It was 4am. Lofty picked the mobile Dylan had given him up from the side of his bed, gently pushing in the little button on the side. The screen lit up and he swiped it across, keying in the passcode and turning down the brightness to preserve his eyesight. He sighed, tapping the contacts icon and scrolling.

Dylan.

David.

Max.

His thumb hovered over Max's photo, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to press down. Just as he was about to, he swiped left again, removing the contacts page from the screen. Instinctively, he checked the doorway in case someone was outside waiting, but there was nobody there. Flopping back down on his bed, he pulled the curtains open to look across the water half-heartedly, and opened YouTube.

While they'd lived on the same road, they'd made videos together. Lofty tapped the screen a few times and, sure enough, the countless videos appeared, listed across the screen. He scrolled, searching for the right one as Dervla shuffled up the bed, covering him with her warm weight.

Finding the right video, he tapped the title and began to watch, volume low enough so as not to wake Dylan and David.

"Come here chicken-leg" Max laughed, lifting his boyfriend and swooping him around before pecking his nose.

Lofty glowed with happiness.

"Max you absolute dork!"

Max placed him back down – they were stood on Brighton pier, Max holding his phone at an angle in order to capture them both in the frame, and Lofty's hair was windswept, his camera dangling jauntily around his neck.

His camera. Lofty sighed at the memory of his old camera, memory filled with photos of him and Max, the pier, all the places he'd been happy and fear-free. Upon finding his camera, his mother had of course thrown it to the floor, removing the memory and smashing the lens and body of it to pieces. Lofty remembered the way he'd bitten his cheek and held back the tears, staying silent. Emotionally dead.

They sat on the edge of the pier, legs dangling over the pebbly beach beneath, watching the surfers. Max's olive beanie was balanced precariously on his head and his laugh lilted as Lofty snatched it from his head, joke-threatening to drop it onto the beach below. Max made a swipe and Lofty couldn't help but grin at the sound of Max's giggles, creases developing in the corners of his eyes.

Lofty sighed at the warm weight on his chest, running his spare hand through the fur between the greyhound's scraggly coat. "I miss him Dervla" he whispered. A warm tear slipped down the side of his face and he smiled despite it.

Dervla whined and butted Lofty's hand in response, her tongue delicately wiping the tear from Lofty's chin. "Maybe I should just call him…" Dervla looked up at him sleepily; sensing his mixed emotions and not knowing how to react, she butted his hand again and he continued to pet her gently.

"Yeah okay" He smiled down at her, "I'll call him in the morning…" Lofty placed his phone back down on his bedside table and dropped his head back down into his pillow, waiting for Dervla to rest her own against his chest. It can't have been comfortable for her, but he was grateful she lay there with him anyway. Tensing and relaxing his muscles in sequence, he succumbed to sleep.

At 11am, Lofty still hadn't appeared from his room, and Dylan went through and knocked gently on his door. He must've overslept, he thought, no wonder what with all the work at college and his GP appointments and therapy. Dylan knocked again and was greeted with a grunt from beneath the duvet as he entered.

"Ben, you okay?"

"Hmmf"

Dylan approached Ben's bed and sat down slowly on the end, running a hand through Dervla's fur before she shot up and jumped through the now-open door, clearly desperate to get outdoors.

"Wanna tell me what's kept you in bed so long?" Dylan traced the subject gently and Ben rolled over onto his back, lifting his arms above the duvet, his veins standing out slightly.

There was a lengthy silence and Dylan was about to change the subject to try and get his son out of bed, but then Lofty broke it. He was so quiet, Dylan almost missed it.

"Can you keep a secret?"

Dylan nodded, wrapping his little finger loosely around Lofty's, draped across the top of the duvet, and earning himself a soft smile from the boy.

"There's a shoebox under my bed."

"Okay?"

"Look in it?" Lofty's words were of a demanding nature, but his tone of a pleading one, and Dylan knew it was important to him. Dylan was careful in removing the ribbon and peeling back the whispering sheets of tissue paper.

"Oh…" He finished reading the note that lay alongside the shoes. "Is he…" Dylan trailed off, "Is he dead?"

"No, oh my word" Lofty couldn't help but see the funny side to how sad he really must look. "We just…moved. We moved house two months ago when Mum moved in with her boyfriend and I deleted my number from his phone and I want to call him, but I don't know if he's moved on. We moved a day before my birthday…" The words spilled from Lofty's mouth, pattern completely different to before.

"Why'd you delete the number?" Dylan asked softly, running his hand along the duvet and gently stroking Ben's fingers.

"I couldn't let mum know about him… I hid the box with the other stuff and moved it every day, I didn't have my own phone, but I remembered his number by heart… I miss him Dylan"

"You can still call him you know?" Dylan's voice was still quiet and still soft, "He seems really special…"

"He is" Lofty sighed, "I promised Dervla I'd call him today…"

"You can't break a promise to your dog surely?" Dylan joked, but caught his tone of voice when he clocked the look on his son's face.

"I'll do it after…"

"Breakfast?"

"Is that okay?"

