment, looking for something. Then he looks mildly shocked. “oh wow I was actually wrong. huh.”

No shit. “Yeah. It’s… okay look I’m not against Clef as-”

“beat, i am not trying to wingman my own sister. relax. it was the thing that made the most sense given the facts and now i look like an idiot. doesn’t happen often these days, so i’m choosing to savour this over a – yeah can we get three iced colas plus an oj, one number 6 without the sauce…”

When he’s done ordering for him and Clef, I place Quaver’s order along with mine. The moment of respite is not enough to prepare me for the conversation to continue, but I guess now I have to explain myself.

“It’s not serious.”

“okay.”

“It’s important, just not serious. There’s a thing that I need and that thing requires some background knowledge and the background knowledge…” I give up on salvaging that sentence. I am not doing this at the cheap fast-food place. “I just want to have a talk with your sister first.”

“beat, you need to understand how this looks.”

“I said it wasn’t that! And the sentence that I just said could have many different interpretations!”

“alright,” he says, smirking as he cranes his neck up slightly. I’m sure he’d actually be slightly taller than me if he wasn’t hunched over all the time.

“It’s something personal. I’ll probably have the same talk with you and Quaver eventually, so. Yeah. Look forward to that.”

Treble stares at me again like I’m a Rorschach test. Apparently whatever I have going on tonight is messing up his people-reading skills. Honestly, given how observant he claims to be I'm surprised he hasn’t brought it up. Or maybe he is that observant and… is that better or worse? If he just didn’t tell me he already knew? “this does sounds serious,” he says. “not like, deadly, but like the kind where you need to do it now or it’ll basically never happen.”

“Oh. Yeah that’s basically it.”

“it just so happens that you’re starting with her first.”

“Exactly. Though I’m not a fan of your tone.”

“before it was just me being wise and cryptic. now it’s just funny to see you keep digging.”

I stick my tongue out at him as we collect our trays and walk back to our table. Sitting across from me, getting started on an ungodly burger and fries combo, is her. The person I’m going to talk to. About The Thing.

I can always just not do it. There’s always tomorrow. Always… hm. You know, whatever. It’s stupid and if they haven’t commented on it I probably shouldn’t-

Treble’s small smile scares me. Oh no he can see right through me. He’s going to-

“yo, you free tonight for something?”

Traitor!

Clef’s face scrunches up when she realises he’s talking to her. “Shmure”

“cool, beat needs to have a word with you.”

Quaver looks concerned. “Just Clef? Is this a band thing?”

I can feel my back get way too warm against the seat. I can’t mention it here. “Nope, ha ha. Not. A band thing. Don't worry.” Or it will be band thing when it blows up in my face, but whatever.

Clef, instead, looks at me with some kind of determination. Or – no wait. She’s looking at Treble too. They’re doing the twin-telepathy thing. 

All it takes is one second and: “Okay. You want to do this after dinner?” she asks.

“Yup. Sure!” I say, using the remaining food on my plate, a few remaining nuggets and fries, as my excuse to shut up.

It’s a date then. Simple as that. Easy.

SHE COMES OUT AT NIGHT UPDATED

“This is stupid.” I make for an 180-spin and walk in the opposite direction.

“I- W-what?” Clef’s face flashes from confused to angry to hurt when I do this (this being the thing I always do, I am well aware thanks). Like she was climbing some stairs and expected one more step. Out of the twins, I think I know which one has the better poker face. “You barely even said anything!”

“No, it’s stupid. Forget it,” I repeat, because that is the thing that it is. "Sorry to waste your night."  What am I expecting from this? What can they do to help me that I can’t just do myself? It’s selfish, really.

We’re the only ones walking down the street tonight. I told Treble to take care of Quaver, so now Clef and I are just kind of aimlessly walking about… uh… what is this town’s name again? Wait, can I name any of the places we’ve been to? Was Inaba one of them?

Clef jumping in front of me brings me from my internal tangent. “No, you’re not doing this. You wanted a moment alone to talk, we have a moment to talk, so… uh… talk!”

“Please let's not. I don't have the energy for it today.”

