Nyah, I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. This is for Raining Skittles for making me do this, and stay up all night but I did enjoy it nevertheless. I hope you like.
All OCs belong to their owners besides Jamie, Arabella, and Damien. They are mine! I don't own South Park.
"I have no idea why people like Jamie," Events that happened in the past.
Dark blue eyes widen considerably. He can hear them as soon as he started to walk off. They don't want to be friends with him. They're lying; he can hear their loud voices.
The smirks decorating their faces, he can just imagine it.
Their resounding laughter that cuts through his cool mask without even a challenge, leaving it in pieces for him to pick it up. A single voice stops him from running completely away.
"That cross-dressing freak. He's more annoying than the fag Pip. Why are we friends with him again?" Cartman says he already knows a group of people is surrounding the fat ass.
He wants to run away. It's best if he doesn't listen to the answers. He wants to hold on to the desperate hope that people can look past physical appearances. That somebody will actually stand up for him.
So, he stays glued to the spot, hoping against all odds there will be somebody, someone. "Because Damien will kill us if we ever hurt his precious Jamie," Craig Tucker's nasally voice answers.
Everybody starts laughing once again making obscure comments and jabs. He hears and knows so many of those people that are "secretly" being friends with him, and it hurts. The lights from his dark blue eyes dim significantly.
He doesn't make his presence known instead he just starts to run as fast as he can. He needs to get to his house as fast possible where all their words and glares couldn't hurt him. Five minutes later, he quietly arrived at his home.
His parents were visiting their local art show, and he got home before Damien and Arabella. Slugging off his backpack he makes his way into his room. Closing his door, he glances at everything in his room that defines him as James Nero Black otherwise known as Jamie.
There are pictures of himself and his real friends. Posters that decorated every inch of his walls depicting of music, a hot guy or two, his books, and the sign of the Beast or his "Uncle" Satan. A tank filled with sand scorpions sits on his dresser.
He has a cello in the corner of his bedroom. Then his eyes come across his closet, and he finds that he can't hold back everything that has recently happened to him and past events. Without warning he tears into the space. Throwing piles and piles of dresses, corsets, skirts, and low-riding jeans to the ground. He tore everything that defined him as a cross dresser down.
He hates it!
He hates it!
He hates it!
HE HATES IT SO MUCH!
He tears it all down from the hangers and seams, throwing it on the floor. They were the fucking reason he was like this. Why at first glance people thought that he was a girl, why they always looked at him with interest or un-hidden lust. Yet seconds later they learned he was a boy, now they stared at him with contempt and unveiled disgust. The reason behind all those scathing remark he received from behind closed mouths.
Why he was a freak among freaks. When he couldn't find any more things in his closet he moved toward his dresser. Throwing his make-up against the walls, he watched it all shatter upon impact. The stupid concealing makeup that only added, no, spurred everyone into teasing him.
The makeup, the stupid eyeliner added to the mask he chose to wear with pride every single day. He tore down all his posters of men, ripping them into shreds letting the pieces fall to ground. He shouldn't like men. It was so unnatural.
Grabbing the photos and photos of him smiling with friends and family he threw them against the wall. He glanced at one depicting him at eight dressed as the Queen of Hearts and Double L as Alice. They looked so happy.
So fucking fake. Another crash sounded against the walls. He threw every single photo. Every single moment he had ever captured. Books were shredded and thrown on the floor. The dresser drawers were ripped from the dresser itself.
He couldn't stand the sight of anything in his room. All it showed anyone was that he something that should be abhorred. He shouldn't be like he was. Why!
He shouldn't dress like woman, he thinks as he undresses himself, throwing the clothes onto the pile. He should wear jeans and play fucking sports, and ogle girls' breasts and asses. Not drool over men.
Not wishing that his best friend, the Anti-Christ, the fucking son of Satan would notice him for once. He shouldn't be like this at all. Turning to his full-length mirror he sneers at the image.
A boy shouldn't wear make-up at all. A boy shouldn't be so short and scrawny. Before he himself notices a single fist flies toward the glass. The perfect image is broken.
Like he is.
Like he feels.
When he looks at himself he can't help, but start to laugh loudly. His body unconsciously starts to peddle backwards till his back hits the bare wall; oddly right beside him is his cello. His body trembles from laughter. Grabbing on to instrument he finds an empty spot on the bed, an insane smile on his face. Not a second goes by where he doesn't giggle.
