a/n: lower case because aesthetic thank.

~

"is the binder too tight?" lars's mother asked as lars checked in the mirror. the chest binder seemed to lump just a little near the bottom, but it was still pretty good. he took a deep breath. it wasn't too tight, but it was strange to have something so close to his skin. 

"nah, it's fine." he turned to look at his mother. she had a spark of uncertainty, but she looked about as excited as lars was. she was always trying anything that would get her closer to her only child, and she obviously showed how much she loved him, no matter what he identified as. 

she looked him up and down, from his bare feet, to his skinny jeans, to his chest binder, and his new hair cut. there was nothing but love and concern all the way up and down. when he first came out, his father was a little concerned. was he sure? after all this was something completely new to him, but lars reassured him that this wasn't anything new to him, or anything that he didn't  know about himself. this was just something that he kept to himself for the last few years until he was completely sure and did enough research to know. 

it took a while, and his father stumbled quite a few times, but after being corrected by lars's mother, and seeing how close lars got to him after he accepted that he had a son- not a daughter- he was happy for him. he still left most of the work to lars's mother, who was always trying to be supportive and had always been closer to their son. he still tried, of course. he was a little slow, but he had bought lars his first chest binder and was researching places for top surgery and testosterone. 

"try putting on a shirt, dear. i heard that's when you really see how much the chest binder works." his mother held out a brand new shirt, one that he bought with his father after he came out as a boy. his father was good at finding shirts that would fit. 

"thanks mom." lars smiled. it was nice to see his mother so happy from time to time, especially if it was supportive of him. it was...nice to feel like part of the family, instead of some misshapen twig that grew too far off of the family tree.   

the shirt was made of a thing material, light to make sure he didn't overheat in his chest binder. it was a flannel, with red and maroon coloring. it was a little more colorful than what he was used to, but his father suggested it because he thought it was popular with young teens lately. lars had just laughed and taken it home. now, he slipped into it, and his mother quickly buttoned it up for him. 

"now look in the mirror, honey!" his mother gently turned him towards the body length mirror he had in his room. 

his chest was barely noticeable, and didn't look any different from any cis male's chest. he gently touched his chest, and felt the thin fabric of the shirt gently slide against the cool material of his chest binder. despite how flimsy the shirt felt on him, compared to the strength of the chest binder, it was almost impossible to see through, and it was even more impossible to see that he was wearing a chest binder. it was...so strange to see that he was making progress. he looked at the rest of his outfit. the flannel actually went kind of well with the dark skinny jeans that he was wearing, and the haircut he had. he looked tough. like a guy. 

he could see his mother eagerly waiting for his response, but not interrupting. this was something important for her son, and she was happy to just watch his reaction. he slowly turned, arms wide open. 

"how do i look mom?" his voice cracked half way through the sentence.

"sweetie are you crying?" 

the bottom of his vision was slightly blurry, and he quickly wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. he didn't even know that he had been crying. 

"just got something in my eye." he lied. then he looked back at his mother. "actually, i'm just really happy. and excited." she nodded, and looked him up and down, paying attention to every detail.

"lars, you look amazing." she said, one hand on his shoulder. "we should take you shopping for more clothes soon, and maybe donate the old skirts and dresses that you don't want anymore. and maybe get you one of those things...what are they called again, something like stb?" lars laughed. 

"mom. they're called stp." her face only lightened up more. 

"oh yes! and maybe we can get you new bedsheets! i don't quite know what a growing teenage boy needs, but i'm sure that i can get it for you, lars." she looked around his room, looking for anything that she thought was missing from what kept lars's room from being a boy's room. 

"mom?" 

she spun around to face her son, still looking around the room, suspiciously glaring at a few old toys that had been shoved into a closet. 

"yes, lars?" 

he pulled her into a hug. 

"I love you mom." 

she slowly hugged back. 

"I love you too, Lars."