“Beat why-” she pinches her nose. Why did I think this was a remotely good idea. She’s pissed now, so if I wanted this conversation to end well… See, I thought I mastered the art of having tough conversations with the band in the past month we’ve been on the road. It was a whole character arc. But real stuff is different, I guess. Or maybe I haven’t mastered jack shit.

After a few measures (I can feel Clef’s foot tapping in half-time as she finally breathes out), Clef speaks again. “I’m sorry. I’m being shitty. I know by now that you have your way of talking. Which is to say, not talking. So!”

“So,” I echo.

“So, let’s do this. You want to talk, but you also hate it. Then I’ll be the annoying puppy you need me to be until you’re ready.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not leaving you, idiot. Or, I can leave if you just tell me what this whole thing is about.”

Okay so Treble told her somehow that this is semi-serious. That explains it. Thanks, guy. Maybe when I'm out of the woods that won't sound so sarcastic in my head. “Okay, Clef. I’m not sure if this is a thanks situation yet or not but, uh, appreciated.”

“I’d feel more appreciated if-”

“If I just told you what the thing was yeah okay. Sure.”

We continue walking as the street-lights slowly turn on without rhyme or reason.

HANG ON A MOMENT.

“Do you think the street-lights turn on randomly because it’s like an anti-rhythm?” I ask her.

Clef lets out the world’s most compressed idunno.

I smirk. “If Treble were here he’d say that’s stupid, that can't possibly be true.”

She grins. “Yeah! Then Quaver would be all, actually it’s because they are tied to different grids, duh.” She says in a higher pitch.

We giggle at our perfect impression of our friends. Ha. ha. hm.

“Uh, Clef, can I ask you something?”

“Is it the thing you’ve been putting off asking?”

“The thing is not a question and also no.”

Clef scoffs.

“It’s dumb, but… we are all friends, right?”

“What.” She stops.

“W-well, we’re a band, sure. But we are also the only band. Kinda. It’s silly but if there were another group of music terrorists-”

“Beat, we’ve been on the road for a whole month making do with two basic-ass meals per-day while running from the cops.”

I tilt my head in confusion. “I don’t see what that has to do-”

“BEAT, IF WE HATED YOUR GUTS WE WOULD HAVE-” she clasps her hands to her face, blushing. After a moment she becomes stern again. “Hmph.”

“hhhhhhh.” I gently massage my ears.

“Sorry. But, like, you’ll know when you messed up when there’s no one there to play the drums, okay? That goes for Treble too actually. If we hated being here we would have just stopped making music.”

Oh! “That’s a lot of pressure actually.”

“So keep being nice to me, then.” She puts her hands behind her head, like some proud anime protagonist. “And being nice includes getting on with the original thing you wanted to say.”

“Damn it I hoped you’d forget.”

That earns me a harder-than-I-expected punch to the side of my arm. “Nope. Annoying puppy.”

I let out a weak laugh. It’s stu- nope. Need to stop doing that. Need to stop saying 'stupid' too, it's a bad crutch. She’s trying, despite my worst efforts, to be a friend. I need to have some faith this won’t explode in my face like it has every other time I talked about this. Almost without fault. Hell, if I just wait long enough she’ll probably be able to tell and I won’t need to have the conversation anyway. How long until I start looking like him again?

Clef frowns at my sighing. “If it’s something that’s really hard to talk about-”

“It shouldn’t be! Is the thing! It’s basic and irrelevant and totally uninteresting.” 

Clef looks down and stomps a bit. This is her ‘lost in thought’ mode. Big things are coming. “What if I just guess?”

“That sounds horrible.”

“You’re actually Quaver’s sister.”

“No.”

“You actually hate music.”

“Clef.”

“You’re actually pregnant.”

“What? No!” 

“Well, give me something!”

“Look, maybe we can try again next week when I’m feeling more up to it, alright?”

I turn my head from her and realise we stopped at the laundromat. There are too many people in there doing nighttime laundry given that there are no dryers in there. A weird decision for a laundromat, you know? And how are they expecting to dry it? I mean, I’m no better but – Clef is talking, shush. “-and if it is genuinely this difficult to talk about then sure, later. Fine. But you know I know you suck at determining when later even is. So, what’s it gonna be?”

That hurts. Not that she’s being mean. She’s 100% correct here. It sucks that this is what it takes to pry stuff out of me even when I want to say it so why can’t I just SAY IT!

