In the background, the radio was playing music, setting the mood.
"L-like this?"
"Like that." I took her hand and made it press in harder.
"See?" I smiled and she mustered one, too, staring down.
"I never—"
"It's okay. It's kind of hard for beginners."
"Who knew," she giggled as I switched places with her so she could watch, "that making bread from scratch was kind of hard."
"It's the kneading," I worked my wrists and hands into it, turning it over and over, pushing my weight into it.
"It looks like hard work." She leaned forward on the counter, poking the dough.
"Heh." I licked my lips and kept going until I felt the dough was ready.
"Okay, this is fast rising. So we should only give it a few," I slapped my hands together, wiping and trying to smear the dough and flour from them.
"So…Indian Tacos are just like regular tacos?" Historia was washing her hands in the sink and I went over, joining her as I hummed.
"Kind of but not really… Indian Tacos are superior."
"Are they?" Historia turned towards me, eyebrow raised.
Oh.
A play of words, hm?
"Definitely."
"But I never had one," she tilted her head, a small smile growing on her lips as her eyes glanced down only briefly, "how do I know you're not just saying that?"
I scoffed, leaning in and grabbing her soft cheeks, pulling them.
"Ow!" She gave me a dirty look as I laughed.
"You'll know," I relinquished her cheeks and gently poked her nose, leaving her there to nurse her red face.
"I can already tell," Historia followed me to the couch, "that you're a romantic."
"And I can tell you're a sex phone operator," I stuck my tongue out.
Oh no.
Sasha's shitty behavior was rubbing off on me.
I quickly schooled myself.
But Historia already comically stuck her tongue out back.
I didn't find it as surprising as I would've to see that not only was Historia beauty, grace, Miss Please Sit On My Face, but also a very down to Earth girl.
At least I didn't have to worry about being somewhat formal around her. Not that I would've been good at that anyways.
"So, Ymir Mouthful," Historia plopped down beside me, closing her eyes and listening to the soft nightlife of the city outside her large windows.
"What brought you to that bridge?"
Ah.
I had a feeling she'd ask that one day.
I didn't know if I had the answer to it.
How could I say so casually that I wasn't comfortable with my body and my mind at times? In moments I never thought I'd be struck with anxiety I would find myself fidgeting and thinking like people could see right through me, judge what I truly felt.
It was a stupid paranoid notion—but it ate me. It was there like worms in my veins, silent and crawling and writhing when I thought I grew comfortable with my own resolve.
Even now I felt my tongue grow heavy and my knuckles feel like they needed to be popped—it felt like I was breaking those nasty little crawlers with every crack.
"Hm. I don't think you want the answer to that." I smiled a little because I didn't want to really lie.
Historia drew her knees up to her chest, peering at me carefully.
"…Were you robbing people?" She decided to take a whack at it.
I snorted.
"Me? Robbing? Why do you ask—because I'm darker in complexion?" I raised an eyebrow, not offended quite yet.
"Not at all," Historia rolled her eyes, "it's because Sasha told me you're not close to be rich."
Oh.
That little sh—
"Wait, when did you guys exchange numbers?"
"Sasha texted, saying she stole my number from your phone"—the little shit! I knew I shouldn't have given her my phone's passcode—"and told me to treat you to something nice…which I haven't yet because you've been adamant on paying."
I clicked my tongue, happy to get off topic.
"Well, treatin—"
"Is not important," Historia cut me off.
I disliked being talked over.
"I believe I was asking…why you were there…?"
"Does it really matter?" I sighed.
To escape my problems through either walking to a fuck buddy's house or linger at the bridge, thinking of how I could easily throw myself into the falls and the currents would sweep me under, toss and catch me under its rapid waters like a boiling brew until all life left me.
Sometimes it was a comforting thought.
A lot of the times it was.
I never knew if I really would or even could do that to myself, though, but the thought alone…of it being comfortable…it made my skin feel too tight and my gut squirm and twist like it was trying to reach out for that option.
"I was pissed off and was trying to go to another bar. A friend would be there."
Historia watched me closely.
She could see right through me like everyone else, couldn't she?
I felt my palms working up another sweat—
"I won't press any further if you don't want to talk about it," Historia cleared her throat, "I just…want you to know that I'm a pretty open person, Ymir."
What was that supposed to mean?
"If it helps you, I was there to tell my ex-boyfriend off…though I told you that…but to be honest, I wasn't very happy at the time. Not about the relationship or break-up. It was something else…something deeper…"
My throat constricted and I could only stare at her—the city lights and skyline behind her like a Hollywood prop, and her being my femme fatale.
It felt surreal. If I reached out I swore I'd only feel the static of a TV screen.
I strained my lips between my teeth, trying to figure out what exactly she was saying, because I didn't want to spit on her honesty or openness with a shitty reply.
But she didn't need me to continue.
