#trans!neil

The original idea

The fic

The inspiration behind Anastasia

Asks masterpost

Neil's time on the run

The blanket from Ch.6

Ch.10's daddy-daughter date

Ch.15 meme

Neil and Renee

Ch.20: 'Mr Pumpkin' and the inspiration behind Andrew's hearing loss

Ch.25: Ana turns four

Ch. 32: Drew's Christmas gift

Drew and Bunny

Still, the weight of the sudden revelation prevented him from reveling in the joy caused by that validating comment. He would be dead in four months. No one was supposed to like him. He wasn’t supposed to be this for anyone, especially not Andrew who always claimed to hate him.

“You never said anything,” Neil said, finally finding his voice again.

“Why should I have?” Andrew lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Nothing will come of it.”

“Nothing,” Neil echoed.

“I am self-destructive, not stupid,” Andrew said. “I know better.”

The only word he could find in response was a paltry “Okay.” But he did not sound okay. He did not feel okay.

Andrew apparently chose not to endure their conversation any longer as he swiftly slammed his shot glass back on the table and stood. Neil watched as he disappeared into the crowd.

Neil jolted at a sudden pressure on his shoulder and found Kevin staring at him, his mouth open on a silent vowel as if about to ask him something. Though Kevin seemed to see something in Neil’s expression that made him think better of it. He closed his mouth and turned back to the tray of drinks.

About an hour later, the rest of their group found their way back to their table and they filed out into the car, Andrew keeping his distance from Neil, which Neil didn’t mind at all. When they got back to the cousins’ house, there weren’t enough beds for all of them, so Kevin took the couch and Neil curled up in a chair with a blanket.

That night he couldn’t sleep. His mind sought to keep him up with what-if thoughts and memories that started to resurface.

He thought about all the times he’d ever had any kind of experience even close to being with someone in an intimate way. The one time that girl in France had kissed him and the few times he actually thought someone walking down the street was pretty. And of course those beatings his mother would give him for even looking at those strangers.

He’d always wondered what it would be like to be intimate with someone, but he never had the time to actually imagine it or even consider it as a possibility for himself. Even less so when he started presenting as male. Any such hopes of ever finding another person he could trust in that way pretty much went out the window. No one would ever be attracted to him, not with his body. At least, that’s what he’d always believed.