Clef sees me start to tense and moves to close the distance. “Ah damn it I screwed it up again.”

“No, you didn’t. I almost did.” I put my hands in my pockets. “You know what, sure. Let’s keep moving. I’m not flaking, just… not ready yet.”

And I still can’t say it! Unbelievable!

After a moment, she says, “I think we’re called UNBEATABLE.”

"Boo." Didn't know Clef was the type to make bad puns. Goes to show.

…

Wait.

“Did you just read my mind?”

“Beat, you’ve been mumbling non-stop all night. Since prison, even.”

“Oh. Well, time to add that to the box of things which sound like me but I swear I never used to do.”

She snorts. “Okay, big girl. I believe you.”

That exact combination of words hit something raw in me. It forces me to not talk for a while, which is fine.

I tune the world out as I focus on this single thought. While we’re walking down some route to god knows where, Clef’s arm over my shoulders, the pace fills a tempo in my mind. It’s predictable and it helps.

As the night life of the city fades to black I am left with my memories of Elsewhere.

Of an outline of an awkward conversation with mom about… this. She said all the right things, so, fine. She was the best so that’s not even remotely surprising. But then it’s all about having to justify it to every school teacher that you are not a freak, actually. Look, doctor said so. That’s what normal kids do, they get notes from doctors to tell the other adults how normal they are. And you know that doctor’s note is worth it’s weight in gold because of the number of times you had to keep repeating yourself: I know yes I’m sure yep that’s the idea uh huh sure I understand I understand I understand.

You wonder if they asked your mom the same questions for half as long when she got around to doing her treatments. It’s an awful comparison, you hate yourself for even thinking it.

In the end, all the slip does is give you permission to use the staff bathroom to change for gym class. On the other side of the school. You contemplated dropping out over it. Your sister’s comment the next day was fuel enough to continue out of spite. Can’t even make it one day. You were both young, and she apologised eventually to her credit. You’re not sure the spite will ever leave you.

Then it’s daily life with the side-eyes you get when you go to the women’s side of the store from people who can apparently tell what you are from a thousand miles away. So you buy a sports bra online and the rest of your fits you just thrift. Your friend tells you that she is more than happy go with you some day to a nice store but you don’t take the offer. You say you found your style. It wasn’t wrong, you supposed.

After that it’s the childhood friend that liked you for how weird you were but today you are just one step too weird. It’s the boss that treats you like trash because – well you were a little trashy so fair’s fair, but everyone else was too and they didn’t get half the crap you got. And it’s the band that kicks you out cause you’re ‘not hot’. They don’t add the second part of the sentence, they don’t need to. You know what it really means. At least one of them had the decency to call you anything approximating Beat. Bee. Couldn't even commit to it.

And you wonder, you know? If you replace their heads with Clef and Treble and Quaver…

But that’s why I’m here. Because it feels different this time. They are all so different. I can’t imagine them being idiots over something like this. So, it has to be different this time. Because if it isn’t-

If it isn’t then I guess there’s just no hope for me, right?

“Clef do you… uh…”

Her ears perk up like a dog’s. “Yeah?”

“Do you think we can stop walking now? It’s, uh, time.” Wow, I sound like I’m going to be put to the chair. Cheer up, me.

She just nods and we walk up to the nearest bench. We try sitting together but it’s split down the middle because god forbid someone try to sleep on it tonight.

“Okay, so uh, same goes for you. About being nice. I’m serious.”

“Beat, obviously. This stopped being night out with the girls the moment you clammed up on me.”

I sigh, blinking more than I should. “Yeah, cool. Thanks.”

“I didn’t even do anything yet.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” I rotate my hand about my wrist to punctuate the sentence.

Okay. Seems as good a time as any. So, come on brain. I’m ready. Do your thing. It’s so easy to put my foot in my mouth normally, surely it should just come naturally to me now. So. Go go gadget coming out?

…

OH OH.

“Beat?”

“No, I’m getting to it.” I feeling it rising up. Like I’m about to throw up.

AW DAMN IT.

“You still don’t look so… If you need to walk around some more-”

HERE IT COMES.

