Chapter Text
Your name is Leeroy Mateo. You go by Lee.
You have a handful of friends. Normal people, honestly, that probably don't pity you. You like them well enough. You're just starting to get a little tired of their whims.
Museums are... fun, maybe. You're pretty neutral on them, so when you got invited, you said sure. It was free. You're not gonna turn down something free when your job doesn't pay you enough to make your own rent yet.
"...Christ."
They didn't tell you the tickets were so goddamn cheap because the museum was swarming with middle schoolers. Maybe they didn't know, but they sure as shit don't seem too bothered.
You lose yourself, cutting off from the group. Finding somewhere a little less loud to unwind. Your reprieve comes in the form of a tunnel meant for small children to crawl under with a visible tank on the inside and out. For some reason, this place isn't swarming, and you take it as your sign to crawl your lanky ass inside.
It sucks when you hit your head on the ceiling getting in, but the quiet... the dark, it's nice. The kind of atmosphere you might even go directly to a museum for. You're not used to finding places that suit your depressing aura so readily.
You could probably fall asleep here. You close your eyes, wired earbuds playing your favorite songs. Your friends aren't worried about you. They probably forgot they brought you. You're their ride, though, so... They'll remember you when it's time to leave.
You bite your bottom lip, and suck it up. This is the best life has gotten for you in a long fucking time. You'd better start appreciating it.
Just... Maybe not right now. You'll appreciate the turtles in view instead, a sight for sore eyes, wounded by the harsh white lighting on the outside. The darkness soothes you. You embrace it. Maybe you'll choose this place as your destination to overdose since it's so goddamn comforting.
"...Hellooo?"
A voice that's loud enough to snap you out of your heavy metal catches you by surprise. You jump in place, hitting your head on the fucking thing again, and—
That's a middle schooler. There's a middle schooler talking to you. Medium-length hair, big round glasses, a red-and-blue cardigan on her crouched form. She doesn't have to try very hard to fit under here. Unlike you.
...Does she want me to say something to her?
"...Uh. Hey."
"Hi."
That previously loud voice shrinks into a sweet whisper. A smile flickers on her face, eyes glancing around.
"Um." She turns her head in either direction of the alcove's entrances. "Do you mind if I sit here with you?"
No. It's my kingdom. Go away.
"...Whatever. I don't own the place."
You concede with one truth and tuck the other into your back pocket. This kid must be looking for a quiet place to hide while her friends tear up the rest of the museum. You can relate while also wearing your annoyance on your sleeve.
The middle schooler curls up into a ball next to you, her body practically touching yours. Fuck me. You think to at least scooch yourself away, but when you take a glance at her face, you can see your own nerves reflected in her eyes.
She catches those nerves and strikes up a conversation.
"Do you, um. Like girls?"
You take a moment to let the question sink into your thick, thick skull. What is happening here? Is this girl asking if you're a gay dude in a way she thinks is nice? Or is this how kids treat the subject matter of sexuality now? Shit. You wish you had it that simple back then. Defenestrate the concept of "normal" altogether.
"Defenestrate"? Eugh. The bump on the top of your head has your brain turning into a thesaurus rather than wondering why a kid this young wants to know your sexuality in the first place.
"Uh. I mean. Why do you want to know?"
She stares at you for a bit longer, then grabs onto her knees a little tighter.
"I-I just don't know any girls who like girls... N-Not that that's the only reason I talked to you. You're really pretty, so I... I wanted to know."
Oh. Okay. So this isn't actually happening. This is just your mind's way of telling you that you're a pedophile without making it a whole thing. Makes sense to you. Why else would you be at a fucking museum?
"...Okay, so. You're asking a really loaded question there." You close your eyes for a moment, trying to ground yourself. Your eyebrows furrow. You actually forgot to shave this morning. Or—fuck, that wasn't real, because none of this is real. Because there's no way in hell you're passing to a middle schooler before... literally anybody else.
"...I, um. I guess it's... personal." She concedes, holding her hands gently between her legs. She twines her fingers together, and remains cross-legged beside you. Infuriatingly close. "I haven't told anyone I like girls, so..."
"...And you're telling me." You almost laugh. Fuck. What the fuck?
"Well... It's different when it's a girl you like."
A girl you like.
"Kid. No offense, but you don't know me at all."
How the fuck is your voice not tipping her off? Actually, how the fuck are you managing to stay calm? Have you actually ever blushed this hard in your life?
Jesus fuck. There's that twisted validation from getting catcalled, and then there's this, something so incomprehensibly worse that it's not even funny. You ought to just kill yourself now.
