Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anna stared at the razor in her shower.  The purple one that she had never actually shaved with.  It looked innocent.  Like it was just an extra for when her other one was overused.

To Anna, though, it was a horrible, horrible reminder of what she was doing to herself.  A reminder that she deserved all the pain that had been forced on her, all the hate and disgust she knew would be directed at her if she ever told her parents what was wrong.

She was standing perfectly still despite her ADHD.  Her mind was racing fast enough to compensate anyway.  Doitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoitdoitdo-

Then her hand twitched, and that was all she needed.  She surged forward, snatching the razor off the shelf.  Then she checked the door, making sure it was locked.  Next her pants came unbuttoned, sliding to the floor.  Finally, she settled on the edge of the bathtub, razor in hand as she stared down at her bare thighs.

There were already scars covering her right leg, and a few at the top of her left leg too.  She even had a few scabs from the most recent cuts, still trying to combat how Anna picked at them just to make herself bleed again.  The scars were mostly faded, foolish attempts at real pain she had made her first few times cutting herself.  The scabs still hurt, but she didn’t care.  Self harm was an addiction, even three weeks after doing it for the first time at thirteen, and addictions were relentless.

The razor came down, dragged across her thigh, leaving little red lines in its wake.  Then another cut, this one deeper than the last.  Again and again she dragged the razor across her skin, desperate for relief, for clarity, for anything positive that she could get from this because everything was so fucking wrong right now, and all she wanted was for it to be right, to be beautiful and happy like it had been when she was a kid.

Finally she placed the razor back on the shelf, staring at her bleeding thighs with some kind of near-fascination.  All these cuts, all this blood, to prove that she was human, that she bled and lived and breathed like everyone else, that wanting to be a boy didn’t change flesh and blood.

She cleaned up as quickly as she could, wiping her legs clean of any blood that remained.  Then she found her leggings, pulling them on carefully.  Finally, she climbed into bed.

***

Anna climbed out of the car, shutting the door with a mumbled “I love you” to her Mom.  Then, as soon as she stepped out, there was Albert, who always seemed to know exactly when she left so they’d get there at the same time.  He walked with her to the door, chattering about that morning and taking her track bag from her.

And then, then she was through the school doors, and Anna Higgins became Antonio “Racetrack” Higgins, and Race was whoever the fuck he wanted to be, boy or girl, smart or stupid.  Race was on top of the goddamn world, with straight A’s and great friends and the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.

“Hey bitch.”  Speaking of great friends, here came Jack Kelly.  

“What about me?” Albert asked, sticking their head out from behind Race.

“Sorry, hey bitches,” Jack amended, flicking Albert in the head.  Albert turned forward again, satisfied.

“Woah, Medda get you new shoes?” Race asked, staring at the obviously fresh out of the box Doc Martens on Jack’s feet.

“Yeah!  Sweet, aren’t they?” Jack said, grinning.  Albert followed their gazes and whistled, shifting Race’s bag in his hands.

“Shit, dude, those are nice,” they commented.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, “Hurts to walk though.”

“Suck it, bitch,” Race laughed, grinning widely when Jack flipped him off.

“Mr. Kelly!  School appropriate fingers only, please!” A teacher called.

“Sorry, Mr. Sietz!” Jack yelled back, glaring at Race.

Seconds later, there was a hand on his wrist and then Race was pressed against a wall, conveniently hidden behind a row of lockers and away from the view of any of the teachers.  Race tensed, ready to push whoever it was off.

“Slow down there, tiger, it’s just me.”

Race grinned, bringing his hands up to tangle in Spot’s hair.  “Hey, sugar, how ya been?”

Spot rolled his eyes at the nickname, but Race could see the blush on his cheeks.  “Missin’ you,” he said, brushing his thumb across Race’s cheek.

Race bit his smile down into something that wasn’t big and cheesy, pleased when the motion made Spot’s eyes drop to his lips.

“Then shut up and kiss me,” he said, using his grip in Spot’s hair to pull him close.  Spot let him pull him down, but stopped an inch from Race’s face.  Race whined, tugging on Spot’s hair harder to try and get him to kiss him.

“Well, if you insist,” Spot said indifferently, finally leaning forward and pressing his lips to Race’s.

Race melted, kissing back eagerly.  Spot moved his hand on the wall to Race's waist, pressing him further against the wall and kissing him deeper.  This, this, was what it felt like to be one top of the world.  To be pulled away from laughing with his friends to making out with his boyfriend, to know that they’d be back any minute to break them apart and make comments about how traumatizing it is to see them making out in the middle of the hallway.  So Race kissed Spot harder, shivering when Spot’s fingers started rubbing small circles on his waist and cheekbone.  Spot bit his bottom lip, a sharp contrast to the soothing circles his hands were making, and Race’s mouth opened in a soft sigh.  Spot took that as an invitation to slip his tongue inside Race’s mouth, deepening the kiss further.  And just for these moments, these few minutes they had together while Jack and Albert tried to find Race in the crowd of people streaming past them, Race forgot about everything else, because it was just the two of them, just him and his boyfriend, making out in the hallway before class.

“Alright, Spotty, give us Racer back, you’ve had your fun with him.”

Then, someone was pulling Spot off of him, his hands coming away from his cheek and waist.  “Noooooooo,” Race moaned, opening his eyes and dropping his hands from Spot’s hair.  Albert and Jack were on either side of Spot, equally annoyed looks on their faces.

“Give me back my boyfriend,” Race whined, pushing off the wall.

“Maybe we would if we could trust you wouldn’t just make out with him through first period.” Albert said, tightening his hold on Spot’s arm when Race got closer.

“But-“

“No, no, he’s right, sweetheart, ya gotta go to first period.  Maybe second, though.”  Spot said, shrugging Jack off and reaching out to press a kiss to Race’s cheek and wrap an arm around his waist.

“Spotty-”

“I’ll walk ya there,” Spot promised.

“Fine,” Race relented, dropping his head on Spot’s shoulder.  Spot smiled, and Albert finally let go of his arm.

“Let’s go,” Albert said, coming to stand on the other side of Race. 

The three of them walked off, shouting goodbyes and insults to Jack.

***

“I’m so glad you decided I was good enough to spend your time with and didn’t just make out with Spot all period,” Katherine said dryly, looking up from her phone when Race and Albert walked in.

“You know I love you too much to leave you here alone with Albert, Kathy,” Race replied, dropping his bag next to her.  Albert rolled his eyes behind him.

“Not true, we had to pull Spot off you,” they grumbled.  Katherine winced in sympathy, placing her hand on Albert’s.

“I am so sorry,” she said.  Race stuck his tongue out at her, sliding into the seat next to her.

“Awww, shut up,” he mumbled.  Katherine grinned, tossing him and Albert pencils.

“Nah,” she said, just as the bell rang.

When Race finally looked up at the front, he realized that their teacher wasn’t there.  No, instead they had a substitute, one that would read his name off the roster and deadname and misgender him the entire period.  She wouldn’t mean to, of course, he wasn’t out at home, so as far as the attendance sheet said, his name was Anna Higgins, and he was a girl.

Shit.

He sat through the first names, his leg bouncing up and down more aggressively than usual.  He knew he couldn’t blame her, knew it wasn’t her fault, but he hated being misgendered, and the anticipation, the knowledge that it was about to happen, made everything so much worse.

“Brooke Haves.”

“Here!”

Fuck.

“Antonio Higgins.”

What?

Stunned, Race raised his hand.  “Here!” he called.  The teacher looked at him, smiling, and winked.

“What…” Race started, turning back to his friends.

“I saw we had a sub, and told her that you went by Antonio and used- here!- he/him pronouns.  I told her about you too, Albert,” Katherine explained.

“Kathy, you’re the best,” Albert said, giving her a side hug.  Katherine returned it, grinning.

“Oh, I know,” she said offhandedly.

“Thanks,” Race whispered, smiling.

“Anytime, love,” Katherine whispered back.

Chapter Text

“Hey, sweetheart,” Spot said, appearing next to Race.  Race grinned brightly, kissing Spot’s cheek.

“Hi!” he replied.

“Your mama still want us over for dinner?” Spot asked, slipping an arm around Race’s waist.

Race hummed, pulled out his phone and typing quickly.  After a few moments he nodded, pocketing his phone again.

“Yeah.  Bring a dessert, I don’t think my mom has any plans for that,” Race said.

“Alright, Racer,” Spot agreed.  Race wasn’t even paying attention to where they were walking, his mind zoned in to Spot’s arm around his waist, the way that he was pretty sure he was pulling him away from their classes and to that alcove behind the stairs that almost completely hid them from view.

Sure enough, moments later they were ducking behind the stairs, watching out for teachers and making sure they weren’t seen.

Race had barely turned around before he was slammed into the wall, Spot’s mouth on his hard and insistent.  Race responded with the same intensity, pushing against Spot and pulling at his shirt to get him as close as possible.

And if Jack missed Race in History and Albert missed Spot in Engineering, who really cared?

***

Race sighed, shoving his stuff into his backpack and standing up.  Track practice was over, and he didn’t have rehearsal or dance after school, so he had to go straight home.

He better hurry, too, his mom would want him to help with dinner.

He waved goodbye to his coach, shouldering his backpack and picking up his track bag.  Then he ran to the parking lot, looking for his mom’s car.  When he saw it, he headed toward it, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

And then he was sitting in his mom’s car again, and he wasn’t Race or Antonio anymore, he was Anna again, and Anna was cisgender and straight and she had her boyfriend coming over tonight.  Anna was not the person her parents wanted her to be, as far from the top as possible, not nearly as good as she should have been.  Anna was broken, trying to hold the pieces somewhere close to the right place so no one saw that she had fallen from her place on top of the world.

***

Anna sighed, staring at her reflection.  She hated wearing dresses, hated how uncomfortable and unnatural she felt when she wore them.  She knew that was wrong, knew that she was a girl, she was supposed to wear dresses and she was supposed to like wearing them, that it was just how it was, but she just hated them.  But her mom insisted that she wore a casual dress when company was over, so she picked one out and pulled it over head, hoping that at least she’d look good in it, if only for Sean.  She checked her reflection in the mirror, tugged at the hem of the dress, made sure it was long enough to cover her scars.  Once she was satisfied that it would hide them, she grabbed her phone and left her room, closing the door tightly behind her.  Sean and his family would be here any minute.

As she came down the stairs, she heard the doorbell ring.  “I’ll get it!” she yelled, speeding up and sliding to a stop right in front of the door.  She could see the outline of Spot and his family just outside, could make out the dish in Spot’s hand.  Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Spot said, coming through the door and pressing a kiss to Anna’s cheek.  She beamed, taking the pan from his hand and returning the kiss.

“Hi, Spot.  Hey, Conlons, how are you?” Anna asked, smiling brightly as Spot’s sisters and parents filed in behind him.

“Doin’ good, Anna,” Raphaela replied, nudging her playfully.  Hotshot nodded, standing between Spot and Raphaela.

“C’mon, I think dinner’s almost ready,” Anna said, leading the way to her kitchen. She dropped the Conlons’ dessert on the counter, then motioned to the living room and let Sean show his family the way there.

“ Ehi, Mamma, quando sarà pronta la cena? ” she asked.  Her mom paused, thinking for a moment before replying.

“ Dieci minuti, ” she said, smiling at Anna.

“ Grazie, Mamma.  Sarò in soggiorno se hai bisogno di me, ” Anna called over her shoulder.  She didn’t wait for her mom to respond, just walked into the living room and collapsed on the couch next to Spot, dropping her head on Spot’s shoulder.

“Long day?” Spot asked, smoothing a hand over Anna’s head.  Anna was pretty sure she could hear someone, probably Hotshot, gag behind her, but whatever, she was tired and her boyfriend was here, she could be as clingy as she wanted.

“Straight from track practice to making dinner.  Ain’t been able to really sit down since forever,” she mumbled, and Spot chuckled quietly, kissing her hair.  “Sorry, baby, don't think I can help ya there, you’re sittin’ down already,” he said, and Anna huffed.

“Still tired though,” she complained.  She sighed, picking her head up from Spot’s shoulder.  

“How was track practice?” Mrs. Conlon asked.  Anna smiled, turning to face her.

“It was good!” Anna answered.  “We have a competition in a couple days that I think we’ll be ready for, so yeah!”

Just then, Anna’s mom stuck her head into the living room, smiling warmly.  “ Anna, vieni ad aiutarmi, ” she said, disappearing back into the kitchen.

Anna stood up, pulling her skirt down again.  “I’ll be right back,” she promised, following her mom.

***

After dinner and coffee, when the adults were sharing one of the wines Anna’s parents had tucked away, Anna excused herself and the Conlon kids, leading them upstairs and to her room.  As soon as she was up the stairs, away from her parents and with Raphaela and Hotshot and Spot, she felt herself become Antonio again, felt the weight of pretending to be someone he wasn’t fall away.  He was on top of the world again, feeling good about himself and who he was, at least until he had to go back downstairs or one of his parents came into his room, and that felt amazing.

Raphaela and Hotshot went in first, but before Race could follow them in, Spot grabbed his wrist, pulling him away from the doorway.  “Are you alright?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.  “I know you hate dresses.”

Race sighed, leaning against the wall, pleased with the way Spot’s hand stayed on his cheek and he followed him.  He placed his other hand on his hip, rubbing his hip bone gently as he waited patiently for him to answer.

“It’s fine, really.  I’m used to it by now,” he answered, leaning into Spot’s hands ever so slightly.

“I know you’re used to it, but that doesn’t mean you’re okay,” he argued.  Race smiled, twisting one of his hands in his shirt and pulling him a little closer.

“I’m okay,” he assured Spot, smiling a little.  “And we better get in my room before your sisters accuse us of something less than holy,” he added, though he made no effort to move.

