A/N: This, without a doubt, is the most intrusive thing I've ever written. It is not biographical, but it does draw a rather large amount from someone very close to me. I was given permission to write this only because she said that I did it justice, at least while maintaining a positive ending, and I can only hope you can enjoy it.
It's definitely very AU, but even then only barely so. Either way, let me know how I handled this because... well, because. Thanks!
10.15.14 - edits and additions; clarification, etc.
She hopes that no one notices the bruises on her arms or the more subtle changes, but April can't help it when the shoeshine guy looks at her the way he does and she smiles back. She remembers and stuffs her hands back into the pockets of the jacket she's wearing, looking away and trying to forget about him.
Him.
That word makes April's stomach twist, like a foreign object that's been stuck in her body for far too long in need of emergency removal, and she has to sit down and focus on work for once to get the word out of her head. All she can relate to that word is hearing her father scream it at the top of his lungs, and the bruises sting again and everything starts hurting in her body like an eternal agonizing yell. Things seem to go okay for the first few hours of the day, but it's starting to become impossible to focus on anything before she has to excuse herself from a meeting.
"Hey April," Andy says to her when she passes him.
"Yeah," she returns, not even sure what he had said in the first place.
She goes home – home might not be the word she would have used – and ignores Leslie's calls for the next few hours. She's willing to take the next few weeks of lectures and berating, but she can't stand being there anymore. Not now, not with him. She packs things: clothes, a handful of whatever bottles are still sitting in the shower, and manages to stuff her laptop inside of the bag as well as a last thought. He's not there, and she doesn't know where she wants to go but it's not her "home." It's not that house.
She answers Leslie, but with a request. April can feel the shivers all over her body and the achy, whispering voice she can barely produce.
"Hey Leslie," she interrupts when the older woman begins with a tirade about responsibility.
"April?" and Leslie's suddenly calmer, like she hears the weight behind April's shuddering words. "What's wrong?"
"I just need a place to stay for…" she stops, wondering what she should say, "I need somewhere to be for, like, a couple days."
Leslie doesn't answer immediately and in that silence April feels the weight of the bag on her back like it's going to keep her tethered to that place. Home has lost all of its meaning to her there and all April wants is for Leslie to say okay and to be there when everyone else wasn't.
"Okay," Leslie finally sighs, "but I want you to tell me why."
"Please pick me up and we'll talk about it," April asks her and she tries not to think about how whiny and needy she sounds.
It doesn't take long for April to see Leslie drive up to the house, idling and waiting for her to come out. April practically sprints for the car, throwing her things in the backseat and vaulting in through the passenger side door. Leslie doesn't say a word on the ride, though April can sense her looking and trying to bore into her head with just a stare. It doesn't work, it definitely doesn't break April's resolve, and all it does is end up making the drive even more uncomfortable. At least for Leslie since all the younger girl can think is one single word:
Escape.
At Leslie's ramshackle organizational nightmare house, April tries to postpone it as much as possible. It's only been a few years of this, of daily emotional and physical scarring, and the wounds are still fresh in her body. Every breath in the small living room, even smaller from the stacks of books and magazines, is like freedom to her until Leslie sits down across from her on the sofa and gives her a demanding glare. Instead of saying anything, April just takes her jacket off and shows Leslie the marks – mostly on her arms and shoulders, some on her stomach, others covered by heavy makeup around her neck, but she neglects to show her the ones on her chest.
"Who did this to you?" Leslie asks, holding April's arm gently and moving a hand over one of the yellowing bruises.
April shakes her head and pulls her arm away. Retreating back to her corner of the couch, she takes another drink of the hot chocolate Leslie's made for the night and asks for a blanket. It's another hour before the older woman relents and brings her a blanket.
"I can help, April," she says in the dark before she heads off to go to sleep.
But she doesn't care about getting help – she just wants to be away.
