Oliver

I tried as best I could to ignore the things Enrique had said to me. I knew he didn't mean them… there was a lot happening in his life at the moment and he was stressed. It had stung, though. I couldn't deny that. Deciding that now would be a good time to head home for a few days (I had already applied and been approved of time off and may as well take it), I called my parents to send someone over for me, turning up on their doorstep a few hours later. They seemed happy to see me, my mother pulling me into a hug before I was even able to get inside.

"Do you have any pictures of the baby?" She asked, leaning over me as I pulled my phone out and causing me to back away. I did have pictures of Luca, but I also had pictures of myself in a skirt that no one currently needed to see.

"The doctors and nurses are all saying he's in good health, even for being premature. He looks a lot like Enrique."

Managing to find a list of safe photos, I scrolled through them without letting my mother touch my phone and hoping she wouldn't notice how tightly I gripped it.

"The whole thing makes me want a grandbaby." She smiled, speaking the words just as Yvette made her way downstairs.

"Fat chance." She shouted.

"Language, dear. You're a lady."

Ignoring her, she broke through the small crowd consisting of the rest of our family and wrapped her arms around me, squeezing tightly enough that I found I struggled to breath.

"Your hair is really getting long." She smiled.

"I can get you an appointment today if you would like," Our mother chimed in, running her fingers through my waves. "I know you have exams to prep for, mon amour, but you do need to make sure you're taking care of yourself as well."

"I like it long." I explained awkwardly, fidgeting slightly on my feet. "I mean, it doesn't feel like it's too much yet and doesn't look unprofessional. I'd like to keep it to my shoulders."

"It's just a tad feminine for my taste, I would prefer you looked like a proper young man."

"Please, mama? Let me keep it at least until winter break? You'll get used to it."

Touching a hand to my cheek, she smiled at me.

"I suppose if you truly insist, make sure you're taking care of it, though… not to mention dressing properly. You're my only boy after all."

I had begun getting uncomfortable, excusing myself up to my bedroom in order to pack a few things I hadn't had time to bring to school with me the first time around. Just as I had expected, everything remained untouched. I had little worry regarding my family going into my room when I wasn't there and even if they did it wasn't as if I had much to hide. The clothing I had begun collecting remained in my dresser back in Switzerland.

Currently I used the excuse of needing to study in order to gain some time alone, sitting in silence for a few moments before deciding to break out a fresh canvas and paint.

Losing myself within a tray of water colors, I allowed my imagination to take over my mind, thinking about nothing outside of making the image within my mind into a reality with the tip of the brush. Even if only for a few hours, I needed to calm my mind before embarking on decision of which I had made. I would start off slow, as there was no reason to jump into everything I had discovered about myself.

I would ease my way into telling them the actual truth, even if my current plan wasn't exactly to lie, but to not fully define.

I was going to set my family down and I was going to tell them I like men.

Xxx

Not taking much notice in the time that passed, I became somewhat startled when a knock sounded from my door, forcing me back into reality.

"Come in." I stated, hoping I didn't sound as uncomfortable as I normally felt. Taking time to clear my head didn't work the way I had wanted it to, my nerves becoming worse as the hours went by. There would be consequences for what I was about to do, some positive even, but there would also be those that were not.

Yvette walked into my room, taking a seat at the desk chair and watching me.

"What are you painting?" She asked.

"Just a backdrop, I'm giving myself a break from the fancier things at the moment, I'm not planning on trying to get into a museum, after all."

"You've been featured in a museum, precious Golden Child."

"I work hard at what I do, thank you very much."

"You were using complete sentences before you were two; you even corrected peoples grammar."

I had never been in denial of my own intelligence, managing to pass all of my classes with ease and on my way to being valedictorian, but my artistic interests were more than that to me. Painting, cooking, music… all things anyone could do if educated. If I wanted to be remembered, then even perfection wasn't going to be enough.

"Some things come easy to me."

"It's true. You've always had good self esteem and are less than humble, I think our parents once said that every report they've ever gotten regarding your schooling is that you're a smug little shit."

"You're going to get in trouble if you don't fix up your language."

"This is Paris, you can't go down the street to a bakery without two people cussing at one another. I'm not here to talk about me, though."

"So why are you here?"

"I can't help but want to know why you're so twitchy."

