#not solangelo

“Ma?” He called. He could feel his nervousness creeping back up on him. His hand immediately flew up to his hair, cringing at how long it was when his fingers combed through it.

He had been wanting to cut it for a while, hating the way it reached his midback. He’d asked to cut it before, probably annoyed his mom a whole hell of a lot with his insistent questioning to be honest.

Hopefully, this time, when he had a reason to give, she’d agree.

“Yes, Wendy?” His mother called from the other room.

He hid his flinch. Soon he wouldn’t have to do that anymore, soon he’d get to be called his preferred name. William. William Solace, son of Naomi Solace. Brother of Michael and Lee solace.

The thought made him want to jump up and down in excitement, unable to stay still that he finally got to be him.

Sometimes he thought back to when he first figured it out. He had never felt right in his own body, he felt too weird.

Wrong.

Different.

He hated the jokes, the comments he always got. What’s a girl doing, hanging out with all the boys?

Those jokes always made him want to tear his own skin off. He wasn’t a girl, he never wanted to be a girl. He was a boy and that’s what’s right, his body, his name, his hair. All of that was so wrong.

If things went well, the way he knew they’d go after today, he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. The thought made him happier than he had been in a while. The lingering feeling of dysphoria had been eating away at him for a while now.

His chest was too big, too noticeable, it pushed at his shirt too much. He hated it. It was uncomfortable, the straps from his sports bra cut into his shoulders, another unnecessary reminder that physically he was a girl.

When people saw him, he screamed “girl.” And damn did he want to change that.

He always had known there was something wrong with him. Not wrong but different. Something about him never quite fit. He couldn’t figure out what it was, he tried but he couldn’t find that one thing that made him feel not normal.

Until he did, that is.

In 3rd grade, he was 9, and his world had shifted on its axis. And everything had slid into place, the right place. He learned that he wasn’t a she.

It was purely by mistake, most things are anyways. He was hanging out with his friends on the playground, running around and playing tag. They were girls, most of them in dresses or skirts. It made him uncomfortable, he had given into peer pressure to get friends of his own “gender.”

His friend had slipped up and called him and he, on accident. She had apologized profusely afterward, but Will felt the wide grin spread across his face. It had felt right.

“Wends?” His mother called again, he hadn’t realized he zoned out. “You okay, honey?”

Will shook his head, “No, yeah, no, I’m good.” He rounded the corner, entering the kitchen. “Hi.”

Naomi smiled a little, letting out an awkward laugh. “Hi.”

Will took a deep breath, he could do this. “I want to cut my hair.” His pointer and middle finger acted as scissors and he moved them across his hair. The smile on his mom’s face dropped, his own faltered.

“No.” The word was flat, with no room left for argument. Yet, Will still tried.

“W-what? Why not?” How many times they had had this argument, he didn’t know. But he felt his heart plummet every time it was refused.

“I need to have at least one daughter.” Will’s eyes widened. Naomi had turned away, scrubbing the dishes harshly, she couldn’t even look at me, he thought. Lee and Michael were always the favorites. He wanted to be like them. To look like them.

He seemed to forget that his mother had wanted a daughter for so long. He never had the courage to take that from her. But here he was, standing in front of her because he thought she’d accept him.

They'd talked so openly as a family, it didn’t matter who they married, what gender they liked, as long as they were happy. And yet, here Naomi was telling him that he couldn’t be himself.

“Too bad,” Will sniped. He felt pain, betrayed. She said she’d love him as long as he was happy. This was what made him happy, can’t she see that?

“No. I don’t want three sons.” She still wouldn’t look at him.

And suddenly that wasn’t the only thing he felt. Will felt crushed, like someone had just ripped out his heart and crushed it under the heel of their foot.

“Oh well.” He couldn’t think of what else to say. He didn’t think, just spoke. He was starting to regret how impulsive he was.

“Wendy. Enough, stop it. We aren’t doing this right now.”

William’s world fell apart. He numbly thought, that’s not my name, as his feet carried him away. It wasn’t fair. That’s not how this was supposed to go.

Naomi was supposed to hug him, tell him that she loved him. That she was proud.

But that didn’t happen. Instead she was seething, angry, like Will had betrayed.

Part of him argued that it was his fault. If he could have been her good daughter, then maybe it would be okay. Maybe if he weren’t different, and broken, and weird, then Naomi would love him.