TG : mention of dysphoria

Being ten years old is supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be a big year : you just passed your first decade alive! And what a decade it was: you learnt to talk, walk, run, speak, read, behave around people and so on, and so on!

However, it is only supposed to be fun. Being ten means being young, but isn't it crazy all the things you already can understand at that age? Isn't it all the things you're going to live during this year? Puberty, last year of primary school, the first big body changes... What a great year it should be!

Looking at himself in the mirror, the browned hair boy really tries to think of this positively. But only the thought of seeing his body's changes makes his eyes tear up. Not that he isn't happy of growing up, he just knows that something will not go how he expects it too.

He never intended to be like that, and he would give everything he has - which isn't a lot as he only has uncle Ben and aunt May left - to be different, to be a different kid.

Hearing footsteps behind the door, he sighs before pulling off his shirt, undressing himself entirely. As he catches his reflexion once again in the mirror, a little smile appears on his face: he will never be thankful enough that he can only see his chest and his head - he will not lie, he can't see his whole chest, only his shoulders, being way to small for that but still, what he sees is pleasing. Quickly, he turns on the water and step in the shower, careful not to look down: it would just hurt him.

During his shower, he does his best not to be aware of his hair length, of the curves that are slowly starting to appear on his body. His eyes closed firmly, he lets himself finally relax under the warmth of the water, for once not crying. He's not a whiner, but sometimes he can't help, and this almost always happens in the bathroom. He just can't control it, being in this tiny space, usually naked, and having to touch his body in order to soap, it's too much. He already has to carry the weight of the day he just passed, it is just way to hard for a ten year old kid. But it doesn't mean he likes it. He hates it. He hates feeling this weak, this down. He hates having to do all he can to mutter his sobs, to stop himself before he worries May or Ben. He hates it, and he hates himself even more for it.

Three loud noises interrupt his thoughts, making him jump. Automatically, he forces himself to be faster, turning off the water and wrapping a towel around his waist before stepping out of the shower. He has to be fast, or he will have to hear it, and he just can't. He can't hear it again. He can't take it. He wipes himself roughly, not even glancing at the mirror as he rubs his hair as fast as he can, almost hurting himself. Again, the three noises resonate in the little bathroom, and he can't stop himself from staring anxiously at the door, trying to put on his underwear and a boy short. It's not that he is afraid of his aunt or his uncle, it's just that he is afraid of his feelings. He doesn't really get all those things that happen to him, all those thoughts he can't stop himself from having, but he knows for sure what he doesn't want to hear or to see. He hurries up again, putting his towel aside, and running his head through the neck of his shirt. As he goes to open the door and at whoever is behind it, he hears knocking and again, followed by a voice.

"Paige?" asks his uncle with a little bit of worry in his tone, "You done yet, sweetie ? It's been thirty minutes already !"

Catching the words, he freezes, his breath blocked in his throat and tears already in his eyes.

Really, he never intended to be like that. He never wanted to have something wrong going on, but he can't help it. Hearing this, hearing what is supposed to be his name, and all of those nicknames people gave, having to wear those clothes of fancy colors or with fancy patterns - or even dresses and skirts ! gosh, he hates dresses - he just can't. It makes him tear up in a second, it stops his body from functioning, and sometimes he feels like he can't breathe.

"Sweetie, are you okay ?" Ben asks again, knocking on the door three more times.

Paige wants to answer, really, but he can't. He can't talk, it's like he has no control over his voice, and even if he knows this feeling too well to worry about it, he still can't find a way to calm himself down. All he can do is crying making the less noise he can, sobbing while biting his arms in order to prevent his uncle from hearing him. Everything is blurry because of the tears now, and he is forced to take a step back, getting closer to the sink and holding himself onto it. He wanted absolutely to avoid this, and here he is, whining without being able to stop, barely able to stand. He finds himself so pathetic that he sobs even hearder, noises invading the room. He knows, he knows his uncle is obviously able to hear him now, but he can't stop. He can't stop and all he does is crying more and more, biting into his arm so hard that he can feel the taste of blood in his mouth.