I put the brush down, turning and bringing a hand to my hip.

"What do you mean?"

"You look nervous is all, and you've been quiet since getting home instead of bragging about grades or whatever violin solo you have coming up."

For a moment I brought my gaze away, wondering if it was best to keep my plan away from her until I had it more settled. I trusted Yvette with my life and she was long aware of my sexual preference and had even attempted a strange gay version of "the talk" only a few months after I told her, but if I let her in on what I was going to do then there would be no getting out of it. I couldn't change my mind.

"There's been a lot on my mind lately, I hadn't exactly planned on being at the hospital when Enrique's girlfriend gave birth."

"Is that really all?"

"Of course."

"I'm just saying, Ollie… you've been getting slightly more red in the face for every word that's left you're mouth. I'm just saying if this is by any chance 'cute boy who makes my insides feel funny' related-"

"This has nothing to do with Raul…"

"Who?"

I froze where I stood, hoping if I did so, the time which moved around me would also stopped.

Had I seriously said that?

"I said that this has nothing to do with a boy."

"Who's Raul?"

Now she was intrigued, leaning forward in a state of incredibly bad posture and raising her eyebrows at me.

"Just a boy from school, he's one of my friends brothers. Her twin."

"And he's cute?"

"He's… attractive, yes. Yvette, I don't really want to discuss this with you."

"But you're my baby brother and you have your first crush, it's a rather major life event if I say so myself."

"I don't have a crush on him. I mean, I did… it didn't work out and that's fine. Things don't always work out." I took a seat on the bed, keeping my head down low so she wouldn't notice how much worse my face had gotten, a heat which went all the way up and into my ears. I hadn't told anyone except Julia what had happened that night, and she had brought a fist within centimeters of my face in order to get the information out of me. "I walked him home and then I kissed him."

The smile that filled my sisters face made me a tad uncomfortable, mostly because of how unpleasant that night had actually been. Raul had been my first kiss but had I not made the first move that night then that slot would have been taken by Enrique of all people.

"It's nice to know that you still aren't shy." Yvette giggled, hand set daintily over her mouth. "Was that your first kiss? Did my little baby brother get his very first kiss?"

"I already told you, he doesn't like me that way."

"But what if he did? I'm just saying, would you bring home a boyfriend before you even told our parents you're gay?"

My fidgeting body froze in place when she spoke. It was as though she had read my mind, forcing me into the reality that I wasn't sure I felt ready for.

"I want to… tell them." I mumbled. "Ginny too."

Maybe I could start with Genevieve, she was long past old enough to understand and it would be one less reaction I had to worry about before sitting our parents down. She had never done anything to make me believe she wouldn't accept it and she was my baby sister, a relationship I sometimes felt I didn't spend enough time on. I didn't need to worry about her being concerned about marriage or how we would continue our family linage or bombard me about being the only boy, something that was going to make it even harder once I was ready to truly come out about who I was.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Yvette asked, getting to her feet and touching a hand to my shoulder.

"Not at all."

"There's nothing you could ever say to your family that would make us stop loving you."

"Maybe with our parents, but what about everyone else? Am I supposed to let our entire family be judged because of me?"

"That's their problem."

I had little relationship with my aunts and uncles and no cousins who were close in age, my father being the youngest of seven and my mothers only sister dying when she was young. We had a worthwhile family name that had been passed down and both parents came from some form of wealth, but typically we weren't the ones who found ourselves in the spotlight of the media. At least not the way my fathers oldest brother had.

"We could lose everything because of me."

"I think you overestimate the power dynamics within our immediate family, papa already got his share of inheritance and I don't think he could get kicked out of the businesses that he already owns. Hell, even our trust funds are above what some families make in a lifetime."

Nodding slightly, I gave an overwhelmed sigh. No matter how much I tried to talk myself out of it, Yvette remained to be right.

And I was running out of excuses.

Xxx

My original plan had been to wait until dinner, one of the few times during the day where my entire family was at the same place at the same time. We weren't quite ones to shoot the breeze with one another but if someone happened to have something to say, we did listen. Not that it had quite worked out that way as Yvette touched her hand to my knee during afternoon tea, nodding as the slightest hint of a smirk filled her face. Normally she wouldn't push me so hard to do something I was unsure of, clearly able to see how much keeping a secret like this had begun eating away at me.