In the morning, they say nothing to one another all the way to City Hall. April wears the same clothes and nearly forgets to cover her neck, thankful for someone else there to remind her. No one asks why they carpool that day, and no one really seems to care which is great. Everything seems totally normal until she goes out for lunch.
"Hey," and it's Andy again.
She walks away from him, halfway to running away and hoping he'd just go away, but it's not going to work and she knows it. April just wants him to stop for a moment and leave her alone.
"Hey," he says once again, right behind her but nearly shouting. "Hey, April!"
"What?" she turns around, very nearly causing him to run into her.
"Dunno, you're just kinda… hey, you wanna get one of those new mozzarella meatball pizza things?" he suddenly asks and his voice quiets – a lot – like he's trying not to be abrasive or loud. "I mean, it's your lunch break so I thought… maybe, we could, like, do that…"
"No," she says quickly and turns around.
"Okay," he comes back with, all tired and sort of defeated.
"I mean," and April has to turn back around so that he knows she's talking to him, "I'm gonna go grab something then I'll be back."
Andy smiles back at her and she wants to, but can't find the will to actually give him a real grin so all April does is nod and go back to her route to the cafeteria. She quickly picks something up, some bizarre sandwich with a bunch of ingredients she would never be able to pick out individually, and makes her way back to the shoeshine stand where Andy's talking to Ann. Standing there, watching him talk to her – her and it's so real, her – April feels her hand ball into a fist but doesn't realize she's still holding the wrap in that one until it's nearly split in two. Then he notices April, and Ann walks away, but April can barely resist the urge to scream when she sits down next to Andy and Ann's long gone.
"So, what'd you get?" he asks, and she should have known what going out for lunch meant.
"You can have this part," she gave him one of the halves from before. "I have no idea what this is, there's a bunch of meat on it though."
"Cool," and Andy takes a massive bite out of his.
April barely nibbles at her half, not really sure why she suddenly lost all appetite, and takes to watching Andy's personality change in an instant when food's involved. It was as if the weird care she heard in his voice before was just a show he put on.
"Next time just ask me to buy you lunch," she finds herself saying for no reason at all.
"Sorry," he admits and April feels her chest collapse under a different weight than she's used to.
"It's cool," she replies and it seems like her façade works because Andy gives her another smile.
"So why'd you come in with Leslie today?" he asks and April freezes mid-bite. "I mean, you usually drive here or something but I never see you guys come in together."
"I got up early," she hastily explains but all she gets from him is a confused crane of his neck. "I left work early yesterday and I guess I just got a bunch of extra sleep or something last night."
April hates how simple he is right then. She never wants to ask anyone for help, she hates the very idea of it, but she wants Andy to talk to her and ask her things that matter a little more than pizza burgers. Then she remembers that there's always going to be Ann, who despite her age is Ann, and April has to put her food down again before she either vomits or bursts into tears. It's been happening way too often for her liking, and the doctor said it's very natural but nothing about it's natural – at least that's what her dad said.
Not Natural.
Andy's finally finished his food while April can only sit and think about it. It, at least before, was just another little pronoun that never affected her and now it was everything to her. It was everything, and she was it to everyone. Like an object, a thing without and within having no real identity. She was an it now, and Ann was her. But April has to try and stop thinking about that or else she knows she'll cry and cause a scene. And then questions, and then he'd know.
"You okay?" Andy asks quietly, and he feels so close to April that she can hardly breathe. "I've seen you eat a whole pizza before."
He's pointing to the little half-wrap that's barely been bitten into, and April wants to tell him like nothing else. She knows how he'll react though, how they've all reacted and she's grown tired of being punched in the face. Broken bones didn't suit her, she decided.
"Fine," she gets the word out and shoves herself away from him when his hand rests on her arm.
"Okay," he says quietly and she has to walk back to work because she can feel herself growing insistent at his touch.