Spot scoffed, but he didn’t move either.  Instead, he leaned in closer, kissing him softly.  Race hummed, slipping one of his hands underneath Spot’s shirt and rubbing the skin of his stomach.  Spot shuddered, breaking the kiss and moving instead to press his lips to the corner of Race’s mouth, then across his cheek to his earlobe.

“I know how dysphoric dresses make you feel, but for what it’s worth,” Spot whispered into his ear, “You look really fucking hot in this dress.”

Race shivered, feeling just a little bit better about it.  “Thanks, sugar,” he whispered back.

Spot stepped back then, lacing their fingers together, and pulling Race through his bedroom door.

Raphaela looked up from her phone when they entered, raising an eyebrow.

“What were you two doin’?” she asked, smirking when they blushed.  “You weren’t making out in the hallway, were you?  With Hailey right here?  How could you, you’re going to traumatize the poor girl,” she teased, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“Shut up,” Spot groaned, dropping onto Race’s bean bag chair.

“Oh please, like Hotshot ain’t seen worse,” Race scoffed, letting Spot pull him onto his lap.  Spot kissed the back of Race’s neck, sticking his tongue out at his sisters when they complained loudly.

“You two took up the bed, where else was he supposed to sit?” Spot asked drily, raising an eyebrow.  Race felt his heart lift at the use of his proper pronouns.

“On the floor,” Hotshot answered without missing a beat.

Race gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.  “Really?  I’m your host, how could you treat me so horribly?” he asked.

“And we’re your guests, our comfort should be your first priority,” Rapaela shot back.

They argued back and forth for a while, the argument only ending when Spot kissed Race deeply and both girls backed off, agreeing that they could handle the PDA so long as it didn't go any farther.

Race grinned triumphantly, pressing a kiss to Spot’s cheek and settling back against his chest, watching him scroll through Instagram and insisting he be in any Snapchats he responded to.  Spot didn’t argue, just made a comment about how he didn’t mind the chance to show him off, and went mostly quiet after that.

God, Race loved his boyfriend.

Chapter Text

Anna ran.  She ran as far as she could, she ran until her lungs were about to give out, she ran until she was out, until she was as far away as she possibly could be, until she was gone and they couldn’t find her.

She was on Jack Kelly’s doorstep.

She knocked on the door, twisting her bracelet between her fingers.  She could hear laughter, then footsteps coming closer.  Then the door opened, revealing Miss Medda Larkin.  She had a smile on her face, one that quickly changed into a look of concern when she saw Anna on her doorstep, sweating and panting and shaking and near tears.

“Antonio, baby, what’s wrong?”

And those words, the use of his name, should have made everything better, should have put him on top of the world again, but they didn’t, just made tears slip from his eyes, streaming down his face, as he became Antonio again, a broken, awful thing.  He rubbed at his eyes furiously, internally screaming at the tears rolling down his face, cursing them for betraying him, for making him show weakness in front of someone that didn’t deserve to see him like this.

“Oh, honey,” Medda whispered, ushering Race inside and closing the door behind him.  She didn’t touch him, but she did lean down until she was even with him.  Race looked at her tearfully, and Medda smiled reassuringly.

“Can you tell me what you need?” she asked gently.  Race nodded, hiccuping and trying to get his breathing under control so he could talk.

“Is- is- is- is- Ja-ack home?” he asked, hating how fucking pathetic he sounded, a stuttering mess in front of Medda, the kindest person to ever walk the earth.

“Right here, Racer, ‘m right here,” Jack said, stepping forward into Race’s line of vision.  “C’mon, let’s go upstairs, it’s quieter up there.”  He took his hand, pulling him through the entryway and to the stairs.  For a second, he could see into the living room where Katherine, Crutchie, and Smalls were all watching worriedly.  Race tried to smile, tried to grin and play it all off like a joke, but he couldn't.  He was crying too damn hard to fall back on humor, the only real coping mechanism he had.

Once they were up the stairs, safely tucked away from anyone’s eyes in Jack’s room, Jack spoke again, concern in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, a stór? ” Jack asked quietly.  Here, curled up on Jack’s bed, hidden from his parents, from everyone downstairs, Race’s breathing slowed, and the tears in his eyes stopped falling so hard.  The pet name in Jack’s voice, which he knew meant “my treasure” in Irish, made everything just a little better, made him feel like maybe he was worth something if Jack could look at him, sobbing on his bed with no explanation, and call him a treasure.

“It’s stupid,” Race whimpered, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them.

“If it’s bad enough that you told your parents you were going on a run and then ended up here because you couldn't stop until your legs were about to give out, and now you’re up in my room crying so bad you can’t even smile, it isn’t stupid,” Jack argued, shifting closer.

“I can smile,” Race said, defensively, looking up at Jack.

“Really?  Go on, smile, right now.  Give that signature Racetrack Higgins grin, I dare you,” Jack challenged.  Race lifted his head from his knees, doing his best to muster up a smile.  He was sure it was more of a grimace, and he stopped almost immediately, hating that Jack was right.

“Racer, if you can’t even smile right, I know it’s bad,” Jack said softly, brushing hair out of Race’s face.

Race sighed, letting his head drop onto Jack’s shoulder.

“My parents… they just… said something kinda transphobic…” Race muttered.  Jack wrapped his arms around him, and Race gripped Jack’s shirt in his hands, like if he held onto Jack tight enough he wouldn’t leave.

“What’d they say?” Jack asked, kissing Race’s hair.  Race hummed, closing his eyes for a second.

“Just… I guess one of their friends’ children came out as trans a year ago, and so they posted on FaceBook about how proud they were of their girl and how happy the family was that the estrogen doses have been working.  It kinda set my parents off, and my dad said that he “just didn’t get how people could be trans” and my mom said that she thought the idea of trying to change your gender was weird, and didn’t make any sense.  They went on for a bit about how you were the gender you were born with, and there was no reason to change it, just kept talking about it.  I went upstairs and got changed, then told them I was going for a run.”

“Oh, Racer…” Jack whispered into his hair.  Race laughed bitterly, curling his fingers into Jack’s shirt tighter.

“Kinda funny, isn’t it?  How do you think they’ll react when they find out their picture perfect daughter is fuckin’ trans?   Will they send me to conversion therapy?  Kick me out?”  There it was, the humor he hadn’t been able to summon earlier, here to deflect his feelings and make his problems seem more bearable.  

“If they send you to conversion therapy or kick you out, I swear to fucking god -” Jack started, his arms tightening around Race.  Race laughed again, the sound wet and pitiful this time.

“Just think Jack, if they kick me out maybe Medda’ll take me in,” Race joked, wiping his face on his shoulder to hide the new tears rolling down his face.

“If they kick you out, Mama will definitely take you in.  She’d do everything, get you therapy, top surgery if you wanted it, fight for custody if you asked her to.  She’d do those things even if they didn’t kick you out,” Jack commented, pulling Race so close he was practically sitting in his lap.  Race shifted even closer, until eventually he was laying on his stomach on Jack’s legs, face resting against his chest.  His fingers were still curled in Jack’s shirt, still clinging on like Jack and every bit of comfort he brought, from the hand in his hair to the one scratching gently at his back, would disappear if he let go.

A few minutes of wonderful, peaceful quiet later, Jack’s phone went off.  He pulled his hand out of Race’s hair, and Race almost whined, his hands tightening in Jack’s shirt.  People, especially Jack, playing with his hair had always felt so nice, and Race wished Jack would put his hand back, go back to paying attention to him, even if that was selfish.  He wished Jack didn't have friends over that he should probably go pay attention to, that he could just sit up here with him forever, keep playing with his hair and whispering things like “you’re perfect, a stór, I promise,” and “love you, Racer, I’m so glad you came to me when you needed it.”

“Hey,” Jack said, resting his hand on Race’s head again, tapping it until he looked up at him.  “Kath ‘n Smalls ‘n Crutchie’re wonderin’ if they can come up here ‘n cuddle with you.”

Race froze.  They… wanted to come up here?   Spend time with him when they’d seen him sobbing on his way up?

“Yeah,” Race agreed, dropping his head back on Jack’s chest.  “Sure.”

“You actually mean that, right?  You know they’ll stay downstairs if you don’t want anyone else around, you don’t have to let them-”

“No, Jack, seriously, I want to.  Kath gives reeeeeally good hugs.  Better than you,”  he added, letting his fingers loosen so he was gripping Jack’s shirt so tightly.

“Sure she does,” Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes.  Race laid his head on Jack’s chest again, closing his eyes.  Jack moved his hand from Race’s hair again, and this time, Race did whine, pouting up at Jack.  Jack laughed, letting his hand drop back to Race’s head.  “Racer, if you want me to text them back, I need my hand.”

“Use Siri,” Race mumbled, closing his eyes again.

Jack sighed, but leaned over to where his phone was sitting in the nightstand, speaking softly to it.  A few moments later, he shifted back.  “They’ll be up soon, a stór, ” he whispered, and Race nodded sleepily.

About a minute later, the door opened quietly, and Race opened his eyes.  Katherine, Crutchie and Smalls filed in, surprisingly quiet for once.

“Hey,” Katherine whispered to Jack, climbing over Race and fitting herself between Jack and the wall, legs curled near Race's shoulder.  She kissed Jack’s cheek, then leaned down and dropped a kiss on Race’s forehead.  “Hey love, how are you?” she asked softly, letting one of her hands drop to Race’s hair.  Race practically purred, leaning into her and Jack’s hands.

“Been better,” he answered, turning over so he was on his back.  Crutchie laid on the other side of Jack, throwing his good leg over Race’s and resting his head on Race's shoulder.  Smalls curled up on his stomach like a cat, and Race suppressed a wince as her feet brushed against his thighs.  There were brand new cuts there, a harsh reminder that there was something wrong with him.  He’d purposefully left that part out, too scared to admit to anyone how much those words had hurt him.  No, instead he hid it, told Jack he’d come straight here, made sure his shorts were long enough to cover any of the red marks, and pretended like it didn’t hurt when Smalls shifted.  He closed his eyes, pushing back the tears, the wave of emotion that reminded him that he was filthy , that he didn’t deserve all this.  He shoved that down, let himself glow under all the attention, at the way Jack and Katherine were both playing with his hair, Crutchie was gently wiping at the drying tear tracks on his face, and Smalls had laced her fingers through his when he finally let go of Jack’s shirt with one of his hands.  It felt so nice to be loved like this, to be cared for and supported like he wasn’t at home.

Chapter Text

“C’mon, Racer, please, ” Spot begged, following close behind Race.  Race shook his head, walking faster.

“ No, Spot, I don’t want to,” Race insisted, gripping his backpack straps tightly.

“Tony, c’mon, please just listen to me?  It’ll be good for you, I swear!  I’ll even go with you if you need me to,” Spot said, finally catching hold of one of Race’s hands and using it to pull him to the side of the hallway, away from the flood of students.  “Please?” Spot said softly, placing a gentle hand on Race’s cheek.  “For me?”

Race chewed on his lip, looking down at Spot hesitantly.  He didn’t want to go to the school counselor, because what if they told his parents?   What if he let it slip that he was cutting himself, and they had to go to his parents and out him?  What would he do then?

“No,” he said finally, stepping out of Spot’s arms.  Spot sighed, but let him go, jogging a bit to catch up to him and lace their fingers together.

“Fine, Racer. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

***

Race endured several more arguments similar to this one, from practically everyone he knew except for Albert.  Albert would mention it, but dropped it quickly, instead offering a distraction when needed.  He never pushed Race too far, never insisted that he go, just suggested it and let it go when Race said no.

Race walked to meet up with Spot with some dread, knowing that he’d try to push the counselor thing again.  He understood why Spot was so insistent about it, but he wished everyone would just drop it.  Race caught a glimpse of Spot standing by the corner, and he sighed, glancing at Albert.  Here it came.

“Hey, Racer, Albert,” Spot said, falling into step with them.

“Hey Spot!” Race grinned, lacing his and Spot’s fingers together.  They talked briefly, Albert complaining about their science assignment, before they fell quiet.  Race waited apprehensively, stealing glances at Spot’s face.  He could see him thinking quietly, probably trying to come up with a way to bring it up without scaring Race away.

“Race,” Spot started, “Please.  I am begging you to go to the counselor’s office.  Seriously.  It’ll be good for you, and I will go in with you if you’re scared.  And we can leave if you get uncomfortable.  Please, Racer, I just want you to talk to them.”

Race shook his head, shaking Spot’s hand away and speeding up.  Albert matched his pace, brushing a hand over his, and Race took it gratefully, squeezing their hand tightly when Spot caught up with them.

“Race, you can’t keep ignoring us forever.  I swear, we just want you to be happy.   We want you to go talk to someone experienced and educated enough to actually help you.  Please?” he asked again, reaching out to take Race’s other hand.

Race didn’t pull away, but he didn’t exactly hold Spot’s hand either, craving the contact but refusing to admit how willing he was to hold his boyfriend's hand even when they were arguing.

Race kept walking, slowing down a little bit when they got to Albert and Spot’s engineering class.  Spot pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then walked inside, but Albert stayed out with Race, pulling him to the side.  He dropped his hands on his shoulders, shaking Race gently until he looked at him.

“Look, Racer, I know how much you hate the idea of going to therapy, and I know how scared you are that they’ll out you, but please.  Even just once, alone, with someone else, however you wanna do it, go to the counselors.  You deserve so much more love and support than the shit your parents are giving you over trans things.  I’ll go, I’ll wait outside the door, I’ll fight the counselor, whatever I need to do to make you go, I’ll do it, but please, get some help.  You deserve it.”

Race was quiet, for the first time really, actually considering going.  He’d bring Albert, maybe Spot with him, tell them about what was going on at home, sic Albert and Spot and their entire friend group on them if they got nasty about it.  He but his lip, his eyes darting around the hallway, before finally settling on Albert’s face again.

“Okay,” he whispered, twisting the bracelet on his wrist.  “Okay, but you- you have to come with me, okay?”

