Flower says there's a look on my face after any night I spend with him. They say I seem like I'm not there. Or shoving turkey sandwich into your mouth makes you look like an airhead. Sky-high, not a thing that could bring me down. [["Except you," I say.]]"Yeah." The way they laugh, I doubt they know what it's for. "That's what I am here for." "Thanks," I tell them. It's spring and they're staring at me. Flower stares until they don't have a face beyond the void of their wide eyes. Every time. [[I swallow down the annoyance with my sandwich.]] No one sits with them at lunch. I sit with me, at lunch, but that's because Irv doesn't have time to hang around in the high school courtyard. Everyone's got a place to be, and mine happens to be the 2nd period lunch shift. His is work. Flower's place, I've ascertained over the last two semesters, is standing in for the annoying wannabe angel on my shoulder. [["How long has it been?" they ask.]]I don't know if they rush to eat inside or if they don't bother with food. There's never a tray or extra bread crust for me to steal. Whether someone named Flower exists outside of a hippie drug dream is still up for debate. But I glance at their empty hands, and the binder pressed to their lap, thorny marker doodles spread from it to their skin. [["Fifteen minutes," I tell them.]]"So if you're wanting get to class early, you can go. I'm fine on my own, right?" "N-no." They fidget. "I am not ... how long have you been." Words tend to fall off them like sloughed branches, like they'd never spoken. I know what's coming. "Doing this. With." Flower looks like a fish, and I'd like them more if they were. "That. Man." [["Wow."]]Their head lolls like they don't hear me. "Fucking." They flinch at that. [["Incredible."]]This story includes potentially triggering content. If you need prior warning, please feel free to glance at these [[content warnings]]. Otherwise, [[feel free to begin]].This story involves an abusive age difference relationship, statutory rape, a minor in sexual situations, and the effects of manipulation & trauma. It involves gaslighting, transphobia, perceived homophobia, and self-loathing. Please tread carefully and [[feel free to begin]].No one else is sitting in the courtyard, this early in spring. So I say, "Geez. Is it that hard for you to handle two dudes fucking?" I grin, making a show of waiting for something. I know they won't. They're too quiet. They hardly exist. "Are you really that sheltered?" They wilt. The words burn my throat. Lungs on fire, I start laughing. Flower stops staring at me, and if they aren't, not a soul is. I stand, feeling as tall as I know I should be, and lean over them. Their hands are shaking. [[Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with them]]."Two years," I say. I wasn't not going to tell them. "Our second anniversary was a couple weeks ago." "Oh." I crouch beside them. Drape an arm around their tiny shoulders, acne scarred and bare. Flower seems years younger, like a nasally freshman, but I know they're supposed to be my age. That's the most I'm sure about. [["Hey," I say]].Hiding within hair, they mumble a response. I push away the messy strands. Throw it around their neck, and press my face against theirs. People talk about us. Their cheek is clammy as their heart and I know it's fake. Gossip couldn't begin to imagine the truth. "[[Flower]].""Val," they answer. "Why are you so curious?" I hear them swallow. "I am not." "Flower," I say again, teased out into their ear. "It's either that, or [[you've got a crush]]."That gets them. They smack the back of their hand into my nose and I'm laughing, again, when I hit the ground. Tears sting my eyes closed. But I knew it was coming, because they never don't lash out, because I can get them to and they can't stop me. "[[Finally sick of bonding time, are we?]]" I ask."Are you okay," they say. Avoiding my question. My fingers twist over my gut. "Am I ever around you?" Flower's patience wears and wears, but they drag me up. They brush away the leaves from my hair. That's their kind of response to questions. "[[What's your problem with him]]," I ask."He ..." They're floundering, again. People are leaving the lunch room and they're running out of time. "You should not be dating him." I'm out of time. With people on every side. They walk around us in quick glances, if any, and I shrink to the size of a flea. Soft and small amidst a wave of people who think I'm with them. "[[You don't have to be so shitty about this]]," I tell them."I'm ... not." A hand is around my wrist, and they won't let go. Dangerous in a crowd. So I play it cool. "Listen. I know you're confused. We all are." "That. Not ..." Flower looks trampled in the face of everyone brushing past them. "That is not it." "[[Maybe it is]]," I tell them. "I've read about this stuff. Kids like us internalizing gross shit." The bells will ring soon and I'll be late because of the school loner. "Listen," I repeat. "We can talk this through