He can hear voices coming from outside the bathroom, but he still won't stop. Now, both May and Ben are knocking on the door, trying to talk to him, but he isn't able to say a world. During a second, he feels grateful to have thought of locking the door : he wouldn't want the persons he almost considers his parents to see him so miserable. Also, he already knows how they'd try to comfort him, calling him 'honey' and 'sweetie', saying that everything is gonna be okay, that he is the prettiest of all, and he surely doesn't want to hear that. Actually, being able to hear them calling his name outside just makes him whine harder.

He has a headache now, his head seems on fire, such as his lungs. He is used to feel like that, but it's still as hard, even when it's not the first time. Slowly, he falls down on the ground, curling up on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees, his hair falling in front of his eyes.

He looks horrible, but still, he is ten years old today and it was supposed to be a great, to mark the beginning of a great year. Now, when he end up in this situation almost everyday, how could he even consider this new year as possibly good ? Isn't it crazy how this kid is suffering so much, even though he is so young ?

In the distance, he hears something falling on the ground, making a high noise, but he doesn't give it any attention. He is gone too far in his own head to even care about himself. He is gone so far that he doesn't notice that someone is sitting beside him until he is forced into a hug. He recognizes his aunt, but he doesn't move. He cries onto her shoulder, wetting her shirt and probably hurting her ears, but she doesn't say a word. She stays where she is, cradling him against her chest, whispering comforting words into his ear.

The minutes pass, and little by little, breathing begin to be easier for him. Still, he waits with his face hidden in his aunt's neck. On his other side, he can feel the presence of Ben, who stay quiet, rubbing his back lightly by moments. The room is silent, or almost silent, and he can't help but find it reassuring. He's here, sat on the floor, he knows he's not alone, and there are no words that could possibly hurt him pronounced. Slowly, he backs off, offering a little smile to his aunt, wiping off the rest of his tears on his cheeks and in his eyes. May smiles back at him, keeping her arm on his shoulder, and he can feel ben getting closer, sitting in front of them both. He knows he probably still looks miserable, with big, puffy and read eyes - in fact, his entire face must be red from the crying - but this time he doesn't hide. He keeps his smile on his face, a bit too shy to dare looking the adults in the eyes. He waits. He knows what is going to come. Still, he doesn't know if he's ready, but he knows.

"Honey," slowly starts aunt May, "can you explain to us what happened ?"

He can feel their glare on him, and he really wants to run aways but he can't. Not this time. He just has to lie, to not let them know. It's not that he doesn't trust them, it's that he doesn't want to disappoint them, and he's sure they won't understand. How could they ? They're not in the body of a ten year old boy who's called 'Paige' and 'cutie' everyday.

He looks down again, ashamed of his thoughts. What is wrong with him ? people are not supposed to think so down of their family ! Even more when it's the only family they have !

"Hey P." his uncle says, putting two fingers under his chin to force him to look up, "you can tell us anything kid, you know that right ?"

He nods. He doesn't do anything else. He nods, his eyes catching the ones of his uncle. The aura emanating from Ben is comforting, and he feels like he could tell them. He just doubts.

The thing is, Paige didn't always lived with them. Before, he was a happy baby, then a happy little kid living with his parents. Until they died. He doesn't remember it, he almost doesn't remember them - and it hurts when he realizes it - he just knows that one day they were supposed to pick him up from school, first year of kindergarten, and they never came. Since then, uncle Ben and aunt May do all they can to make him the happiest around, and he is, really. Just not entirely. And he doesn't want them to know that, he doesn't want to disappoint them : they took him in their house and he should cause them problems ? There is no way he accepts it. He wants them to be as happy as he is in their company. He is so grateful that he would even disappear if it could help them. The thought already passed through his mind, 'Would they live a better life ?', and the answer was quite clear : probably. But even in this case, he just isn't brave enough. He is willing to disappear for them, but not until he is absolutely sure that it would be for the better. So right now, he can't get himself to tell them. Not yet.

He jumps lightly, feeling a hand pressing his shoulder, taking him away from his thoughts. Ben is staring at him waiting for an answer. But he doesn't want to answer.

"Paige," aunt May says, "tell us please, we don't like seeing you like that."

He freezes again hearing her, feeling as if a hundred of knives just stabbed his heart. He can feels his eyes getting teary again. It's enough. He can't do it anymore.