The day passes by and April tries not to think about Ann or Andy or anything at all other than ensuring that she never has to look at anything resembling work. Thankfully it had only been a day so the phone calls wouldn't start coming for a few more days – April regularly stayed anywhere besides her previous house – but she wondered just how long it would take them to realize she wasn't coming back this time. At least, she didn't want to be near her father ever again. The unfortunate side effect of staying with Leslie was that April had to stay behind an extra handful of hours than she usually would have, which meant more possible interactions with people – with Andy.
She hates the feeling she gets in her lower gut when she sees him, almost like a sore reminder of her life, and tries to ignore him and everything with which he had to do. It's even worse when he's so close to her, like that day, and he seems like he's trying and cares and his touch is too exhilarating to ignore. Then she has to run, escape to the bathroom or somewhere private to take deep breaths and relax the itching feelings away.
"Ludgate," Andy's in front of the permits counter and she wants to him to be gone, and wonders for a moment if he actually lives there, "what's up? Thought you'd be gone by now."
"Why are you here still?" she asks defensively, opening an empty folder and staring at it hoping he'd get the message. "You coulda left, like, hours ago."
"Well, that's… true," he says and she has to bite back a laugh. "If I go home though that means I just kinda sit by myself doing nothing."
"What happened to the band?" she voices her confusion, already too interested to back away.
"Burly's got this hot new girlfriend and she's, like, super rich and stuff," he nods while he speaks though his eyes are still on her, "so that's boring. Besides, if you're gonna stay that means we can hang out more. That's cool, right?"
"Sure," she manages to get out and there's a faint smile on her lips and she can feel it but she doesn't care.
They don't really say anything much after that, which is all right by April since when Andy talked too much he usually ends up saying something either stupid or becomes oddly observant in the blink of an eye. The last thing she needs is for him to become observant of her. She half-expects Ann to come in for some reason and walk away with him, almost like the dreams and say the words that make April's entire body quiver in fear of, but that never happens. It's another hour of just them when Leslie walks out, and there's a sad exchange of glances she shares with Andy that puts April's entire body on hold.
No.
Then he does the shitty attempt at stealing looks she's known guys to do – to other people, at least – and his eyes do that sort of roll over her arms and he actually breaks to look at her very closely. It feels like her entire body is exposed and April looks at Leslie pleadingly, but there's something else there.
"April," and when the older woman starts talking she knows it's too late to back out. "I've been talking with some people…"
With a shrug of her head to the side, she indicates to Andy who stands up incredibly quickly.
"Yeah, and I asked someone else about it and… uh," Andy's losing focus but April feels like she has to figure out a method of escape before it's too late.
Sadly she knows that Andy would be able to grab her too quickly and Leslie likely already made sure there wasn't any way out of this for her. Somehow it felt worse than just confiding in herself and pretending everyone just didn't notice her.
"Ann, he talked to Ann," Leslie explains and April groans, "and she wants to make sure you're doing all right and none of this will have any lasting damage."
"No," April says far too quickly, "I'm fine, there's nothing wrong with me."
He can't know.
It's all she can think, because if Ann knows – Ann, the beautiful nurse, she – if she knows then Andy will know. There's no way he wouldn't know and April can't bear feeling his look of disgust.
"April, if you think I'm this stupid to not have figured this out by now," Leslie says forcefully, putting her hands on desk, "if you think I haven't figured out why you left your parents' house with signs of abuse all over you – then I've been doing an awful job here."
"I don't – it's not," and April feels a ripping in her chest like she wants to tell her but it's impossible. Not with him there, not with Andy there.
"April," Andy's hand falls on hers and she sees a crease in his forehead, a care in his voice that hits her harder than any thrown fist.
She has to pull away from him or she just might break, the truth might slip out, and April sits back down in her chair. The hormones are doing their work, and she can feel unwanted mood swings filter through her body in that very instant – searching for the right one, the correct solution. So all she can do is cry. Break down in the middle of her work in front of Leslie and Andy: one person she thought she could trust and the other that made April finally make the hardest decision of her life and continue with the transition.