"I-I know that." She defends herself. "I just said you were pretty."
"And then you asked if I liked girls." You're smiling from the absurdity of the situation. The darkness does nothing to hide your blush, and you despise it for that. "Do you, uh. Go up to every mannish woman you meet and ask her that?"
"...Mannish?" She furrows her brow. "You mean butch?"
You're about as butch as any boymoder is. Actually, no, because you actually don't have any real desire to wear dresses or skirts. You ought to be jumping for joy by now. Congrats on the validation you'll never feel again! Keep wearing the least amount of makeup possible and dressing like an insecure emo, because that's apparently enough for this generation's queer youth. Hope you didn't have any dreams of sleeping with someone your own age.
Jesus Christ. This is real. This is really fucking happening.
Do the right thing. Do it. Tell her you're a man (a lie) who loves wearing dresses (also a lie), and be done with it. Don't ride this high.
Come on. Look at her. She's a fucking kid.
It's a damn shame that you're a terrible person, through and through, isn't it. You're not in the headspace to break it to her. You'll never see her again, so... Might as well play along.
"Okay. So. Say I'm butch." The word feels oddly foreign on your tongue, which is funny. This little lesbian has probably said it more than you ever have. "Do you go up to every butch lady you meet and ask her that?"
"...I don't, um. Usually meet any."
"Except for me."
"...I mean, I was hoping."
She looks down at her shoes. You're pretty sure they're the kind that light up when you take a step.
"I've never seen someone who looks exactly like one of those princely anime girls."
You don't understand. Are you high? Fuck, is she high?
"And, so... Um. I knew I'd never forgive myself if I didn't... You know. At least try getting your number...?"
She puts on an awkward smile. Great, she's blushing worse than you are. It's almost like you're encouraging a conversation like this with a middle schooler. Staying neutral for your own validation is a damn crime, but maybe you can salvage this if you back the hell off.
...Or, if that's too hard, just do the bare minimum! Why the hell would a little girl need your number? Take the win, and get the hell out. It's so fucking easy.
"Okay." You shrug as you bring up your phone from your lap. "And just to be clear. You know I'm over eighteen, right?"
"Well... I figured." The kid shrugs.
If she figures, then the reason she's asking can't be so simple as a crush. Perhaps she genuinely just wants someone she can relate to in any meaningful way. This isn't exactly the part of the country known for giving people like yourself an easy time, after all.
"Alright. Here. Go ahead and enter your info, I'll do mine on yours."
You almost expect the kid to tell you S-Sorry! I actually don't have a phone of my own. My parents don't trust me like that. Then give you the biggest puppy dog eyes imaginable. Like you could fix that for her.
Of course, she pulls a phone out of her pocket and hands it to you after unlocking it. Doesn't even bother navigating to the phone app for you. Goddamn.
You want to say something about stranger danger, but you get the feeling this one isn't the type to care. Not in the least bit if she's trying to play the social seduction game. She probably only ever heard the line from TV.
"All done." She hands your phone back faster than you have time to even enter your name. She peeks over and looks at what you're typing. "Lee... That's a pretty name."
"Thanks." You lower your voice into a whisper. You're suddenly keenly aware of the fact that anyone could enter here at any moment.
Once you hit the final digit, you nearly thumb the backspace button out of a delayed sense of self-preservation. What the fuck are you even doing?
This could be a fed. Or a reporter. Or a YouTube honeypotter going out of their way to endanger a kid just to catch a supposed easy target pedo. Worse words than you care to think. You glance at her as she waits to receive her phone back.
She's blushing like crazy. Reaching up into her eyes, blinking wide with what you can only presume to be hope. She really hopes that you'll trust her.
You sigh, and slide the phone back into her hands.
"Don't go spreading that around." You shove your hands and your own phone into your pocket. "I'm pretty selective of who I open up to."
"...I won't. Promise." She nods her head. A vigilant girl, if you had to guess. For some reason, you actually trust her with that. "I should... um. Probably get back to where my class is."
"You think?" You're taking the piss out of her, trying to get her to hurry up and go. It doesn't actually work. She's laughing at your stupid little remark, and the sound makes you do an honest-to-god double take.
She's really got a cute laugh.
You bite your bottom lip.
"So... I'll talk to you later, Lee. It was nice to meet you." The smile she gives you is wide, genuine. The little wave she offers is stupidly cute. All together, she'd be a package-and-a-half for a boy her age...
Or, maybe you should say a girl. That's clearly who she's interested in.