"Don't." his voice comes in a murmur, broken and hoarse because of the crying.

He lets his head fall down almost instantaneously, not wanting to face their expressions. They will probably think it's just some childish whim.

"Don't do what, Paige ?" his uncle asks as softly as he can, seeming lost.

Another hundred knives in the kid's heart. He closes his eyes firmly as he feels his chest aches.

"Don't call me that." he seems unsure while answering, his high voice almost audible in the silence of the room.

He looks up just a second to analyze their expressions, feeling the touch of his uncle disappear from his shoulder. His heart is pounding hard and fast into his chest, and he can hear his blood in his ears. The sweat makes his shirt sticky, and the only thing he wants is to be somewhere else, to escape this situation.

The ones he considers his parents seem confused, looking at each others with furrowing brows.

"Paige, you mean ?" continues his aunt, not waiting for him to nod again. She knows. "But honey, it's your name."

He shouldn't be mad. He shouldn't be mad at her for saying that, because she is right in a way. It is the name written everywhere, the name people use to talk about him, but it is not his name. He winces without being able to help it, too much disgusted and hurt by the fact that, yes it is his name but it isn't really, to care.

"Kid," says his uncle seeing how uncomfortable he looks, "what do we have to call you then ? And why can't we call you like that ?".

He can see they really are trying to make it easier for him, to understand what is going on, but he barely does himself. How could people be so wrong about him ? How could the world, or God, or anyone be so wrong about him ?

The thing is, he doesn't know what to answer. He doesn't know what he wants to be called - anything except Paige or any name like this one could be okay - nor does he know exactly why it hurts so much. Why can't the name his parents gave him feel right ? Why does he have to hate so much the last thing he has from them ?

"I just..." he stars, still unsure, "It hurts, 's all."

He stays vague, maybe too much, but the adults only seem to be surprised, which is normal, why would a name hurt after all ? He sighs, the glares inviting him to pursue.

"It hurts," he says again, "It hurts when you call me this name, or when you call me cutie and sweetie, and I don't know. It just doesn't feel right, and I don't know why. Everything seems to be wrong with me, and this name is the worst because it reminds me of it constantly. I... I feel like my face, my upper-body, my legs, my hips, everything is so wrong, but at least I don't always see it. I only see it when I'm in the shower of in front of a mirror and it's okay, I can manage to live with it, but not the name. It's like it's always here, a reminder taking me by surprise everytime it gets better. And I, I hate it okay ? I just can't hear anyone else call me like that again ! Or 'sweetie' or 'cutie' or anything girly ! It's too much pain ! I know it's weird, I'm a freak, they all tell it to me at school, and I hate myself because I can't even love the last thing I have of my parents, and what kind of kid am I ? I'm just so, so, so hurt always and I, I don't know why and I'm sorry to be this weird, to be like that, to be a freak, but I can't do anything about it ! I swear I tried, I tried so hard to like it, to be normal, to be okay but somehow I can't and it gets on my nerves because I just want to know why everything about me is so wrong, why I am this way when I can't take it !

He almost screams. He talks through the tears - he didn't even realized he was crying again - and he tries so hard to breathe normally again, letting his aunt pulling him into another hug. It just like everything is too much for a kid like him to handle. Why is he the only one at school that feels this way ? Isn't it crazy to be so alone when he is always surrounded with people ?

The browned hair kid is so lost in his thoughts and in his sobs that he doesn't immediately understands that uncle Ben is trying to get his attention.

"Hey kiddo, hey," he says obviously shocked,"Breathe okay ? It's alright, it's going to be okay, just breathe. Try to follow May's breathing okay ?"

He wants to thank him. He wants to thank him so hard, because he just brought him back on hearth, allowing him to be able to try to control his breath. He quickly does as uncle Ben said, letting May put his hand on her chest to make it easier for him to follow the rhythm. He didn't realize he was having so much difficulty. He was just aware of the burns in his lungs and in his head, but he wasn't connected to the reality.

Slowly, he catches his breath again, almost calmed down. He nods in the direction of his uncle, offering him a smile to thank him. What would he do without both of them ? Ben answers with the same smile, sending one to May also.