“Course, Racer,” Albert said, dropping their hands from Race’s shoulders.  “C’mon, let’s go now, before you change your mind.”

Race took a deep breath and nodded, following behind Albert slowly.  Albert glanced behind, making sure Race was coming, and slowed down a bit.  Race knew they should probably hurry so they got to the office before the bell rang and multiple teachers yelled at them for being late, but he couldn’t seem to move any faster.  It was terrifying to accept this, to let Albert convince him he needed it, because he was supposed to be okay, he was supposed to be floating higher than everyone else, flying where they were falling, gliding along when they stumbled.  Instead, he was hanging his head and dragging his feet on the way to the school counselors because he couldn’t go to a real therapist, not without telling his parents, and that was completely off the table.

So much for ‘on top of the world’.  

They managed to get to the right office just as the bell rang, and Race stood behind Albert quietly, letting him carefully explain to the desk attendant why they were here.  He let them guide him to a chair, curled up as close to them as he possibly could, leaned his head against their shoulder and let Albert wrap their arm around him.  Then, there was an earbud in his ear and rock music playing far too loudly, and he was so fucking thankful for Albert, for the fact that he knew how to calm him down, how to get him out of his head when he was drowning in thoughts and memories and anxiety.

“Antonio?”

 Race’s head snapped up, and he made eye contact with the counselor, just briefly, before dropping his eyes.  He stood slowly, and Albert jumped up next to him, touching his hand gently.  Race took it gratefully, waiting until Albert nudged him forward to move.

They followed the desk attendant to Ms. Hannah’s office, and Race had never felt lower.

***

Race practically sprinted down the hall, way ahead of Albert, searching desperately for Spot.  It was too much, he was too scared, he needed someone, dammit, someone who hadn’t been there and didn’t know exactly what had happened.  He needed his boyfriend.

Finally, he saw Spot waiting for him, subtly bouncing on the balls of his feet like he only did when he was really, really nervous.  As soon as Race laid eyes on him, he ran faster, calling his name and falling into his arms when he was close enough.

“Woah, hey, Racer, baby, what’s wrong?  C’mon, sweetheart, tell me,” Spot said, pulling Race closer.  Race went easily, burying his head in Spot’s chest and curling his hands in Spot’s shirt.

“Just- stressed, s’all,” Race mumbled, giving Spot a chance to opt out of this, to leave and never listen to him again.

“Okay, c’mon, follow me, let’s go somewhere quieter, yeah?  C’mon, let’s go sweetheart,” Spot said, pulling Race along with him gently.  Race didn’t protest, just let Spot lead him to that small space behind the stairs. 

Once they were there, Spot sat on the ground and pulled Race into his lap, lacing their fingers together and wrapping his other arm around his waist.  Race dropped his head on Spot’s shoulder, pressing his face into his shirt, hand clinging to Spot’s other shoulder.

“Now, what’re you stressed about, baby?  C’mon, you can tell me, ‘m right here, go ahead,” Spot coaxed, speaking into Race’s hair.

“Just- what- what if she tells ‘em, Spot?  What if- if- if sh-she just outs me?  What’ll I do then?  I ca-an’t come out to them yet, I can’t, they’ll kick me out, o-or send me to fucking conversion therapy, or refuse to talk to me, or- I’m not- I can’t- I just- I ain’t fucking ready!  But what- what if it happens, and I just- just have to deal with it a-and-”

“Shhhh, alright, Racer, shh, shh, calm down, it’s okay,” Spot soothed, rubbing his waist gently.  “C’mon, look at me, will you?  Yeah, can you do that?”  Race lifted his face from Spot's shoulder, blinking rapidly against the tears falling from his eyes.  Spot freed his hand from Race’s and placed it on his cheek, rubbing his thumb across his cheek bone.

“Look, Tony, I know it’s terrifying, okay?  I know you’re scared she's gonna tell your parents, but she won’t, okay?  Before I came out to my parents, she kept my secret for months.  She isn’t going to tell anyone, she isn’t going to recommend any shitty therapists, she isn’t going to pressure you into coming out, she’ll just support you, listen to you if you need it, and give you advice,” Spot assured him.  “And,” he continued, his eyes getting darker, “If she does, I swear to fucking god , me, Albert, Jack, Crutchie, Raph, and Hotshot will all march down there and personally beat the living shit out of her.  We’ll leave Davey with you so you don’t try to stop us, and Kath’ll write a nasty article and get her fired.  And every single one of us will be right here to comfort you, or yell at your parents, or whatever you need, until everything is okay again, alright?” Spot asked, wiping at some of the tears on Race’s cheek.

When Race nodded, Spot leaned forward, kissing him softly.  Race sighed, and leaned into the kiss, eyes fluttering closed as his whole body relaxed.  Spot pulled away, but only just enough to rest his forehead against Race’s.  “It’ll be okay, Racer.  We’ve got your back, alright?  We’re here for you.  Always have been, always will be.”

Chapter Text

“Alright class, get in your pairs and come up to me for instructions when you’re ready,” their teacher called.  Chatter quickly filled the classroom as people looked and argued over partners.  Race turned to his friends, his face ready in a pout.

“Nope,” Katherine said, leaning closer to Albert.  “I had to find another partner last time.  It’s one of you two’s turns now.”

“Al-”

“Uh-uh,” Albert interrupted, shaking his head.  “You partnered with me last time and Kath the time before that.  It’s your turn now.”

“Plase?” Race begged.  His so-called friends, however, just shook their heads and started off towards their teacher to get instructions.  Race flipped them off behind their backs, then turned and started looking for a partner.  

The only people left, really, were the awkward kids that didn’t have any friends in the class and didn’t want to have to ask someone to be their partner.  Race sighed.  He didn’t really like working with those kids, they had a habit of being too scared to talk to him enough to get the lab done quickly.

Across the room, he spotted Brooke Haves, who he recognized as the kid of one of his parents’ friends.  If he wasn’t mistaken, she was the one that had come out as trans a year ago.  She’d be cool, and probably wouldn’t mind working with him.  Sure, he hadn’t talked to her a ton, but her parents seemed nice, so she couldn’t be that bad, right?

Race crossed the room, waving and catching her attention.  “Hey,” he said once he was close enough, “You wanna be partners?”

“Sure!” she responded, smiling brightly at him.  Race nodded, then gestured at their teacher.

“We should probably go get instructions.”  She nodded, and led the way to their teacher.  Once they’d gotten their instructions, they found an unoccupied lab table and spread their stuff across it.

“I think our parents are friends,” Race mentioned, looking up at Brooke.  She stopped, and cocked her head at him, before her face lit up in recognition.

“Ohhh, yeah!  You’re, uh- Anna?” she asked.  Race winced, looking down at the lab materials spread out between them.

“Um-”

“Or not?  I’m sorry if I got your name wrong, I’m not very good with-”

“No, no, it’s, uh, it’s not that,” Race laughed nervously, wringing his hands together.  She couldn’t be mean about it, right?  I mean she was trans, so she couldn’t judge him for it.  “You, uh, technically got my name right, but, uh, I’m-  I’m trans?  Like, I’m not out at home, which is why you know me as Anna, but, like, at school, I am.”

“Oh my god.  Oh my god, I’m so sorry, you use school as a place to be yourself and forget your parents and shit, and I totally just deadnamed you and brought that back.  I’m- I’m trans too, so I totally know what that’s like and I just did it to you, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“No, wait, shit, no, no, you couldn’t have known about that, it’s not- fuck, don’t feel bad!  It isn’t your fault!” Race assured her, reaching out to her tentatively.

“Wait.  You- you swear?” Brooke asked.  The topic change was sudden, and a little out of the blue, but honestly., it was welcome.

Race let out a surprised laugh, cocking his head.  “Uh- yeah?  I swear, like… all the fucking time?  Why is this so surprising?”

“It’s just- I don’t know, whenever you’re hanging around the us at work parties and shit, you, like, never say anything, and when you do, you never swear.  And, like me and the other kids always hear how good your grades are, and how you’re so amazing at track and dance and theater and everything from our parents, so we kinda all assumed you were this stuck up goody two shoes that’s too perfect to ever say fuck,” Brooke explained awkwardly.  Race laughed again, the idea of him being a perfect goody two shoes absolutely hilarious to him.

“Oh, god no,” he giggled, looking up at Brooke.  “Dude, no, the only reason I don’t talk or cuss at those is because I don’t know you guys and I’m too scared my parents’ll hear me swear and beat my ass.  Italian mother and all that.”  Brooke laughed, and Race grinned.  “And ‘stuck up perfect goody two shoes?’  I’ll admit, I’m a little full of myself, y’know, cause I’m great and all that, but I didn’t think I was that bad.  And dude, you don’t wanna know the number of times I’ve skipped second to go make out with my boyfriend behind the stairs.”

“Okay, so you’re a lot cooler than you look, good to know,” Brooke shoots back, a smirk on her face.

“I know you meant that as an insult, but to everyone at this school, I’m a five-seven boy in theater that doesn’t know how to shut the hell up, wears Broadway hoodies everyday and has blonde hair and a tiny boyfriend, so I’m taking that as a compliment,” Race says.

Brook snorts, then turns back to their table.  “We should probably actually start this,” she said.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Race agreed, grimacing,

***

unknown number: this is buttons

Race: uhhhhh, idk a buttons

unknown number: oh right

unknown number: this is brooke

unknown number: but i usually go by buttons

Race: oh

Race changed unknown number’s name to “Zipper”

Race: well most people know me as race

Zipper: you did not

Zipper changed Antonio’s name to “Speedy”

Speedy: fuck u

Zipper: sorry u arent my type

Speedy: bitch im gay

Zipper: who knows

Zipper: maybe ill be your straight awakening

Speedy: the only girls that could be my straight awakening are zendaya and maybe kath

Zipper: okay thats actually fair

Speedy: yea ik

Zipper: wait is your boyfriend the short angry one in my 3rd english class

Speedy: u got denton

Zipper: yep

Speedy: then yea

Zipper: whyd he date you

Zipper: hes hot

Zipper: your a theater kid

Speedy: so r u

Zipper: yea and you dont see me going out with hot football players do you

Zipper: no

Zipper: im going out with another theater kid

Zipper: so seriously what gives

Speedy: umm im hot as fuck

Speedy: and then we were supposed to be working on a project last year and made out instead

Speedy: because short angry hot football player kept eyefucking me

Speedy: because im hot as fuck

Speedy: u do the math

Zipper: what in the romcom bullshit

Zipper: r u living a fucking hallmark movie

Speedy: hallmark should make a pride movie based on me and spots life

Speedy: gay trans kid gets with hot football player

Speedy: speaking of

Speedy: hard question time

Speedy: how did you come out to your parents

Zipper: oof

Zipper: i kinda just did

Zipper: like i think i was just like “mom dad i’m a girl” and left for school cause i was too fucking terrified to stick around and hear how they responded

Zipper: and then when i got home we had a really uncomfortable conversation that ended in them saying they supported me and would get me estrogen and shit

Speedy: fucking lucky

Speedy: id get kicked out

Zipper: if they kick u out my parents would let you move in

Zipper: now my turn

Zipper: and no funny answers

Zipper: how the fuck do you get a hot football player to eyefuck you and then make out with you

Zipper: cause i love jojo but they’re such a nerd

Speedy: simple

Speedy: be as hot as me

Speedy: then find a football player

Speedy: and convince your teacher to pair you up for a project

Speedy: and then during said project be as hot as me

Speedy: if youre looking for football players 

Speedy: and youre into demiboys

Speedy: i have a friend named albert

Speedy: who is decently hot

Speedy: if u dont mind the flaming red hair

Zipper: still dont understand how u got spot

Speedy: ha

Speedy: funny thing is

Speedy: i went to spots house

Speedy: and made out with him

Speedy: as a girl

Speedy: cause i wasnt out yet

Speedy: and then we started dating

Speedy: while i was still a girl

Speedy: and then i had to come out to him as trans

Speedy: and then he almost left me cause he thought he was straight

Speedy: and then i was his gay awakening

Zipper: witchcraft

Zipper you aint that hot

Speedy: spot would beg to differ

Chapter Text

Race sighed, curling farther into Spot’s side.  He had Spot’s arm wrapped around him, Albert’s feet in his lap, and Smalls, as usual, curled up with her head on his stomach.  Katherine had her head in Jack’s lap and her feet in Spot’s, which he had begrudgingly agreed to.  Davey was sitting criss cross on the floor leaning against the couch, and Crutchie and Elmer were sharing a beanbag in the corner.

Race tilted his head up and kissed Spot’s jaw, marveling at how beautiful he looked with the dim movie light reflecting off his eyes.  Spot looked down at him, smiling, before kissing him softly, cupping his cheek with his other hand.  Race let his eyes slip closed, melted into the kiss, sighed again, because this was all so perfect.  His friends around him, a bad movie playing on the screen, and his boyfriend wrapped around him.  It was so nice.

Spot broke the kiss so they could breathe, but Race kept his face tilted upwards, eyes still closed.  He really wanted Spot to kiss him again, and this was usually a surefire way to make that happen.  Sure enough, he felt Spot’s breath fan over his mouth again, and then he was kissing him, gentle and slow and wonderful.

Spot shifted, moved to pull him onto his lap so he could get him closer, but that attempt failed when Katherine and Albert both kicked him, and Smalls glared at him and pulled him back to where he was.  Race pulled back to glare at his friends.

“I have no shame in cockblocking you, Higgins, I’m trying to watch my movie in peace.  I don’t need you and your boyfriend making out and ruining it for me,” Katherine said, not even taking her eyes off the screen.

Spot rolled his eyes, but didn’t kiss Race again, turning back to the movie on the screen.  Race grumbled to himself as he tucked himself back into Spot's side, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before going back to watching the movie.

This feeling, here, with his friends, when he was Antonio, when he was Race, like he was on top of the world…. it was the best feeling in the entire goddamn world.  And honestly, what wouldn’t he give to feel like this all the time?  To feel like he could do anything, to feel right and fully like himself.

