“I’d love to meet your parents,” Ben says, and I find myself nodding. What would it be like to have parents that supportive and loving? “When you’re comfortable with that, of course.”
Parker turns to Ben with a grin. “I’m going to their house for Thanksgiving. You can both come if you’d like.”
“Really?” I ask, hope rising inside me.
“Yeah. They’d love that.” Parker clears their throat, then adds, “I would too.”
“We’ll be there, Cotton Candy, right?” Ben asks, looking up at me.
I’ll have to tell my mom I’m not coming home for dinner, but… I nod. “Definitely.”
Sighing, Parker sinks deeper into our embrace. “Where was I?”
“Not wanting you to wear makeup,” Ben says softly.
“Ah, right. So anyway. Then it got worse.”
“Worse than misgendering you and making you feel bad about the clothes you wore?” I blurt out, double adding Lincoln to my shitlist.
“He used to make fun of my paintings,” Parker whispers, voice pained, almost like that hurts worse than anything Lincoln could have said about their gender. I guess, in some ways, it probably did.
“Your art is your soul,” Ben says softly.
“Exactly,” Parker whispers. “Exactly. It’s such an integral part of who I am. More than any clothes or makeup ever could be. So I stopped. For a solid three months, I stopped.”
“Painting?” I ask.
“Everything.I stopped painting. I stopped dressing how I wanted. Stopped using my preferred pronouns. Basically tried to change myself into the person Lincoln wanted me to be.”
“Oh, fuck Lincoln,” Ben snaps.
“Fuck Lincoln, indeed,” I say, heart hammering at my poor Lovebug hiding themself away to protect their heart from such a worthless piece of shit.
Parker laughs. “Thanks, guys. After that, everything went back to normal. But then one day, I just woke up and thought, God, I’m fucking miserable. I’m miserable, and he’s so happy, and how is that fair? Why should I stop doing all the things I love and being the person I am just to make him happy when I wasso fuckingmiserable?” Parker smirks. “So I dumped his ass.”
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. “Yeah? That’s my Lovebug.”
“Damn straight,” Ben says, grinning just as much as I am.
Parker giggles, sitting up and turning around to face us. “Get this. Hecried.Hesobbed.Like on his knees in front of me. To be fair, I was pretty upset too. I didn’t want to break up with him, not really. But I had to. For myself, you know? I knew even then I deserved better than that.”
Serves Lincoln fucking right. “Hell yes you did, Lovebug.”
They sober, their face turning serious. “He’s why I’m so weird about my art. It’s really hard to trust in yourself again after someone beats you down over it. I didn’t want anyone to see, for fear that they’d react how he did. That they’d make fun of it too.”
Ben blows out a breath, holding out a hand to Parker. Slipping their hand into his, they give it a little squeeze. “Your art is magnificent.Youare magnificent.”
Parker nods shyly. “Yeah, I get that now. Or at least, I get itmorenow. It was never about me. Not really. It was about him and his own failings. But…” they sigh. “Still made it really hard to trust. Like… really fucking hard.”
“And then we came along,” I say.
“And then you came along,” Parker says, nodding. “Always so fucking earnest and open and just…perfect,and it caught me off guard. Sometimes I’m still not sure you’re real. Feels like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
I reach up, cupping Parker’s face. They lean into my touch, nuzzling against the palm of my hand. “There is no other shoe, Lovebug. Not with us.”
“I’m starting to trust that. Thank you for being patient with me.”
Fuck, I’m pretty sure I’d wait forever for them. For them and for Ben and for the beautiful, life-altering thing we’re building together.
