I didn’t go right away to Elina’s, I ended up going to Brandon’s again and his boyfriend which had been called Matthew, chewing on gum, full of papers in hand to warn him of everything he had put everyone through and my own notes on what I should’ve even told the damn fucker.
When you’re in a state of bliss, a deja vu may occur and the door had been opened and I had to blink a few times, as my blood went entirely cold, seeing the world under a lighter background, as if a new theatre decoration and the man turned around to talk to Brandon and only then I noticed the features which were different, but he kept his eyes on me as Brandon whispered into his ear. The man was gorgeous and resembled a lost love, there was nothing else I could say or report, as I just stood staring even when Brandon spoke to me and I had managed to strike a proper conversation, somehow, explaining how Elina could still press charges for the moral problems and since they bought an apartment he’d have to get a lawyer, not a half-ass investigator like me, causing the man to laugh lightly and he knew he had my attention.
I would keep a firm watch on the dark, reddish hazel eyes colouring my cheeks as if I were a lost teenager again.
And how else do you describe love and confusion at first sight if it doesn’t fuck you up? As I keep staring as if the brother were a long lost twin, with his long eye lashes and full lips?
And I still hold that I’ll talk to Elina and state everything I’ve seen even if I’m a private investigator and no one is behind me.
You’re never truly nostalgic because if you have depression you wouldn’t be happy there either. So maybe you’re better off here after all. You are happy because you can be yourself, but nostalgia is like an illness, devouring until you can’t breathe or manage to find some cure.
When I was growing up and even now, I’m still envious of the cis male body because mine falls greatly behind and growing up I would get annoyed at how trans men would celebrate how they were trans, a fair amount was solely stealth and didn’t understand the hype either and it was me, under those balloons wondering how come a sole top surgery was enough and how come the obsession of the vagina travelled onto us as well? I was never happy with it specifically outside of gender terms as well as it had brought fertility becoming a terrible nuisance with any of the boyfriends and knowing that I always had to make sure I wouldn’t get pregnant. The thought of having a child was something tearing me from the inside and reminding me that for society I was the body of a woman which should be giving birth and showing up from anywhere to ‘16 and pregnant’ to ‘50 and pregnant’ and the decision of cutting it all had been liberating and waking up finally without one that I would always dream that I would scream, that having a vagina was an awful bloody nightmare which resulted in terrible terrible complications.
Like Mishima I would draw one and cross it out for the other reasons, which he’d never know because I never wanted one on myself.
And under those balloons, I’d want to pop them and remind them that perhaps not everyone was happy with it and what mattered to them was that the brutality of one man’s bigger chest should be the only thing under discussion. I could generalize, but they could and the more I lived the worse it had gotten. Just like they would have dysphoria mainly solved with a flat chest, mine revolved around having a penis. I walk around the apartment, a bit annoyed at Matthew for even stashing Brandon in the first place and it feels like a bad episode of some rom com gone bad only there’s no laughing track to even facilitate the comedy. I end up walking to the book shelf, just flicking through books and catching the other man’s eye. I don’t even bother to introduce myself, allowing no more connections as all the case is solved and I’m out of here and neither should I be filling my head with nothing.
“Was he the first man you ever loved?”
“I think so.” I say, flicking through the book even dazzled that I would even speak of it to someone I didn’t know and have different revelations in any moment. Too many. It doesn’t even dawn on me that he’s asking as I flick through Ginsberg, giving Brandon enough time to even think, but it’s not a lie that you can always tell who is gay and who’s not. I wonder if life is always cliche and always the same. I wonder if by the end of it there is some recipe of disaster and when I was growing up I thought that we always end up falling in love with the same person. We’ll never admit about those which we had once loved. We’ll never admit the routine we miss. When I had came out as a queer woman before I knew that I was male, I then could forget about all the male lovers I’ve had and once I came out as who I am, that’s when all the regret had decided to come to me. And sometimes I find the present so draining that all I can do is think of the past, but I turn around to face Matthew. I just don’t know what else to add and I should really be figuring out what to do with Brandon now and allowing him to be eaten alive by his wife, Elina. I don’t even know how to react. I just play with my sleeve, Matthew realizing that he’s lost my interest and that most likely I won’t be playing with either of them.
“I’ll be telling Elina tomorrow, so get everything... ready.” I glance at both of them, as I shake both of their hands, trying to forget about how Matthew tries to keep his eyes glued to my own, I have my own husband to go back to. I think we all think in movies too much as I glance at Matthew one last time. I try not to think of the deja vu and just excuse myself before I can even commit any mistakes, as my blood starts rushing. I just wander up and down the city centre, not allowing myself into church. I don’t even allow myself into the stores, it’s all as if I can’t hold and I want to be an anxious wreck forever. I end up forgetting that I had left the car next to Brandon’s so I have to head back and to some great card alliance I don’t meet any of them and I’m allowed to drive away.
I’d been waiting far too long on the document of Elijah’s workplace which made me wonder or rather let the back of my mind tingle if he even wanted to have children. I ended up chewing gum, driving off and parking in some neighborhood to sit there and just stare blankly, allow people to wonder who might I be waiting for. I had regretted for the first time in a long while that I had gone all the way, that perhaps I should’ve had children back when I had the chance. I never understood cis women who would get pregnant and then announce to their partner much later. I wonder if they had fear that the other partner wouldn’t but that never justified their move and I just felt disgusted for even thinking that, propping my legs against the wheel, hugging myself and wondering if it were wrong that I thought of a child so often. Or maybe it was just my fear speaking and Elijah would get that document, weeks on and love on.
Somehow it was always easy to let go.
I was very anxious about this chapter and very often what happens when I get writer's block about something it's because of some chunk which I write and I think that it's not good enough. I wasn't sure about the conversation between Matthew and Angelo, so that really struck me down for a good few weeks even and then I was talking about it to Callie and decided to step over my fear and with my whole latest obsession of writing when I feel uncomfortable.
I had a deja vu experience with a said bloke once and it was because he reminded me of the guy who got me into the Beatniks and everything really. So that's where the story is based from, or rather this line. I always thought I spoke about it in the other backstory, I recall talking about it anyway xD so I got this enormous deja vu for the second bloke because he looked at first glance like the first. And due to that I tried my best and failed xD well, you can't get everyone really xD
But I kind of collected myself rather fast and it was much later until I actually started trying out my luck, so that's why Angelo gets so cold really xD
I am rather open about it and I have terrible bottom dysphoria so I spoke about it because I really don't understand personally to myself how would I end on really one solution without the other (as in top surgery without bottom surgery) but it works differently for everyone so yeah:) and I'm sad that people don't speak a lot about bottom dysphoria so that's why I spoke out. Also my fertility had always been a huge nuisance.
I kind of end up being very open on this story since I'm talking about a trans man here really:)
I hope you enjoyed it and sorry for the short backstory, thank you
tell me if you liked it