Chapter Text
Jamie woke up feeling warm, with something heavy draped over their waist and something firm pressed against their back. Early gray light streamed in through the window and right into his eyes. He squinted against it and tried to roll over, but whatever was holding him was holding him tight. He was going to have put more than a cursory effort to get out of it. He wondered what it could be. Blankets sure as hell didn’t cling like this and his pillows weren’t that solid so--
His whole body went taught.
Andrew.
He was in Andrew’s room.
In Andrew’s bed.
And Andrew was holding him.
Jamie took a deep breath and wiggled again. Andrew’s grip was tight, but not unyielding. He could squirm out of it. He hoped Andrew was a heavy sleeper. Slowly, inch by inch, Jamie slid down the bed until he was free of Andrew’s arms.
As soon as he reached freedom, he promptly fell to the floor.
Andrew didn’t stir. Jamie didn’t know how anyone could be as heavy of a sleeper as Andrew, but he’d never been more relieved. He didn’t want to begin imaging how awkward their conversation would’ve been if Andrew had woken up.
The door creaked as he opened it. Jamie didn’t look back to see if it was finally what woke Andrew and darted into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him as quietly as he could. He flicked the lights on, but didn’t dare look in the mirror. He didn’t need it to tell him he looked like shit.
Jamie patted his pockets, cursing when he couldn’t find his phone anywhere. He took a seat on the edge of the bathtub and put his head in his hands. A light headache that threatened to turn into much, much more pulse behind his eyes.
God, what had he been thinking last night? He’d sat in Andrew’s lap, he’d cuddled him, fuck, they’d shared a bed! A chain of increasingly stupid choices, all because he’d gotten high.
Or maybe he wanted to do it all along.
Jamie pulled at his hair. He didn’t want to do this. Why did he have to do this? Things were so much nicer when they were straightforward. There was no reason to complicate his existence further.
Wasn’t therapy supposed to make things less complicated? It felt like things had only gotten worse. Not only was he dealing with whatever gender bullshit was in his head, he also had this new situation wit Andrew. He felt a growing sense of anger at Claire for sitting in her chair, her eyes so sharp and her voice calm, telling him that he should ‘do some research about transgender people.’ He felt set up.
The door shook. “Shit, I’m sorry, is there someone in there?” Eliza asked.
Jamie got to his feet. “Yeah, I’m— I’m coming out, just let me wash my hands.”
“Got it. Hurry up please? I really have to go.”
How long had she been out there? Should he flush the toilet? Would that be too awkward? She might be expecting it. But he’d said he was only washing his hands. He bit harder. Fuck it. Washing hands only.
He turned the sink on, splashed some cold water on his face, and put on his game face.
When he opened the door and stepped out, Eliza slipped by him without a word and shut the door behind her. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief and went to the couch. He found his phone there, wedged between the cushions. A minor victory. At least he wasn’t doomed to be bored.
He started to mindlessly scroll through his social media, numbing his brain so he didn’t have to think about last night. He couldn’t help but feel he was making a bigger deal out of things than he should. If he let it go, things would settle back into place. It wouldn’t be a big deal. Life would go on. It wasn’t like anything had really changed.
Alternatively, something had changed and pretending otherwise was a lie. There wasn’t one event that it could be blamed on. No, that’d be too easy. It had been a series of them until Jamie felt like there was the him that existed before Andrew, and the him of right now.
One person shouldn’t be allowed to do that. There was a cosmic unfairness to it all. Andrews's kindness was breaking Jamie apart. He almost wished Andrew had been a bastard instead.
The bathroom door opened. He waited to hear the bedroom door open and click shut, but then Eliza vaulted over the couch and took a seat right next to him. Jamie jumped. She flashed him a bright smile. Her hair was wild and untamed and her clothes rumpled.
“I was going to raid your kitchen for coffee myself, but I figured since you’re awake, it’d be more polite if I asked,” she said.
“Oh yeah uh, we have it. The coffee maker is out. Coffee is in the cabinet by the fridge. You can help yourself,” Jamie replied, turning away to stare at the floor.
Eliza didn’t get up. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
This day was really going to go like this, wasn’t it? There was no escape. It was going to be an endless loop of suffering.
“Nothing, I’m just tired,” Jamie said. “I don't smoke that much.”
“Mm, I’m sure that has something to do with it, but you look like you're upset about anything. You have a very readable face.”
Jamie blinked. “What does that mean?”
“You’re expressive. It’s nice, I can just look at you and get a good gauge of what you’re thinking. I have a friend that’s like is a damn statue. Monotone, zero body language, the same face in almost all situations. You’re a great change of pace.”
