“I can understand that. But that doesn’t mean you have to care,” she scoffed as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
She was so young, yet so intelligent. Something I never was at fourteen.
I felt the weight of her words settle into me, warming the corners of my doubt like the fire warming the night air. “But I don’t want to be seen as weak,” I admitted. “I don’t want to be looked down on or seen as a joke.”
“Is this because of Cahya and Jax?” Yesoh asked suddenly, her voice sharper, her eyes narrowing as she leaned closer. “Did they say something to you? Because if they did, I swear I’m going to—”
“It’s not just them,” I interjected, trying to ease her anger, but it only seemed to fuel the fire in her eyes. “It’s just the way I feel, you know? They joke about it all the time. I’m aware they don’t mean anything by it, but it gets to me.”
“Wynter, you shouldn’t have to carry that weight because of their stupid jokes,” she said, her frustration evident. “They need to understand how their words affect you. I’m tired of themmaking you feel less than what you are. Cahya especially because he’s your best friend. It’s not okay.”
She was rather passionate about it; I wondered where on earth that all came from.
I blinked, surprised by her intensity. It was rare to see Yesoh so fired up, and it made me feel both grateful and unsettled. “I appreciate it, but they’re just trying to mess around. I know they don’t mean it like that.”
“But they should know better!” she insisted, her voice rising slightly. “You’re not just a punchline, Wynter. You deserve to be seen for who you are, not how someone thinks you should look or act.”
I felt a warmth wash over me, a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. “Thanks, Yesoh. But I don’t want to cause problems between us. I don’t want to make them feel bad for just being themselves.”
“Yes, but it’s not fair to you,” she said, crossing her arms in defiance. “You’re one of the most genuine people I know, and if they can’t see that, then they need to step back and rethink their own skewed idea of masculinity. You don’t have to fit into their mold to be a guy.”
I sighed, the tension in my chest easing just a bit. Yesoh always had this way of cutting through my spirals, grounding me when I felt lost. “It’s just hard sometimes,” I said, staring into the flames. “I wish I could just be like everyone else, you know?”
“Being ‘like everyone else’ isn’t what makes you unique,” she replied, her voice softening. “Embrace who you are, even if it doesn’t fit a stereotype. You’re more than just how you look or how others perceive you. You’re kind, you’re thoughtful, and you’re passionate. Those things matter so much more.”
I looked at her, her sincerity washing over me like the tide creeping closer to our feet. “Thanks, Yesoh. I really needed to hear that.”
She smiled, a warmth that rivaled the fire’s glow. “Anytime, Wynter. You’re a great guy, just as you are. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”
In that moment, I felt a glimmer of hope. The fire danced in front of us, illuminating the night and reminding me that sometimes, it took a gentle push from someone who believed in me to find my way back to myself.
Dear diary, I think that I have grown to be okay with this fact, that I will never be one of the boys. And I think I’m okay with that.
15
Matcha Manipulation
It was an early Saturday morning when Wynter was supposed to pick me up for our second skating practice. A wave of nervous excitement washed over me as I got ready. I'd chosen a comfortable outfit—a pair of black leggings and a soft grey sweatshirt—perfect for moving around on the ice. I glanced in the mirror, trying to tame my unruly curls. I wanted to look presentable at the bare minimum, even if it was just for practice. But fate, as it often did, had other plans.
Just as I finished packing my bag, my phone buzzed with a text from Wynter:
Unknown: Hi. It's Wyn. running a little late.
ME: How did you get my number lol
Unknown: Your brother is my best friend “lol”
ME: Wow, so sassy!
Unknown: ?
ME: Dear God we are in fact, living in the midst of a sassy man apocalypse. You want to be one of the girls so bad.
Unknown: I was not being sassy.
ME: uh huh.
Unknown: I’ll be there in 20.
