The holidays are getting closer and closer. It’s such a celebrated time in society, ‘a time to spend with family.’ What if your family doesn’t respect you? What if you can see the exasperation on your parents’ faces every time you try to communicate? Why is the concept of familial relations so pushed on every single person, when the majority of the people Pat knows has so many fucking problems within their collection of relations that it’s a miracle they speak to one another? Why is it expected that you forgive everything because you share DNA?

Pat refuses to go back. They promised themselves they wouldn’t last year, not after what happened. Their brothers support their decision for the most part; Bryan has reservations, but he always was the idealist of the family, the hopeless romantic and the dreamer. Sometimes Bry just can’t see a situation for what it is, so focused is he on the result he hopes will happen. And Pat loves him for that, they do, but his optimism is sometimes suffocating to them. They can’t breathe, can’t think, when their brother is sure, so sure, that this time, it will work out. This time, Pat, it will all be different, Mom won’t give you that look when you take out your notepad, Dad won’t ask you to give the toast, again, even though he knows, of fucking course he knows, about your mutism. They won’t even bat an eye when we break into conversations that are half spoken, half signed, which they can’t understand because learning to sign was a waste of time, because ‘Pat can speak, he just refuses to spite us. We are not going to indulge him and his reckless, damaging behavior.’

It doesn’t matter that Pat came out to their family when they were seventeen, or that their brothers all have the same argument every time their parents misgender them. 

“They, Mom,” Bryan corrects with a small, pinched smile and a squeeze to Pat’s hand.

“Dad, it’s been over a year. You’ve never spoken of Pat without misgendering her!” Matty yelled, throwing his fork on the table and storming to his room. “This shit has got to fucking stop!”

Tim tried to educate them. His approach, while much appreciated by Pat, was as successful as Bryan and Matt’s gentleness and shouts, respectively.

“Pat is fluid, he said so himself, which means he’s a boy, too!” Mom insisted, tears in her eyes. “We’re trying, and we love him just as much as ever.”

“Maybe if we saw him more,” Dad interjected, pursing his lips and frowning at them all. “Or if he could tell us himself...” he paused. “In his own voice, his own words.”

It’s always the same with them. It all comes back to Pat’s lack of speech, even though they can communicate perfectly well, and don’t even really mind their mutism. Their parents wanted another perfect, healthy boy, and instead, they got Pat. That was never good enough for them, just Pat. 

‘Make sure to be the very best Pat you can be, alright? That’s all anyone is allowed to expect of you. You’re doing a very good job of it, I assure you.’

Thank god for John, and Kennedy and Garrett and Jared. They were his family, the band and his brothers, and his new friends he’s made along the way. They are who love Pat for just Pat. 

And thats all that can be expected of them.