God, he wished he could come out.

Maybe he would.

Maybe he would say “fuck it all” and tell his parents he was everything they thought was wrong, scream his way through an argument while holding back tears, go to Jack’s or Albert’s or Spot’s and make them hold him while he cried, then sleep at Medda’s or Buttons’s until his parents either disowne him or change.

Maybe he’d say “fuck it all” and tell his parents he was everything they thought was wrong, have an actual discussion with them, try to work his way to them, to meet them in the middle, help them understand why he felt the way he did, and it’d all be okay, with them agreeing to try.

Or maybe he’d keep himself hidden, stay as far away from the topic of queer stuff until he was off at college, an adult that never needed to worry about what his parents thought about him again.

He kept thinking himself in spirals, imagining every possible way that this could go horribly, awfully wrong, and every way that it could go wonderfully, amazingly right.

It could fuck everything up.

Or it could make everything right.

Was there really an in between?

“Hey,” Albert said suddenly, poking Race with his toe.  “Hey, you alright?”

Race looked up at Albert, the concern in their eyes clear.  He looked genuinely concerned, like he knew what Race was thinking and was worried.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Race lied, hoping his best friend would see through the lie.

They looked completely unimpressed, though, shifting and carefully moving Smalls out of the way without waking her up and curling themselves into Race’s side.

“You were thinking about it again, weren’t you?” Albert asked softly, eyes boring into Race even when he looked away.  He didn’t elaborate; he didn’t need to, they both knew what he was talking about.

“Maybe,” Race whispered back, refusing to look away from the last few minutes of the movie playing on the screen.

“You don’t have to come out to anyone you don’t want to, Racer,” Albert told him, slipping his arms around him.  Race felt Spit tense next to him, and he was sure he saw Davey glance back at him quickly.

“But I’m so tired of hiding,” Race responded.  Albert hummed, but stayed quiet.

A few moments later, he said, “I’ll help you.  Come out, I mean.  I'll be there with you if you want me to be, and I’ll bring you back to mine or Spot’s or Jack’s if things don’t go well, and I’ll go yell at them if they say anything bad about it.”

God, Race loved them so much.

“Would you really?”

Albert scoffed, almost like he was offended that Race would imply that he wouldn’t, and tightened his arms around Race.

“Course.  Everyone in this room would be there if you wanted us to be, no questions asked.  We would walk to the ends of the earth for you if we needed to, Tony, so we’d sure as he’ll be there for you when you’re coming out.”

Race rubbed at his eye, catching the tears before they could fall.  Finally, he looked down at Albert, at his best friend with their arms wrapped around him, keeping him together and talking him through this all, and just generally being just as amazing as they usually were.

“Okay,” Race whispered, voice breaking.  “I think I wanna come out to my parents.”

“You wanna tell everyone else?  Spot and Davey were definitely listening, so they already know at least, but Crutchie and Elmer are way too far away, and Jack and Kath probably are too, so…”

“Sure,” Race decided.

“Great.”  Albert smiled gently.  “Let’s wait until the end of the movie.”

Race nodded, and turned back to the movie.  There were only a few minutes left, and Race was pretty sure no one was really watching anyway, but it did give him some time to properly collect his thoughts.

When the movie ended everyone was relatively quiet.  Elmer and Crutchie seemed to be discussing it in the corner, and Davey had turned and was having a conversation with Jack and Katherine.  Smalls was still asleep, Spot wasn’t saying anything, no doubt waiting for Race to get the group's attention and make his announcement, and Albert was watching him wordlessly.

“Guys…” Race started quietly, hoping that would be enough to get his friends’ attention.  He didn’t think he could manage anything more right now.

Thankfully, his friends were all very attentive and being quiet, for once, so they turned to him, all surprisingly serious, like they could sense the weight of this moment.  Albert shook Smalls awake, pointing her toward Race and shushing her.

“Yeah, Racer?” Davey asked softly when Race didn’t say anything.

“I…” God, why was talking so fucking hard?   “I wanna come out to my parents.”

The room was silent, a stunned kind of silence, like they weren’t sure how to respond.  Well, he couldn’t blame them for that.

“If you’re ready, go for it,” Katherine said, breaking the silence and sitting up.  “I know what it’s like to come out to parents you know won’t accept you fully, but if you wanna do it, do it.  We’ll all be here for you.”

Race sighed, a small smile lighting his face.

“Just make sure you aren’t coming out because you feel like you owe it to them.  I did that, and it fucking sucked,” she continued, reaching across Spot to take Race’s hand.

“I’m just- so tired of hiding, I figure I might as well tell them.  I’ll have to eventually, it might as well be now so they have longer to come to terms with it,” Race said, hating the way his voice broke, ruining the unaffected air he was trying so desperately to present.

“Don’t you do that, Race,” Spot said, tightening his arm around him and tilting his face up so he was looking him in the eyes.  “Don’t you dare pretend around us.  We’re family, Racer, we’ll see right through you.  Don’t you pretend to be okay when you aren’t,”

Race broke down, tears leaking out of his eyes, sliding down his face, dripping into his lap.  Crutchie and Elmer were getting up, Jack was in front of him with Katherine, Spot and Albert hugged him tighter, Smalls clung to his shirt, and Davey turned the movie off.  The dark was comforting, something Race was well acquainted with, hiding the tears and swallowing the whimpers so no one outside of this room had any idea what was happening.

He was breaking, tearing at the seams, snapping the threads holding him together, pulling against any glue that might be left, so determined to be all the way broken, so maybe he could claim his life sucked, show people that he was as far from the top of the world as he could be, and be right about it.

He was breaking, any and all talk gone, left with only shaking shoulders and gasping sobs, giving him away, letting anyone accustomed enough to the dark know that he wasn’t okay, that he wasn’t at the top of the world.

He was breaking, too breathless and teary to do anything worthwhile, just sitting here, letting people too good for him comfort him, tell him he’s good, that he deserves to be happy, when he doesn’t.   No, he really doesn’t, because if he deserved it he wouldn’t be a dirty fag, he’d been the good, cishet daughter his parents deserved.  

“Antonio.”

Albert was in front of him now, another hand, probably Jack’s, was wiping away tears, Spot was kissing his hair, and Katherine was talking to him, and he couldn’t see his other friends right now, but they knew they were there, even if he didn’t deserve them to be.

“Antonio, I know it’s terrifying.  I know you’re scared they’ll kick you out.  I know you’re scared they’ll send you to conversion.  Antonio, I know.   You and I know better than anyone else in this room.  We know what it’s like to not know if you’ll make it through that discussion with a roof over your head.  We know what it’s like to look up names of conversion therapists so we know if that’s where our parents are sending us.  And that is why I’m asking you, telling you, to make sure that you’re ready to let your parents see who you really are,” Race sobbed harder, because fuck, he did know every feeling Katherine just described, and goddamn if he wasn’t scared to death of what the outcome of that disscussion with his parents would be.  He didn’t know, for fucks sake, and how was he supposed to do anything about it if he didn’t know the answer to Katherine question?

Then Katherine's voice was cutting through the fog again, bringing Race back to the present, at least a little bit.

“Y’know what, never mind, scratch that, fuck that question.  Antonio, go through your head.  Think of everything your parents have ever done.  Every way your parents have made you happy, made you mad, made you feel every emotion.  Now think of those people, and ask yourself if they deserve to know you.  Ask yourself if they deserve to understand who you are.”

Yes, his parents deserved to know him, he thought, tears slowing.

“Good.  Now, look back on you the past few weeks, and think of all your friends, everyone you have to fall back on.  Could you two weeks ago handle the possibility of getting kicked out?

Yes. Race thought, surprised at the sudden answer.  God, yes, because I have everyone in this room, and people outside of it, to fall back on.

“Could you now?” Katherine finished, and Race hadn’t even realized how close she was, running her fingers through his hair.

“I- I think so,” he whispered, looking up at Katherine through the tears in his eyes.

“Then, if you’re ready, do it.  If they deserve the real you and you can handle them reacting awfully, and you want to do it.  We’ll be there if you need us to be,” Katherine assured him, cupping his cheek and wiping away a tear.

“Promise…?” Race asked hesitantly, looking around at his friends.

His question was met with a chorus of “Of course!” “You got it, Racer,” and “We’ll be there,” and Race smiled.

Spot pulled him into his lap so his back was pressed against his chest and turned his head gently so he could kiss him, firm and slow and reassuring.  Race was sure it was messier and wetter than Spot would have liked, what with him still crying, but he relaxed into it.  Spot pulled back, resting his forehead against Race’s and cupping his cheek.  Race felt his friends settle on the couch around him, reaching out to touch him, place a hand on his back, or arm, or brush through his hair.

“We’ll be there, Tony,” Davey said, scratching his head gently.  “Anytime you need us, we’ll be there.”

God, Race loved his friends- his family- so much

Chapter Text

Race rolled over, staring blankly at the wall.  He needed to get up, his friends were coming over, but just- couldn’t.  His friends wouldn’t mind if he hadn’t gotten dressed, and his  parents knew them all, so they’d let them in.

Still, she should probably brush her teeth.

But something kept her in bed, breaking her willpower and stopping her from getting up.

He woke up to the sound of Albert bursting through his door, dropping a drink tray on his nightstand and jumping and landing on his bed.  They placed a coffee on his bed frame, sipping their own coffee and watching him push himself up out of bed.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Albert snickered, handing him his coffee once he was sitting upright.  Race sleepily flipped him off, taking the coffee and drinking deeply from it.  Albert watched silently, his face impassive when Race stopped, wiped his mouth and threw the now empty cup into the trash can.

“Thirty seconds,” they said disapprovingly, shaking their head.  “You’ve lost your edge.”

“Shut up, it’s hotter than usual,” Race whined, sticking his tongue out and fanning it.

“Why is Race trying to dry out his tongue?” Katherine asked, closing the door behind her.  Race looked at her, still fanning his tongue furiously.

“Becuf thith bithch gafe me oo ot cothee,” Race explained,  nodding like that  explained everything.

“Wow, Race, I didn’t know you spoke three languages, I thought it was just the two,” Katherine teased, dropping her bag on the floor.  Race glared at her.

“Thuck oo.”

“Basically, he tried to drink coffee really fast but it was too hot, so he probably burned his tongue,” Albert said, poking Race in the jaw.

Katherine giggled, snagging Albert’s coffee and taking a sip.  “Ooh, black, I like your style.”

“Matches my soul,” Albert replied, shrugging.  Katherine raised an eyebrow, slurping Albert’s coffee dramatically.

“Bitch, you bought your best friend who is currently laying on top of you coffee because you just know his order.  I also literally saw a drink tray with me, Spot’s, and Jack’s order, not to mention the extra coffee with sugar and creamer packets next to it because you don’t know Buttons’s order.  You’re the sappiest person I’ve ever met,” she argued, handing Albert his coffee back.  Albert stuck his tongue out at her, but didn’t exactly argue.

They ended up sitting mostly in silence as Katherine retrieved her coffee from the tray on Race’s nightstand, and Race stared blankly at the wall.  He really needed to change, but that sounded nearly impossible right now.

Race felt his phone buzz, and he saw a text from Jack to their group chat saying that he’d be over soon.  A text from Buttons and Spot came in almost immediately after, confirming that they too were on their way.  Race sighed, but finally managed to drag himself out of bed, sorting through his laundry basket to find a clean shirt and pants.  He was just turning around to tell Albert and Katherine to close their eyes when something hit him in the face.  Pulling it back, he saw a loose shirt, sweatpants, boxers, and something that looked a lot like a binder.  He looked up at Katherine and Albert, who were both smiling at him.

“Guys…” he whispered, barely able to talk through the emotion welling up in his chest.  “You-”

“Figured you’d want something masculine to come out to your parents in,” Albert explained, shrugging.

“But the binder… neither of you could have had that lying around, you didn’t have to buy me one,” Race said quietly.  Katherine scoffed.

“And pass up an opportunity to say ‘fuck you’ to my parents and use their own money to buy something for a trans kid about to come out?  Please, do you know me at all?” Katherine asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow.  “Now, you gonna change, or what?  Al, close your eyes.”

***

Spot, Jack, and Buttons all arrived around the same time, and Race was still admiring how much of a boy he looked like in the mirror.  He’d always kept his hair relatively short, just this side of long enough to pass for both girl and boy, depending on how he styled it.  Jack offered to cut it even shorter, and Race almost agreed, just so he could really reiterate with his parents that he was a fucking boy, but decided to wait until at least tonight, on the off chance that not doing anything impulsive or stupid would put his parents in a good mood and and delay any horribly transphobic comments.

Buttons was very appreciative of the coffee, and added almost all of the sugars and creamers Albert had offered.

“Oh my gosh, you’re just like Spot,” Race giggled, curled into his boyfriends side.  Spot huffed, but didn’t argue, just sipped his ridiculously sweet coffee in silence.

“Look, man, if I’m gonna drink coffee, I’m gonna make sure I enjoy it,” Buttons said, mixing her coffee and taking a sip.

“Thank you,” Spot muttered, setting his empty cup to the side.

The room went quiet, everyone presumably waiting for Race to say something.  Race however, was really fucking scared, and didn’t want to say anything for fear he might just throw up.

“When do your parents get back?” Buttons asked.  Race shrugged, glancing at his phone.

“Like, five, I think?  I don’t really know,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.  Spot kissed his hair, and Race curled a little closer, the contact grounding and reassuring.

“Okay, so, do you have a plan?” Katherine asked, gently laying her hand on Race’s.  Race shrugged, staring at Katherine’s hand tracing patterns on the back of his hand.

“Do you wanna write it down and have them read it?  It can be hard sometimes to say it out loud,” Albert suggested.

“What should I say?” Race asked quietly, looking around at his friends.

