I lay in bed replaying everything that had happened over and over, obsessing over every little detail. It occurred to me that neither Jesse or Robin had asked about what I'd learned about the situation earlier. It dawned on me that they probably didn’t bother asking because they truly had no intentions of changing back. At some point I must've dozed off without noticing because when I glanced at my alarm clock I
saw it was noon, the time Santa had said to open his present at. It still lay on the floor next to my bed where I left it. I watched it with the same intensity I would if I thought it might suddenly explode on me.

I already know basically what's in it, why bother waiting longer to open it?

Even though it was a present from the big man himself, I was afraid if I took my time unwrapping it to preserve it I'd chicken out, so I tore into it like a wild animal and flung off the lid. Inside was what I feared more than anything else at that moment. An elegant glass bottle about the size of a thin soda can lay atop a neatly folded pile of feminine goth clothes. The pink liquid inside shimmered with and blue and white streaks swirled around in it like a snow globe. The fact it had specifically those colors did not escape me. Attached by a bit of golden ribbon was a note that read.

For when you're ready.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,
-Santa Claus

When I picked up the bottle, it was pleasantly warm to the touch. I knew what it would do to me; Santa's message was crystal clear and there was too much evidence that this was what I wanted to flat-out ignore, but at the same time I resented how easily my life had been flipped
around with so little conscious input on my part.

Why has everyone just decided who I am? Do people have such low expectations for me that they don't think I can be trusted to figure myself out? Assuming there's even something to figure out!

I flopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling like it held all the answers, holding the bottle close to my chest like it might fly away if I let go.

Clearly there is something going on with me. I wouldn't have been freaking out if I was indifferent on the whole issue. Someone who didn't want to drink the potion wouldn't be clinging to the bottle like it held the antidote to a deadly poison.

All it had taken was the fact Robin and Jesse liked their new bodies to send me down this road. Odds were good I would have figured it out on my own, eventually. But how long would I have silently suffered at my own inaction, watching Robin and Jesse enjoying their new bodies? I shouldn't blame everyone for trying to help, they're trying to let me do this on my own terms while giving me the option to change if I choose it… or when I choose it, more likely. Truth was I knew I wanted this. I’d wanted this for longer than I even knew.

Feminine things had always appealed to me in some way even beyond sexuality. I'd never really noticed it before then, but for every character I’d made in any video game I'd ever played I'd always chose the most feminine options I could without outright making them a woman, because I felt like I wasn't allowed to. A lot of my favorite media starred women as protagonists and all the characters I could most
relate to were women. Even the fantasizing of being a goth woman earlier that day wasn't
exactly a brand new occurrence.

How could I have not noticed? It's so obvious I want it… why am I so scared then? Am I so afraid of the possibility of something going wrong I'll deny myself happiness?

Sighing deeply, I decided what I had to do, but didn’t want to have to do it alone. Steeling my resolve, I sent off a text message, put everything back in the present's box, and drove back to Robin's apartment. They were waiting for me by the time I arrived.

“Hey, you feeling any better?” Robin asked worriedly.

“I don't know yet,” I sighed.

“We're here for you, umm, friend,” Jesse promised, noticeably sidestepping my given name.

I lugged the box to the coffee table in the living room and set it down. The three of us huddled around it like we were about to open a treasure chest, which considering its contents, wasn't far off.

“What's this?” Robin asked.

“Umm, Santa gave me a present,” I replied.

“For real, you really met Santa?”

“It would've been hard to mistake him for anyone else.”

“Holy shit, what was he like?” Jesse asked.

“Kinda strange, but mostly like you'd expect. I got the impression he enjoys confusing people with the fact he’s at least vaguely up to date on culture.”

“What do you mean?” Robin asked.

“He made a Columbo joke and, well… he implied some things, but anyway I didn't come here to brag about meeting Santa, I came to show you two this,” I said and patted the box.

“What's in it?” Robin asked hesitantly.

“A choice,” I said and lifted off the lid, revealing the potion and feminine goth clothes.

“What is that?” Jesse pointed at the bottle.