Enrique was right, I hadn't been myself lately.

"It's okay." My oldest sister winked.

Although I was the one she spoke to, she had quickly managed to gain our mothers attention, setting her tea down in front of her.

"Pardon me, dear? Did you say something?"

"I'm just telling Oliver that we've missed having him around."

"Quite." She touched a hand to my cheek. "Having all three of my children together isn't a sight I find myself observing too often nowadays. I feel like I haven't even taken the time to ask you about school this year. I can imagine it's different not having Robert and John around, the four of you have always been hard to separate."

"I'm not sure how long it's going to be before I see Enrique again, either." I said. "I believe he's taking some time off in order to help with the baby."

"I can't say the boy has found himself in an ideal situation, but it's nice to see he's trying to make it work. His mother was beside herself when she called me. Even before the appointment confirming everything she seemed to have no hope that it could have been a false positive. A mother knows these things sometimes."

"He wants to make it work. He loves Bianca and Luca and wants to do what's best for them."

"Of course, dear."

Yvette cleared her throat, causing Ginny to raise an eyebrow at her.

"I can't imagine it was an easy thing for him to tell his family." She made sure our eyes met, ignoring the clear uncertainty on my face. "Not knowing if he would have their full support or not, no? Family should always be there for one another, even if they aren't sure how to handle certain news."

"No decent person would abandon their own child, no matter what sort of news they shared."

I still didn't speak, unsure how to even begin the conversation. I wanted to keep it short, sweet and to the point, without accidentally rambling or making a fool out of myself. It should have been simple enough for me to say.

"So…" I started gently. "There isn't anything that any of us could say that you feel would make us worth being abandoned or disowned?"

"You are our children; nothing you do or say will ever change that."

It was our father who spoke now, a man or relatively few words. He had caught me off guard, mostly because I had forgotten that he was with us, normally sipping on tea while skimming through political sections of the newspaper. Truly I hadn't even realized he was listening.

"I'm just saying… doesn't it ever bother you that I'm… different?"

"On the contrary, Oliver." Our mother said. "I always found it to be quite the bragging right in regards to how talented you've always been. Not many parents have children who teach themselves to read."

"Though you did think you were a girl for the first few years. There are days I definitely don't hate the idea that your mama and I could have had one more boy, I think it would have been less confusing for you."

I looked to Yvette with clear disappointment, knowing that she wasn't going to understand why I felt the way that I did. Suddenly it had begun feeling like it wasn't the right time or place for what it was that I wanted to say.

"I have some studying I would like to get finished tonight, may I be excused?" I asked, hoping to hide the emotions that threatened to come out.

"Of course, dear."

For the time being, no one followed me.

Xxx

I stood alone in my bedroom, currently in the process of staring myself up and down in the full length mirror. It had become a part of my daily routine, but not in the way that one would expect. There was no admiration in regards to the way I viewed myself, only focused in on the parts I wanted to change. I wasn't finished with puberty yet but it didn't stop me from having what one would call a fairly typical male body. I remained lanky, but I was getting taller. I was on the lighter side when it came to body hair, but I still wondered if I could get away with shaving what I didn't want visible. Not that women didn't have body hair, on the contrary my grandmother was what you would call a more stereotypical French woman in that regard, but times had changed and I knew plenty of girls my age who kept up on top of things like shaving.

It was my voice changing that was really getting to me lately. As much as I tried to find ways to halt the process, it had happened. I'd trained myself to speak at what one would call a more feminine pitch just based on the information I had retained when I had done voice lessons as a child, but I wasn't where I'd hoped to be.

I was becoming a man.

The thought absolutely disgusted me.

I had been too concerned about Enrique to bother with packing anything, meaning that the clothing I had begun collecting had been left behind, leaving me with only the clothes I had chosen not to bring with me to school. Everything was proper and in it's place, just where it had been when I left, bringing me just the smallest bit of comfort as I rummaged through my wardrobe, hoping something feminine may have magically added itself to my collection while I was away. Sometime recently, the feeling of male clothes on my body made my skin crawl. I had begun feeling confided, like an uncomfortable grip I couldn't escape from.

I couldn't continue this way…

Dressing myself, I left the safety of my room and entered the hallway of the home I had grown up in; the place I had spent my entire life. I had designed some of the rooms, painted some of the murals… hell, the chefs down in the kitchen had become accustomed to my presence at such an early age, that when I had first begun helping them I'd been so small that I'd had to sit on the counter.