“-or we can always-”

“HelloI’mtransandalsoawomanhopeyou’renotmadthoughIdon’tknowwhyyouwouldbebutthat'sitthat'sthesecretthanksI’llstopnowsorry.” I breathe out then in slowly. I do this three times. “Wow what a riveting conversation I feel like our bond has never been stronger time to go home fellow bandmate.” My arms stretch into the air for emphasis.

Clef just stares. She doesn’t even emote, which is scarier than anything I could predict. She’s opening her mouth, her brows stretched taught. Here it comes. I’m going to lose the one thing tying me to the scene, my only remaining relationships and then I’ll have ruined another band because of my selfish – “What? Can you say that again?”

My face falls into my hands.

“Beat, you said a million things at once. I caught, like, the word woman in there. And I’m. Which I think I already got so that can’t be it.”

“Uh, it kinda. Is. The message. And. Also… (trans).”

“Beat I am going to strangle you if you don’t speak up.”

“Gender.”

“Beat.”

“Tr-trans.”

Clef’s brows scrunch up even more as she tries to understand what the hell I just said. Then they part as her eyes grow to two-times their normal volume. “Oh! Oooooooh.”

“Yep. That’s the thing. That was stupid. Ta-da.” Jazz hands. Who knew I was a jazz hands girlie?

Clef’s eyes are darting in every which way trying to search for something. She just settles for putting her hand on my shoulder. “Okay, I’m going to be real with you. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. You know, it's not like I can't get it but – whatever. Not the point. What I mean is, I have no idea what I’m supposed to say here.”

“Oh. That’s fine. Whatever,” I say as the back of my throat goes cold. I move to stand up, but Clef brings me back down forcibly. Wow she’s stronger than I expected. Drummer muscles, probably.

“I’m not done. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, so I’ll settle for what makes sense given how much this is clearly messing you up. Thank you for telling me, sorry that you felt you couldn’t mention this earlier, and this changes nothing. Okay?”

“… thank you, Clef.”

“Finally! Now I’ve done something to earn a thank you.”

I bat her hand off my shoulder as she laughs. Then I laugh. I laugh really hard. It feels pretty amazing.

“Okay,” Clef cools a little. “So, what’s the protocol here? Am I supposed to ask questions?”

“Uh… I… did not plan anywhere near this far.” I shrug. “Shoot.”

“You tell anyone else?”

“Jesus, can you imagine if I did this already and it still came out like this?” I laugh. “I didn’t even say it right. But, no, it’s just you for now.”

She looks confused. “What?”

“What what?”

“What’s Jesus?”

We cannot get sidetracked here the conversation is too important for that, despite every nerve in my brain burning with exasperation. “Nope. Ask a different question.”

“O-okay?” She shakes her head. “Then… why me? Why am I the first? Why now?”

“So, please don’t take offence, but this was probably the hardest conversation I could possibly have with someone and you were the biggest mystery factor.”

“I know we both say this a lot but: what does that mean?”

“Sorry! But, look. Quaver would probably not care because she’s twelve and also an angel. Treble – if I explained it in just the right way he might not even react if I confessed to murder.” So don’t ask me why I haven’t told them already, please.

“Yeah, that’s my brother alright. Very chill man.”

“And it’s not that I thought you would have a bad reaction really,” I half-lie. I did think that, but I think that about everyone. So it’s basically true. “It’s a complex. Hard to get a hold of it sometimes. Sorry, again.”

“It’s okay. I have a reputation,” she sing-songs. She looks a little hurt. Man.

“And why now? At what point during our illegally-mandated tour could I have chosen to talk about it? ‘Hey guys, there are thousands of cops behind us but let’s huddle around the fire as I tell you the story of my gender real quick’.”

That gets a snort out of her, which makes me feel a little better. There’s an irrational part of my mind that is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but somehow it never comes.

“But the serious answer is that… you know I keep things close to my chest.”

“Is that why you are only wearing a sports bra in the middle of the night.”

“I-” huh. Yeah, actually, why am I not freezing to death? Oh well, that’s probably fine. “Figure of speech. But now we have a moment to breathe, and I haven’t – okay there’s the sappy answer and there’s the real answer. The real answer is that I used to take pills and ever since I started being a wanted criminal, I haven’t exactly had the chance to stock up. I’ve been out for weeks. Maybe that’s playing a role in why I feel so awful sometimes? And! I’m not even sure how to begin looking for an alternative. Travelling all the time makes it hard to spend too long looking for… connections. That’s where this coming out comes in. Because I have no clue.

