Disconnected ; Lashton

24. Pizza

I attempt to catch popcorn in my mouth that Calum throws up in the air as Ashton and Michael beat each other up in Mortal Kombat. We’re hanging out in my bedroom for a change since Mikey's house is off limits until he’s out of trouble with his parents. He’s officially dropped out of school, so they're a bit unhappy with him. He brought his Xbox with him, and it’s tempting me to save up money to buy my own. Or get a job, since I’m eighteen and receiving an allowance from my mum is a bit childish. But honestly, I don’t want a job. It just means less time to hang out with Mikey and Cal- and, you know, my handsome boyfriend.

I can’t get that word out of my head. Boyfriend. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend! Ashton is MY boyfriend and no one else's. Isn't that awesome? Well, it’s awesome for me. Having Luke Hemmings as his boyfriend might not be quite as amazing for him, on the other hand. He sure acts like it is, though. So… maybe it is? I don’t know. All I know is that I get butterflies every time I think of Ash as what he is- my boyfriend.

I can’t really seem to imagine that he would do the same, picture me as his boyfriend. I mean, I am, that’s how relationships work, but I guess there's always going to be a part of me that can't associate myself with any masculine term. I should be able to, I try to, but at the end of the day, I still manage to feel girly, even with a deep voice and a height of six feet. It sounds so stupid when I put it into perspective, but I suppose that’s just how insecurities work.

For example, every time I take my testosterone, I feel as though I’m back in my thirteen-year-old body, surrounded by barbies in my childhood bedroom. It’s the worst feeling in the world, by the way. It’s similar to how I feel when I watch Ashton, Michael, and Calum interact with each other. There's something- some invisible set of strings that latch onto me and pull me away ever so slightly. Even if I engage with them and take up just as much space, even if the sound of my laugh fills the room, I’m not with them the same way they’re all with one another. They grew up this way, living as boys. Doing all of the things that boys do. I didn't. I grew up feeling like I should be doing the same, but never being able to.

Maybe if I could go back in time and raise myself in a boy's world, I wouldn't feel like this. But even so, I still would've had a period, I still would've been told all of the same things that all young girls are told, I still would've been trapped inside of my skin.

But… it’s easier to breathe, I’ve noticed. My lungs have grown a lot, or maybe it’s something else. Who I am inside. When my three best friends do things together, I’m in the same room, so I’m included, arent I? And what is the essence of being a boy in the first place? Making vulgar jokes? Eating pizza? Playing video games?

No, I don’t think so. Being a boy might be the same as being a friend, and being a friend is something that I never did until I met these three, so perhaps it's alright if I had a late start. There has to come a day when I look in the mirror and I don’t see the remnants of that late start, right? Well, I’ll let you know if I ever get there.

Ashtons character on the screen- Skarlet, I’ve learned her name is- dies at the hands of Michael’s character, Scorpion. Ash groans at his loss and leans his head back so that it falls on my lap. I smile down at him and his face brightens up immediately, almost as if I flicked a light switch on.

“Hi.” He says simply. I laugh and beg my voice to cooperate with me. Luckily it listens this time around.

“Hi.” I reply. Michael gags at us and Ashton flips him off without lifting his head.

“Want to go again?” Mikey asks, ignoring Ashton's rude finger.

“Nah, I’m all video gamed out for today.” Ashton replies, resting his controller beside him. I play with his hair a little and begin to form a small braid in it, the way my mum taught me when I was little. I stop braiding as soon as I recall the memory, even as happy as it is. Today is one of these I get where everything makes me feel dysphoric. Seriously, everything! When the boys came over today, I was two heavy breaths away from having a panic attack over my room being too clean. I like having a clean room, but I worried they would find it too girly since boy's rooms are typically dirtier. Once again, when you put that into perspective its such a dumb thing to worry about! Any normal boy wouldn't care or think twice about it, they wouldn't have to. I’m not a normal boy. I’m not normal. And in the back of my head, I think to myself, ‘you’re not a boy, either.’