Author's Note: So yeah. Yet another trans Megan fic. Because, I love that AU/Headcanon. This is a prequel to Am I Pretty? ( s/12660158/1/Am-I-Pretty). Yet again, big thanks to DippertheShipper on AO3, for helping me out with this. Please check out their fics, they're a wonderful bean. This fic has lots of parts taken from various other fics that I had/have in the works, but haven't gotten around to finishing. I took inspiration for this fic from the songs Billy Elliot by Julia Marcell, and Twin Sized Mattress by the Front Bottoms. The title is taken from Twin Sized Mattess by the Front Bottoms. The queer group in this fic is based off of the queer group that I go to irl. Tis is also a little bit of a vent fic, maybe. Also, I'm a trans man. Not a trans woman or non-binary person. So, if I've gotten anything about trans women wrong, please tell me so that I can correct it. Thanks! I hope you enjoy this fic! WARNING: This fic contains gender dysphoria, spiders, death mentions, reclaimed queephobic slurs, panic attacks, food, mentions of transphobia/lesbophobia/homophobia/queerphobia, and internalized transphobia/lesbophobia/homophobia/queerphobia.
Being a closeted trans person is absolute hell sometimes, Megan decides. Being misgendered makes her feel like a dead spider curling up its stiff legs. But today is different.
She's carefully attempted various techniques to look more like a cis girl. She had carefully watched tutorials, and bought all the necessary supplies. She doesn't look awful.
The young blonde is in one of her few skirts. She smiles at her reflection. She may not be able to talk to people she knows while looking like this. Not yet, at least. But she looks damn good.
Sometimes she wishes she could be forgotten by everyone. Nobody would remember her old name or face. She could create an entirely new life. One where she could be herself.
She's taken to roaming the streets, late at night. She's not trying to get into trouble. She just needs to be able to remove her mask, and breathe. She knows it's dangerous, that people like her get killed or worse for just existing. However, she needs a time and place to be herself.
That was how she had found out about the local group for queer youth in her town. She had taking one of her late-night walks, and found a flyer. The pale purple sheet of paper had been on the sidewalk, with some dirt on it. She had picked it up anyway. After calling the number to make sure the group was still alive and well, she had decided to attend the next meeting.
Megan decides that she's not going to be self-deprecating tonight. She's going to enjoy wearing a skirt.
By the time she walks into the group, she's clocked in about half an hour of trying not to have a panic attack. However, as soon as she walks in, she feels instant relief. These are her people.
Graham had been sipping boredly at her coke, when her eyes catch those of a new face. New kids are common. This person though, is somehow different. The brunette decides to go introduce herself.
She walks over, and holds out a hand. "Hi. I'm Graham. She/her. You're new, aren't you?"
The blonde gains a deer-in-headlights look. A somewhat terrified look, that quickly shifts into nervous relief. "Uh, yeah. I'm...Uh…"
Graham senses the their fear about telling her their name, and smiles comfortingly. "Hey, it's ok. Just whatever you want to be called. You're not gonna get shit for it here. Hell, you could call yourself Pineapple, and we'd be down with it."
That makes the shorter person crack an anxious grin. "I'm Megan."
Graham's smile grows wider. "Pronouns?"
"Oh! Uh, she/her, I guess. I mean, those are my pronouns. I just...Ugh, this is hard."
"You're not out to many people, I'm guessing?"
Megan sighs. "You could say that."
"Well, I mean, I'm willing to listen if you're willing to talk. Let's move to the couch; better privacy."
The two girls sit close together on the couch. Megan has quickly picked up on the pack-like family set-up that the people in the group seem to have. They cuddle and display affection without any worry as to how it could be perceived. Their only concern is making sure the other person/people is okay with physical affection.
Graham tosses a blanket at Megan, and they snuggle comfortably. "So, do you still wanna tell me your story?"
The small girl sighs, and looks at her lap. "Well, I'm a lesbian. And I'm closeted to everyone."
Graham smiles, even though she knows that there's more to the story than that. "Been there."
Megan snorts a little laugh. "Yeah. I doubt you've been where I am. I'm also...I'm also trans. So that's a whole other thing that nobody knows about. Most of the time I'm seen as a straight cis guy. Not just by people I'm not out to either. I know a lot of people think that about trans sapphic women."
"I don't. And nobody else here does. I can guarantee you that. I'm a lesbian. And if you say you're a woman, then that's what you are. If a find a woman that I'm attracted to, it doesn't matter to me if she's cis or trans. It shouldn't matter at all."
The blonde girl slowly looks back a Graham with a hesitant smile. "Thanks, Graham."
"You don't need to thank me for anything."
Megan lays her head on the other's shoulder, and that's when Graham realizes it. Oh. I like her.