Note: So, about two years ago I uploaded a story called Days of Our Lives. It was going to be about Arthur Kirkland and how he lives as a transgender boy at school and as a biological girl at home, but I never could get it to work. Well, I promised a few people I'd write it over that summer and then two years passed. Whoops. Well, now I've started a new series still based on transgender Arthur Kirkland. He's a teenager and he's pre-operation. This series, instead of being a novel-type, will be a bunch of one-shots all dealing with different events in his life.
If anyone has any input, I graciously offer you to tell me. If something is considered offensive, please tell me! If I've misunderstood/mis-written a topic, please tell me! If you want to see something about this Arthur, please tell me!
I don't have any experience being a trans person. I'm cis so I don't have intimate knowledge. I just want to write something that's been on my mind for over two years. And I hope that I do the trans community justice with it.
Also, for this chapter, Arthur is having his period. Every female has different experiences with their periods. Some people just have bloating, some have crippling cramps. Either way, it is different for every person who gets them. Some people take over the counter/prescription medicine, some go a more organic route with teas and herbs, and some go down the surgical route. Please keep that in mind.
I don't own Hetalia.
With all that behind us, I hope you enjoy and look forward to future chapters!
Arthur Kirkland stared up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. It had been painted a dark blue just recently and the heavy curtain over the window let in no light. A tiny pinprick light from the television's power button gnawed at his eyelids as he tried to ignore it and fall asleep.
It was quiet and calm. Yet, Arthur could not fall asleep.
A twinging in his stomach, almost like he had when he was feeling anxious or stressed, was constantly gurgling in his gut and had been for the last hour.
On his back, Arthur kneaded his stomach, rolling his knuckles over his navel and down towards the space in between where his hips jutted out and his body was concave. His hips ached him. And gravity wasn't fairing on him so well at that moment. But, rolling over caused his nausea to rise back up into his throat and he didn't have the energy to even attempt running for the bathroom. He tried taking deep, long breaths, but the movement became annoying and it upset his nausea as well.
Glancing sideways at the illuminated analog clock hanging on his wall beside his beg, Arthur did a little math and decided to reach over to the little pill bottle on his bedside table; just some aspirin to help him fall asleep. He took a swig from his glass of water and downed two small white tablets.
Arthur rolled on his side, finally, fighting off the uncomfortable feelings riling inside of him and tried once more to fall asleep.
When he woke, he felt much the same as the night before. He knew that when he stood, he'd only magnify those pains, but he had school and he couldn't be late.
With a sigh, Arthur slid his legs over the edge of the bed and, tightening the muscles down near his crotch, he hurried himself to the bathroom, flinging off his sleep pants and stood in the tub.
He could feel it moving down him, from the inside, before it slid down his leg, clumpy and sticky and smelling of iron. The smell made him gag and he turned the shower head on, letting the hot water wash over his skin. He angled himself so that it hit his stomach. It burned at first and it turned his skin into a bright, nasty red, but the ache he'd felt since falling asleep that night disappeared, if only temporarily.
His legs wobbled as his gut gurgled and he hurried to wash his hair and body before they gave out. The same mad dash was made back to his bedroom and an old pair of underwear was dug out from his dresser drawers. A package of pads was stuffed next to them and he grabbed one, fiddling with the package and sticking it on the worn cloth before shoving them over his legs. Arthur's stomach was rolling now. His movements upset it and he couldn't help that. He took another two aspirin and finished dressing for school.
It will be years, Arthur reminds himself. It will be years before he can finally be who he wants to be. Who he really is.
It will be years of more menstrual cycles and biweekly haircuts and even awkward clothes shopping before he can finally, truly show everyone who he really is.
Arthur steps onto the yellow school bus that takes him to the private school his mother pays for. He glides past the other students, not nearly as riley as their public school counterparts and sits in an empty seat in the middle of the chaos.
A girl is sitting in front of him, her hair long and braided neatly. Her collar is straight and that's all he can see of her. She has a high-pitched voice, but speaks softly to the girl sitting next to her. They giggle and Arthur see's her manicured hand point a glossy nail at a boy three rows ahead of them. They giggle again.
Arthur looks down at his lap. The pad in his underwear makes his bottom feel squishy and it's uncomfortable, but it's better than using tampons in his opinion. He kneads his stomach with his knuckles and watches out the window until they arrive at school.
From there, Arthur is just another uniform and lanyard in the hall, carrying his books and trying to ignore the squashy-ness in his pants as he walks - fighting the urge to smooth his behind over to make sure the pad hasn't bunched up any so others don't see.
The temp in third period stumbles over his name. The school hasn't changed it yet, and she almost says it, but catches herself and asks if there are any Arthurs in the room. A few students chuckle, but they're used to temps messing up his name. They've had time to adjust.
Arthur skips lunch and heads for the bathroom. He spends the entire half hour with his pants at his ankles as he sits on a toilet. He'd forgotten an extra pad and so he tries his best to clean the one he's been using, wiping at it with toilet paper until the blood's dried.
The bus ride home shakes up his stomach and makes him nauseous again. He makes it inside with enough time to not crack his knees on the bathroom tile as he plunges his head into the basin. The crackers he'd eaten during sixth are now floating in a soggy, bubbly mess along with the bile.
Arthur runs a bath and sinks in, folding a wash cloth to sit on his stomach and then on his hips and over his crotch as each spot's aches lessen. The bath water is a pink color when he drains it. He forehead is sweaty and his head his foggy from the steam. His entire body is flushed and he wobbles to his bedroom to reapply a pad.
Mother is home. She's cooking and the smell on any other day would have Arthur ravenous, but right now he feels ill just thinking of the ground beef sizzling in the pan. But, Mother knows that he's not going to eat and she's already prepared a cup of strong chamomile tea with a bit of honey. The cup is hot and Arthur takes it gladly as he lies in bed. He rests it gently on his stomach and gulps it down, burning his tongue a few times.
Arthur lays in bed for a few more hours, reading and doing homework and finally, when he cannot keep his eyes open any longer, Arthur takes a final aspirin to stave off the cramps so he can get a full night's sleep.