"You feel better now ?" his uncle asks, softly.

He nods. He doesn't to talk. He is way too afraid to just start again and not being able to stop.

"We can discuss about what you said now ?"

He nods again as an answer to Ben's question.

"I'm going to start, okay ?" his uncle explains, glancing at May for a second. " And I want you to know that your aunt thinks just like me okay ?"

He doesn't nod this time, because he knows he doesn't have to. May and Ben has always been so similar, so fusional that he takes his uncle's words for it. He doesn't have a single doubt.

"You are not a freak kiddo," Ben says almost with anger in his voice, as if he couldn't handle that people would tell him that, "all of those kids are wrong. they are so wrong. You are a wonderful kid. You are not weird, or not normal, and if you want to consider that you are, okay ! But you are weird in a good way. In the best possible way, the one that makes you unique and that makes you an incredible child. So don't you ever put yourself down like that again. You should never listen to what they say to you, because those kids are just mean. They just want to hurt you, because they like it. They like the power it gave them over you. But you wanna know something ? This power means nothing, 'cause you are better than all of them. And next time they want to bring you down, you tell me and we're going to have a word, see if they are still so brave in front of me."

He feels his chest warms up at the words of his uncle. He feels safe, at home, and he wants to hug him so tight that he would not be able to breathe, but something tells him that he will be able to do it later on.

"Next," pursues uncle Ben, his face dying a little, "I don't really understand why you feel so hurt, kid, but I hate it. And if changing your name could make it better, then I'll do it. You know, it's just a name, it's a gift someone gave you and you are not forced to like it. Yours makes you suffer, and there is no way I let this pass. Because I don't want you to feel so down, I want to see you happy. It's not because this name was given to you by your parents that you are horrible for not liking it. It is not your fault kiddo. It's just a name after all, and your parents let you so many other things. You don't have to feel guilty, really."

It feels weird for him being talked to like that, especially by his uncle. He never thought he would tell them about it, and here he is, Ben telling that it's okay. It's okay. He is not an horrible child, or a freak, or any other thing he could have thought.

"But kid I think we really have to talk about how you feel," once again, the man glances at his wife, a spark of worry in his eyes. "You are not supposed to feel like that, like everything is wrong with you. I mean, physically you are a beautiful kid, in perfect shape and health. I... I think that it is something else you don't know how - or you don't want - to tell us. And it's okay, it's normal not to know."

Uncle Ben stops, looking at him anxiously. He doesn't know what to answer, everything is blurry in his head. He just knows that everything is wrong, and maybe he has an idea why but it seems impossible. How could it happen ? He must be crazy to think of such an answer !

"Could you maybe..." starts aunt May, cutting him from his thoughts, "explain to us what is wrong exactly with your body ? Like, why are your legs wrong, why is your chest, your face... ?"

Both of the adults look so stressed he feels a little guilty. He is the one putting them in this state of mind, and he doesn't like that. Slightly, he nods before taking a deep breath.

"It's a weird feeling," he explains uncertain, "if I look at myself in a mirror, it feels like it's not me. Like my whole body doesn't belong to me. Of course, I know it's me, I know it ! But... It feels like it isn't right, like it isn't what my body is supposed to look like. Like, my legs are too thin and long and feminine. And I am so small ! It's so weird because I feel like I should be taller but my body won't grow and I don't understand why. My face is chubby, too chubby. I know I'm not fat, but I know I'm supposed to have a more noticeable jawline, or cheekbones. It's just like my chest and my hips, it's so curvy, and I can see it getting curvier and curvier, but it's not supposed to ! Like, I can't help but think that maybe I'm impatient, maybe it will become like it is supposed to with time - I mean after ten years old your body starts to change right ? - but it's just... I know deep down it will not. It will just get worse and worse and worse and i don't want it to look so... so... I don't know, so feminine ! It feels like my whole body, all of my muscles are thinner than they should be. It's like... I don't know... It feels like they just make me look so much like a girl and I hate it ! I don't want to look like..."

The kid freezes when he realizes what he just said. He wasn't supposed to let it slip. He was supposed to keep it to himself, now they will probably think he is crazy, a freak just like all the kids at school and he doesn't want to lose them because they are his only family left and he just doesn't understand he couldn't only for once not mess up everything and he hates himself for it and -

"You don't want to look like a girl..." aunt May's voice slowly stops him from overthinking, "or you don't want to be a girl...?"