“Thanks?” Jamie tried.
“You’re welcome! So do you want to talk about what’s wrong? Or would you rather not?”
Jamie side-eyed Eliza. She had folded her hands on her lap and looked too innocent. He didn’t trust it.
“Did Andrew set you up for this?” he asked
“What? How would he put me up to it? He’s passed the fuck out. I could probably dump cold water on his face and he would only roll over.”
Jamie snickered. He didn’t like that he did. He didn’t want to laugh right now. “Okay. Sorry. That was a bit paranoid.”
“What would even want me to talk to you about? You think he wants me to try and convince you to buy into the gay agenda? Recruit a new member of team queer?”
Jamie was silent.
Eliza burst out laughing. “Holy shit you— oh my god you’re not being serious, are you? You don’t— do you actually?” she said between heaves. “Jamie that’s— oh my God.”
His face was so on fire. He felt like a massive spotlight hand landed on him. He wanted to move, but there was nowhere to go. His only choices were outside or hiding back in the bathroom. Neither appealed.
“Just go make coffee,” Jamie said. He opened his phone again and started flicking through it again, barely parsing anything he saw on it.
It took Eliza a bit to stop laughing. Jamie kept his eyes fixed on his phone. He could feel her eyes burning into him. It was so hard to ignore it.
“Hey, I— seriously are you alright? Did I piss you off?” she asked.
He was going to stick to ignoring her. She’d get the message.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry that wasn't meant in a bad way. It’s just— okay, shot myself in the foot there. I’m really sorry. Can we try this again?”
She sounded sincere. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Eliza. She looked like a kicked puppy. He dropped his phone onto his lap and rubbed his face. “Just please, go make coffee,” Jamie said softly.
“Okay, sure. Do you want a cup?” she asked.
“Sure. Make it black.”
Eliza went to the kitchen. Jamie looked down at his lap. There was no point in going through his phone again. He’s seen the same content three times already.
Eliza hummed to herself as she moved through the kitchen. She was way too chipper for 8:00 AM. Jamie watched her start to swing her hips to the rhythm of a song only she could hear as she tapped away on her phone.
She was pretty. Even in messy clothes, looking like something the cat dragged in, she was pretty. Jamie bet she could look in the mirror without issue. She probably smiled when she did. She got to wear flattering clothes. She got to have smooth skin and a soft face. She—
Got to be a woman.
As if she’d heard the thought, Eliza turned and caught his eyes. Jamie looked away. The sound of the coffee dispensing filled the air. A minute later, Eliza rounded the couch. She gave an exaggerated bow and presented Jamie with a cup of coffee. “Your coffee, my regent,” she said.
Jamie glanced up for just long enough to grab the cup before he looked away.
“I pissed you off that bad?” she asked.
“No! It’s — just stop asking me that,” Jamie said.
“Right, sorry,” Eliza said. She laughed nervously. “I’m bad at this part; when people are upset. I want to know why and solve the problem right away, but I know not everyone’s like that. If I’m annoying you, tell me to fuck off, because otherwise, I’m going to keep buzzing around you.”
Jamie took too big of a drink of his coffee. It burned his tongue and throat. He almost dropped the cup.
“It’s fine. I’m the one who’s being a dick now. I have a lot on my mind. My head is a bit fucky. Sometimes.” He paused. “A lot, honestly.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. I have a lot of mental shit going on too,” she replied.
Jamie frowned. “You do?”
“Hell yeah. I hate how I look most of the time, and depression still kicks my ass every now and then. I’ve gotten better, but it’s still there, you know? I get it.”
Jamie looked up in confusion. “You hate how you look? Why? You’re so pretty.”
Eliza shrugged. “Dysphoria says I look like a man with bad hair and a worse wardrobe. Kind of hard to fight against that sometimes, no matter what people say.”
“Do you really think I look like I could be a handsome woman?” Jamie asked, the question bursting from his lips before he could stop it.
Something in the air changed. Eliza was still smiling, but her eyes grew more serious. Jamie’s chest tightened. He gripped his cup tighter.
“I was being serious last night. You could be a handsome girl, I think. Maybe a bit more on the masc end of it, but not too much. I… this is going to sound like a weird question, but you’re not already on HRT, right?”
“No, I’m not— I— no,” Jamie said.
“Right. You just have really good genetics. Okay. Well if you were on it, you’d definitely look like a woman. Enough that, if you wanted to be a handsome one, you’d have to change some other stuff around.” Eliza made a face like she tasted something sour. “Or…sorry maybe you’re not happy with your genetics? I don’t get the sense that you want to look super masc like Andrew, but I didn’t exactly ask. Are you trying to look more like that?” Eliza said.