It seems to catch Leslie by surprise, and Andy's definitely unprepared for it, but it doesn't take long until Andy's next to her and crouched down by the chair. Almost like he wants to be there, and then his arm moves around her shoulder and he's pulling her into his body and – for an instant – she thinks he knows. It feels like he's always known, and that it's okay and everything will be okay, but then she has to pull herself back to reality when Leslie's standing there in front of her desk and looks guilty at her own brusque attack.
"It's okay, I'm just…" and April has to take a deep breath because now she wants to say it. "I have something I want to say, y'know."
"We can help you April," Leslie says and she doesn't even know how much she already has. "You can stay at my house as long as you like, your parents can't do anything about that, and we can find somewhere for you far away from them-"
"It's not about that," and April's heart beats so fast she wonders if she'll die if she actually says it. "It's… I…"
April falters, her voice suddenly unable to work, and all she can think about is turning to see Andy horrified when he realizes the girl he's kissed twice now and who desperately wants him isn't who she says she is – that April isn't she. Then his hand's holding hers again and his look is just Andy and part of her wonders if it'll ever be okay with him even if he does come to terms with it without having to physically harm her.
"Andy, I really like you and I want you to promise me something," she has to ask him.
"Sure, totally – anything," he sits up a little straighter and she wants everything here to be so real. "I'll do whatever."
"Just don't hit me," is all she can say.
Leslie has to turn around and walk away, and April can feel the insecurity bubbling to a font when she says it. Andy looks confused, and almost hurt, like that was the last thing he expected. It's wonderful that he thinks that now – now when April is April and not when she was he – but it doesn't matter what he thinks before. What matters to her is what he does when he knows.
"I think I can handle that," he chuckles and she cracks a small smile despite still wanting to drown in her own tears.
"Andy, seriously, just…" she sighs and slumps in the chair a little bit, "I don't even know how to say it actually."
"Then just say something, I dunno," he says by now so confused and she can't blame him, "I always say stuff and have no idea what it's supposed to mean."
"Andy, do you like me?" she asks, trying to find a way to bridge the gap she was struggling jumping over.
"Yeah, like a lot," he doesn't hesitate to respond.
"Okay," and April takes a few short, hard breaths before continuing, "do you like me because I'm a girl?"
It hurts to say it, and she hasn't even really said anything to him really, and Andy's only reaction is a confused look. She has to blink away a few tears when Leslie returns because she just doesn't know how to tell him this.
"Just answer that, please," she begs him.
"I mean… I don't know?" he answers, and she can tell he's being honest. "It's not because you're a girl you're just the coolest girl that I've ever known – no offense Leslie."
"None taken," Leslie whispers, sitting down on April's desk.
"Would you…" April's crying again and she can't help it because he's already answered her question unwittingly. "If I were a guy, would you still like me?"
April can see Leslie come to the realization immediately, but she does her best not to overreact. April's thankful for that because Andy's clearly struggling with it.
"What, like, would I still want to be with you if you were a dude?" he suggests.
"Sure," she quickly says.
"I don't know… I mean, maybe," he considers her answer very carefully. "I've never had that with a guy before so I dunno. Maybe? Who knows – life's too short I always-"
"Andy, no," she whispers. "I..."
It's a few breaths, only a handful of seconds, but to April telling him this is more important than anything else. Nothing else matters to her other than making sure he knows who she is, who she was, and she'd give up the next year to explain it to him if it meant acceptance. Even her own mother was only so supportive before it became clear April was alone in this, alone before Leslie and Andy. At least that's what she hoped the results were. It's so hard to think of the words though and she can feel jolting pains all throughout telling April to stop and go back to living in shame and fear of what they'd think. Then she sees Andy look at her expectantly, rubbing her back idly and with more care in his eyes than she thought possible from him, and there's Leslie who's just waiting for her to tell him. She knows, and April knows she can trust Leslie with this information, but he's a different story.