He just blinks, taking time to understand her question. What does she mean 'don't want to be a girl' ?

"How could I not want to be a girl ?" he asks out of nowhere in a childish voice. "Is it possible not wanting to be a girl - or a boy - I mean... ? I don't know... It's not that I don't want to look like one, I mean yes it is, because I don't want to but... It's more like... I don't feel like one ? Like, why would I want to look like a girl if it feels wrong, and why would I want to be one if it also feels wrong ? It feels as if everything that is supposed to make someone a girl makes me want to cry and to stop everything and I don't understand why ! I mean, I can't feel like that, I have to be mad ! It's not.. not good, right ?"

His voice seems so anxious now, and he's sure his aunt can see on his face how much he worries about her answer. Because what they are going to say will either free him from every bad things he thought for the last years, either reinforce him in this idea that he's just a crazy kid not capable to love what he has.

In front of him, aunt May relaxes. She starts to smile fondly at him, then glancing at her husband who is weirdly acting the same way as her. The browned hair kid furrows his eyebrows, confused by the look he is receiving. Why are they looking at him as if he was the seventh wonder of the world when he just admitted that he was completely crazy ?

Slowly, his aunt reaches for his hand, and he lets her take it and pressing it comfortingly, still uncertain about what is happening. She looks at him right into his eyes, and even if he feels like running away he makes an effort and for once actually looks at her too.

"Honey" she says in a fondly tone, "you are not mad. I don't know much about this subject, and neither does your uncle, but we can assure you that you're not crazy. I will not say that it is normal, nor that it isn't normal, because I don't know myself the answer. But it is okay to feel this way. you can't do anything about it, it is not your fault, and you're not alone. You know, many people don't actually feel a girl even if they were born a girl, or like a boy even if they were born a boy. We say that those persons are transgender. It doesn't mean that they are mad, or a freak."

She stops, saying the last words as if they were the most important ones. and maybe they are. They probably are. In his mind, they are.

"It means," uncle Ben continues what his wife was saying, "that they don't identify, they don't connect with their natural born gender. They were maybe born a girl but they aren't ; they were maybe born a boy but they aren't. They didn't like being the gender they were born with. And it's okay kiddo, because you don't have to connect with it. The most important is that you are happy, that you are who you want to be, that you live as your true self. So maybe if you don't feel like a girl, it means that you are a boy. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's what you were thinking from the beginning but you were too afraid to say it."

He makes a pause, staring at the kid, smiling reassuringly when he sees him nod.

"Now kid", he pursues, "if you want we could maybe consider you a boy from now on, and we could also chose you a new name - I mean we pretty much should as the old one hurts you. How does it sound ?"

He is amazed. The two adults are so calm in front of him, and he can't believe what they are telling him. He could be seen as a boy if he wanted too ! He could have a new name - a boy's name ! He never thought that this... idea he had in the back of his mind would be an actual thing, not just a proof of his madness. In fact, he is not crazy, right ? He is just... transgender ? It feels so weird to say, and it makes him so happy, he doesn't even know why ! His face lights up and he can't control it, just like he can't stop himself from saying 'I'm a boy' over and over again in his head. And It feels so right ! It feels like home, it feels safe, true, and... possible.

I'm a boy I'm a boy I'm a boy I'm a boy I'm a boy I'm a boy I'm a boy I'm a boy I'm a boy I'm a boy -

"So ?"

His head snaps back up when he hears his uncle again. He's so happy he forgot to answer ! Both the adults look happy too, and it's crazy how twenty minutes before the atmosphere in the bathroom was heavy, and now it almost seems joyful.

"Yeah..." he finally answers in a little - still high - voice, " yeah, I think I would like that very much."

His uncle grins even more after his answers, making him blush, and starts to get up. Quickly he is followed by his wife, who is fast to come and help the boy too.

"So," Ben says while stretching, "what if we actually started by healing this little woung you gave yourself on your arm, son ? And search a name for you while we do it ?"