He rests the cello against his body, the weight oddly comforting. His right hand is already in position while the left hand holds the bow tightly, pressing it gently against the strings.
Then almost if on cue, he starts to play pouring everything he's got into the music. Dark blue eyes start to close and the smile slowing becomes a frown.
At six he remembered going to Gap to pick out his outfit for the first day at school. Dad and Daddy finally agreed on letting him choose his own clothes. He was so excited that day.
His parents led him to the boy section, but he remembered not liking any of those clothes. He said no to every single one. Dad and Daddy thought he should try another store, but no.
He grabbed his Daddy's hand pulling him toward a frilly red and white pinafore with pockets on the front, he could hold his lemon heads in them. Sweet! "I want that!" He says, grabbing the dress, looking excitedly at it. He even saw a matching ribbon too and the perfect set of long sockets. He would look be-be-bea-whatever Dad said that means he'd looked pretty.
Oh, then he saw the perfect skirt too with a big red heart on it, and that shirt with 'Daddy's Little Princess,' written in black cursive with a stick picture of a smiling Daddy and a little girl. That wasn't right, he was Daddy's Prince, but he liked the shirt nonetheless.
From then on he decided the boy's section was icky, the girl section was so much prettier. He was oblivious to his parents' initial wide-eyed reaction. He was clueless of the stares he was receiving, the whispers from surrounding adults, and their non-accepting smiles directed at him.
In fact, he was so unaware that dressing up as girl was taboo, and that he would be isolated for it.
He was nearing the middle of the song. His clutched the bow at bit tighter. A single clear tear escaped a closed eye.
He tucked a single strand of his red hair behind his ears, patting down his white frilly dress. Glancing down at his red ankle-length Chucks once more, he sighed before digging in his shoe, pulling at his cellphone. Finding Daddy's number, he started to walk to Cold Stone.
He may not have liked sweet stuff, but coffee ice cream was the closest thing to comfort he could get right now. His father's voice sounded on the other line.
"Jamie are you ok, where do you want me to meet you?" He goes straight to the point never beating around the bush. A small smile makes it's way onto his mouth. His Daddy already knows he just wants him right now.
"Cold Stone. Do you want coffee flavored too?" He asks stepping into the shop glad to see it was empty.
"Yes, I'll be there in ten." he smiles before answering with an ok. He walks in, someone is already there to greet him, but he doesn't want anymore revulsion. So, he doesn't speak to give away his gender, instead he pretends to be shy, blushing to add effect.
Pointing to dark brown ice cream and the extra large bowl, he chooses sour skittles as the topping. He pays without a word, blushing hotly when the server says he was a cute little lady.
A man that looks to be in his early twenties steps into the shop. His hair matches the hair he had identically. He smiles when he sees the man, holding the ice cream excitedly. The man sits across from him when he hands him a spoon.
Moving the chair till he sits directly at his side, he lies on his shoulder. Pushing ice cream in his mouth, he loves the bittersweet taste. It reminds him of him. "James," The man says putting an arm around his waist.
He in turn leans further into the man's shoulder, fingers grabbing at his black t-shirt. "You know it's okay to cry," The man says soothingly.
"I...I...know, Daddy, I know." He manages to choke out. Another bit of ice cream is shoved into his mouth. Silent tears stream down his face, he and his Daddy could feel the wetness although there was nothing. When was ever going to learn that nobody actually wanted or liked a cross-dressing fag like him.
He can't help but silently wish that tomorrow he would wake up and be normal. He just wants to be accepted like everyone else. He doesn't like being different or an outcast, he just wants to be like everyone else.
He wants to feel comfortable in boy clothing instead of awkward and uncomfortable. He wondered if that was too much to ask.
He grip had loosened the notes were coming out beautifully, leading toward a great end. Tears were falling down his pale cheeks, his face he was sure was screwed up in sorrow or pain, but he could feel his mouth pulling into a joyful smile.
He was in his third year of high school, a junior on the brink of ending his formal education. Nothing had changed much besides his skirts got shorter and he now had a couple of really close friends. Every day he would look really close in the mirror while putting on his eyeliner.
He was checking for any cracks in his mask. He needed to make sure that today he wouldn't let anything derogatory get under his skin. Dark blue eyes stared back at him he was a strong person.
He could pull this off. Stepping out of his room he can already smell the breakfast his Daddy is making, his Dad can't cook shit. However, Daddy isn't necessarily good at fixing the roof, cars, or sinks like Dad is.