"I'm confused April," he admits, "but I really like you and if you need to tell me something this important... I, uh, don't know."
"It's really hard to just say," she returns and laughs a little, looking at Leslie who just nods to her silently.
There are a few more moments where they stay still, sitting the three of them together in the Parks offices by April's desk and she's just happy that two of the closest people in her life - as much as she would hate to admit it on any other day, it was true - are being there and letting her take the time she needs. They're, both of them, letting her be her.
"Andy, you remember my birthday party?" she asks, because it's one of the most important days for her.
"Sure, I think. I mean, I kinda remember drinking a lot and you being mad at me," he looks down and gives her a little grin. "You looked amazing, I mean you always do but you looked..."
"Beautiful?" she offers, her voice catching a little in her throat.
"Yeah," he agrees readily. "What does that have to do with this?"
It wasn't that he thought she was attractive, or that he was giving her his attentions, but April felt accepted already in that moment. It made saying the next sentence so much easier, even if she was worried halfway through that it had been a mistake to tell him. She should have just gone through with her plan of waiting until after she was through with her physical transition, at least that's what she thinks. Still, the words spill out of her without struggle.
"I used to be... Andy, I'm not a girl. I mean, I am - I am in here," she has to rectify that statement because he's confused and it's fine because she knows there's so much physical evidence saying otherwise, and she points to herself to punctuate the statement. "I wasn't though, for a long time. I've always been a girl, and somewhere I always knew that, but not to other people - not to everyone else. I've always been April but if you looked at me just a few years ago you'd call me a he."
She doesn't know what he's going to do now that she's laid everything bare. More bare than any other person she's ever said this to. The only response she can get is quiet while his hand continues its motions on her back. His silence scares her so much that she finds herself continuing. It takes a few seconds to catch her breath because that silence is so damning and confusing at the same time.
"And I was so afraid that if you knew you'd hate me forever and I don't think I can handle that," she explains.
"Why would I hate you?" Andy asks sincerely, and Leslie is still silent throughout this exchange.
"Because I lied to you, and - and the last time I told someone this they weren't exactly happy about it," she has to look away from him or else she knows he'll give her another confused look and she doesn't want to explain that story. "And I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I was so scared and..."
Andy doesn't let her finish, and when he moves his hands to her shoulders there's a moment where April tenses up and expects it to come - the hit - but it never does, and all he can do is bring her into a tight hug. Leslie bites her lip and looks away, and April doesn't take more than an instant to return the embrace. She doesn't know what's elicited it, but if her last physical memory of Andy gets to be something like this that'll be okay with her. Thankfully when he breaks the hug he's still looking at her no differently - like he's still seeing April.
"I don't want you to be afraid of me," he says and it's a strange, calming voice coming out of him that's at the same time so unlike him but still Andy. "I care about you so much, and I don't - this doesn't change anything about that."
She knows it could be a mistake, and she knows he could still return it with violence, but April kisses him anyways. She can't help when her hands take his head and grab his hair, wanting him so badly to understand and it to be okay, and he doesn't resist. April doesn't stop when he pulls her against his body and April knows he can feel her, she knows he really truthfully understands what she was about to say right in that moment because her body can barely handle with massive overflow of hormones in her system. He doesn't stop her though, and April's thankful for that at first but she knows it's only a matter of contact before he gets the full force of what that means, so she breaks off prematurely to look at him.
"You're okay with this – with me?" she asks, her voice so infinitesimally small between them she worries he'll never hear her say those words.
"It doesn't matter to me," he's almost quieter than her somehow and Leslie makes a choking noise when he says it. "I really, really like you April. Like, can I put any more really's in front of that before I get my point across?"
She knows he's still not quite there about what this actually means for them, but that's okay. April can't get over the idea that someone in her life that she actually trusts and wants to be around is supporting her now. She can barely feel the movements when she goes back to kiss Andy again and there's no shiver from him or even a second of revulsion in his hands when they go around her waist.