Prompt Post #7

[gammods]

Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer.

Page A Mod Post

Rules Post

PP7 Discussion Post

Lonely Prompts Post

Please remember to place any Trigger Warnings in the subject line of your

Comments

Fill: Beautifully Wrong 5e/? – ftm!Blaine/Kurt, Andersons – dysphoria, transphobia, homophobia

[ilovescarves89]

The tightness in your chest has spread to your stomach, which is twisting uncomfortably, and your cheeks are burning. Your hands are clammy with cold sweat, and they are shaking a little, you realize, as you lift one to brush a hair out of your face. You clench your fists to make it stop and you take a few calming breaths.

'Because--' you begin, first speaking to your father's tie, but then you lift your gaze to look him straight in the eye instead, forcing yourself to give off an air of calm far from your actual state of mind. 'Because it's a girls' school. And-- and I'm not a girl.' Your father's face remains completely impassive at these words, and behind you your mother isn't moving a muscle. 'I think-- I feel like... I feel like I should have been a boy.'

'Sweetie, that isn't something you joke about,' your mother tells you seriously and you twist to look at her as she walks around the bed to stand next to your father.

'It's not a joke,' you inform her calmly. 'I feel like a boy. I have for a long time. It's called being transgender.'

At the last word your mother's mouth falls open a little bit and your father sucks in a quick breath. You turn your gaze back to him, then back at your mother and back and forth between them, frantically searching for some kind of reaction.

'I just can't do it anymore, it's too much.' You drop your calm facade, choking the words out in a trembling voice that keeps breaking, and you shake your head from side to side, now looking anywhere but at your parents. 'I tried so hard. To be normal. To be right. To be what you wanted me to be, but I just can't, and it just hurts so much to keep trying.'

Your father stills you and stops your stream of words with one strong hand on your shoulder and another warm hand gently touching your cheek. Your breath is shallow and your throat is hurting with the effort of not crying. Your father's face is pained with heartbreak and you don't know whether it's for you or him, but that's when you feel the first tear roll thickly down your left cheek.

'Please just don't send me to Crawford. Please,' you sob out as the tears begin to fall for real. Then the next thing you know, you're on the floor and your father has scooped you up in his arms, cradling you like a small child.

'Shh, it's okay, Amber,' he murmurs soothingly, and though part of you is afraid he has missed the point entirely, you're just so relieved that no one is yelling at you. 'You don't have to go. We'll figure it out. We'll figure it all out, okay?'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' is the only thing you can say between sobs as you burrow deeper and deeper into your father's warm embrace. 'I'm so sorry.'