later. Just think before you leap, alright?" I wrench my hand away. They're adrift, but don't try to latch on again. "[[It's hard enough already]]."When school ends, I take a detour through the cafeteria and out the back doors. People fill up the courtyard, attached at the hip by the snack machines, banging their hands against coffee cakes that refuse to make their way down. [[Flower is nowhere to be seen]]. I work my way through Honors English for the chance to leave a minute before the crush. For all I know, they are digging their way into the campus garden to sleep until time comes to bother me again. [[So how they found out, I can't say]]. Caution is my middle name. Me and Irv learned that at the beginning of the game. I skip through the sloping sidewalks behind the school building, past the Driver's Education box of a classroom, until I can see the field stands rising. Everything slides down from here. Houses on asymmetrical concrete stands, trees and their roots risen in awkward depictions of gravity. Standing at the start of it feels like the start of falling. That's the start of my nights and days with him. And past the tennis courts, [[I see his car]].I start [[running]]. I [[run]] through the grass.I jump over the lilacs and ignore the blister forming at my heel. Halfway there, I remember I left my chemistry pamphlet in my locker, but I [[keep running]].He doesn't get out of his car to greet me. We've figured this out. But I do hear the tale-tell click of car doors unlocking. I slide to a stop, sandals slipping beneath my feet, and my chest bangs into the window. Inside, the radio statics into nothing. I'm laughing when he scrambles to roll down the window, sticking fingers through the gap. "Are you okay?" he says. Frantic. I lean down, till his palm is against my cheek, and kiss his wrist. "[[Never not!]]"He's brushing aside crumbs and dust still stuck to the passenger seat when I swing open the door. It's a cool car. It blends in among most, off-white beaten paint, but charms and trees hang from the rearview mirror. I flick them as I sit on his hand. When he harrumphs, [[I stick out my tongue]]. It makes him lean over. And I'm already biting my tongue. [[Anticipating]].But someone honks, driving past, and Irving pulls himself straight. "Probably not a great place for this," he says. "Like anywhere is," I mutter. I'd waited all day for this. Too long for stupid bystanders to hawk at and ruin. "[[We could go to the movies!]] That might be nice." It was rare I got to sit and enjoy something easy with him. He harrumphs an agreement. None too excited. "Or swing by the ice creamery. There won't be too much business. And ..." His lenses look glazed over, trying too hard to stare out the window. "And I guess [[you have something in mind?]]" "Uh ..." His adam's apple bobs and my stomach flutters. "I was just thinking. Maybe we could hang at my place. Friday and all." Red ears and a shaky voice, it's like we haven't played these steps a dozen times over. But I wouldn't have it any other way. "Spend the night, if you feel up to it ..." Irv motions to start the car before I answer, but pauses to glance at me. [[I track his eyes to my chest]], and smirk."I hope you know I'm too sturdy to get messed up by running into a car." "What?" He gets a soft look behind his glasses when he's surprised. Rounded face, Irving looks almost younger than me. Maybe as young as Flower. It's a bad joke. "Oh, no, I didn't mean ..." "Oh, you were just [[scoping a look then]]." He stutters and hides his face. [[It's cute]]. He's always cute. "Your seatbelt, love." I stretch out my arms. "Why don't you put it on me, [[if you're so worried]]."He fumbles, too quick, to reach around me. Irv is heavy and warm, taller than me by a foot. But I'm still growing. I'll match up to him one day, but for now, I wrap my arms around him and pull. Eager fingers slip under my shirt. [[He's got a one track mind]]. "We do a lot of other things," I explain. [[Lunch is the same as ever]]. I'm here and they appear. "I like the movies and the park. He takes me out skating, sometimes. We go for walks." Flower is decked in a long skirt, today, hair in a hundred little braids. It's for a show. Nothing as special as theater. They couldn't bear the stares of an auditorium. Something like mythology or literature. I almost wanna see it. If anyone could pretend to be a god, maybe it'd be them, fake as they were. I go on. "He always gets me my favorite garbage apple pies." Today, I'm stuck with potato chips from the machines, farther down the courtyard for all the people starting to stake claims into the April weather. I almost wish I'd gone home, if it meant I could pack a lunch. But sticking with him was worth it. "[[It's pretty fun]]."Time to time, I glance to stare at their notebook. But it continues to be cartoonish doodles, and no fake attempt at therapy or categorizing, and I keep eating. "Sometimes I play games at his place. He has it hooked up right in his bedroom, so sometimes