You pretend you don't look at her shoes as she walks away. Pretend you don't feel a weird discomfort in your stomach as they light up with her little steps, her eyes trying to make sense of where the rest of her class went. She's wearing leggings under her skirt, but you still watch the way it moves.
You're just an observant person. That's all there really is to it. That pit in your stomach doesn't mean a fucking thing.
Without leaving your little cave, you take out your beaten phone and navigate to your contacts. You don't recognize the name "Abi." What's worse is the little unicode heart she added next to it.
You didn't even know your phone's keyboard could type that.
"...Abi, huh?"
You resist the urge to text her. You got her number like the sicko you are, but you're not going to do a damn thing about it. It's almost like putting a cig in your mouth without lighting it.
You're an innocent passerby in this girl's life. She'll probably forget about you before she even gets the chance to sit down with her phone. And then, you'll go back to normal. You'll stop feeling like a freak. You'll forget about the rainbow lights of her sneakers, the sway of her skirt. The kindness and acceptance she offered a person like you without even trying.
If this girl's got a crush, it's your duty to ruin it. Luckily for you, you've never had a "coming out" moment go well. You ought to use it to...
Abi's advantage, if not your own.
ʕ •ᴥ•ʔﾉ Hello!!! It's Abi from the museum!!!!!
You stare blearily at the text message that comes across your notification bar while you're doomscrolling later that night. Fuck. You almost forgot.
Not that you "nearly" forgot that easily. She was on your mind for the rest of your day at the museum, and then later when you and your friends were eating dinner, you kept worrying that she'd message you in the midst of the only people who tolerate you.
Once you got back home, the idea of her vanished. Now she's back, sending kawaii bear kaomojis and everything.
You bite your lower lip. You could just back out now. Block her number. It's not like you're in a position where she'd find you again easily.
Siiiiiiigh.
You're not going to do that, though. You're just too curious of a person for you own good. You want to see what she'll do.
sup.
You actually responded?! Yay!!
Her demeanor over text is starkly different from the ball of nerves that sat next to you.
why wouldnt i lol
IDK. I guess I was just worried that you might have given me a false number (((＞＜)))
wouldve been kind of skeevier of me to take your number and not give you mine back
I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything like that!! (ﾉ>｡☆)ﾉ
I promise. I just really wanted to get to know you better, if that's okay.
sure. what do you wanna know.
You won't be caught dead telling any of your friends the first thing about yourself. You're a closed book. There's no reason for this girl to change anything.
I guess... maybe to continue our conversation from last time, how long have you known you liked girls?
Oh. Yeah. That's definitely a question.
basically forever. its not something thats ever kept me up at night if thats what ur wondering
A perfectly reasonable answer. Honest, too. That same serotonin rush is hitting you like a truck, though. Does she know she's probably the only person in the whole world that's ever looked at you and thought you were a girl? And even then—she heard your voice loud and clear. You weren't even trying to fool her.
...And, well. You didn't. You're being seen exactly as you've always wanted to be. The monkey's paw of it all.
That's so different from my experience... It's so cool that you were always so sure of yourself!
uh-huh.
wbu?
Why the hell do you even care? You don't care. Or, you shouldn't.
I've always been drawn to girl characters and stuff growing up. Usually the really handsome ones. I never really thought much about it until some boy at school asked me out and I... said yes. ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა
oh boy. howd that go?
So, maybe you care. A little bit.
It was awfulllll. He tried to kiss me in art class and I kept telling him no! And then he wanted to know when I would kiss him and I just... couldn't give him an answer? Because I really didn't want to.
men, huh
They're the worst. I don't know how I spent so long thinking I was... normal. Not that liking girls isn't normal, I just can't believe that I never put two and two together
eh, but you got there eventually
Hehe yes ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
And now I'm doing things that would definitely make my parents want to disown me. Like, if not for homophobia then probably for secondhand embarrassment.
Okay. That was funny.
You laugh. It's past your bedtime, and you're sitting in bed chuckling at something a teenage girl said. You're the embarrassment here, not Abi.
i mean you must be pretty fucked up if youre handing your number out to girls you want as your big sister
Big sister.........
Okay well that's a much more favorable reading of what I was doing! I'll use that excuse if my parents ever catch me.
"Favorable." Christ. How much more obvious does she need to get?
no offense or anything btw im genuinely flattered
I wasn't trying to flatter you...
How does she expect you to even answer that?
Okay, fuck it. Time to rip the bandaid off.
okokokokok. so like. i gotta ask you something.
why did you assume that i was a girl and not a boy
?
Are you a boy...?
i asked a question first
Um...
I mean, I don't even know how to answer that, honestly.