“No. Not at all. Not even close.”
“Right. THat’s what I figured. Honestly, if you just dressed differently and wore makeup, most people would think you’re a woman. You don’t need hormones. But if you want them or you’ve been thinking about it anything like that, you should talk to a therapist and doctor about It.”
Jamie pressed his knees together. “I have talked to my therapist about it. Not a doctor. But a therapist. Is it weird that I’ve thought about this so much?”
“I can’t say I’m surprised that you have, but you should seriously talk to your therapist about this instead of me. I’m going to put my foot into my mouth and you're going to hate me or something and I don’t need that.”
Jamie shut his eyes. “Just do it. Tell me whatever it is you want to say.”
“I don’t think—“
“Just tell me.”
“I think you’re trans. That doesn’t mean you’re a girl, you could be non-binary or gender fluid too. There are a lot of things you could be, but I don’t think you’re cis. What you said last night and what you’re saying right now are just — I’ve heard them before and never from cis folk.”
He was relieved to hear that. It upset him that he was. He wanted to pull his hair, but Claire’s words about it being nice and not wanting to ruin it left him only running his hands through it.
“So you think I’m trans?” Jamie said. There was a tremor to his voice. He didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t know why he was asking the question in the first place. He didn’t know why he wanted to hear Eliza’s answer so badly.
“That’s something only you can decide for yourself.”
“But you think I am.”
“I— I’m not going to make that choice for you or let you hide behind my words as a shield or something. You have to figure this out. It’s not easy, it honestly fucking sucks. Trust me when I say I know how you feel.”
He could understand that in an abstract sense. Eliza was trans too. She had to understand some of it. Accepting that was hard though. He felt like a teenager all over again, convinced that no one could understand him, that he was all alone in the world. Eliza wasn’t making that better by telling him to figure it out.
“Okay.”
“Can I give you a hug?” Eliza asked.
“Huh?”
Eliza walked around the front of the couch and opened her arms. “A hug. I think you could use it.”
Jamie set his cup on the end table. A hug didn’t sound bad. He felt stupid for wanting it, but Eliza was right there, and she was the one who was offering. She’d made him coffee too. He could do it as a thank you if nothing else.
“Sure, I guess you can—“
Eliza didn’t wait for him to get up before she bent over and wrapped Jaime in her arms. She squeezed him much tighter than Andrew did, but she wasn’t as big. It was still comforting.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise,” Eliza said quietly. “It sucks, and it will always kind of suck, but it gets a lot better. Eventually, you stop thinking about it so much. It fades into the background, and you end up happier than you were before.”
Jame didn’t answer. Eliza gave him a final squeeze and pulled away. “Now, for something lighter, do you want to help me cook?”
_
Derek and Andrew came out of their rooms around five minutes later, no doubt plied by the smell of Eliza’s cooking. Though Eliza said she wanted Jamie to help her, he didn’t end up doing more than standing off to the side and listening while she talked. It wasn’t like what was being made required more than two hands. Eliza told him that was all he needed to do. Apparently, talking kept her focused.
The constant stream of conversation and the smell of food combined weren’t enough to keep him replaying their conversation from earlier over and over again in his head though. He wanted to talkabout it, but not with anyone here. Not with Willow or Charles either. He needed someone unbiased.
He needed to talk to Claire again.
It was only fair. She got his thoughts even more tangled, so it was her job to fix them. His next appointment with her was Tuesday. He planned to make it count. He had plenty to talk about.
“Sorry if I woke you up. I snore loudly,” Andrew said, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“That’s an understatement,” Derek said. He started to walk into the kitchen, but before he took more than a step, Eliza whirled around, wielding the whisk she’d been beating eggs with like a knife.
“I know you’re not about to go into my kitchen,” she said.
“Oh my god, I’m not even going to cook anything!” he said.
“That’s how it always starts,” Eliza said, clicking her tongue. “I don’t trust you.”
“I— you know what, fine. Cook for me,” Derek said. He sauntered over to the table and took a seat. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“Do you want coffee?” Andrew called out.
“Sure, With lots of sugar.”
“Sugar's on the table.” Andrew started to wall into the kitchen. Eliza held up her hand.
“Jamie’s already in here. You’re banned too,” Eliza said. She finished whipping the eggs and poured them into another frying pan. “Jamie said it was fine to use your food too, so blame them if you have to go shopping early.”
“Oh no, whatever will I do. Jamie, can you get me and Derek coffee? We’re going to die without it,” Andrew said and smiled.
