I’m standing in a huge, dark space. Dozens of floodlights are pointed right at me. They blind me a little as I try to make out my surroundings.

This is what I’m here for. This is being alive.

I walk across the parking lot with determination. The sooner I am done with this, the better.

It was just obvious when I woke up this morning. I can’t go on like this. It’s starting to get dumb, running around with any sort of support.

I barely ever take off my hoodies now, even when it’s warm inside. Even when it’s too warm. Because I just don’t dare.

And then there’s PE, where I have to wear a T-shirt, and a light one at that. And working out with Henry. And walking the stairs.

It’s getting stupid. I haven’t caught anybody ogling yet, but that’s only a matter of time, isn’t it?

At this point, wearing a sports bra ought to do more good than bad for my self-consciousness, right?

There aren’t a lot of people around yet. Just like I’d hoped. Today’s a Thursday and it’s only just 10am. I don’t have classes today. I got lucky to wake up this early. I’d never dare go do this past noon, but now that the idea is in my head, it just won’t leave.

Well, who could blame me? All I’m trying to do is somehow live through the time until summer to the best of my ability. Change as little as possible.

And if a sports bra is what it takes to give me back some of my confidence and comfort… wouldn’t it be stupid to deny myself that on a principle I’m going to have to give up on soon anyway?

I don’t know why I’m suddenly so fine with the idea. Maybe it’s due to some absurd hope that nobody’ll notice. Just like I’d hoped they’d never notice all the other changes.

There are really not that many people around the shopping mall. A few elderlies, occasional teenagers, a few young adults. I don’t know if I’d be more comfortable with no people around at all. Probably not, that’d make me stand out more to the clerks.

I head straight for a large clothes store. It’s the only store around here I’ve ever been in myself. It also has a men’s section, so I have plausible deniability in case I meet someone I know. Hopefully not. Who in their right mind would get up at eight to go shopping on a day they can sleep in and go later? I walk past a women’s underwear store on my way there but I don’t dare go in. I look pretty feminine by now, but still not really like a girl. God fucking bless. But it won’t take much longer.

I really try not to look in the mirror. I don’t like what I’m seeing, after all. But whenever I’m close to one, I can’t help it. It’s like there’s a magnetic pull there, like I’m obsessed with these changes I hate so much, like I’m trying to ensure myself that I haven’t changed, only to be violently disappointed. Even now that I’m walking along the shop windows, I find myself glancing over. Have I already gotten smaller?

There are four other people in the store when I enter. Well, four other people I can see. Plus the clerk. A young woman, barely four years older than me. I look around. The women’s underwear section is as far away from the men’s as they get. But there’s nobody currently there.

Fuck. I don’t want to be here.

My heartbeat quickens. My palms are a little sweaty.

I could’ve just asked Mum to get me one. Or Sadie to come along.

And anyway. That would’ve been weird. Telling them. It wouldn’t’ve been as quick. It would’ve been later. It would be a pretty obvious change of heart. So sudden.

It’s just a piece of fabric, I tell myself. And anyway. You need it. Just walk over, grab a medium one or whatever and get out.

I give myself a shove, start walking towards the correct section. Try my best not to meet anybody’s eyes.

I have a right to be here. I don’t have a choice.

The underwear section is surprisingly large. There are all sorts of things. Underwear sets, lingerie, sleepwear….

The bras come in so many variants I can’t even tell the difference. Plain and thin, with pattern and padded, with lace detailing on the outside. For a moment I wonder whether there are any push-ups among them because I don’t think I could tell and just barely manage to stop myself from leaning in to read the labels.

Not what I’m here for.

I find the sports bras and stop. What colour should I get? Black, probably? But then it’d show through lighter T-shirts. Maybe I should get two? One in black and one… light blue? White would be weird. I’m not even sure why, but it would.

I take one of the black ones and inspect it. The fabric is light. Stretchy but firm. Then I look at the size and feel my face heat. Fuck. I should’ve known that they had this weird sizing. I’d totally forgotten about that. Somehow, I’d assumed that I could just pick an M and leave. But apparently not.

“Do you need any help?” a friendly voice asks next to me.

For a moment it feels like my heart just stops. Like the world freezes and everything, everything stops. But then the moment is over and I flinch ever so slightly and look up at the young clerk that has come over. She’s looking at me with a friendly and understanding smile.

My face goes unbearably hot.

“Sorry, I just thought, maybe you’d like help with the sizing?” she says a little more cautiously. “You looked a little lost.”