I like to sleep with the menu screen up. And sometimes when I wake up, he's playing, and I stare at him till he notices and [[freaks out]]." Irv's funny. He's so mature, sometimes, but can't handle me. [[It's great]]."Mhm," they answer. I lean over their notes. Taller in shadow. My short curls look like goat's horns curving out to threaten them, and I swing a hand onto my hip. "[[What's your problem now]]," I ask.They don't look up at me. Braids cascade around them like water. "Does he know." "...What." "That your name is Val," they say. "...Duh," I say. "[[He knows I'm a guy]]. He has stuck with me for two years, y'know." Paper crumples at their fingertips."You don't need to be jealous. I mean ... if I hadn't met him, I don't think I woulda realized I'm trans. And then you wouldn't have a reason to stick with me." "That is not the only reason I wanted to be your friend," they murmur. "Flower, it's okay." We aren't friends. They are not my friend. [[It's not worth the argument]]."Thank you for telling me about him," they say. "I like you being happy." Flower is the sort of person to say a lot of shit. Clutching that notebook to their chest, I wonder how sincere they are. Wearing a skirt. Picking a name that sounded like it came out of a 6 year old princess's mouth. How much they do if it means not needing to be alone. [[I get it]]. "It's totally normal for people like us to hang out!" But I'm not calling them [[my friend]].I didn't need that now that I have Irv, but I can see that much. "Thanks for listening," I tell them. It was nicer than I expected. Being able to [[tell someone]].Not having to be simple as family friends. Not like a sitter taking a kid to the mall. Calling him my boyfriend to someone's face and seeing [[how they react]]."I never dreamed I had a chance with him," I admit. Staring at the overhang like I could see through it to the sky above. "He had a job. A car. It took me ages to wear him down. He was so nervous. But no one had ever asked him out before ... can you believe it?" "Oh ... no." [[I laugh]]. Flower sounds so fragile. But they're trying. I can tell."People always let the nice ones [[fall through the cracks]]," I say. "When I told him ..." How much would it suck for your girlfriend to say she was a boy, I wonder, sometimes. "[[He was so happy for me]]. We found all these sites. He bought me a binder. I owe him so much.""[[Heh ...]]""I can't keep it at home." I stretch. "But he lets me keep it at his place." My heart hurts. Ribs don't break easy, but [[they do bruise]]. It makes it hard to breathe. "It sounds like he cares," they murmur. "Yeah," I say. And sniffle. And clear my throat. "Yeah, he's ... really great."Eyes fill the vacuum of my silence. There is nothing of their face within a field of wheat blazing but [[their flat gaze]]. Burning straight through. [[Pulling at me]]. [[I can't look away]]. But their spell is broken by the bell's ring. I wave [[without saying goodbye]].Irv likes to press his face [[into my chest]]. "You're so small," he says, muffled by his mouth against my skin. Sing-song. "It's my favorite." [[I laugh.]] "Yeah." It seems silly to wear a binder when I don't have on a shirt. But I feel better about things around him. I don't mind. Sometimes his weight is a little like wearing one. Other times, it's a little hard to take. I wait till he's done nuzzling. I try to. But he starts up my collar, to my neck. [[I stretch my arms]] and yawn. "What's up?" is spoken into my throat and I shudder. Truth be told, I'm not sure. I stare at his ceiling, counting out speckles. My ribs have been burning. Complaining seems stupid. "Just kinda need to go to the bathroom." "Oh yeah," he says. Real soft. Like he forgot I needed to. [[Like girls don't need it]].I brush away the thought. "I'll be back," I tell him. "Promise. Just ... go ahead and sleep without me." Irv harrumphs, but I wriggle out from under him, and roll off the bed. I hit the ground like water, bare skin freezing against it. He doesn't keep carpets. If he did, [[I'd probably have rug burn for days]]. Feet tamping along, I rush to the bathroom, and lock the door behind me. The light stays off. Laundry is strewn across the floor. It's warmer, there, and I sit with my back to the towel rack. Light starts spinning behind my eyes in the dark, shut so tight. It's a nice break. I fumble along his sink, knocking over soap. Shaving cream. Once I'd accidentally put it on a toothbrush, disoriented and sick from the lightest beer he had. But it was cute. [[He thought so]]. I take his toothbrush and start running water. Misguided attempts get the paste on my hands and I scrape it along my teeth. The mint doesn't overtake [[the taste of him]]. I've still not managed it successfully. Even pressing the brush into my mouth, I gag. Too quick. Too soon. His disappointment has become palpable.He said we could always try again. Apologized for rushing, so much. I'd just been [[begging]] him for so long. Wearing him down.I laugh and the brush jabs down my throat. Bile burns my throat. When I throw up, it's curious. In the dark, it's like I'm observing someone, spittle dripping down their chin into the sink. My head falls off my body and I can't rub their back. I don't know what to do for [[anyone like that]].