November 2022
"Sören, are you OK?"
Oh shit. While Sören found it harder to cry since he'd started T four years ago, sometimes he could still cry if he was extremely upset - and this was one of those times. He'd been trying to keep it down, but Anthony still heard him. "I'm fine," Sören lied - even though Anthony was his best friend, not just his roommate, Sören still didn't want to talk about what happened and relive the hurt and the blow to his pride all over again.
Of course, Anthony knew him too well. "You're not fine, Sören. Can I come in?"
Sören exhaled. While he didn't want to discuss it, he also knew it wasn't healthy to isolate and part of him craved comfort. "Jæja."
Anthony opened Sören's bedroom door and stepped in. It was after nine PM, and Anthony was wearing a long-sleeved navy blue T-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, and his wire-rimmed glasses, which suggested he was either reading or watching something. His greying dark hair was slightly mussed, and his green eyes were sympathetic while he tried to keep his facial expression neutral, like he was in court. Anthony quietly walked over and sat down on the edge of Sören's bed. Sören was also in pajamas - black top, black bottoms - and was curled up in the fetal position, hugging Bláberja, the blue stuffed bunny that his mother had made for him when he was four and was the only thing he had left of her.
"What's going on, kiddo?" Anthony was forty-two and Sören would be twenty-eight in a few days. They'd known each other since Sören was twenty-two - they'd been friends online when Sören was still living in Iceland and had just come out as transgender and hadn't started transition yet. After his top surgery, Sören's uncle Einar, who raised him after his parents' death, had threatened violence, and Sören left for the United States, living in New York for awhile and constantly struggling with money. Anthony, a British expat, lived in Boston, working as a civil rights lawyer for the ACLU, and two years ago after his roommate left, Anthony had invited Sören to come to Boston and live with him. Throughout their six-year friendship Anthony, who was also a trans man and started transition in 2008, had been something of a mentor and older brother/father figure to Sören.
Sören's cheeks burned as he sat up. He wiped his eyes and tried to pull himself together enough to make a coherent sentence. "You know that guy Craig I've been talking to?" Craig was a cute gay barista that Sören had chatted up and become friends with a few months ago, and it had looked like things were finally going somewhere... for once.
Anthony nodded. Then his brow furrowed. "Oh no, what happened."
"He rejected me." Sören let out a shuddery sigh. "Because I'm trans. The whole 'I like you as a friend, but I like dick' thing."
"Oh god. Shit. Fuck. I'm so sorry." Anthony reached out his arms, offering a hug, and Sören accepted. The minute Sören was pulled into the shield wall of Anthony's arms and chest, Sören fell apart, crying again. He was mad at himself for crying - not because he believed men shouldn't cry, but because it felt like such a defeat, wasting his tears on someone not worth it.
And yet... "This happens over and over and over again," Sören choked out. "I'm so fucking sick of it. Every fucking time I'm interested in a queer guy and I think we vibe, he rejects me because I have a vagina."
Anthony's arms tightened around Sören and he buried his nose in Sören's short dark curls. "I'm sorry."
What Sören didn't add was that, while Craig was cis, over the last six years he'd been rejected by other trans guys, not just cis guys. Even a lot of other trans guys felt being with another trans guy was "settling", an internalized transphobia that fellow trans men weren't "real men". And while Sören liked Craig a lot, and would have jumped at the chance to be with him...
...the one he wanted most was right in front of him.
Sören was sure that like almost every queer guy he'd encountered, Anthony wasn't interested - over the last six years, he'd only ever seen Anthony attempt to date cis guys, and also get rejected - and he hadn't wanted to fuck up their friendship by telling Anthony he had feelings, so he let them quietly smolder in the background. But now, as Anthony held him and rocked him, Sören felt that ache all over again, adding to his embarrassment, not wanting to be in love with him like this.
"I'm really surprised you keep getting rejected," Anthony said, looking into Sören's eyes. "You look like Jon Snow."