The kid looks at his arm in wonder, surprised to see dry blood and a teeth mark. It doesn't hurt, and he already forgot that he actually injured himself earlier. He looks back up to his uncle, nodding and getting closer to him so that he could disinfect his cut.

"And just after that," his aunt intervenes, "we are taking you to the hairdresser, and also shopping. I think new clothes would be a good idea. We will also have to search later what we can do to help you, maybe get you to see someone so they can help you understand everything..."

He nods again. He feels so grateful. Only the fact that they would call him another name was making him happy, but seeing them talking like that, thinking to the future and everything... It makes him feels like on a cloud, as if everything was okay and was gonna be okay. He feels loved and he loves them so much his heart could explode.

"I love you," he couldn't help himself but let it slip, grinning from ear to ear.

They grin too in answer, and he knows they understood that this 'i love you' was also a 'thank you', the biggest one they could ever receive.

"We love you too kiddo," uncle Ben admits.

And it feels amazing. He's uncle rarely tells it, and it feels amazing in the kid's chest, he feels so so happy. He watches him, a smile on his face, as Ben starts to take care of his cut. He says nothing, he just looks at him, aware of May's presence behind him.

"What about Dan ?" she finally says, cutting off the silence.

The kid stares as his uncle chuckles.

"You think he's got a Dan face ?" he asks mokingly to his wife. "What do you think kid ?"

"Nah," he answers with a fake disgust face, wanting to have fun, before being more serious again. "I think I would like a name that starts with a 'P', so that I can still have a bit of mum and dad in it..."

The two adults silently approve, nodding to themselves. His uncles finishes to put a bandage on his cut, still smiling, and turns to face him.

"Paul maybe ?" the man proposes, raising an eyebrow, "Patrick ?"

Both times, the kid shakes his head, making his aunt chuckle.

"We're going to find one that fits you," she says putting her hand under her chin, thinking. "Peeta maybe ? or Payton ? Paolo ?"

He takes time to examine every single one of them before rejetting them. It's a weird feeling, but he is sure they will find one.

"Phil, like the neighbour ?" continues Ben, "or Percy..."

The three of them stands here, around the sink, all pressed against each other, in silence. However, the boy doesn't feel awkward, he's more excited, searching in his memory any name that he would like.

"I know !" aunt may exclaims, "Peter, Peter Parker."

Yes. It's the only that comes to his mind as a sparkle lights up in his eyes. It feels so right, so... Him. He nods frantically, making the couple laughs, but he doesn't care. It feels so good ! He has a name, one that fits, one that makes him happy and not one that actually hurts or is a burden. He has a name.

"Peter Benjamin Parker," he says in a low voice, almost to himself, not realizing his uncle froze.

"What did you say ?" the man asks slowly, his voice trembling with emotions.

Peter looks up to him, smiling as he understands what he just did.

"My name is Peter Benjamin Parker," he repeats proudly.

Next to uncle Ben, aunt May is crying silently, but still smiling, and before he can do anything, the kid is pulled into a big hug by his uncle, who starts.

"Come here you little piece of.... cake," he says hesitantly after correcting himself under the killing look May is sending him, making his nephew laugh.

"Piece of cake, uncle ?" he asks mockingly, almost giggling into his arms.

"Shush !" he almost orders, in a fondly tone, also chuckling. "You like making me tear up, kid ? Look what you've done ! I'm going to have puffy eyes !"

The kid laughs even more as his uncle let him go, still complaining about how his eyes will look when they will go to the hairdresser. He sees his aunt aunt laughing too, seeming desperate by the two of them, and he sends her a smile. This moment feels so good, he can't actually believe it's happening.

For so long, Peter felt weird and couldn't understand, and he was sure he would pass an horrible year ; and now it feels like he is finally living ! It feels like he is free - or almost, but he knows after the haircut and everything they can manage to find to make him feel better, he will ! The instant seems perfect, and he can't stop himself from grinning more and more as he follows the couple outside of the bathroom to put his shoes and jacket on, ready to cut his hair, and repeating to himself : I'm a boy, I'm Peter Benjamin Parker. It feels so good.

This was the prologue, which explain the length of the chapter. Normally, I will cut the next ones in different parts. I hope you liked it.

H.