[[I clean it up]]. That's the [[least I can do]]. Irv probably wouldn't like [[the sight of it]].I stay sick. Stay at his house. The house is still [[empty]] when I get home. My shoulders hurt. His hands stay on my wrists, tight and hot. Everything aches and I climb into bed and I don't answer the phone when he calls. He wouldn't like me, [[sick]].I really [[hate]] Flower. I don't think I've ever hated anyone more. They're standing at the end of the sidewalk. [[She's]] standing there. They're standing there and I feel like my heart is clawing its way out my throat to tear into her. "[[What]]," I say."You were not here last week," they say. "Maybe I decided I didn't want to eat lunch with you." They shake their head. Today, they've got ribbons. Bangles. They look like every girl I've ever wanted to punch in the face. "I spoke to your teachers." "So you know my teachers, but I don't know yours? Wow. [[Talk about a power imbalance]], Flower." They're all eyes. Opening up on their arms. I can't leave. Irv's car is at the end of the street, and they are everything sloping down from here. "I made sure," they say. "I do not want to make brash decisions." "And I have to get home, so ... y'know. Go away?" "And I decided." They're walking up to me. Something keeps me in place. Pride. Anger. Fear. When we're eye-to-eye. [[Me and Flower are the same height]]. "I don't want you to go anymore.""Am I in a love triangle, now? Called it." "Val. [[This is dangerous]]." I smack their hand away. "And a stalker isn't?"Flower hides it, but I can always catch their winces. We've spent too much time together. And I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about this. "I thought I could talk to you!" We are not friends. We've never been. I'd never be so [[stupid]]. "I thought I could ..." But it was so nice. (link:"This dumbass loner who ran around spouting shit about equality.")[The only person in this school remotely like me] (link:"And it was stupid.")["[[And I thought I could trust you]]."] "You can," they say. Trying to take my hands. I could burn their palms for trying. "But please." "You think I can trust some snowflake who wants me to believe she's trans just because she thinks she was born a flower?" Their jaw clenches, and maybe their wisdom teeth are going to crack. [[I push harder]]. "Do you know how much a joke you make me look like? Is anyone going to take me serious with you in your pretty little skirts?" "Val." (link:"'Why do you think I love Irving?'")[[[Why do you think I need him]].] I crush my hands to my chest, steps apart from them."You do not need him." "I'm sure you know all about what I need." "I do not ... I don't think ... he considers you a man," they whisper. It's a surprise that I don't break something. But my hand is burning. Their face is bright red, for once, instead of that unsightly gray. Just like a rose. I hope it bruises, pretty purples blossoming across to [[match my wrists]]. I wait for them to lash back. (link:"Break my nose.")[[[Closed eyes]].]Their fingers are cold against my cheek. Worse than any blood rushing to my head. "How old is he." "This is [[so stupid]]," I whisper. "Even if he does. See you as a man." I hear them swallow. It's like dice clacking down a board and I think of choking. "He started dating you as a teenage girl." (link:"Ten years,")["It's just a [[few years]],"] I tell them. "How many," they ask, again. (link:"A hundred and twenty fucking months.")[I go on, "And I [[wanted]] him to."] "Please," they say. I'm not stopping for them. (link:"I'm not stopping after five years.")["[[I'm the one]] who brought up sex."] "He had the choice to say no." I can smell him, and I feel like I'm wearing a binder again. Like he's on top of me with all his weight, pushing back the car seat, and I look beyond them. (link:"The hill goes on forever.")[[[I don't see his car]].]"Did you do something." Flower follows my gaze. They say, "I am not foolish enough to call the police." "Oh," I say. "Good." My voice [[breaks]]."He is unpleasant," they whisper. I want to slap them again. But I can't see. Their words blur together in my ears. "I'm sorry." "He's still got my binder," I choke out. "I lent him a movie. I ..." Gagging. I don't have a toilet or a stall to hide in. "I can't ..." "Sorry," they say, (link:"again.")[and they're not sorry.] "[[Fuck off]]."I'm falling down that endless slope. Always, slipping down without friction to save me, crickets calling in my ears as I slide to the center of the earth. But roots catch hold. Friction, I could outrun, but the plants are grabbing me. Palms gentle against my back when I vomit. (link:"I can't struggle my way free.")[I don't have [[energy]] left for that.] I used it all up with him.