"Jæja, I know." Sören chuckled; he did bear a strong resemblance, with his brown eyes, short dark beard, and full lips, and he got at least one person a week chasing him and asking for his autograph. "But nobody wants to date Jon Snow with a boypussy."
"Oh, I'm sure it's not nobody. You just... haven't found the right guy yet." Anthony looked off to the side.
I have, but you probably wouldn't give me the time of day. Sören kept that thought to himself and pursed his lips.
Sören looked down. "I have to wonder how many people detransition because it's almost impossible to date while trans. Not saying I'm going to do that, but."
Anthony sighed. He gave Sören a squeeze. Then he got up. "Come on. There's a Next Gen marathon, come watch a couple episodes with me, I'll make us some popcorn, and I have some news."
Sören felt the pit of his stomach rising, hoping that the news would be good and not something like Anthony getting an offer to work for another branch of the ACLU in a different state, and moving - though Sören worked from home as a music reviewer for Rolling Stone and could theoretically come along. Sören especially hoped that it wasn't Anthony telling him he'd started seeing someone. While Anthony was on the autistic spectrum, like him, and socially awkward, Sören thought Anthony probably had at least enough self-awareness to not drop the bomb that he was dating someone right after Sören had discussed being rejected again for being transgender, but maybe Anthony might think it would make him feel better, and...
Stop worrying about what it is and borrowing trouble before it's started, Sören grumbled to himself as he flopped down on the couch and his tuxedo cat, Snúður, hopped up onto his lap with an inquisitive chirp, then climbed into Sören's arms for hugs and began to headbutt and nuzzle him, purring loudly.
A couple minutes later Anthony brought over a big bowl of microwave popcorn and sat next to him. It was kettle corn too, Sören's favorite.
The episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation that was airing was "The Outcast", about a species of genderless aliens and one of them - incidentally named Soren - declares that she is female and is subject to being "cured". It was a Riker-centric episode, and Anthony and Sören both had plenty of thirsty commentary about Riker.
Anthony waited until the closing credits, and turned to Sören. "OK. Here's the news."
"What, you're horny for Riker? I already knew that."
Anthony chuckled. "Besides that. Your birthday's coming up in a week, on Black Friday. A couple months ago I booked reservations at a cabin in the Great North Woods of Maine for the weekend of your birthday. I was going to offer it to you and Craig as a gift if things had worked out, but since it didn't... you want to go with me? They allow pets, so we can bring the cat."
Sören squeaked with excitement, and his eyes misted all over again at Anthony's thoughtfulness. He threw his arms around Anthony and nodded vehemently. "Yes. Thank you. Oh my god, that would be awesome." Sören loved nature - that was one thing he'd bonded with both Anthony and Craig about, was a love of woods and hiking.
"Good." Anthony's face lit up. "Um... there's only one bed. Like I said, I had booked the reservation thinking you and Craig would be going, but I can always sleep on the couch, or -"
"It's going to be fucking cold up there, I don't mind sharing the bed with you, dumbass."
"OK, if you say so." Anthony hugged Sören back. "I know rejection hurts and you won't get over him overnight, but at least this is a nice distraction, getting to see the forest and the lake. I've seen pictures, it's gorgeous."
"I bet." Iceland was a beautiful country but it wasn't heavily forested; Sören had visited Norway as a present to himself for his twentieth birthday and he could still see the boreal forests clearly in his mind's eye, forever haunted and homesick. While this wasn't exactly the same, it was still close enough. "God, Anthony, that's so generous, to just book a cabin like that for the weekend even when you didn't think you'd be the one going."
"I care about you a lot." Their eyes met, and held. "I want you to have a good birthday this year." Sören usually had bad things happen on his birthday - he had COVID, last year.
"Well, thank you." Sören rested his head on Anthony's shoulder. As much as he ached, longing for what he could not have, he was still grateful to have Anthony in his life, and didn't want anything to get in the way of their friendship.
Especially not his own feelings.
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