He Is. [Hiatus]

Myself

A/N: A while ago someone brought to my attention that Alexander's birth name was too similar to his chosen name. I changed it from Alexis to Asha on AO3 (which, according to google at least, it's supposed to be a West Indian name) but it still bothers me. I was hesitant to change it here cause I'd have to edit every chapter, but I don't like leaving it like that either. So what do you guys think, would it bother you if I changed Alexander's birth name?

"No– please stop spitting out your food," I ask Sir Bubbles as I feed him fish pellets but of course, he ignores me.

I sigh and put the lid back on his ten-gallon tank, hoping he'll actually eat his food eventually. Then I throw myself to my bed. Roll around. Sit up. Down. Pace around the room for around five minutes. Sit down again. Sigh.

John texted me this morning that my binder had arrived today and that he'll come give it to me as soon as he can. I'm too anxious, too excited. I'm literal electricity right now. I mean, can you believe it? A binder, I'm going to have an honest to god binder. No need for those ace bandages anymore, no need to wear a bazillion sports bras simultaneously or four layers of baggy hoodies and sweaters that still let the imperfections show. I'll be able to just look down and see it be flat.

I'll have to be careful, of course. John has been like a gulp of fresh air when I was drowning on the closet, but he's still the only one who knows. Still, I'll be able to wear it when I'm alone or with him. It doesn't matter, I'll take anything.

Suddenly I hear a tap on my window and I swear every single hair in my body tensed up.

I scramble off the bed and go to the window, where John is waiting on the tree with a packet on his hand. I opened it as fast as I physically can and step back with little jumps so he can come in.

"Hey," He says.

"Hey!" I say a little too excitedly as we do our secret handshake. "Nice braids,"

He unconsciously touches the braids on the side of his head and smiles. "Thanks. Martha did 'em. You know how she is,"

I nod. John's sister has always liked hairstyling and usually uses her siblings to experiment, him being the number one guinea pig.

"So," He says and shakes the package a little. "You ready?"

I was fucking born ready.

After a quick exchange, I take the thick envelope and head to the bathroom with quick steps. Immediately I lock the door and press my back against it. I feel like my heart is going to burst. Not wanting to waste any more time

(I've already wasted fifteen years of my life)

I rip it open with much struggle and shaking hands until I'm met with a cloth wrapped in plastic. I trash the plastic too, it's only on the way of that's probably about to become my most precious possession.

It's grey and only covers about half of my torso. I squish it and force the tears back as I stare at it for a little longer.

This is actually happening.

I hurry to take my shirt, jacket, and sports bra off, (and though I didn't notice at the moment, that was probably the first time in a long time I actually wanted to undress), and start putting the binder on.

Here's something I learned during the next five seconds: Binders? Wonderful. A goddamn blessing. But they're the single most difficult piece of clothing I've ever had to put on in my life. I felt like I had to wrestle with the devil himself in order to obtain the privilege to have a flat chest. After I win the battle against a piece of cloth, I manage to finally (finally!!) put the binder on.

Oh.

Oh shit.

This is a moment I've fantasized and thought of and since the moment I hit puberty. There were a million variants on how this would go (it's going to be too tight. Too loose. It won't be flat enough. It won't fit—) but I didn't think it would be like, like–

Like this. So flat.

"Holy shit," I say and I can't stop smiling. I look down and then at the mirror and I have to bite my cheek to keep from crying. I just feel so relieved, so euphoric, for a second I feel so so..

Me. Like this is how it was always supposed to be.

"You okay in there?" John asks gently after a while. I'm simply not able to look away. Fuck it's actually so flat.

"Yeah, I just- give me a sec," I pick up my shirt from the floor and I don't feel like I need to put another layer on top. I put it on, and I walk out.

"Hey!" I say once again and give a ridiculous spin. Who would think putting something on would make me feel lighter, like I could jump and fly away.

He whistles lowly, not like a catcall but like he's impressed and I know he's joking around. "Is like there was never anything there,"

I snort, still not able to stop smiling. "I know, right?"

"Does it feel alright? Is it like too tight or-"

I shake my head. "It's just fine. How much do I owe you?"

"I already told you, you don't need to pay me back," John insists.

I shrug. "I know. I still want to,"

A binder won't solve all of my issues, especially considering I'm still deep in the closet. But damn does it make me feel like me right now.

•••

It's around one in the morning and I'm downstairs looking for a "midnight" snack. The binder is still on, I haven't been able to get myself to take it off. Unfortunately I know I'll have to do it eventually, John already talked me through all the rules (don't sleep with it, take it off if you have trouble breathing, be careful to not overheat, don't wear it when you're sick, don't exercise with it, take breaks—) I already knew because of years of reading, but it'll be just a couple more minutes before I go to sleep for good. Promise.

I hear footsteps from the stairs and I know it probably isn't the Washingtons.

"Lexi," Lafayette says.

"Laf," I say back with a smile. "Fancy some cereal?"

He shakes his head. "Just here for some l'eau,"

"Ah."

I notice him looking at me kinda weird as he leaves, but surely he didn't notice.

Right?

Before I can start panicking I force a spoonful of cereal into my mouth and breath through my nose.

It'll be fine.