So she knows that I’m not just a pervert.

Of course she knows. It’s obvious, dumbass.

But why do I feel so called out, then? Why is my heart beating so fast? Why am I so warm?

“Yeah, that’d be great,” I finally manage to stammer. “I’ve… never done this before.”

My voice sounds wrong, suddenly. Too deep. Like I’m not actually feminine, but a guy. Like I don’t belong here.

At the periphery of my consciousness, I register how weird that is. That just because I’m standing in the underwear section, I suddenly wish I were even more feminine. Just to spare me at least a bit of the embarrassment.

“Alright,” she says and her tone is all confident and bright again. “Would you like me to take your measurements, then, or just guess?”

I decide to just speak as little as possible. “Measurements, please.”

She nods quickly and gets out a measuring tape. I have to take off my hoodie so she can properly measure me and the moment I pull the fabric over my head, I feel new discomfort rise to my cheeks. She can obviously see, even through the oversized T-shirt.

But she doesn’t look at it. She just has me stand with my back towards her and guides the measuring tape through my armpits to form a loop across the height of my chest. It feels a little awkward, the way the tape touches my sensitive nipples, but then she’s already readjusting it around my ribs, right underneath my chest. The ‘underbust’ she calls it.

Then she tells me the measurements and quickly explains the sizing chart. It’s simple, I’m sure, but it’s hard to focus. My brain feels fuzzy.

By the time she makes recommendations, I just nod and take the two bras she hands me. Only two because I’m still going to grow. I am still going to grow. What a weird thing to say. But I say nothing and just nod like I understand.

Then I’m led to the counter and I pay for the two bras and then I’ve safely hidden them away in my backpack and left the store.

I’m still way too warm, but I put my hoodie back on immediately. My hands shiver a little but at the same time, there’s this tiny squeezing sensation in my stomach and I’m not sure it’s something negative. This’ll help me. It’s for the best.

And it really is, it turns out. I put the first bra on right after I get home, don’t even put it in the washer. And immediately, I feel better. If I’m wearing oversized T-shirts now, there’s barely anything to see. Only if I pull my shoulders back, there are slight curves there. But I can live with that much better. It takes this subtle feeling of indecency away.

Later that same day, I meet up with Henry to train. It feels so much better, to finally be able to move again without constantly thinking about how I’m doing it. And in between sets I can just roll over onto my back and don’t have to pay attention to the position of my arms.

I’m sure he notices that I’m not as tense as usual. He seems a lot more relaxed, too, but that might just be me projecting.

I’m finally able to have fun with it again. The exertion feels the way it should again.

Because it’s gotten so cold lately, we’ve started working out in his room instead of the garden, but we have to open the window after only half an hour.

We end the training with thorough stretches and as we’re lying on two yoga mats next to each other, I have an idea.

“We haven’t done the airplane in way too long,” I say, looking over at him with an exhilarated grin.

He looks at me blankly for a moment, then he nods and grins as well.

“Aight. Hop on,” he says.

He waits until I’ve gotten up and positioned myself at his feet, then he raises them and puts them against my stomach, just above the hipbones. As I lean forward, he tucks his legs until my feet leave the ground and he’s balancing me in the air. I spread my arms, grinning through the tension in my torso and legs. He even manages to move me around a little, causing me to yelp with surprise.

Then I get back down and say, “Now you,” and lie down next to him.

He hesitates for a split second but I don’t let that sway me. Then he gets up and slowly steps forward. His eyes lock with mine as I put my feet against his stomach and tense them as he leans in.

His expression is serious and still different, somehow. There’s something there. Something I can’t quite read.

The moment lasts too short to be sure, though, because he’s way too heavy. Well, maybe not too heavy, but I definitely can’t balance him up there. So the moment his feet leave the ground, my legs give in just a little too far and he tips forward until I move one foot to the side so that he falls on top of me instead of on top of my face.

He gives a yelp and tries to catch himself with his hands, but only barely manages.

And suddenly, his body is pressed against mine and his face is only centimetres away from mine and I’m laughing. Because this is funny. We’re friends and tried a couple-exercise and now I failed so hard that he fell on top of me.

For a moment there’s fear in his eyes but when he sees my expression, he grins too and rolls off of me.

As he leaves, I breathe in and smell this mixture of sweat and his smell that doesn’t really smell of anything graspable, but rather like a happy childhood memory. And for the first time, I notice that I like his smell.

SeptemberMorgan

Please tell me what you think of the story so far and have a nice Sunday!