“Basically what you'd expect,” I sighed. “He didn't say it outright, but this will… y'know, change me.”

“And you haven't drunk it yet,” Robin stated and nodded as if confirming something to herself.

“Why?” Jesse asked confused.

“No going back,” Robin correctly answered for me.

“Yeah… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted, but if you'd asked me yesterday if I wanted something like this to happen I would've said no, but being confronted with the actual chance to change is different. How many cis men would even consider drinking it?”

Jesse and Robin didn't bother answering the question; instead, Robin squeezed my hand and Jesse rubbed my back a bit. I hadn't meant for it to be rhetorical, but it really was and I was just grasping at straws.

“This is all happening so fast I don't know what to think, but then again this is all I can think about, like, I could literally just do it this second,” I continued.

“Certainly you can, and we're here for you,” Robin affirmed.

“What if I regret it? What if I hate how I look? What if I'm setting myself up for failure in life? There are a lot of people who hate people like… us and make life way harder for us just because we're different… and I don't think I want to hide my past.”

“Then take as much time as you need, there's no rush,” Jesse promised.

“It's a big step, but I know you can figure it out. Just mull it over until you're sure,” Robin added.

“I guess I could, but…” I ran my hand through my hair nervously. “I'm not sure I can force myself to wait either.”

My friends shared a look, or maybe my partners would be a better word, but before I could start fretting about that, I forced myself to focus on one dilemma at a time.

“Would you try and get a feel for it by testing out a new name or pronouns?” Robin proposed.

“That's… an incredibly sensible idea,” I conceded.

“Do you have any ideas of what you'd like to try out?” Jesse asked.

“S-she/her and fem terms and, umm, I've kinda been thinking about the name Chloe,” I mumbled.

“I like Chloe a lot and think she'd make for a good girlfriend,” Jesse smiled and gave me a hug. “And she's just so pretty. How could anyone not want to be with her?”

I'd heard the term melting referring to being entranced by romantic and sexual situations, but I'd never understood what the connection was until that moment. Never before had words alone had such an effect on me. A bubbly giggle erupted from me and my face became flushed. An incredible sensation burned in my chest as I basked in the pure euphoria of being gendered correctly for the first time, and
as quickly as that my fate was sealed. It was no longer a matter of should I drink the potion, it was a matter of when would I.

“I think she likes it!” Robin grinned.

“God you were right, she's really just that fun to tease,” Jesse smirked.

The noises I made in response could have been studied for years by the greatest minds of our generation without discerning a single coherent thought among the jumbled syllables.

“I-I… wow… that's not a cis reaction is it?” I managed after I recovered.

“Very cisn't,” Robin agreed.

After that my friends, thankfully, let me have a moment of silence that allowed me to gather my thoughts.

Can I really do this, just decide I want to be a woman? I could probably survive as a guy… but then again that's just all I have been doing with my life, surviving. Becoming a woman isn't going to cure my mental health problems and there's so much bullshit standing in the way of trans women living their lives in peace. But just a few affirming words were enough to make me feel so… right, so happy on such a
visceral level that I'm still smiling from being called Chloe. How much better will it feel to actually get to look how I want? Is being happy with my body worth the risks…? Can I risk not embracing myself?  I sighed  deeply; despite the anxiety of what possible futures lay ahead of me, there was only one answer.

“I really do want this,” I breathed, turning over the glass bottle in my hands nervously.

“I can't believe I'm really doing this,” I murmured, popping the top off and psyching myself up.

“You got this, Chloe,” Jesse assured me.

“Could you record this?” I asked.

“Why?” Jesse asked.

“It's kinda silly, but when I'm old I don't want to forget this wasn't all some sort of fever dream.”

“I don't think that's silly at all, time does strange things to memory and this is worth remembering,” Robin said.

“Definitely,” Jesse agreed and pulled out his phone and started recording.

“Bottoms up,” I laughed nervously and downed the contents of the potion in one gulp. It tasted like an odd, but not unpleasant mix of chocolate, peppermint, and some sort of berry.