"It might be strange to you," she chuckled a bit. A bit too sad.
"But I never felt comfortable with myself. One day I'm so certain who I want to be and then the next I feel sick to my stomach because I'm indecisive…and it's tiring." She admitted.
"Why would it be strange to me?" I had to ask because I didn't understand.
She blinked and that sweet, slow smile came with those pink tinted cheeks.
"Because you walk into a place and just…you just have such confidence and presence… It's very cool." She held a hand up to her mouth, laughing.
"It sounds really cheesy coming from me."
I smiled. Her words were fine ink on my heart, filling my confidence, but I knew that this little bit was just a side-road to the conversation.
"Believe it or not," I teased her lightly, "I sometimes feel like you."
Finding who you were while struggling to be 'all grown up' and making 'big kid decisions' was scary.
Hella fucking scary.
Every day was another morning spent in bed, staring at the white popcorn ceiling, wondering if today was the day I'd have a revelation or inkling of who I was or who I'd be or if I'd finally find the career I'd spend the rest of my life with…a person I would love…
"Yeah?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, peering off to the side, contemplating.
"That's…reassuring." She murmured.
She was a very honest person. Something the world lacked and what I could appreciate in the uncertainty of everything in this world.
"I went to the falls…wondering if I'd feel any better after tell Reine—his name was Reiner—that I didn't feel the same…I thought it'd feel right to be with him, but I knew almost right after the moment I said 'yes' that I liked girls and only girls." Historia hummed.
"It was strange…I never been with a girl before or anyone. I thought that I had to try…try one or the other. And boys…well, boys were easy to approach because that's normal…so I went with him and it only lasted two months…"
I reached out, caressing the side of her cheek because she wasn't looking at me—her gaze was far off as if she was watching a black and white film of loss and pain and something else.
She turned towards me and I invited her closer.
She hesitated and kept still.
"…I-I—"
I didn't know why she was scared—was I moving to fast? I had thought maybe…she'd like to be held while talking to.
"Um…I-I don't really…feel comfortable with messing arou—"
"Oh, no," I shook my head, "we don't have to do that."
She nursed her bottom lip a moment longer before crawling over, sitting in my lap, back facing me, and she began to twirl and curl her hair with her index finger.
"The first month was okay… we kissed. I tried to think that relationships took awhile—you know? That it'd feel better as time went on because I never been in one… but by the second month…he tried feeling me up more. Tried doing…things…and I'd reject him."
"Bastard," I muttered, gently rubbing her arm in hopes to comfort.
"No…not a bastard… at least not the first few times." She defended him.
"I…I led him on…and I'm strange in that… that I didn't want it."
"Not at all," I told her and she shifted.
"It is strange…"
"Some people just don't like sex."
"It's…it's complicated."
I knew she wasn't going to budge because she was tensing up and I didn't want her to feel obligated to give me her life's story if she felt uncomfortable.
"It's alright. You don't have to explain it. I respect your decision." I assured.
Historia nodded.
"Just…all of it…the relationship made me think hard about myself…and I just got to the point where I felt—I feel very lost…like no matter which way I go in life that…that things will always turn out bad…"
Oh.
Oh no.
"Oh, Squeaker, no," I whispered, hugging her tightly against me.
Not just for her but for me, too.
Fate would have it this way, wouldn't it?
That I'd meet someone…someone who felt very similar as me…stuck at a crossroad, stuck together in this same fucked up stalemate.
"It's…"
"It's—it's nothing to feel bad about… it's just how I feel…and I don't need…pity or anything like that," she wasn't being mean with it—her words always lacked the edge to be sharp and damaging—she said it with a tiresome drawl that made me feel like she had heard what I said one too many times.
"People have been through worse, right? Not knowing…what is the lesser evil in your life and following through…hah…it can barely be a good enough reason to…to want to do that…"
I didn't want to think of what she would've done if we didn't meet up like we did.
I didn't want to think what I would've done.
"I feel so selfish, Ymir," she whispered, "and at the same time I feel like I have a right to be…isn't that silly?"
"Not at all," I cleared my throat, finally able to give her an answer to something.
Anything.
I wanted to be anything to help her, but her honesty was clawing at my stomach, forcing my own shit to bubble up in my throat, threatening to spill, because nothing felt better than trading hidden truths for one and another.
Just so she wouldn't feel like she was terrible because I could sense it all over her skin she thought she was a spoiled rotten rich kid who was throwing everything away.
"I feel a lot like you…It's a bit scary," I tried to chuckle but it was so strained. She heard it and even spared me a small laugh.
"I think we're a bit too similar," I attempted but she immediately shook her head.
"Not at all," she sighed, "I wish we were, though. Don't take offense."
"Nah," I soothed and she got out of my lap. I took a glimpse at her face and found that she seemed a bit more sober.
