The Penpal (LGB(T)Q+) (FTM)

Chapter 9

Peyton

*March 7th, 2022*

The sweetest feeling of fingers dragging across her back, Peyton hummed softly, still fast asleep. She almost thought the person in bed with her was Emily, which caused her eyes to shoot open. To her surprise it was Alex, sitting up on her elbow, sweetly smiling at her. Peyton sighed, relaxing back into the bed within Alex's arms. Was it a sigh of relief or a let down?

"Good morning." Peyton smiled back, this only made Alex smile more.

"Indeed..." Alex smiled back widely now. "I have to get going to work. I just wanted to thank you for last night. God knows I needed it."

"Anytime." Peyton responded, lifting up on their elbows, "come by the bar sometime, or text me."

"Absolutely." She smiled and raised out of the bed. She slipped on her panties and skirt over her hips and tucked her shirt in before zipping up her skirt. She placed a kiss on Peyton's temple and left without another word.

Almost like when Emily left, yesterday morning and still no text from them, not even when they were supposed to land. Peyton knew that because she tracked her flight to make sure she got back alright. She knew the phone worked both ways, all she had to do was reach out, to just text her. But it was the text that never came from Emily that set Peyton off their boldness.

The happiness that usually came in the morning had not arrived yet, when it would? Peyton had no clue. Just laying there in bed hoping to get up, to grab the phone, to text Emily. It was wild that only a moment ago Peyton had Alex in front of them, practically the way they've needed someone in a while. But all they could feel was the absence of Emily.

She could get up, she could go for a walk, get a coffee from her favorite downtown shop. Yet here she was stuck to the sheet, pressed into the mattress, completely paralyzed in a different emotion. One that was hard to escape from. They felt this many times before, unaware what was really the problem.

Eventually they picked themself up from the bed and grabbed some comfy clothes to wear. Staring at themselves in the mirror was dysphoric, they never felt like this body was the one they should be in, not ever able to put words to feelings or feelings to anything. An endless relentless cycle of feeling shitty, not themselves at all. What wasn't shitty about being a woman after all?

The chest was the worst part, nothing ever fit properly and when it did, they stuck out like a sore thumb. Sure a butch lesbian in a bra, get fucked. Was the feeling butch, or was is masculine though? And what even is a masculine presence doing in their "feminine" mind. Why didn't they know what that "feminine" side feels like.

Peyton flipped the shirt over their head, quickly learning the shape was not flattering and throwing on a sweatshirt over it. Their LA show in just a few weeks now. Peyton still had no inspiration. Deciding to take a break from the music, from their life, from their own head.

Down the stairwell they headed, exercise would do them good, they could hear their mother saying that constantly. Step by step flew past and then out the lobby door they went flying. Past the greeting lobby man, into the open street.

Ahh, the sounds of the city, and not just sounds but the smells and the feelings. Maybe Peyton was more in-tune with their senses than they thought. The street meat vendors at an early hours trying to sell their hotdogs. The putrid smell that came with street meat hot holds. Pigeons eating crumbs on the curb, truly the city rat of birds. The sounds of traffic and other assholes behind wheels, honking, revving, yelling. And the smell of smog and exhaust that came trapped within the skyscrapers of the city.

It looked gloomy. Maybe because the clouds or the smog, they never knew either way. It just made them feel more down. They walked through the insufferable amount of people also lining the streets. Taking up space like they way Peyton did. In through the door of the coffee shop, out of the humid disgusting air of NYC. The line was short, the business was booming however, nearly every table sat a different person living completely different lives. Call it a melting pot if you will. Peyton couldn't help but think their life was unsolvable, stuck at a stop sign that will never turn green. They need something new, something else in order to move on.