"Of course it is my boy" Dylan smiled down at him and Lofty sat up, pulling his hand from Dylan's to run through his curls. He groaned.

"Don' wanna get upppp" he pouted, placing his hands sleepily on his hips, a sparkle cracking through his eyes.

"Tough" Dylan joked back, taking his hands and helping him out of bed. "Now, my prince, cereal or toast? Or… pancakes?"

"Pancakes? I've never…"

"Pancakes it is then, sire" Dylan interjected already guessing what he was about to say, and mock bowed and Lofty creased up through his drowsiness.

"Da-Dylan stop" he laughed, mockingly batting him away.

"Ten minutes?"

"Sure" Lofty sat back down on his bed rubbing sleep from his eyes and shaking his head.

"Twenty minutes? You look like you could use a shower to wake you up a little…"

"Oh okay…" Lofty went quiet for a moment; he could feel his heart roaring in his ears, as he stood shakily.

"Ben? Are you okay?"

"P-please let me lock the door in the sh-shower…"

"Of course… are you okay?"

"I-I don't want you coming in the bathroom!" Lofty's voice was raised a little, though he didn't mean it to be and he tried to lower the volume.

It was then Dylan realised Lofty had only ever showered when him and David were both on shifts before then.

"Ben… If there's anything you need to tell me…"

"Keeping secrets?" Lofty whispered, dipping his head further so his fringe shielded his eyes. He didn't want to look at Dylan; he knew he was too disgusting.

"Of course…" Dylan tried to hide his fear at what he suspected his son was going to say.

"I don't want you seeing me not as a physical boy" Lofty shrugged. He couldn't tell Dylan the reason.

"I'm never going to see you naked, no matter your physicality" Dylan told him, "It worries me you think I would…"

Lofty paled. He thought he'd brushed him off, but apparently not.

"I'm gonna go shower" he muttered, "Sorry for being silly…"

"You weren't" Dylan replied, retreating from his son's room, "I'm always here to talk"

"I know, thank you" Lofty smiled nervously back at him, and the presence of that smile relaxed Dylan a little.

"Okay pancakes in twenty" Dylan smiled, making his way to the kitchen where David sat at the table, reading his newspaper.

Lofty peeled his clothes away from his body and double-checked the door was locked before hopping into the shower and turning the water on. The steamy water still surprised him since he'd only ever had cold before. He'd tried a cold shower the first time he arrived and ended up… no.

He sluiced the water across the bruises on his arms and took a deep breath as he prepared to clean the more "feminine" parts of his body, trying not to gag as he rushed.

Finally, he clambered from the shower and towelled himself off, yanking on his jeans, polo and a hoodie.

The day after he'd moved in with Dylan and David, they'd taken him shopping for clothes and things in general that most boys his age apparently had. Like the phone.

He thought back to the way he'd stared at the clothes, not fetched from a clothes bin at the recycling centre, but lined up neatly on shelves and rails. He'd stood in awe, not daring to touch anything. Dylan had chosen him a few pairs of jeans and David some t-shirts when he refused to ask for anything, but had eventually admitted to liking the soft blue hoodie and the llama-patterned pyjamas. Dylan and David had also bought him clean underwear and socks, a raincoat, some books and two pairs of shoes – more than Ben had ever owned in his life.

Now, he rubbed the towel vigorously through his curls, uncaring when he bumped the bruises – he'd probably taken far too long in the shower.

He rushed out the bathroom, hanging the towel hurriedly, yet neatly behind him, and into the kitchen.

"Morning Ben" David looked over his newspaper and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Good morning" Lofty smiled at him and helped Dylan carry the plates with the food Lofty had only ever seen on TV across to the table.

"You didn't get the chance to show us Bambi last night – would you like to tonight?" David asked, sincerity in his voice: he had to admit, they'd both felt guilty after Ben had gone to bed claiming tiredness.

"Really?"

"Of course"

"I just-I thought you weren't interested…"

"We are interested, you said you were tired and we weren't surprised after what happened yesterday evening"

"I think I just had a bad day yesterday, I'd like to call Max later if that's okay?"

"Max?"

Lofty explained like he had done to Dylan about his boyfriend, now twenty-odd miles away from where he lived, and both his Dad's agreed he could call him afterwards.

When Lofty left for his room to call Max, Dylan turned to face David who was drying the dishes as he washed them.

"David I can't help but be worried for him" he explained, his voice low, "He seemed panicky about having a shower, yet shrugged it off…"

"Maybe he really was just worried because he doesn't have male physicality yet?"

"Do you think we should be trying to get things to move faster?"

"Dylan, you're doing more than enough as it is. That first night, you got no sleep whatsoever for phoning hospitals and Trans clinics, while also checking on him every ½ hour because you refused to wake me remember?" David chuckled lightly at the memory of his sleepy partner the next morning, rings around his eyes, yet still awake, reading through the online forum for the best advice group he'd managed to find.

"You're right honey" he pecked his husband on the lips, before swatting him jokingly with a spare tea towel, "Next time, it's your job" he laughed too and Lofty smiled in the next room at the sound of his father's laughter.

The dial tone buzzed four times.

"Hello?"