Princely girls in cartoons and comics usually have pretty masculine frames to begin with, but they still look like girls.
I guess... I mean, from seeing you in the shadows, you just kinda gave off that feel? I'm sorry if I was wrong.
What is the point of all these ellipses? Dragging out her nonsensical "vibes" based thoughts...
You're terrified to know that somehow, someone can see right through you without even trying. You bite your lower lip hard enough to bruise.
you aren't wrong but if i tell you the reason why you might think youre wrong anyway
?
No point holding back now.
im trans
Oh!
But you're a girl, right?
i mean if you think i constitute as one
Why wouldn't you?
Unless I'm misunderstanding you and you're actually saying you're a trans guy not girl
Jesus christ. Your self-loathing is genuinely enough to make her question that.
no you got it right the first time. trans girl
Oh yay!
You look at her response, your heart racing wildly in your chest. For some reason, you can't comprehend her reaction.
That's... it? Just like that? Where's the chaos? The drama? The realization that you're not actually a cis girl, therefore leaving this literal child's pool of attraction and thusly ending the conversation.
"...Oh-fucking-yay." You say it out loud, and you feel crazy. You grip your phone a little tighter.
Finally, you muster the will to respond.
yk im not gonna be like upset if you. uh
i was gonna say "arent into me anymore" but youre a kid so
im not gonna do that
...Buuut you just did?
What happened to kids being idiots? Why the hell can she meet you head-on without even trying?
ok well.
i guess i did
Anyway... You being trans doesn't really change anything. I can understand being worried about telling people you like though.
(,,>﹏<,,)
"Jesus—fucking—fuck."
im not. thats not what i was trying to do
if anything i was just trying to dissuade you from having a thing for me because you sure dont seem to care about our difference in age. so like maybe the cock is a deal breaker for you. idk
Okay. Great. Awesome. Now you're talking about your dick to a girl in middle school. You feel insane, grabbing at your hair and tugging on it in a shitty effort to pull yourself back to a reality where you aren't entertaining the whims of a little girl, but it doesn't work, because why the hell would it? You're still looking at your phone, waiting for it to vibrate. Like a fucking freak.
Your phone vibrates again. Oh great.
Why would that dissuade me…? A girl's a girl no matter how she was born.
Of course this middle schooler would say that. She's a lesbian, but how much of her sexuality is fully thought out? Pussy, cock, doesn't matter when you're still trying to figure out whether you're actually even a boy or a girl.
Or you're just projecting onto her, and she genuinely doesn't care.
As for your age, you don't have to worry about that! It doesn't bother me at all.
The fact that she even bothered to address it at this point makes you grit your teeth.
do you even know why youre supposed to care. like. at all?
I mean, yeah. I know why, and it doesn't really bother me. It shouldn't bother you either, should it? I'm the one who asked for your number!
the law doesnt gaf girl
You toss your phone on the bed when she doesn't reply right away. You sigh.
You're a fucking mess. You can't believe you have to explain legality now as a reason why you shouldn't be talking to her, all the while you're still doing it. A better lesson would be to say nothing at all, give her a false number, and erase hers. Don't even entertain the thought.
Your phone vibrates.
Oh. Well, if it really bothers you that much, we don't have to keep talking. I'm sorry for bothering you.
Your fingers cramp as you smash them on your phone screen.
so long as we're just talking its chill. im just covering my tracks here and making sure you arent like. fucking with me
Idiot, idiot, idiot. She just gave you an out, and you dug yourself right back in.
Why would I be? Is it so strange that a girl would want to talk to you?
You stare at the screen, unblinking.
yes
(இдஇ; )
Yeah. You feel that way too.
I see...
Well. Anyone whose ever made you feel that way is an idiot! I'm more surprised that you don't already have a girlfriend!!
...She really is a middle schooler. Jesus Christ.
ik you hate me bringing it up but you really show your age when you say shit like that
How?????
i am not the kind of girl who people look at and assume im even a girl. to the point i thought u were fucking with me when you called me one
Okay... But I did, and I was even right about you being one.
What else can I do to make you believe that I'm genuine?
its. you know what. maybe its not even that anymore. i feel like if this was a sting operation you wouldve baited me into some shit already
but no youre just legitimately acting like some kid who just discovered shes gay
its kind of incredible
Like a car crash, you can't look away. Or, better to say that you can't stand to put your phone down for a second. This is bad for you, really fucking bad, and you don't even care. What the hell are you covering your tracks for, even? You're not... like that, are you?