“Well, they understand what being trans is, right?  Like they get what it means, at least, so you won’t have to explain it to them.  Something like, ‘Mom, Dad, I’m trans.  I was born a girl, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that I feel like a boy, and don’t relate to female experiences’ should work,” Buttons said.

“Okay,” he whispered.  He knew he should get up a get a piece of paper to write it down, but again, he was really fucking scared, and the thought of moving from Spot’s side was terrifying.  Eventually, Jack, having been in Race’s room enough times, got up and found a pen and paper, as well as a book so he could actually write on it. He handed them off to Race, who took them tentatively, and sat back down, closer to him this time.

Race stared at the paper, at the blank canvas he was supposed to use to explain to his unsupportive parents that he was everything they didn’t believe existed.

Shit.

The paper in front of him blurred, colors in the background mixing and twisting and making it impossible to see the page.  Then he blinked, and it was back to normal, just paper and a pen, meant to create a letter that would no doubt make his parents hate him.

Fuck.

Finally, he put pen to paper, and wrote.

***

“Mamma?  Babbo?” his parents looked up, immediately concerned.  His mom closed her book, and his dad put down his phone.  Race hadn’t called his father “Babbo” since the last time he’d told them something he wasn’t sure they’d support- that, at fourteen, he’d gotten a boyfriend.

“ Cosa c'è che non va, passerotta? ” his mom asked, smiling gently at him.

Race looked over at Spot, Jack, and Albert, who all nodded slightly, and sat down across from his parents.  Spot sat on one side of him, Albert on the other, and Jack settled next to Spot.  He was pretty sure Katherine was standing in the doorway, watching everything from just out of sight.  Buttons had decided it would be best if she stayed in Race’s room, seeing as his parents didn’t like her very much.

“I- have something to tell you,” Race said, hating the way his voice caught in his throat.  Spot rested a hand on his knee, and Albert took his hand.

“What is it, angelo? ” his dad urged gently.

Under the table, Race squeezed Albert’s hand, grateful when Albert squeezed back.  He was there for him.  They weren’t going anywhere.

He pulled the letter out, stared down at it for a second, before finally pushing it across the table to his parents.

By now, he could recite the letter word for word.  It was written in Italian, because his Mom couldn’t read English very well, and it was the most vulnerable thing he’d ever written.

Dear Mamma and Babbo,

I’m not sure how to tell you this, because I’m not sure how you’re going to respond.  It’s hard, because I just want you to love me and accept me for who I am, and I’m pretty sure that telling you this will ruin all of that, but here it goes:

I’m transgender and gay.  I was born a girl, as I’m sure you know, but as I’ve grown up and gotten older, I’ve realized that I don’t feel like one.  I’m a boy.  I feel good when I get called a boy, when people say things like “he, him, his”.  I go by Antonio.  And, as a boy, I’m attracted to men.  To Sean, my boyfriend.

I know you don’t support that.  I know you think trans people like me, Brooke, and Albert are faking it.  I know.  But please, don’t try to change me.  Please, for the sake of the little girl you’ve loved for so long, don’t tell me I don’t know who I am.

Love, your son,

Antonio

He was going to throw up.  Looking at his parents’ faces, he was going to throw up.  He wanted to run away, say it was all a joke and make Jack or Katherine or someone get him the hell out of here, because his parents weren’t doing or saying anything.

Albert linked their arms, like he could feel him about to run away, and Spot slipped his arm around his waist.  Jack moved closer and kicked Race’s foot under the table, sliding his phone toward Race.  Their group chat was open on the screen, messages from Katherine, Crutchie, Davey, Smalls, and Buttons reminding him they believed in him, that they would be there for him when it was all over, that no matter what, he had other people to fall back on.  One from Smalls came through, with a message from Medda, saying that she would be there for him if it went badly, if he needed someone to act like a proper mother to him.

Race loved these people so much.

“I’m transgender and gay…” his father started suddenly, trailing off and staring down at the paper.  “I was born a girl, but I’m a boy, I go by Antonio, and as a boy, I'm attracted to men.  To Sean, my boyfriend.”

Race held his breath waiting for his mom to say something, for his dad to look up, anything.

“You know we love you, Anna…” his mom said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.  Race flinched at the blatant disuse of his name.  He felt all of his friends bristle next to him, ready to say something, to argue with his parents on his behalf.

“I’m sorry, I believe Antonio just told you that he no longer uses the name Anna.  If you really do love your son , you would use his proper name and pronouns.”

Everyone looked up to where Katherine had stepped into the room, a look Race knew all too well on her face.  Everything about her was a challenge, from her words to the way she held herself, arms folded, face cool and collected, chin tipped up and eyes locked on Race’s mom, daring her to try and disagree.

“Antonio,” his mom corrected, dropping Katherine’s gaze.  Katherine moved closer, came to stand behind Race’s chair with a hand on his shoulder, still ready to defend him the second either of his parents tried to deadname him.  Race couldn’t help but feel like he had a lawyer with him, demanding her “client” be treated correctly.

“What does it feel like?  What do you mean you ‘feel like a boy’?” his dad asked, setting the letter down on the table.

How could he explain that?  How could he get across to his cisgender parents that he wasn’t a girl?  That being a girl just… felt wrong?

“I just… have you ever had someone call you something that just felt… wrong?   Like the words they were using just didn’t fit you?  That’s what it feels like when I get called a girl.  Or… or when someone deadnames me or uses she/her pronouns instead of he/him,” he said, staring at the table.  He couldn’t bear to look his parents in the eyes right now.

His mom nodded, but his dad stayed silent, like he was still processing this.

“How do you know for sure that you’re trans?” his dad asked, looking at his mom.  “I mean, you’re still young, lots of people feel this way when they’re younger.”

Oh, fuck you, Race thought.  Fuck you for suggesting that I’m too young to know myself.

“Exactly,” his mom said, smiling.  “When I was younger, I swore off dresses and makeup and vowed to only ever dress like a boy, but I was just a tomboy, I wasn’t trans.”

Race almost cried.

How the fuck could she consider her experience as a tomboy anything similar to feeling like absolute shit and spiraling whenever someone called him “Anna” or “she”?  How could she?

“And you’re only seventeen, your brain hasn’t even fully developed yet!” his dad added, laughing.

“Though, admittedly being born a girl, you do mature faster,” his mom continued, laughing along.

They were laughing .

Here he was, baring his soul to them, letting them see the deepest, most vulnerable part of him, and they were laughing like they thought the entire experience was fucking funny .  Like they didn’t believe him, like they thought they knew him better than he knew himself.

Fuck you. He thought again, hunching his shoulders and folding in on himself and staring down at his lap, now, head hung low.  Fuck you for thinking your experience is anything like mine.  Fuck you for thinking I don’t know myself.  Fuck.  You.  I know damn well if I had told you four years ago I knew for sure I was a girl, you wouldn’t have told me that I was still young and my brain hadn’t fully developed and told me I couldn’t be sure.  The only reason you’re doing any of that now is because you think I’m not normal.  Fuck.  You.

Race felt every single one of his friends’ spines straighten, felt them all glare and open their mouths to yell and scream to try and “defend his honor” or whatever.

“Yeah,” Race managed weakly, still refusing to look up.  “Maybe you’re right.”

His friends froze, stunned by Race’s words.

“ Passerotta, we aren’t saying we want you to change.  We love you just as you are, but you never know.  You might change your mind later in life,” his mom said gently.

Race didn’t care how gentle she was,  He didn’t care how much she loved him.  He just wanted her to shut the fuck up.

“Um, I had a sleepover with Jack planned,” Race started, standing up.  He just wanted out.   “So I’m gonna go to that.  Jack’ll drive me.”

“Okay, angelo, ” his dad said, standing with him and coming around the side of the table.  He pulled him in, a tight hug that usually Race would eat up.  Now, though, he just wanted everyone to stop touching him.

His mom came and hugged him too, and Race didn’t even try to pretend to hug back or lean into it.  He wanted them, these people that claimed to love him unconditionally, to leave him alone.

As soon as they let go, Race was out the kitchen door, up the stairs and collapsing into his room, sobs wracking his body and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Fuck.  Them.

Race had never felt farther from the top of the world.

Chapter Text

Buttons was there, asking if she could touch him and reaching out to rub his back when he nodded.  Then everyone else was there too, and Spot pulled him into his lap and hugged him tight while Jack ran fingers through his hair and Albert held his hand and Buttons offered him tissues.  Race just sobbed, so completely crushed that his parents would say something like that to him.  He’d been expecting worse, and he knew he should be grateful they hadn’t kicked him out, but the reality of hearing those words, hearing them tell him they thought he was too young to know who he was, was heartbreaking.

“We got you, Racer, we got you.  We’re here.  We got you.”

Race cried harder, clinging desperately to Albert’s hand and reaching out blindly for Buttons or Jack, whichever he happened to make contact with first, and burying his head into Spot’s chest.  Here he was, sobbing so hard he couldn’t think straight, and his friends were still here, surrounding him, holding him tight, refusing to leave.  He didn’t deserve them.

Eventually, his tears slowed, enough for him to be able to look around and realize that Katherine wasn’t there.

“Where’s Kath?” he asked weakly.

Jack’s head shot up, and he looked around the room.  “Shit,” he breathed, before jumping up and practically running out the door.

Race pushed himself up, following Jack.  He didn;t understand what had Jack so worried; his brain was too exhausted to understand what Katherine being left alone with his parents meant.

Eventually, it clicked.

They had left the most protective, easily angered when it came to her friends, person Race had ever met alone with his parents.

This probably wasn’t going well.

***

Katherine was furious.

Race was here, trying to help them understand how he felt, his experiences, and they were laughing.

They were laughing about how he was “born a girl” completely disregarding how he’d told them that being called a girl felt awful.  She felt Race curl in on himself, saw the way his head dropped and his shoulders hunched, like he was trying to protect any bit of self love and self respect he had left.

She had just opened her mouth to say something when Race beat her to it.

“Yeah,” he said, still curled up like he could hide.  “Maybe you’re right.”

No.

No.

How dare they.  How dare they react in a way that would make Race doubt himself.  How.   Dare they .

She felt a couple hot tears slip down her cheeks, whether they were tears of anger at Race’s parents or sorrow at Race’s acceptance of what they said, she wasn’t sure.

“ Passerotta, we aren’t saying we want you to change.  We love you just as you are, but you never know.  You might change your mind later in life.”

Katherine barely paid attention to the entire sentence.  ‘ Passerotta’?   She wasn’t fucking stupid, she knew damn well that was the feminie ending.  If they really loved Race like they said they did, she would have corrected herself, or just not made the mistake at all.

Again, she opened her mouth to speak, and again, Race beat her to it.

“Um, I have a sleepover with Jack planned.  So I’m gonna go to that.  Jack’ll drive me.”

Both of his parents stood up and hugged Race, and he was so clearly uncomfortable, so obviously against the idea of them touching him, and Katherine couldn’t blame him.  She would be too.

And then he practically ran out of the room, Spot, Jack, and Albert all trailing behind him.  Katherine followed, glancing back at the Higginses.  She was so mad.

At Race’s door, she stopped.  He already had four people around him, comforting him, making sure he was okay.

He wouldn’t miss one more.

Katherine ducked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.  She pulled a piece of toilet paper off the roll, and gently dabbed at the tears that had slipped down her cheeks.  She was careful not to mess up her makeup, because she knew how intimidating looking well put together was, so she was going to look her absolute fucking best when going to confront the Higginses.

After checking to make sure everything looked alright, she planned what she was going to say.

Five minutes later, Katherine left the bathroom, stopping to look into Race’s room one more time.  He was sitting in Spot’s lap, face buried in his chest, holding Albert and Buttons' hands tightly.  Jack had a hand in his hair, combing through it gently.  His tears seemed to be slowing, which was good.  Satisfied, Katherine turned back toward the kitchen.

When she entered, Mr. and Mrs. Higgins were discussing something quietly.  They turned when they heard Katherine, smiling at her.

“Do you need anything, Katherine?” Mrs. Higgins asked, and it took everything in Katherine to not just slap her, but physical violence wasn’t her thing.  No, she had words, and she would die before she left this room without using those words to show then both how fucking wrong they were.

“I just wanted to talk to you about Antonio.  He’s been out to me for a while, and I wanted to help you understand some things,” she replied sweetly.

They nodded, sitting back down.  Katherine took a seat across from them, folding her hands on the table.

“I was just wondering, how, exactly, did Tony coming out make you feel?” Katherine asked, tone still sweet.

“I know I speak for both of us when I say we really are happy she trusted us enough to come out to us,” Mr. Higgins said, smiling at his wife.  “It’s just, she’s never said anything about feeling like this before.  We know her-”

“No.” Katherine interrupted, leaning forward across the table.   Her tone changed from sweet to vicious, her expression from soft and helpful to hard and almost threatening.  I know Tony.  I’ve known Tony since before he came out.  I have been there for every breakdown, every dysphoric moment, every late night phone call because he was freaking out about how you would respond to him coming out.  He’s been out to me for three.  Years.  I always wondered why he waited so long to come out to you two, and now, I know why.  After the shit you pulled today, telling Tony he “wasn’t fully mature” and “his brain hadn’t developed”, I understand every time he worried about you kicking him out, every time he cried because you said something transphobic.”

“Well, we-”

“I am not done!” Katherine interrupted, now openly glaring at the two sitting across from her.  “I know what it’s like to not be accepted for who you are.  I know what it’s like to feel like your parents, the people who you have been made to believe love you unconditionally, are disappointed in you for being who you are.  You made Antonio feel that way today.  You let him come out to you, let him show you the most vulnerable side of himself, and you told him he wasn’t mature enough to know who he was for sure.  You laughed and made jokes about how he was “born a girl”, ignoring the way he curled in on himself.  You made him feel like you didn’t love him, and if I know Tony, that’ll only send him spiraling.”

“Spiraling how?” Mr. Higgins asked tentatively.