Everything that currently surrounded me was from within a life that I had been forced to hide a part of. To hide part of myself.

I touched a hand to the staircase railing, looking at my feet as I stepped down and toward the downstairs study. At age four I had fallen down the steps and twisted my ankle, an act I had been so dramatic about that even the doctor had second guessed if it might have been broken.

This was where everything that had come to make me into me resided… within these walls.

The door of the study stood before me, staring me down like when I was small in all of its intimidating glory. I didn't knock, an act which was considered quite rude within my family and unheard of from someone such as myself. I was a rule follower, I had made my life into exactly what those around me had told me that it was supposed to me.

"Mama?" I called in a tone of discomfort that was easy to mistake as sadness. "Are you in here?"

"Yes, dear."

My mother sat at the largest desk, taking notes as she scrolled through a book. It was likely something for her book club she organized weekly. One I had followed her to on several occasions. I didn't know what they were reading this time and realized I had forgotten to ask.

"May I speak to you?"

"Of course, Oliver." She set down the pen she used, closing the novel and focusing instead on me. "What is it, dear?"

Once I said it, there would be no turning back.

"I was going to say this when we were having tea… I'm not sure why I didn't. I'm not one who's known for allowing fear to win." She was staring at me. I wanted her to stop staring at me, yet I appreciated that she had taken the time to focus. "I know there will be consequences for what I tell you. I don't wish to put our family in any sort of spotlight or cause us any difficulties."

Getting up, my mother approached where I stood in fear. She held her hands together in front of her, properly the way the girls were taught in finishing school.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, brushing my hair out of my face.

"No. I mean, I don't think so. I need to tell you something, though. Something I should have said awhile ago. I'm just not quite sure how."

"You can tell your father and I anything. You know that."

"I don't want you to think differently of me."

"There is absolutely nothing you could say to me that would ever make you stop being my son."

Although I understand she was trying to make me feel better, my mothers words were like a sword directly through the heart. Everything I had planned to say suddenly felt wrong, like I was the antique vase I had broken as a child that could never be fixed. No matter what, she would never see me as anything other than her son.

As a boy.

"I…" The words dangled at the end of my tongue, a jumbled pile of chaotic noise that had suddenly changed direction. "I like… men…" It wasn't what I had planned to say, but it remained to be the truth. "I mean, I'm attracted to men."

My mother pulled me into a hug, running her hand through my hair as she kissed my cheek gently.

"I know."

"You know?"

"I've known since you were a little boy, Oliver. I'm your mother, after all. Your father and I have discussed it and prepared a long time ago. We just didn't want to push you." She squeezed me tighter. "There is nothing you could ever tell us that would make us stop loving you."

Allowing her to continue hugging me, I cried.

Xxx

I knocked lightly on Yvette's bedroom door, fidgeting back and forth on my feet while awaiting her response. Part of me hoped I wouldn't get one at all, that she was busy with studies of some sort and wouldn't hear me or that she was simply in a state of not wanting to be bothered by the outside world. Unfortunately, that wasn't what happened, and I set my hand uncomfortably on the knob while she spoke.

"Come in."

Entering her room, a strong sense of discomfort overtook my body, causing me to find myself unable to look her in the eye.

"I told mama." I mumbled, taking a seat on her bed as she sat at the vanity, fiddling with different jars of facial cream and make up.

I could sense that she smiled at me, getting to her feet and taking a seat next to me. The slight drop of the mattress caused me to lean into her when she sat, my head leaned sideways into her shoulder.

"How did it go?"

"She said she already knew."

"Yeah, it's not exactly your best kept secret."

"I don't understand."

"You don't pass for hetero as much as you think you do."

I couldn't help but be ironically humored by her words, knowing now that hetero wasn't the thing I was attempting to pass as. I viewed myself as straight, being a boy was the label I wanted to be rid of.

"I thought I would feel better afterward."

"Well, how do you feel?"

"Confused."

"Me too, honestly. I mean, since when do you knock on my door?"

Since I began hoping that you would tell me to go away.

"Our parents aren't the only ones I was hoping to speak to in private. I wanted to ask to speak to you as well."