It's a pretty a good balance. His siblings Arabella and Damien sit at the dining room table. Arabella as always grabs him in an exuberant hug. "Jamie can I borrow-," He cuts her off with a grin.
"Nope, its my eyeliner." Arabella asks him every morning this month to borrow his Giorgio Armani limited edition eyeliner set.
"But it's my theme to dress up like you this month~." She whines glancing up at me with Dad's puppy look with Daddy's eyes. A deadly combination.
He pauses staring at his sister who honestly looked up to him. She was one of the few that made his mask strong enough to withstand almost anything. "Ok, you may borrow it Bella, but only borrow. For my payment I want two strawberry scorpion lollipops and one ant lollipop too." He says with a smile.
"Thank you, Jamie!" She says, thrusting the items toward him with a smile. Another glance and she's gone. His eyes glint in mirth, nodding off to her direction.
He takes a seat across from his little brother next. No words needed to be said between them two, a silent conversation passed through the meeting of the eyes. "James," The younger tasks not used to using his voice.
"Jamie," Damien tries again softer. "When are you going to admit to yourself that you're hurting? You can lie to Dad and Daddy. You can lie to Arabella.
Heck, you can lie to Damien, Rydia, Karen, or Anza and Anza is the most perceptive of your friends," Damien continues, grey eyes boring into his older brother's ones.
"However you cannot lie to me. You cannot hide from me like you do the others. It's okay to cry. One day something is going to set you off and you won't be able to stop it. The day should be any day James. You've been treated unfairly for you being you.
You brush it off as if it was nothing, but it builds up and grows, pressing against your heart." Damien gets up from his seat doing a rare act kindness. He hugs his older brother.
"Let it out, please." He pleads him, but he only hugs back telling him he has nothing worry about. He refuses to say anything about how on the dot his brother was actually.
He doesn't wait for breakfast; he doesn't think he'll last in the face of his parents. Pushing a lollipop into his mouth he walks out the door. His trek to school is quiet, he watches in amazement as the sun rises fully when he gets to school.
He by now used to the stares of students at school. Going to his locker he is surprised to see Craig Tucker there. He doesn't really like the other boy. Craig is...Craig.
He is only tolerated by him because of Tweek. He thinks that Craig is cute and everything, other than that he feels nothing, but slight disdain toward him. "Tucker?" He asks in a slightly wary tone. His hand immediately flies to his hair ruffling it a bit.
Craig only stares for a moment before flipping him off. "I need to talk to you Jamie." His heart stops for a second, Craig never calls him Jamie. Ever.
"About what?" He asks slowly. His blue eyes eventually land on two beings behind him. Double L and His little pixie.
"Can we talk about this in private?" Craig asks only to get three No's in return.
"Spit whatever you have say out before I decide to walk away." He says dangerously.
"Will you go out with me?" Craig suddenly gushes out. A bright red flame appears at his side. A tall boy with choppy black hair and ruby- red eyes glances briefly at him before his eyes rest on Craig.
"Damien," He says smiling at Satan's son and best friend. He doesn't answer back, but his red pointed tail starts to swish.
"Do you accept?" Craig asks staring at the ground.
"No!" His friends chorus glaring at Craig, however he says a "Sure" walking away. He wished he would of listened.
But his friends always supported him. He is happy for them. They make him who he is today. They were the ones who replaced his nightmares with sweet dreams.
He ends the last bit of the song. Tears are no longer sliding down his face. His blue eyes are open surveying the room. It was destroyed aside from his scorpions.
He did all of this because he needed to release it all... He couldn't help it. He wanted to let it all out. Placing his cello carefully on the bed, he got up careful to avoid broken glass and other items. He peeked into the blinds, happy at what he saw. The sky was getting dark, a thunderstorm was rolling by soon. He hoped it would start to rain before everybody arrived home. He only had to wait ten more minutes before it started pouring like cats and dogs.
Putting some jeans on, yellow rain boots, and a bright red raincoat he rushed outside. The rain falls down on his face causing him to genuinely laugh. He closes his eyes letting the rain wash away everything that was ailing him.
He wanted it all gone.
He stood still for three minutes letting all the water wash over him until his blue eyes opened. He needed to embrace that this was never going to get easier. Sometimes he hated his life, but he loved all the moments he shared with precious ones.
He was happy to be one in a kind. A unique freak amongst the normal freaks, he was a special one.
"I'm James Nero Black, otherwise known as Jamie. I'm a cross-dresser and proud." Jamie states with strong conviction.
He was a cross-dresser and proud.