“Spiraling thinking that if his parents, the people that brought him into this world, can’t love him, no one can.  I love Tony so fucking much, and if he starts to doubt that because of the way you reacted to him coming out, I swear to god-” Katherine cut herself off before she could threaten her best friend’s parents, sitting back in her chair, posture perfect in a way she knew was intimidating.  “Today, you were shitty parents.  Tony doesn’t deserve that.  He needs space, so he’ll be staying at one of his friends’ places for a few days, and I suggest you use that time to seriously consider how you reacted, and if good, loving parents would have reacted that way.”  She stood up, casting one last disdainful look at the Higginses.  They looked truly ashamed now, like they were really thinking over everything she had said.  Good.

Turning around she made eye contact with Jack, standing in the doorway, his face a strange mixture of pride and exasperation.  Spot, Race, Buttons, and Albert were all there, and Spot too looked strangely proud.  Albert and Buttons were grinning like idiots, and Race looked like he was about to cry again.  When Katherine was close enough, Jack wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek, shaking his head.  Race threw his arms around her, pressing his face into her shoulder and whispering “thank you”.

“I’ll be here for you, love.  Whatever it takes.  I’ll be here,” she promised, kissing Race’s hair.

***

Jack pulled into the driveway, parking the car and unlocking the doors.  Slowly, Race got out, much slower than any of the others.  Jack led him to the door with a hand on his back, and as soon as they were through the door, Ms. Medda Larkin was pulling him into a hug.  She was warm and comforting and gave the best hugs, and Race felt more at home in her arms than he had in either of his parents’ earlier that day.  

“Now, I know today was hard for you, so I figured I’d offer a bath in my bathroom if you want.  Peaceful, time to relax, I’ve got some candles and bath bombs you can use, and you can hook your phone up to my bluetooth speaker if you want to.  You don’t have to if you’d rather be with your friends, but I just thought I’d offer,” Medda whispered, rubbing his back gently.

“That… actually sounds really nice, Mama Medda, thank you,” Race said, blinking hard so he didn’t start crying again.  Medda just gave him that comforting smile he’d seen so many times before and waved his friends up the stairs, leading him to her bathroom.

She set about getting out her candles and bath bombs, setting a lighter on the counter.  She helped him connect his phone to the bluetooth, showed him where the towels were, and left.

As soon as she was gone, Race collapsed on the edge of the bathtub and stared intently at his backpack.  His mind was racing, far more awake than it had been seconds before, considering what was in that backpack and what he could do with it.

Eventually, he pushed himself up, crossed the room to his backpack, reached inside, and pulled out a razor.

***

Oh, god, it was everywhere.

There was blood on his thighs, too many cuts and lines and scars to count, too crowded, too many, too many, too many, there wasn’t any room for another cut, but he couldn’t stop, he needed more, more adrenaline, more pain, more blood, it was the only thing stopping him for just ending it, the only thing keeping the window closed and the medicine bottle screwed shut.

When he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, he saw them.

His wrists.

Smooth, perfect skin, aching to be cut, to be ripped into pieces by his razor, to be ruined by this sadistic need in his head.

His razor hovered over his left wrist.

Down it came, biting into skin, pulling fast and leaving trails of blood in its wake, bright red and so familiar.  It hurt more up here, the skin was thinner, right by that vein, and that pain was intoxicating.  He didn’t know how he’d resisted the urge up until now, how he’d stopped himself from cutting up here.

For the first time, Racetrack Higgins had cut somewhere someone could see.

Right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the consequences of that.

***

He stared at himself in the mirror in horror.

He felt like he’d scarred Ms. Medda’s bathroom somehow, using it to hurt someone when usually she was so against that.  He felt bad, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, right?

Now dead tired again, all the adrenaline from cutting gone, Race started the bath, lit the candles, and found a red bath bomb.

There, that should hide the blood.

He started a playlist, noted it as one of the rock ones Albert had put on his phone, turned off the water, and collapsed into the bathtub.

The water was warm, and Race watched as it picked up the blood he hadn’t been able to clean off with a piece of wet toilet paper on his wrists and thighs and spread it around, winding tendrils of red among the clear water.  He reached for the bath bomb and dropped it in.

As he watched it melt in the water, he tuned back into whatever song was playing now.  He recognized it, it was one Albert played a lot, but as he listened to the lyrics, he realized how relatable the lyrics of the chorus were.

Maybe it’s not my weekend…

Yeah, it sure as hell wasn’t his weekend.

But it’s gonna be my year.

It could be, if his parents either stopped being transphobic, or he stopped caring.  But this year, this first year of being fully out, of feeling so on top of the world all the time, could be his.  If he let it.

I’m so sick of watching while the minutes pass as I go nowhere.

That was what had finally convinced him to come out.  The realization that he was tired of hiding, tired of pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

This is my reaction to everything I fear

This.  Cutting, crying, dealing with it afterward, but doing it.   Coming out, making himself known, that was how he had reacted despite how fucking terrified he’d been of getting kicked out.  

Cause I’ve been going crazy

Hiding, lying, getting misgendered, it had driven him absolutely insane. He’d never felt like he was good enough, never felt on top of the world or like he was anywhere, at all.

I don’t wanna waste another minute here

He didn’t.  He was so sick of hiding, so tired of being closeted, so he’d come out.  He’d come out, shown the two people he was most terrified to who he was, and it had landed him here.  Here, in the weird in between, where he wasn’t sure how his parents felt, how he felt.

He was already tired of “here”.

Chapter Text

Race groaned when the alarm went off, rolling over.  He knew he had to get up, he had school, but he was going to lay here for just a little longer.

A few minutes later, he dragged himself out of bed and started heading downstairs sleepily.  

“Jack, is that you honey?” Medda called, not looking up from where she was standing over the stove.

“No, Mama Medda, ‘s just me,” Race responded sleepily, slumping into a chair and dropping his head on the table.

Medda turned around, surprise and concern lighting her face.

“Oh, Tony, baby, you should be asleep!  You had a rough day yesterday,” she said, walking over him.  Race nodded into the table, but didn’t move.  “C’mon, baby, let’s get you back upstairs.”

“I’ve got school,” Race argued weekly.

“I already had your parents call you in sick, you aren’t going anywhere,” Medda said, brushing her hand through Race’s hair.  Race hummed, turning his head so he could look at Medda.

“I’ve got classes I’m gonna miss.  Rehearsal later, too,” he tried, but Medda was already pulling him up and guiding him to the staircase.

“No, honey, rehearsal’s cancelled.  I got the next couple days off work to stay and take care of you.  Don’t you waste that by going to school.”  Race let her lead him upstairs, and into the guest bedroom he was sleeping in.  She stopped in the doorway, watching him stumble over to his bed and roll up in the blankets.

“Alright, baby, I’ll see you later,” she said.  Race waved sleepily, eyes just barely open.  Medda’s face changed, surprise and concern and sadness passing over her features.  It was gone in a second, so fast that he wasn’t even sure he’d seen it.  He couldn’t think why she would react like that, too far into sleep to think properly.

***

The next time Race woke up, it was to the sound of the door opening.  Medda poked her head in and saw him, taking a full step into the room.

“You awake, Tony?” she asked.  Race groaned and nodded, sitting up groggily.  “Oh, you don’t have to get up if you don’t wanna, you can stay in bed,” Medda assured him, sitting in the edge of his bed.

“I don’t think I could go back to sleep,” Race whispered, leaning his head against Medda’s shoulder.

“Well then, why don’t you come in downstairs?  I can make you something to eat and we can put on a movie, how’s that sound?  Yeah?  Okay, c’mon, honey, let’s go.”  Race let Medda pull him up and followed her, slowly waking up as he went.  Yesterday was coming back to him slowly, little sentences or phrases he remembered piecing together until he got the whole memory.

Oh, right.

He was out.

Shit.

As his conversation with his parents came back, he felt a wave of emotion crash over him, and suddenly a tear was slipping down his cheek, and then another, and then so many he had to bite his tongue to keep from sobbing and drawing attention to himself.

He should have known better than to try, though, because Medda was strangely in tune to other people's emotions.  She seemed to sense something was wrong and looked back at him, stopping when she saw the tears streaming from his eyes.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?”

Oh, where to start?

“Everything,” he sobbed, clutching at his arms.  When he did, his hoodie sleeve lifted just a bit, and he saw the cuts.

Fuck.

“Tell me what ‘everything’ is,” Medda prompted, and Race shook his head.

“Just- I’m out, my parents didn’t accept me- I knew they wouldn’t, but it still hurt, y’know?  Coming out was always this kinda dream- something that sounded nice, but that I didn’t think I’d ever have to actually do.  So I knew they wouldn’t be happy about it, but I didn’t realize just what that meant until I had done it.  And now I’m here, missing school and making you skip work all because I can’t handle a little transphobia.”  It sounded even more pathetic and ridiculous out in the open.  How could Medda stand him?  How could anyone stand him?  Not even his own parents could love him, how could he expect anyone else to?

“Antonio,” Medda said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “Antonio, I don’t know what thought process you’re going through, but you need to stop.  Here, come sit on the couch with me, hm?”  Medda didn’t give him a chance to argue, just led him over to the couch and sat down on it.  Race followed her somewhat reluctantly, slipping one of his hands into his hoodie sleeve to dig his nails into his skin.  Medda caught the motion, but said nothing, instead opening her arms and letting him fall into her side.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Everything.   Everything was so wrong it hurt .  He couldn’t breathe, memories and words flashing through his head, reminding him that his parents were disappointed, they were so disappointed, and now he was ruining his chance to be so good and perfect they’d have no choice but to love him.  If only he could do everything right, maybe they would be so proud of him and love him so much they couldn’t be disappointed, but now he was staying home from school because he was too fucking emotional to go.

“Just- stressed.”

Medda hummed like she knew there was much more to it, but didn’t push him.  He was grateful for that.

“Well, I think it’s a little too soon to talk through all this.  You need time to process this, so I’m gonna turn on a movie, and I want you to sit here and watch it while I go make us some lunch, how’s that sound?” Race nodded slowly, digging his fingernails harder into his skin.

Medda turned on the TV and handed him the remote, then left, throwing one last worried look over her shoulder.

Race scrolled mindlessly through Netflix, not really comprehending everything he was seeing.  They were all just words and pictures and boxes on a screen, too hard to see and uninteresting to convince him to pay any attention to them.  He clicked randomly on some TV show, completely unaware of what it was, and laid down to watch it

He was asleep before the intro finished.

***

When he woke up again, the room was way too bright, so he kept his eyes closed.  As he woke up more, he realized he could just barely hear a few words from a whispered conversation, and strained to hear more of it.

“ Sleep… did you see?… on his wrists… worried… first time?… hasn’t eaten… ”

Were they talking about him?

Was Medda telling Jack about the cuts?

Fuck .

Race stood up as quietly as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself.  He didn’t want them to see him, didn’t want them to talk to him, didn’t want to have to explain.  He slipped to the bathroom, grateful no one was there, and Jack and Medda weren’t talking in the hallway.  As soon as he was inside, he locked the door and slipped to the floor, leaving the light off.

Why did he have to fuck everything up?

Why couldn’t he just- stop?

Stop cutting, stop being trans, stop making everyone hate him, stop making everyone else suffer because he couldn’t suck it up and be normal.

He felt hot tears threatening to spill over, threatening a flood that couldn’t be stopped.  He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to keep them at bay, because he needed to stay quiet so no one knew where he was or how much he was hurting.  He couldn’t let anyone know.

Another part of him fought back, begged someone to recognize how broken he was, how he’d fallen from the top of the world, how he couldn’t seem to just be happy.   It tried to let him make noise so someone would know he was hurting and come to help him.

Those two sides of him fought, refusing to let him think straight, forcing him to just sit there, lost in too many thoughts and too many opinions and too many feelings and too many tears and too many, too many, too many help me I can’t breathe-

Silent tears rolled down his face, like he’d made some kind of sick compromise with himself, allowing him to cry, but not sob.  No, he was stuck in this awful in between of a real, good cry and not crying at all.

“Antonio, love, open the door.”

Katherine.  He should’ve known she’d come with Jack.

“Tony, I know you’re there.  Let me in.”

She wouldn’t give up.

So he reached up and opened the door.

Katherine closed and locked it behind her, but didn’t turn the light on.  She slid down the wall next to him, gently pulled his hands away from his eyes, and wiped tears off his face.  She was so warm, her fingers brushing his hair out of his eyes and arms wrapping around him tight, trapping him here, forcing him to be comforted, and god, Katherine gave the best hugs.  He buried his head in her shoulder, willing himself to stop crying, to stop being such a wimp, because Katherine had been through so much more than him and he had no right to accept any comfort she gave, because he didn’t fucking deserve it .

“Oh, honey, it’s okay.  Let it all out, c’mon.  Medda and Jack aren’t here, they can’t hear you.  It’s just you and me, cry it out,” Katherine whispered soothingly.

That seemed to be all Race needed, because as soon as she stopped talking, he was crying harder, choking on sobs determined to rip free.  Katherine was there through it all, petting his hair and holding him as close as she could.

Without thinking about it, too caught up in tears and thoughts, he slipped his hand inside his hoodie sleeve, intending to dig his nails in, or maybe scratch at the scabs forming.  It was just habit, something that just happened, whether he wanted it to or not.  He didn’t even know he was doing it, all he just knew was that he was crying, and there was only one effective coping mechanism he had to stop him from crying.  Katherin wrapped her hands around his wrists, though, pulling them away from each other and instead locking them in a position like a straight jacket so she could hug him and still keep him from hurting himself.

The act shocked him enough that his tears slowed.  He hadn’t expected her to care.  He didn’t think anyone cared.  

It felt really fucking nice.

Katherine kept holding him like that, kept saving him from himself, kept being there for him.  She didn’t pressure him to talk, or answer questions, or shut up, or do anything at all other than sit there and let her be there for him.