The thought's going to haunt you for as long as you keep talking to her. You acknowledge that, and retort it with a "who even fucking cares?" She's going to get sick of you sooner rather than later. You aren't masking hard enough. You're an asshole, and no superficial crush is going to last as long as you keep being yourself.
look. this is fucking weird. but im almost certain youre going to go off and forget this conversation ever happened the moment you realize my mediocre looks arent everything.
and like. ill be nice and wait for that to happen as long as you dont rat me out to the cops for talking to a little lesbian with a crush. youre the weird one here, im just
some asshole who really needs to go out more or get laid or something because im not usually this nice
Does that mean you want to meet up?
that is not even close to what i was saying. i was just trying to write off my own shitty behavior to myself
I don't think you're doing anything wrong. I just... I wanted to see you again. Even if we don't do anything at all, it'd be really nice to get to know you better in person.
Getting to know each other? What would that even mean? Maybe you need to take back the sting operation thing. This is well within setup territory.
...Then again, she's not saying where, or even when you should see each other again. Just a general statement of hope.
if we were going to meet again it would be somewhere public enough that it wouldn't be weird for you to talk to me. like a library or something
A place famous for no talking allowed? (●´ﾉω`)ｺ
wtf is that face
Whispering!
ok so theres the solution to the no talking thing
It was a jooooke. I know they have private rooms at least.
They do? Right, right. You're not a student, and you lived out in the suburbs, so you'd have absolutely no context as to whether or not that's the case. She clearly knows, which means the idea sounds... sound. To her, anyway.
Ooooh, Lee. Lee, Lee, Lee. You are getting yourself into some trouble.
i guess we can try that and stuff. idk what you want to talk to me about in like general but im not exactly an open book
Warning her of who exactly you are isn't going to do much at this point. The only way she'll learn is if she sees the truth.
That's fine! We can talk about a lot of things. I have a lot interests, and I'm sure you do too. We can take turns and get to know each other like that!
Christ. A kid's idea of how relationships work is so stupidly simple that it borders on parody. Even then, isn't this twerp being overly simplistic for her age? Hell, five year olds get bored when their parents start talking about the real world. Who needs that over cartoons and toys?
yeah. sure. whatever i should probably get out more anyway
but. and this is just a reminder. im twenty-two and barely a woman so this isnt going to result in the lesbian fantasy of your dreams. like its going to be so far off from that youll probably regret even wasting your saturday to "hang out" with me
Push her away. It's easy, isn't it? And then accept your fate as she pulls you closer, closer—like some fucking parasite you can't get rid of, coming to you in the form of a nicely developed teenager.
So you want to meet up this Saturday then? ( ◜‿◝ )♡
yeah. why the hell not.
She sends over her address—an address you didn't ask for, as well as a promise that she'll take the bus in case you don't want to give her a ride. You shrug it off, just like you've shrugged this entire conversation off, as well as the one at the museum.
She knows this is stupid. You've told her that much, and she doesn't even seem to disagree. Rather, she just...
She doesn't care. So little regard for her own safety, and... for what? Teenagers are horny fucking creatures, sure, but not even you were desperate enough to ask every girl you found even moderately attractive to go on a date. Hell... You probably wouldn't have done that regardless of your own silly little rule.
No reason to fall for someone before you actually look like a fucking chick. No, seriously. No matter how horny you get. It's worked so far. You just weren't prepared for someone to flip that way of thinking straight on its head.
Maybe that's why you can't stop talking to her. Better think about it that way instead of the way she looks, or, god forbid, the way she acts. You were never good with the kinds of people who smiled more than they frowned, and you don't know what Abi looks like with her lips downturned into one.
Sorry if I kept you up. I hope you sleep well, Lee! ❤️
You squeeze your eyes shut, banging your head down against your pillow.
i should be saying that to you when youre the kid who has school tomorrow. night.
(*˘︶˘*).｡*♡
You close your phone after that. Actually, you hold the power button down until it shuts off itself entirely. You don't trust yourself not to linger on that conversation, and you sure as fuck don't want to pay any mind to the burning sensation in your stomach.
It's not even her that got you hard, it's the situation. A girl likes you and thinks you're a girl—great. So what? You can wait a few years for that, anyway, can't you? What the hell is it about this insistent child that makes you want to throw what little remains of your moral compass down the garbage disposal?
You don't know. You hope you'll find an answer that'll allow you to cut this shit before it gets worse. Because it will, and you know it will. Because you just can't stop.
You stare at your phone sitting on your bedside for a little longer. Waiting for the feeling to subside. The guilt. The arousal. The mixture flooding your veins.
You don't feel as horrible as you know you are when you finally give in. You're too busy thinking about her kind words and light-up sneakers.