Everyday, no matter what.
His alarm rang - six fifteen. He groaned and stumbled out of bed carefully, grabbing the black wifebeater and medical gauze from the darkness of his closet by instinct. Immediately making his way to the bathroom. He stood in the mirror, his baggy Batman tshirt and Christmas tree boxers were the clothing that a good portion of guys wore to bed. Of course, another good portion of them went shirtless to bed. Adam shuddered at the idea. He knew his body better than anyone, and hated it enough that he did not want to wake up with his cursed breasts in his face. It was bad enough having to cover them each morning, reminding him that they were there instead of just throwing on his uniform, combing a finger through his hair, and rushing out the door with a bagel in his mouth like his older brother. He turned sideways, glaring at the curve that showed up in the mirror as if that would make it go away. He should be used to it by now, but everytime he hated it more and more.
Everyday, without fail.
Even if it was the weekend, immediately he'd wake up and wrap himself. As if no one knew. But everyone knew, so it's not as if he were hiding some dirty little secret from his family. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, everyone would forget and think he was a guy. A guy without boobs. Instead of the girl that hated them. Gross. The word sickened him. Girl. He's almost surprised how he can stare at a girl and admire her features when he wants nothing more than to make those same perks disappear.
Everyday, before anything else.
Slowly he unwrapped the cream-coloured medical gauze and dared to hold it against the cursed bumps. He scowled when he felt the soft lumps, knowing he'd never be a guy as long as he had jiggling fat where his pecks should be. He's seen his brother shirtless, and that's one of the things girls love about him. Adam didn't have such luxury. Sighing, he slowly and painfully wrapped himself. He made sure it was tight enough that he could sometimes take a breath or two every other hour. He turned back to his reflection, hoping it was flattened enough. His remorse grew larger if that were even possible. Everyday he wrapped them tighter and tighter, and everyday they showed more and more. He wished he could cover them behind his thick jackets and face-hiding beanie once again, but because of the uniform it was quite impossible.
Everyday, it got harder and harder.
"Yo, Adam, open up!" The knock shook him a bit, somewhat distracting him from his dilemma. He quickly tossed the purple polo over his head and slithered into his khakis, brushing past his brother as he exited the bathroom. "You're cutting back on your time, finally," Drew complained before shutting the door loudly.
Everyday, more and more pain.
"Hey, sweetie. What do you want for breakfast?" His mother smiled at him, refusing to look him in the eye. He sighed and began rummaging through the laundry hamper of dirty clothes.
"Have you seen my black jacket?" Adam shot up, finally meeting his mother's eyes. She looked sad, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears.
"I think it's in your closet, dear." Dear. He hated that. His mother never called him Adam. It was always some sort of gender-neutral pet name that he couldn't get upset about but still let her deny that she had a son just a little bit longer.
Everyday, it was like this never-ending cycle.
He jogged back up the stairs and sorted through piles of unfolded clothes and shirts that were supposed to be hung up. He refused to look into his closet sometimes. His mom refused to let him come out to Grams, so his "Gracie clothes" were still in there in the depths of it all. Even if he wasn't looking for them, he always found them. The material seemed to burn his skin with every little touch. Maybe that's why he decided to burn himself. Gracie suffocated him, so she deserved a little heat herself. She taunted him, almost like Adam was a little toy doll that she played with. Of course, Gracie played with dolls because she was a little girl. Adam was a young man that would go off to college in a few years. They were not the same person, and to him that rang clear, but no one else seemed to be able to see it that clearly. He finally found the jacket. It was thin and a soft material, but it was the best he could do to meet school requirements.
Everyday, as if by instinct.
He slung his backpack over his right shoulder and forced a smile - even if he didn't believe it himself. He walked downstairs to turn into the car - grabbing a Strawberry Pop-Tart on the way. Awaiting at school were weird stares, glares, whispering, and the occasional snicker. He knew they talked, and he wished so well that the world would understand and accept him. He even wished he was still in recreational gym class, dancing with Bianca. Girls didn't know then, no one knew then. People genuinely accepted him as a guy, and that's all he really wanted.
Everyday, the same thing.
He just wanted acceptance, but he would never completely get it.