"So…how's that stomach?" I asked because that's all I could try while shaking off the lingering awkwardness of not knowing what to do.
"Ah," Historia held it a bit, "it's…much better…"
On cue my stomach growled loudly.
Historia snorted, shaking her head.
"It sounds like yours isn't happy though…how about we finish dinner—Indian tacos, right? The ones you said were very amazing?"
"Right," I hopped up, grinning, "the most amazing food that will become your favorite in one bite."
"Is that so?" She elbowed me in my hip as I removed the towel covering the dough bowl. It was all puffy and happy like a cloud as I took a palm-sized glob.
"Now, you got to spread it out thin," I fingered it gently, pressing it and making it like a disc and she did so, too, as we set the pan with olive oil and began to fry it.
I set to cooking the can of chili—I was lazy and didn't want to do the homemade stuff.
In less than thirty minutes, we had our plates of frybread and I showed her the works—chili, shredded cheese, spinach, tomato, onion, and an optional salsa or sour cream.
We sat at her table and I winked at her.
"Go ahead. Take a bite of it."
She grinned, cutting off a bite-sized piece and taking a nibble.
Immediately, her face lit up.
"Hah!" I slapped my hands together, leaning back in my chair and biting my bottom lip, snickering in sweet victory.
"It's good! Better than tacos—regular tacos!" She began to devour it with glee.
"I know, I know—It's the best," I followed her example and we took down about two each before throwing in the white flag and storing the leftovers in her fridge.
"So…um, how about that sleeping arrangement, huh?" I asked as she was turning out the lights.
She smiled, coming up to me and tip-toeing so she could just be a little bit closer to my face.
"Maybe…in the future our sleeping arrangement can be closer than how tonight's will be, hm?" She brought a hand up to my cheek, holding it there so she could kiss my lips.
I leaned down, deepening it for only a moment and was completely lost in fuzzy land as she pulled away.
"The bedroom is right down this hall," she pointed near the kitchen, "and my bedroom is down this way," she gestured to the hall behind her.
"T-That's cool," I nodded, trying to clear my head, "um, I…goodnight…Hm."
I leaned down again, giving her a quick kiss to the forehead and made my way straight to the guest room, legs almost betraying me as I finally hid inside the room and jumped around.
Holy fucking shit!
She was so pretty and cute and sweet and cute and—uh—pretty! And cool! And great!
I danced around, wagging my butt and flopping onto the bed.
What a night!
.
.
.
"I think we're a bit too similar."
I let the hot water course down my body as I stood under the shower's spray, reliving the night.
"Not at all," I grieved, "I wish we were, though. Don't take offense."
I would give anything to be like Ymir—strong, beautiful, confident. I wanted to walk into a room and have people know that I knew myself inside and out and nothing could ever change that.
I grabbed the bar of soap, scrubbing it against the washrag and ran it over my skin, watching the suds stick and slide down with the trickling water.
In here, I felt beautiful.
I felt right.
I was who I was without a doubt.
I wasn't who people thought I was or tried to pretend I wasn't.
I was just me.
No labels.
I dropped the wash rag, leaning against the wall.
But I couldn't hide in here forever.
I couldn't pretend Ymir and I would last.
She was a lesbian—it wasn't hard to figure that out.
I was—I had nothing I fell under.
I was a misfit ever since I was born. My parents thought I'd turn out one way but then as I matured I became another.
They overlooked what they didn't want to believe and see.
I glanced down at my feet.
No doubt…Ymir would learn…she would learn what I kept from Reiner and others…and she'd leave me because…
I looked at myself.
Connie's elbow had went straight between my legs and really dealt a crushing blow.
It was hard not to hold myself and cry right then and there, but I knew I couldn't… it'd be too obvious.
My hand went to my sex, cupping it, and feeling it.
It was sore as I held it.
It wasn't who I was—I was more than just what was between my legs. I was a person… a person who deserved love and a place in society like everyone else.
I wanted…
I wanted to be a girl, but what I held now told everyone otherwise.
To be a girl was to…to mutilate myself so I could have what every other girl had.
Why did I have to hurt myself to become a girl?
I was…I believed I was a good enough to be a girl.
I released myself from my hold but I couldn't stop staring at it.
I liked Ymir a lot and I wanted to be the person Ymir was growing to like. I didn't want her to just…see this and run away.
I was so much more yet…
"I'm nothing more than this." I said it, seeing how stupid it sounded.
Because of this—this!—this dick between my legs I was somehow less than a girl and yet I could never be a man because I didn't want to.
I just wanted to be me. And I wanted Ymir to love me for who I was…
Expecting to be loved for who I am, was that too much to ask?
I didn't know.
That's why I had the medical documents always sitting in my desk, filled out but never sent, requesting to see a surgeon who could make me complete in society's eyes.
At crossroads, unable to choose, because I knew no matter which route I took I'd be damned.
Damned and alone.