“The sappy answer, which is still very real don’t get me wrong, is that I feel like this band is something special. Don’t smile at me like that I’m serious! I wanted to know if this was a fluke or not. If it could survive me being honest. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong about that. Maybe that’s greedy of me, I don’t know. Plus, the longer I don’t talk about it the more it makes me feel like I’m an enemy spy waiting for someone to realise my cover story is bullshit.”

“Okay, that last part is stupid.”

“I know! I am extremely aware of this!” I reply, smiling somehow. “So, that’s it. The whole story.”

Clef nods. She still looks troubled, though. “Is there anything different you want me to do?”

“God no. Beyond me asking for help with the hormones, which I’m sure will be a group effort, it’s just… something you should know. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“In case of whatever. I don’t know,” I say with a little too much edge.

“Sure, I get you.” She hums. Then she cracks a wild smile. “Wait, stop. Did you just call me bandmate?”

“Nope.”

“That our bond-”

I jump from the bench and clap. “Good talk, we should be heading home before the gang get’s worried.”

“Who was that person? Do you get possessed by fantasy characters when you get nervous?”

“I don’t because that’s not what I said.” I feel my face flush. “I’m walking home now.”

Clef catches up to me, her laughter echoing along the street. After a while the conversation flows out of the original topic and into a hundred other things. Being late for practise, song ideas, the usual. Maybe she’s being kind to me by laying off a little and letting me breathe. It’s not the Clef I expected talk with today. Huh.

SHE COMES OUT AT NIGHT COMPLETED

When we arrive back home – this time it’s a rentable garage with enough space for four single beds – she catches me off-guard with a hug. I have no idea what to do so I just tank it.

She pulls away, hands on my shoulders. Drummer muscles. “You sucked at it, but thanks for trusting me with this.”

“Yeah, I did suck. But it gets easier every time, I’m told. And thank you, for being the annoying puppy.”

She slaps my shoulder once and lets me go.

We both slowly enter the garage in the subtlest way we can (a total failure, the door screeches like a dying cat whenever it opens or closes) and go to our respective corners. Quaver is up (she’s not the early-to-bed type but she is the early-to-rise type, somehow) and she has that same concerned look from the food place. Treble in turn groans and lifts a weak thumbs-up into the air.

“Yep,” I say.

Treble, satisfied, drops his hand and spins in his bed.

“Are you both alright?” Quaver whispers. “You’ve been gone for quite a while.”

“Yep. Specifically to keep you both waiting,” I say. “I thrive on making people worried about me, apparently.” Shit that was too real.

“Ha ha.” Her head bops left and right. She might be too tired to pick up on it, thank god. “Can I ask what it was about?”

Clef yawns out the word bond and moves to her own bed.

Quaver looks even more confused.

“Don't mind her. I'll explain it to you and Treble later-” I stop and reflect on what Clef said earlier about determining when later is. Hm. “Tomorrow. At some point tomorrow. Just give me a little time.”

Quaver smiles at that and nods. “Okay. If you say so,” she says. That’s my cue to collapse onto the bed myself. I am vaguely aware of squeaking springs behind me as she and Clef get comfortable into their own beds.

Sleep has been awful for the past month, so I don’t expect that I’ll have coherent dreams or spend more than an hour in REM sleep. Despite that, the first moment in bed feel pretty damn good. Before I was just daydreaming, but now there’s actually some hope in me that things will be okay. And yeah, there’s still the fear this might change things, but I need things to change. That’s the whole point of asking for help, dummy.

Maybe it’s for the best I picked Clef first. If she was only half as stubborn as I can be, I might have given up before coming out. Good work, me. And good on her too.

Before I fall into that incoherent place of memories and erased faces, I think on Clef’s expression throughout the conversation. It wasn’t just blind support. There was something else she was expecting. Something… something else. Expecting… expecting… Bond. Bandmate. Drummer muscles. It's not like I can't get it. Keep being nice to me. So, what’s it gonna be? What’s it gonna be? What’s it gonna be?