The butterflies that Andrew’s smile caused Jamie made him feel like he was in middle school. He could accept that things had changed, but accepting that he was going to be like a lovestruck teenager again was a bridge too far.
“Yeah. Got it,” Jamie said, moving over to the coffee pot.
“If you let him boss you around too much, you’ll give him the wrong idea,” Eliza said.
“Eliza, god it’s too early for this. Stop,” Andrew said.
“Shit. Sorry. You’re right.”
That was the second time Eliza had something like that. Jamie wasn’t sure why. Andrew was hardly bossy. He wondered what he was missing as he poured out two mugs of coffee from Andrew and Derek.
Jamie handed over the mugs to Andrew. Their fingers brushed. Jamie would’ve dropped the mugs if Andrew didn’t have a good grip on them. There was no reason he should be thisaware of Andrew.
Andrew wasn’t making himself easy to ignore though, though Jamie doubted it was on purpose. It was just…it was hard not to look at Andrew when he was wearing a white tank-top that seemed a size too small, that made his muscles seem even bigger than they were, and a pair of loose sweatpants that hung low on his waist. Jamie remembered how his arms felt around him. If he wanted to hold Jamie still, there was nothing Jamie could do about it.
Jamie tried hard to ignore the rush of heat that thought caused.
It was a relief when Andrew turned away and walked to the table to give Derek his coffee. Jamie used the brief moment no one was looking at him to take a deep breath. All he needed to do was hold it together until Tuesday. He’d sort this all out during therapy. He wasn’t going to worry about it until then.
At least, he wasn’t going to worry about it with Eliza and Derek in the apartment.
Elia finished cooking and brought the food to the table. She, Derek, and Andrew filled the air with good-natured bickering and conversation. Jamie was content to listen and eat, happy that he wasn’t the center of attention anymore.
After they finished, Derek and Andrew did the dishes. Eliza insisted on cleaning up the living room while they did. Jamie tried to tell her that he’d handle it, but she refused over and over again. He was pretty sure she spent more time arguing with him than cleaning. He was starting to get the sense that Eliza thrived on conflict. It was hard for him to wrap his head around.
Derek and Eliza left after they were done cleaning, giving both him and Derek a quick hug. Eliza had given Jamie a meaningful look with hers but hadn’t said anything more. He was glad for it. He wasn’t thinking about it until Tuesday.
When the door shut and they were gone, Jamie found himself relaxing. He liked Eliza and Derek, but it’d been a while since he’d spent time around anyone new. Having them gone reminded him how much liked his quiet and solitude.
“Hey, I wanted to ask you if you were okay with everything that happened last night,” Andrew said, jolting Andrew out of his thoughts.
Jamie felt like a prisoner who’d dug a hole out of his cell, only to find he’d dug into the prison yard instead of past it.
“Ummm. I— I mean you didn’t do anything bad,” Jamie said.
“Okay, that’s good, but I’d like to do better than not doing anything bad. Were you uncomfortable at all? Did you…did you like it?”
He sounded hopeful. Jamie wanted to die. How was he supposed to have this conversation? He had no idea what the right words to say were. Everything felt like it’d be digging the hole deeper. He just wanted out.
“I—“
Andrew put a hand on his shoulder and caught his eyes. Jamie froze. He felt like a deer in the headlights. It felt like Andrew was seeing into Jamie’s heart.
“I’m sorry if I did anything bad. I didn’t mean to,” Andrew said. “I just— I’ll be honest, I have a thing for you. I guess you call it a crush. You’re just— good, Jamie. I don’t know. I’m sorry. If you don’t feel the same, I get it. Hell, I’ll move out if—“
“No!” Jamie said.
Andrew stopped talking and nodded for him to continue. Jamie decided to stop thinking — it hadn’t done him any good so far -- and let the words spill out.
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was fine. I don’t want you to move out. I…I just— I’m having a lot of feelings about myself and everything right now, and I can’t— I appreciate it but I just can’t,” he said, waving his around vaguely, praying that it made sense and that he didn’t have to repeat himself.
“When you say you can’t, do you mean you can’t be in a relationship with me or you don’t want to do anything with me, or do you mean there is too much stuff going on up here,” Andrew tapped his head, “to know what you want?”
Andrew straightening out the thoughts he’d vomited up was a godsend. Jamie nodded. “That. The second one. I have therapy this Tuesday. I’m going to— I’ll talk to my therapist. ANd think about it.”
Andrew smiled like he’d won the lottery and took a step back. “Okay. Let me know when you’re ready, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
Andres smiled. “That’s all I can ask.”