"Hey," She said, touching my shoulder as though she feared breaking me. "What's wrong? You look like you did right before telling our parents that you broke a 19th century vase while practicing your ballet routine."

My breathing was becoming hard to manage, accumulating as I cupped my mouth and nose into my hands, grabbing a gulp of air in the sound of a loud sob. Then the tears started, tears I had promised myself I wouldn't cry. Yvette didn't ask for more information out of me or call for the help of our parents. She didn't say a thing, in fact. Only pulling me into a tight embrace, nuzzling my head into her shoulder the way one would a toddler. The same way our mother had held me earlier.

"I don't want you to hate me." I sobbed, hiccuping in my failed attempts to catch my breath. Each word came out as though I was using it in a single sentence, a pause following each as I hyperventilated.

"Oliver… I could never hate you. You know that."

I had been a crier when I was little, but it wasn't something I had continued as I became old enough to know better. There were only a select few who had seen me like this throughout my life and it was obvious that Yvette was becoming worried. I wanted to tell her, but it felt impossible. Once I said it I could never take it back.

"None of this feels right." I sniffled, drying my eyes on the sleeves of my rather expensive jumper. Our mother would have fainted had she seen me now as opposed to hours earlier. "I mean, it isn't. All of this is wrong."

"How do you mean?"

"This isn't me." I wasn't sure how else to explain any of it. Not just to her, but to anyone. When I had begun coming out to myself, Julia had done all of the talking for me. "Do you think it's possible for someone to be born in the wrong body? I mean… can someone be a girl but look like a boy?"

"I mean, I suppose you were mistaken for a girl quite a bit as a child. I think you kind of liked it, though."

"But why?"

"I don't know. I mean, you're really the only boy in our family besides Papa and his brother, and even between those two you're the only son. We even seem to have more female than male cousins. It was kind of a big deal when you were born if I remember correctly. The whole passing on the family name thing."

"So I've been told." I mumbled. It had been that way throughout my entire childhood. I was the boy my parents had been trying for. I was the one destined to continue our family legacy.

"Is this about the whole getting married and having kids someday thing? Honestly, you're a bit young to be worrying about that."

"It's about me trying to be someone I'm not."

"Which is why you came out to mom. It's a step in the right direction."

"But what if I'm not gay?"

Internally, I swore that I heard a record scratch like you did in the movies. A sudden awkward silence filling the room and leaving Yvette staring at me with a cocked eyebrow, unsure how to even respond.

"Okay…" She said. "You lost me."

"I'm not supposed to be a boy."

Turning away, I clutched tightly at my arms, wishing that I was able to physically remove my skin from my body. Everything about who I was on the outside felt wrong to me, like I was trapped in limbo with no way out. I had relatively high self esteem, I didn't take shit from anyone and until recently had been content about who I was. Something was always missing, though. Now the more I filled in those empty spaces the more holes I found elsewhere.

The silence was deafening as Yvette took in my words, unsure how she was supposed to respond to them.

"Oliver…" She said quietly. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"I think," I mumbled. "I think I'm transgender… that I'm a girl…" A lump formed in my throat, I knew I still wasn't being honest with myself. "I mean," I began correcting, "I am. I'm transgender."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Instead my sister took in what it was that I said, allowing silence to drown out the sound around us. The weight on my shoulders had instantly lifted the second the words left my mouth. What I said wasn't coming from Julia this time, it was coming from me. It was coming from the heart.

"Ollie… how long have you been keeping this to yourself?"

"I think I kept if from myself for awhile… I mean, when I was small everyone kept telling me what I was supposed to be and even now everyone wants me to be things and do things that just aren't what I want. I don't want our family to become a joke to people. I don't want to be some sort of political statement or an embarrassment-"

"Stop." She touched a finger to my lips, looking into my eyes for a mere moment before pulling me into a tight hug. "You are not an embarrassment. You're a kid who's discovering who he is." She paused, the smallest of smiles finding its way out and onto her lips. "Or she."

"You won't tell anyone?"

"That's a decision for you to make, not me. I didn't tell our parents when you came out as gay and I don't plan on telling them about this."

"Mama probably told Papa what I said to her."

Yvette kissed my forehead, tucking a section of hair behind my ear.

"She said so herself, they both knew anyway."

I couldn't help but smile.

I was loved.

No matter who I was.