Someone knocked on the door, one quick knock, one long knock, two quick knocks, two long knocks, and two more quick ones.

Morse code.

L… M… I…

Short for “let me in”.

Spot.

“Come in...” he said weakly.  Katherine reached over and opened the door, and sure enough, Spot was standing on the other side, worry and relief etching his face.

Spot dropped to the floor, reaching out and gently brushing tears from his face.  Race looked up at him, hurting so much and wanting it all to stop so bad.  And somehow, Spot knew that look, knew what he needed, knew exactly how to comfort him.  He pulled Race into his arms, kissed his hair and started singing softly in Spanish.

He could usually decipher at least some of the words- Italian and Spanish were very similar, after all, but he was too emotional to understand anything right now.  All he knew was Spot , Spot all around him, singing to him, kissing his head in between words, rocking them gently there on the bathroom floor.  They just sat like that for a while, and Race couldn’t get over how Spot was so perfect, and Race didn’t deserve him.

“H-how can you lo-love me?  How can you- can you- you- want to be ar-round me?  Not- not even my fucking parents can- can love me, how could you?” Race sobbed, curling in on himself.

“Because, Antonio, I know you.  I know that you’re a math genius and a hell of a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.  I know you’re the prettiest damn boy I’ve ever seen, and I know you’re a boy.   I know you aren’t some extreme tomboy, or whatever shit your parents told you,” Spot responded automatically, tilting Race’s chin up so he had to meet his eyes.

“And how do you know that?” he asked softly, staring hopelessly into Spot’s eyes.

“Because I’ve had girlfriends before, Racer.  I know what it feels like to be in love with a girl.  This feels nothing like it.”  And then he kissed him, sweet and slow and reassuring, and Race was sure it was too messy to be perfect or life changing, but god, he felt so much better.  He was still crying, something that couldn’t be helped, but Spot just kissed him again, cradling his face in his hands like he sas something valuable, something that had to be kept safe.

“I love you so much.  I know you don’t believe me, I know you think you’re worthless, but I love you more than anything.  I really, really fucking love you.” Spot murmured.

“I love you too,” Race said, tears mostly gone.  He tucked himself into Spot’s chest, and smiled when Spot rested his head on top of him.  Neither said anything, but it wasn’t awkward.  No, it was perfect.

He realized that they were alone.  Katherine’s must’ve left soon after Spot showed up.  Race was really glad Katherine had given them privacy.  He didn’t need Katherine to seem him cry so hard again.

“Hey, Tony…”

“Hm?”

“How long?”

He didn’t even need to ask what he meant.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it, Sean…”

“You don’t have to, I swear, just tell me how long you’ve been- been cutting yourself.”

That was the first time anyone had said it out loud.

“Four months.”

“Okay.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Spot reacted quickly, pulling away from Race just barely and holding his face in his hands.

“No.  No, Antonio, I am not mad at you.  I’m sad, sure, but this is the only way you knew to cope.  That’s okay.  I swear to you that I’ll get you what you need to get better, but I am not mad.”

“I love you, Spotty…”

Spot smiled softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, Racer.”

Chapter Text

He loved dance, more than anything, but god, it hurt.

Every plié, leap, and turn pulled on his scabs and distracted him from what he was doing.  It was so hard  to focus, and the fact that he kept catching sight of them in the mirror really wasn’t helping.

He was sure the class was great- they were learning the choreography for their next show, and Mx. Crane was a choreo genius, but he could not for the life of him think of one thing they’d gone over.

Once class was over, He noticed Jojo heading toward him.  That was a little weird, because Jojo’s parents were pretty strict about curfew, and they were usually rushing out the door to get home in time.  Race didn’t mind them coming over to talk to him, though.  They seemed cool, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, they were dating Buttons.

“Hey Jojo!  How ya doing?” Race asked, smiling tiredly.

“Pretty good,” Jojo replied, and Race noticed the usual bubbly enthusiasm was missing from their voice.

“You need something?  ‘Cause really, I’m not the one to ask, I completely zoned out during-”

“Well, I just… I saw your cuts, Race, and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay? I guess okay isn’t really the right word, you clearly aren’t if you’re cutting- I’m not judging, or anything, that totally came out wrong, I’m so sorry-”  they cut themselves off, taking a deep breath before looking back up at Race.  “I just wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be afraid to talk to someone.  Me, your parents, Spot, Jack.  I’m sure we’d all be happy to help you.”

Well, shit, now he was crying.

He couldn’t even tell if he was crying because god, that was so nice- or if it was because now even then mention of cutting set him off.  Jojo looked anxious, like they were hoping they’d said the right thing, and Race really hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to Jojo before now, but they were so innocent and sweet.  It was adorable.

“Thanks, Jojo.  Means a lot.  I’m alright, though, I promise,” Race said, blinking hard.  Jojo smiled, a bit of their usual cheerfulness coming back.  They paused, like they weren’t sure if they should leave or not.  After a second, they leaned forward and wrapped their arms around Race.

He froze, not expecting the contact, but quickly hugged them back.  It felt really nice.

Jojo pulled back after a moment, smiling at Race.  “I gotta go, now.  I’ll see you next class!”

And then he was gone, leaving Race feeling like someone cared.

***

He’d been away from his parents for eight days, nineteen hours, and seven minutes.

And now he was going back.

He had to eventually, he knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier.

He stared out the window of Medda’s car, not really seeing anything, just letting the colors blur together and fly past and swirl around and disappear.  There weren’t any thoughts in his head, just lyrics at the back of his mind and emptiness demanding that he pay attention to nothing.

He was going home because he wanted to.  He knew that, but going back was just so hard.

He wouldn’t even be going home if it weren’t for his sister.

His sister, who was coming home from college for spring break tomorrow.

He wanted to be back to see his sister.

So when the car pulled into the driveway, he took a deep breath, grabbed his string backpack and dance bag, and got out of the car.

Spot was waiting for him, pulling him close and wrapping an arm around his waist in reassurance.  Race was glad Spot was staying with him, because he didn’t know what he’d do if he was left alone.

Whatever it was, he really, really didn’t want to do it.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.  I’m right here,” Spot whispered, pressing a kiss to Race’s temple.

Race smiled briefly, curling closer to Spot.  “Thanks, sugar.”

Medda handed him his bag, smiling warmly at him.  “C’mon, Tony honey, let’s go in.”

Race nodded hesitantly, obviously steeling himself for what he knew was coming.  After another moment, he started walking, slowly, towards the front door.

***

Race was in the bathroom.  He didn’t want to be here, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

Spot was gone, had to go home, and Medda had probably left too.  It was just him and his parents, his parents that had deadnamed him the moment he walked in.

He had a razor in his hand, and was this close to dragging it across his thigh when someone knocked on the door.

“Coming!” he called, voice shaking, so clearly not okay, but he doubted his parents would even notice.

“Antonio, baby, let me in.  I know what you’re doing in there.”

Medda.

Her words were gentle, so impossibly gentle, where they should’ve sounded harsh and angry and accusing, should’ve been screamed at him, justified only by the fact that she cared.

Instead, they were soft, loving, like she wasn’t going to stop him, like she just wanted to talk to him.

Race opened the door, standing in front of Medda, his second mother that was acting a hell of a lot more motherly than his actual mom, scars on full display, about to break down in front of the best person in the world.

“Oh, Tony, ” Medda whispered, and she sounded so sad, so heartbroken, at the sight of scars Race had long since come to accept.

She stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind her, and turned off the light.

Race wondered if they were that bad, if he was so scarred and fucked up Medda couldn’t bear to look at him.

It was like she read his mind, because a second later Medda’s voice came, saying: “It’s alway easier to talk through feelings in the dark,” and Race knew she was telling the truth, knew she wouldn’t lie to him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Medda said firmly.  “Don’t you ever be sorry for this.  You only reacted this way because your parents refused to give you what you needed.  That’s their fault, not yours, so don’t you ever be sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Now, Tony, I didn’t tell your parents about the self harm, because I wasn’t sure you wanted me to, but I can,” Medda fontinued.

“Do I have to tell them?” Race whined, even though he knew the answer.

“Yes, baby.  You need to tell them so you can get better.”. Race groaned, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor.  Medda kneeled down next to him, careful not to touch him.  “Speaking of getting better.” she added softly.  She didn’t keep going until Race looked up at her.  “I brought you some clean razors, bandages, alcohol wipes, and long sleeved shirts, as well as a leotard you can wear at dance.  I want you to work on harm reduction, but that’ll be easier once your parents know.”  She set everything she had told him about down on the floor next to her, still careful not to get too close to Race.

Race was too stunned to speak.  Here Medda was, with her own kids to worry about, having taken the time to go out and buy him all this.  If he wasn’t so damn exhausted, he'd probably be bawling his eyes out.  He leaned forward and pulled Medda into a fierce hug.  He couldn’t believe she cared about him this much.

“Thank you,” he managed, voice catching in his throat when Medda wrapped her arms around him.

“Of course,” Medda replied quietly.  She stayed there with him for a few moments, holding him tightly.  Then, carefully, she extracted herself from Race’s arms and stood up.  “Good night, Antonio.  Call me if you need anything,” she said, and then she was gone.

Race sat on the floor for a few more minutes, before finally pushing himself to his feet..  He threw away his old razor and tucked the new package, alcohol wipes, and bandages in a corner under the sink, grabbed the shirts and leotard, and left the room.

He didn’t cut that night.

***

Maya was getting ready for bed in a hotel in Albany, unable to keep a smile off her face.  She was going home tomorrow, home to Antonio and her friends and everything else she’d left behind when she moved away to college.  She was so excited.

Her smile only grew when her phone lit up, a picture of a feral cat filling the screen and the most annoying ringtone possible blasting at full volume.  Antonio was calling.  She picked up her phone and swiped to answer it.

“Cosa, non puoi semplicemente aspettare fino a domani?” she asked, voice light and teasing.  She could practically hear her brother roll her eyes on the other line.

“No, ero solo annoiato e ho pensato che la tua sciocchezza potesse essere divertente,” came the sarcastic reply, but Maya could hear the smile underneath his words.

“Perché non hai chiamato il tuo ragazzo?” Maya shot back.  Antonio was silent, clearly without a good enough response.  “Io vinco,” she teased.

“Shut up,” he huffed, and Maya grinned.  He went quiet, something that immediately had Maya on edge.  Tony was never quiet.

“Ehi,” she said softly.  “Cosa c'è che non va?”

Her brother was quiet for a little bit longer, before he took in a deep, shuddering breath.

“I-I came out Mamma and Babbo…” he whispered.  Maya froze.  She knew he would eventually, but she had been expecting him to wait until she was home.  Until she could be there for him, protect him from their parents.

“Presumo che non l'abbiano presa bene,” Maya replied.  She kept speaking Italian, almost like it was a shield.  Tony was the only person she spoke Italian with.  Not even with her parents did she speak it, too used to practicing their English at home so she didn’t make a total fool of herself at school.  No, only with Tony would she speak Italian, because only with Tony did she know she could let her guard down.

Tony laughed bitterly, a wet noise that sounded more like a sob than anything else.  “Yeah, no…”

“Cos'hanno detto?” she asked, her voice getting hard.

“They said… they said-” Tony cut himself off, a sob tearing through the phone.  Maya felt a pain in her chest, like she could feel his emotional pain in a physical way, and she cursed herself for not coming home sooner, for ever leaving him alone with their parents in the first place.

“Che cosa hanno detto, Antonio?” Maya asked again, and maybe she was being too hard, too aggressive, wasn’t worrying about him enough, but she needed to know.

“They said I was too young!  Said my brain hadn’t fully developed, that I wasn’t mature enough to know for sure that I was trans,” he cried, and Maya could hear the broken sobs through the phone.

“Oh, Tony…” Maya said.  If only she was there, if only she could hold him and calm him and go scream at their parents for hurting this beautiful, innocent boy when he was just trying to live his life.

“I can’t wait for you to come home,” Tony managed through tears, and all of a sudden, Maya was leaving as soon as she could tomorrow.

“Non vedo l'ora di essere a casa, passero,” Maya responded, wanting more than anything to be there next to him..

She turned on FaceTime, wincing at the sight of her brother’s tear-stained face.  She started humming softly, a song their parents sang to them years ago.

“Noo... nonna nonna, la bimba mia l'angelo l'addormenta,” her brother murmured, eyes slipping closed.

“Noo... se l'addormenta adesso che è piccolina quando diventa grande s'addormenta da sola,” Maya sang back, watching her brother’s tears slow and dry on his cheeks.  “Quando sono nata nacqui a mare nacqui tra i Turchi ed i Mori.”

“Buonanotte Maya,” Tony whispered.  His breathing was slowing, getting deeper and closer to sleep.

“Sogni d'oro, angelo. Starò con te finché non dormirai,” Maya said, then continued to sing softly.  Tony was asleep in a few minutes.

Maya smiled gently, about to end the call when she noticed something.  Thin red lines, there on Antonio’s wrist…

Oh fuck.

Chapter Text

“Ann- Antonio, scendi! Tua sorella è a casa!”

Race shot up off his bed, bounding out the door and down the stairs.  Sure enough, there, waiting by the door, was Maya, a slightly stunned expression on her face.

“Maya!” Race cried, skipping the last couple steps to give her a hug.  Maya wrapped her arms around him, tugging on his hair the way she’d done since they were kids.

“Bello vederti, passerotto,” Maya said.

Race pulled away, grinning wildly.  He looked over at his mom, who was smiling softly at the two of them.

“Come, come, angelo, put your bags down in your room.  Antonio, help your sister take her bags up.”  And then their mom bustled away, back to the kitchen to finish whatever she was making.

“She’s-  she’s using your real name and pronouns.  She isn’t- she isn’t deadnaming you,” Maya said.  Race nodded slowly, picking up one of Maya’s bags and heading towards the stairs.

Once they were safe in Maya’s room, she collapsed on her bed, leaving room for Race to lay down next to her.

