Becoming Jay

Jay wishes he was a "normal" boy, but he's not. Most boys aren't born in a girl's body. When Jay decides to move forward with his identity, the first person he tells is Samantha, his long time friend and crush. What difficulties will Jay and Sam encounter? Will Jay ever be Jay? And will he and Sam have a happy ever after?

PS This story is about something serious, and being transgender isn't a joke. If you don't like people being trans*, keep it to yourself. It's a real feeling, so don't be a douche about it.


2. I don't love you like I did yesterday

The doorbell rang, and Jay got up off the sofa, fixing his glasses adjusting his clothes in front of the mirror in the hall. His parents were out, so he was wearing a chest binder under his white shirt and black waistcoat. He felt constricted. But hot, he thought, looking at his reflection. He opened the door to see the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. Sam was wearing a pair of luminous green jeans which she bought as a joke with her dad, and a transformers T-shirt. He hair was half done and half not, falling over her thick-rimmed brown glasses. 
"When are you not beautiful," he said. Sam blushed.
"When I'm dead," she said, smiling. Jay lead her into the living room, where there were shelves upon shelves of TV shows and movies, and two comfy sofas, with blankets thrown over the back. There was a large HDTV on the wall. Jay sat down on the sofa, and Sam sat down beside him.
"Pizza?" Jay asked, picking up the phone to order.
"Yes," Sam said. "Just a plain margarita, please." Jay called up the pizza and put down the phone.
"It'll be here in half an hour. Wanna start a movie?" Jay asked. Sam thought for a minute. 
"Nah," she said, smiling. "Hun, we need to talk. Like proper talk about... your gender," Sam said. She wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say or not, but she said it.
"Okay," Jay nodded. He took her hand, leading her out of the room and upstairs. He lived in a big house. On the upstairs landing there was six doors, and Jay lead Sam down the hall to the very last door. He slowly turned the knob, opening the door slowly. Sam gasped. From the ceiling hung two swings, and the walls were painted all black, with no windows, and little dots of glow in the dark paint all over the walls, made to look like stars. There was a pale grey moon painted on one of the walls. It was so realistic. 
"This is.. This is.. Stunning.." Sam said, taken aback by the beauty of the room. 
"My parents painted it when I was a baby," Jay said. "They used to let me come here if I couldn't sleep, of if I was upset, or anything. It was just my space." Jay paused, sitting down on one of the swings. "And now it can be our space," he said. "What do you want to know?" Sam sat down on the other swing, holding Jay's had, swinging gently back and forth.
"I don't know where to start," Sam said. "First, what do you want me to call you?" 
"Jay," he smiled. "Call me Jay."
"Okay," Sam said, nodding. "What is it that you're wearing to make your chest flat?" 
"It's a chest binder," Jay said. "It's damn uncomfortable, but it's the safest thing bar surgery."
"Okay," she said, still smiling at her boyfriend. "How do you feel?"
"What do you mean?" Jay asked. He looked at Sam confusedly.
"I mean," she said, "What does it feel like to be you? To be a man? In a girl's body?" Jay took a deep breath. He ran his hands through his hair, his usual nervous behaviour. He took his glasses off, leaning his elbows on his knees, head low, glasses in his hands. Jay always took his glasses off when he didn't want to see the world. When the world was too much for him to handle. When he needed the blurry and undefined lines of his sight to cope. 
"It's really surreal," he started, tossing his glasses aside. "Like I'm not myself, like I'm trapped in someone else's body, or like I'm seeing things in third person view." He took another deep breath. Sam rubbed his back, silently comforting him. "I hate looking in the mirror. I hate this body. I want to be flat chested. Straight figure. I hate my hips most of all. They're just there. Just taunting me. I've never liked dressing in any way girly. I always felt like girl's clothes didn't hang on me right, didn't suit me right, and that male class suited me more than female prettiness. I've always, always felt different. Only now do I realise why." Jay went quiet for a minute. 
"You okay?" Sam asked, picking up his glasses off the ground, folding them up, and sliding them into his jacket pocket. 
"Yeah," Jay said, smiling. "I've just never spoke about my feelings like this before." 
"Well you know I'm here to listen. And I know I don't feel what you feel, but I can attempt to understand. Teach me. I'll learn for you," Sam said, smiling. "So Jay, earlier, when you said you were waiting for the right time to "move forward" with this, what did you mean?" Jay smiled at her. 
"This is where you don't need to understand, just listen. What I meant is I want to come out. I want to transition. I don't just want to be Jay in my head. I want to be Jay. I want to get the surgery and the hormones. And you were the first step. Tonight, after you leave, I'm going to tell my parents. And I'll probably have to move out, because they won't accept me. But I'm going to raise the money. Be myself. I can do this. I will do this," Jay said, smiling determinedly. 
