The Story of a Female Boy Named Louis (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter 9

When he was thirteen, Louis started to notice something.

All the kids at his school had begun to change.

The boys were more involved with sports and tried to impress girls and bragged about how many of them they had kissed and how many goals they had made.

The girls began to chat more about boys and singers and gossip magazines and hung out in cliques and went shopping after school.

They had also started wearing makeup and curling their hair and being more aware of how they looked.

And, of course, Louis rushed home that day and took a good look at himself in the bathroom mirror.

He remembers tugging at his hair and biting his lip and feeling a bit bemused at all the change and wondering if he was ever going to be like his classmates.

Louis wanted to start wearing make-up and look pretty like the doll faces that sauntered through the hallways of my school. It wasn't because he wanted to be the best looking, the most popular, the one with the hottest boyfriend.

He wanted to do it for himself, so he could feel more comfortable in his own skin, a concept his dad hadn't understood. After asking him for money so Louis could go to the mall with Amelie, he held his face in a reluctant manner when he also explained he needed enough for his own make-up kit.

See, Louis' dad was indifferent towards the idea of him being gay, he seemed to just put up with it and loved him nonetheless. But this seemed to put him off a bit and he refused, said it wasn't right.

It was incredibly heartbreaking, having one of the few times Louis' father talked to him being about how he wants to stifle his self-expression and identity. He remembers lying down in his bed that night, all these thoughts of change and appearance and rejection and adolescence burdening his mind as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

'So special, my boy is so, so special.'

The traces of the memories of his mother's gentle coos lulled him to sleep that night.

The following afternoon, when Louis got home from school, he had found a note on his front door from Kristen. A smile had slowly made its way onto my face as he read it.

I came by and talked to your father today even though I'm still a bit sick. He told me what happened yesterday, and I gave him a nice, long lecture on gender identity (which was truly needed, even with me hacking out my lungs halfway through) and left you a present on your bed. Hope you like it, Lou, you're gonna look dazzling! My pretty little daffodil's growing up.. I'll stop myself before I start sobbing. See you tomorrow, sunshine!

Louis squealed when he had seen the pale rose make-up bag sitting on his bed and clutched the note to his chest, making a mental note of writing her one back or baking her brownies or something because he just loved her so much.

He had spent that night locked up in his room, experimenting and trying out tutorials and just overall feeling complete and free and beautiful.

So much in fact, that the next day at school, when Louis wore my make-up for the first time, the jeers and disapproving glares went over his head because, even if he had only believed it for that amount of time, he was Louis Tomlinson and he was goddamn beautiful.