“So, what happened to make Mamma so cool about it?” Maya asked.  Race shrugged, staring up at the ceiling.

“Well, when I came out to them, Mamma and Papà said… some things.  Anyway, I left as soon as I could, but some of my friends had been down there with me, and most of them followed me up to my room to comfort me, but-  Katherine stayed down there.  We didn’t realize she was gone for a while, but when we did we walked into her telling them off.  So- I think that kinda helped them.  And I sorta avoided them as much as possible yesterday, cause it was awkward, so-  I guess Mamma at least is okay with it.”

“Go Katherine,” Maya said mildly, pulling one of her blankets over her feet.

“Yeah,” Race agreed, closing his eyes.  He started absentmindedly scratching at the scabs on his wrist, not really thinking about what he was doing.  one caught under his nail and came off.  Race could feel the blood well up immediately, staining his fingers and wrist.

“Shit,” he muttered, pressing the edge of his shirt to his wrist.  Maya turned to look at him, eyes widening when she saw the blood soaking through his shirt.

“Shit, Tony, what happened?” Maya asked, sitting up.  Her fingers hovered over Race’s wrist like she wanted to help, but wasn’t sure if he would let her.

“I was just scratching at the-“ Race cut himself off, too ashamed to say it out loud.

“Self harm scars.”

Race hung his head, watching the blood seep through his shirt.  He could feel Maya watching him, could feel the pity in her gaze.

“Tony, have you ever heard of the Butterfly Project?”

Race looked up, but flinched when he met Maya’s eyes and immediately looked away again.

“Uh, no.  What is it?”

“The Butterfly Project is something created to help people with self harm.  Basically, any time you want to hurt yourself, you draw a butterfly where you want to do it.  Then you name it after someone you love.  You can’t scrub it off, you have to wait for it to fade naturally.  The idea is if you harm yourself there, you “killed” the butterfly,” Maya explained, and Race glanced up at her quickly again.  “So, you could name it after Spot, Albert, Jack, Katherine… whoever you want.”

Race’s eyes flicked up to her, then away, then back to her.  He looked like a little kid, scared and tentative.  “Could I, uh.”  He cleared his throat, then looked back up at Maya.  “Could I name it after you?”

“Sure,” Maya answered, voice suddenly thick.  “If you wouldn’t prefer to name it after your boyfriend.”

Race shook his head, not looking at her.  He leaned into her side, breathing a little easier.  Even if no one else did, Maya cared about him.  He would try to stop, if only for her.

***

“C’mere, Racer,” Spot said softly, pulling Race down into his lap.  He wrapped his arms around him, pulling his back to his chest.  Race sighed, slumping back into his boyfriend.  Spot leaned to the side, looking at Race.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Today’s just been- exhausting,” Race answered, eyes slipping closed.

“Wanna talk about it?” Spot asked.

Race shook his head.  “Done too much talkin’ between Maya comin’ home and dinner with you guys.”

Spot nodded, resting his chin on Race’s shoulder.  “That’s okay, darlin’, you don’t gotta talk if you don’t want to.  I’m here.”

Spot rocked Race back and forth, humming softly to him.  Race let his hands drop down to where Spot’s were wrapped around his waist, warm and heavy and reassuring.  Spot linked one of their hands together, pressing a kiss to Race’s jaw.  He smiled when Race’s breath stuttered, and kissed his neck.  He started peppering Race’s cheek, neck, jaw, whatever he could reach, with kisses, grinning at the breathless giggles that fell from Race’s mouth.

Finally, Spot slowed, pressing one last sweet, soft kiss to his neck.  He took a deep breath, hiding his face in the crook of Race’s neck.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he hummed.  Race blushed, playing with Spot’s fingers.  “No, I’m not joking,” Spot insisted.  “You’re just.  So pretty.  Gorgeous.   I don’t know how I was lucky enough to find you, but I did, and thank god.  You’re so pretty.”

Something about the way Spot said it made Race feel like it was deeper than Spot was saying.  Like he meant Race wasn’t just pretty outside, but maybe inside too.

“Too scarred to be pretty,” Race muttered, ducking his head.

Spot’s head shot up, turned to the side so he could look at Race.

“Hey,” Spot said softly.  “Hey, hey… look at me?”  Race shook his head, blinking back tears.  “Tony, baby, please look at me?”

Race relented, leaning back to look at Spot.  Spot pulled one of his hands away from Race, waist, cupping his cheek.  His other hand moved to hold Race’s waist tighter, pulling him as close as possible.

“Scars don’t make you any less pretty, sweetheart,” Spot whispered.  “You’re beautiful, with or without them.  No one that you want in your life will care.”

“But they- they- they’re different.  They make me different,” Race argued, blinking back tears.

“I like different,” Spot said simply, leaning a little closer to Race.

“But you shouldn’t like my kind of different!  It’s- it- it should make you stop loving me!  How could you love something so fuckin- so fucked up.   My kinda different makes for a shitty partner.”

“I got football scars, and they don’t stop you from loving me, do they?”

“That’s different,” Race protested.  “Your scars are a sign you did something good.  Mine come from something- something shameful.  You-”

Spot kissed Race, effectively cutting him off.  He couldn’t listen to Race talk like this anymore, not without breaking.  Spot could feel tears slipping down Race’s face, could taste them on Race’s lips.  

Spot leaned back resting his forehead on Race’s, looking him in the eyes intently.

“Self harm ain’t shameful, Tony.  It’s just something that happened to you.  Don’t think we don’t love you just ‘cause something pushed you to pick up a razor.”

Chapter Text

The next time Race stood in the bathroom, staring at his razor, he stopped.  He remembered what Maya said, about the Butterfly Project.  Instead of getting out a blade, he got out a Sharpie.  Instead of drawing harsh lines in red across his skin, he drew black, curving lines, forming butterflies and names.  Suddenly, there were pretty butterflies all over his arm, each with a little name written underneath.

One on the inside of his wrist.  Sean.

One up by his elbow.  Maya.

One just under Maya’s.  Katherine.

One right above Spot’s.  Jack.

One right in the middle of the other four.  Albert.

All the people he cared about.  All the people he was willing to stop for.

He really, really wanted to add his parents to that list, even if a large part of him was still terrified they’d suddenly go back on their sudden support.

***

“Mamma?” Race said tentatively, standing in the living room doorway.  She looked up, smiling at him.

“What do you need, passerott- passerotto ?” she asked, patting the spot next to her.  Race padded over to her, curling up with his back against the arm of the couch.  He was wearing one of Spot’s hoodies, too big on his scrawny frame, but it added a sense of comfort that he needed if he was going to do this.

“I…” the words he’d planned out failed on his tongue, too heavy to be let out.  “I… have something to tell you,” he managed finally.

His mom didn’t say anything, waiting for him to go on.  Race swallowed heavily, pulling his knees tighter to his chest.  “I’ve been, um… I’ve been… cutting… myself…”

He watched as his mother’s face fell, then hardened, like she was trying to hide it, but there was still that sad look in her eyes, like she wanted to cry.

“Oh, Antonio…” she whispered, reaching toward him tentatively.  Race leaned forward the tiniest bit, giving her permission to touch him.  She cupped his face, looking into his eyes with this heartbroken look, one Race hadn’t expected.  He’d expected anger, maybe disappointment, but not this.

“I’m sorry Mammina, I just-  I couldn’t- I didn’t know what else to do, so I used a razor, and I felt better somehow, so I- I kept doing it,” Race whimpered.  He felt tears sliding down his cheeks, caught by the skin of his mother’s hands.  He couldn’t believe he’d done this to himself, allowed himself to hurt in this way, because clearly it was making his mom hurt too.

“No, no, Antonio, no… don’t be sorry, angelo, I’m not mad… no, I’m just glad you told me,” she reassured, kissing his forehead.  Race leaned farther into his mom, searching for any bit of comfort he could find, trying not to break in front of his mom.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, digging his fingernails into the skin of his arm.  The pain was familiar, something comforting and normal in the worst way possible.  He felt his mom slip her arms around him, pulling him closer and hugging him tight.

“No, no, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry you couldn’t come to us, we should have been better.  I realize that now,” she whispered.  Race could barely hear her over his own sobs, but the words comforted him.

They stayed like that on the couch until Race’s tears subsided and he was breathing relatively normally again.  Race felt better, but he couldn’t escape the gnawing feeling that he had made everyone’s lives harder, even just by existing.  No matter what everyone else said, he was sure that they were all suffering because of him.

“Ann- Antonio?  How would you feel about seeing a therapist?”

***

“Guys,” Race said, bursting into Albert’s basement with Maya close behind.  “My parents want me to go to therapy.”

That immediately stopped all conversations, and everyone looked up at Race.

“Dude, seriously?” Albert asked, staring at Race.

“Yeah!” Race said, jumping up onto the couch next to Spot.  Jack turned to look at him, clearly expecting him to go on.  “I told my parents about all the self harm shit, and my mom asked about therapy.”

“What’d you say?” Katherine asked, not really looking up from painting Davey’s nails.

“I- I think I said yes?” Race said, suddenly blanking on the entire conversation, other than that it happened.

“He said yes,” Maya confirmed, collapsing on the floor next to Katherine.

“Yeah, whatever.  But, like, still.”

“Damn, Race.  You’re gonna, like, heal from your trauma.  Wild,” Albert said, kicking Race’s shin.  Race glared at them, tucking his leg out of reach.

The conversation moved on, something about Jack and an art project, because that was all he ever talked about, and Race settled into Spot’s side.  Spot wrapped a warm arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Proud of you,” Spot whispered in Race's ear.  Race beamed, looking up at his boyfriend.  Spot leaned in to kiss him, and Race gladly accepted, sighing slightly.

“Gross!” Race heard, and a second later, something hit him in the head.  Race broke the kiss, glaring over at Jack.  Jack was now pencilless, his old one laying to Spot’s lap.

Race flipped him off, and kissed Spot definitely, grinning at Jack’s indignant squawk.

He really loved his friends.

Chapter Text

Race flew down the stairs, well aware that he was almost late.  That didn’t stop his mom from yelling at him, telling him to hurry up or he and Spot would be late to school.

“ Addio Mamma, ti amo! ” Race called, grabbing his bag and sprinting out of the door.

Spot and his truck are waiting for him, the passenger side door already opened.  Race grins and runs around to it, chucking his backpack in the truck bed on his way.  As soon as he’s in the car, he leans over, and Spot meets him halfway, kissing him sweetly.  

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Spot drawls, pulling out of the driveway.  Race sighs, settling into his seat.

“Morning, Spot.”

They’re mostly silent on the drive, though that’s largely because Race put in his Taylor Swift playlist and was blasting it.  Spot pretended to be annoyed, but Race could see him singing along.

As soon as they were safely stopped and parked, Race jumped out of the car, grabbing his bag from the back.  Spot is waiting for him, one hand free to hold his, even if it makes carrying everything so much harder.  He kisses Race on the cheek as soon as he’s close enough, and leads him through the doors.

Jack is waiting for them, which means that Katherine must be around here chasing Albert for something somewhere.  Sure enough, ten seconds later, Race could see two heads of red hair streaking towards them.  Suddenly, Albert is clinging to him, ducking behind him and peeking over his shoulder.  He’s clearly trying to hide, but it doesn’t work very well, because Albert is taller than him.  Katherine glares at Albert, but turns and goes to stand by Jack, apparently willing to give it up because there are now other people here to entertain her.

“Is she gone?” Albert stage whispered.  Spot rolled his eyes, and Race laughed, and Albert grinned, straightening.  “I don’t know why I chose to hide behind you two, you’re both short,” he said.  Race tried to smack him, but Albert had been expecting just that, and leaned just out of reach, smirking.

“Hey, hey, is the history homework due today?  It is, right?”  Everyone turned to where Davey and Crutchie had just appeared.  They both look a little out of breath, and Davey seems frantic.

“I don’t-”

“Yeah, it is,” Katherine said.  “I haven't done it yet, I was gonna do it during second.”  She shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, but by the way everyone else’s eyes widen, it's clear they had forgotten about it.

“Shit.  Has anyone done it yet?” Spot asked.  Everyone was silent, and that only made Spot curse again.  “Fuck, okay.  I gotta go, Racer, see you later?”

Race smiles, kissing Spot’s cheek.  “Yep.”

Spot and Davey are gone, speed walking off to their class.  Race watches them go, laughing to himself.  It's kind of adorable how they both think this one history assignment is going to completely destroy their grade.

“C’mon,” Katherine says, grabbing Race’s hand.  Albert’s following them too, so Katherine must have decided that they were going to class.

“Bye Jack!” he calls, then willingly lets Katherine lead him through the hallways.

***

In history that day, they had a sub.  Race’s heart speeds up, but as soon as it does, it slows again.  He’d gotten his name changed a month ago.  That means any and all school records had been altered.  He wasn’t gonna get deadnamed or misgendered.  He was okay.

As soon as Jack walks in, he can see him go through the same process, the same initial worry, and then calm as he remembers.  And that, that little indication that Jack cares, has Race at the top of the world again.

He hadn’t felt like this in forever.   For months, he’d given up the feeling of being on top of the world, the thrill, the rush of being understood.  He’d thought it was gone, that never again he’d feel so amazing, and he’d decided it was worth it.  It was worth it to feel like he was stuck on the ground if it meant being out, and no longer having to hide.

But now, all these weeks later, he’s feeling it again.  The kick of adrenaline and excitement was back, reminding him he didn’t always have to hide.  He was officially, legally, named Antonio.  He was officially, legally, a boy.  Something about that had him floating again, a familiar old feeling that was now so much more intense.

Looking back on it, Race was willing to go through the excruciating family therapy sessions, the awkward conversations, the nights of crying and trying to convince himself that he really was a boy, goddamnit, if it meant feeling this.  If it meant this feeling, of soaring and being loved and understood so completely.

Now, Race understood what it really meant to be on top of the world.