"But, Jay, where are you gonna stay if you get kicked out? You're only sixteen," Sam asked, freaking out entirely and the thought of Jay on the streets. 
"I don't know. But I'll find something," he said, his face a mask of determination. 
"Come stay with me," Sam said. "I don't care what my parents think or what Jake thinks. You're staying with me, okay?" 
"Okay," Jay smiled. "Thank you so much. You're the most amazing friend. And an even more amazing girlfriend." Jay knelt in front of her and planted a kiss on her lips, but Sam pulled back. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"I don't know," Sam said, pouting. "I mean, Jay, I've always had a thing for you, but I just don't know what this makes me. You're a guy. Until today I thought you were a girl. I still like you now, and I think I'll still like you in the future, when you're physically as male as you can be. But I don't know what that makes me," Sam said, fretting. "I know you've always known what you are. You've always known you like girls. But I don't know." Jay took Sam's hands in his.
"Hunny, listen. It doesn't matter. You can like guys and girls and you know it. Okay, you want a hand? Think of Channing Tatum. Is he hot or is he giving you a she boner? Think of Portia de Rossi. Is she hot or is she giving you a she boner? That's for you to know and no one else to care. I really care about you, and as long as you really care about me, it's all okay. Okay?" Jay said, smiling up at the girl he was proud to call his own.
"Okay," she said, smiling. They heard the doorbell ring, and they ran down to get the pizzas. After paying the pizza guy, and settling down in the living room, Sam and Jay resumed conversation.
"So," Jay said. "Do you want to know more about the transgender stuff, or do you just wanna chill?" 
"We can talk more later," Sam said. "Let's put on a movie." Jay browsed through the family's movie collection. 
"Monster House?" he suggested.
"YES!" Sam agreed. Jay put on the DVD, and sat back down on the sofa, arm over the back of the seat. Sam shuffled over closer to him, leaning into his body. Jay put his arm around her, holding her in close to him. Sam felt the warmth radiating from his body, lovely and warm and comfy. Jay felt like he could never let her go. For once, he had the girl he cared about in his arms. Safe. Or as safe as she could be. Admittedly, Jay worried about her a lot. In the previous years, when he had struggled with depression, she had suffered too. She was so emphatic that his depression leeched into her. She would cry when Jay talked about how he felt, and she only recovered when Jay started counselling. Sam could feel how laboured Jay's breathing was, with her body resting on his, with that awful binder on him. It was heavy breathing, deep breaths, slow breaths. Sam admired his ability to put up with the discomfort because it made him more comfortable in other ways. Jay unbuttoned his waistcoat, making his breathing a little less laboured, but still difficult. There was a scary moment in the movie, and Sam jumped. Jay smiled his charming half-smile, looking lovingly at the girl leaning on him. She was, to him, the most beautiful thing in the world. She had been for a long, long time. Sam looked up at him.
"I just remembered," she said quietly. "You promised kissing." She smiled proudly up at him. Jay leaned down to kiss her, bringing his hand up to her face, holding her gently. They both pulled away, perfectly in time with each other.
"You better get home," he said. "My parents will be home soon." Same got up, getting herself ready to leave. 
"You know where I live," she said, standing in the front doorway. Jay kissed her on the cheek. 
"I'll be around," he said, smiling even though he was in pain. He knew tonight would be difficult, and even if his parents did accept him, he'd want to get away for a while. He closed the door behind him and walked upstairs slowly. He had an odd melancholy feeling about him, knowing that even though it was what he wanted, he would lose things along the way. He went into his room, glancing around his little haven. He had a hammock strung above his bed, and sliding wardrobes along one wall. There were posters covering every surface, for TV shows and bands and artists. A shelf of souvenirs from family holidays, reference books and fiction. His bed was messy and unmade. He took a cardboard box out from under his bed, taking anything he knew he'd need and put it in the box. His clothes, his binders, his packers. His journal. It struck him as to how little he actually needed that he owned. He sat down on his bed, knowing that this would be the last time he stayed there in a while. 
And he started to cry. Jay sobbed loudly and angrily. He sat on his bed with his head in his hands for what seemed like forever. Then he erupted in anger. He sprung of the bed and knocked over his shelf unit. The books spread across the floor, their meticulous order torn apart in seconds. 
"Why me?!" he yelled. His voice was raw and rough. The only emotions left were anger, sadness, and fear. He sat down in the middle of the floor, as his angry, violent sobs became shivers, as his shivers became still, and as his eyes dried. He heard his parents coming in the door, stood up, gathered himself, and walked downstairs. They were still taking off their coats in the hall.
"We need to talk."


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