“Yeah…exactly. Basically, just more of their bullshit expectations they pin on me because they have none left for Braxton.”
“I’m sorry,” Aspen said, because after all these years, there wasn’t much else left to say.
A few years into Noah’s transition, Aspen had tried to ask him why he didn’t just cut ties with his family. Noah had actually started crying, and Aspen had never brought it up again.
They drove for several blocks, and the silence settled to the point Aspen assumed they were done with the conversation. Except, every time they glanced over at Noah, he seemed to be radiating tension. Usually, Aspen would push him to keep talking about what happened at his parents’ house, but he’d been tight-lipped about the visit, and Aspen just didn’t have it in them today to push. They would just have to wait until he was ready.
Which, apparently, would be around three minutes later.
“I just can’t believe it ended like this,” Noah all but growled. “It’s ridiculous to me that you had to physically bring him the papers to sign. You’ve sent them to him five times, and it’s been almost ten months of separation.”
Well, that wasn’t what Aspen had been expecting. Noah’s knuckles were practically white on the steering wheel, and the corner of his jaw was pulsing in that way it did when he talked about his family and now Ethan. Without even having to think about it, Aspen brushed their fingertips over his jaw.
“Your dentist is going to yell at you again if you keep clenching your teeth, especially over someone as insignificant as my ex.”
When Noah’s jaw pulsed a second time, Aspen pressed gently a half an inch down from his short, blonde sideburns. They massaged the joint there until Noah let out a soft breath and unclenched his jaw. Since Aspen’s hand was already on that side of the car, they let it drop down to rest on Noah’s thigh.
Not for the first time in the past several months, Aspen found themself asking a series of rapid-fire questions in their head.
Was it okay for them to do stuff like this now?
Was it okay for Noah to remove one hand from the steering wheel to place on top of Aspen’s?
Was it okay for Aspen to leave their hand on his leg for the remainder of the drive?
Aspen had known exactly where the line was with Noah for as long as they’d been friends. They’d both been single when they met, but neither of them had been out, and besides, dating another member of their sorority had been highly frowned upon. Noah coming out during their final fall semester had shaken things up, and from the newsletters Aspen still subscribed to, it seemed Beta Psi was more queer-friendly nowadays.
That probably wouldn’t have changed anything for them back then, though. Noah had been focused on school, and by the time they graduated and could have pursued something, Aspen had already met and begun dating Ethan.
Over the next five years, Aspen had been there for Noah through his transition and the ups and downs of dating as a trans man in his twenties. Noah had stood next to Aspen as their best man at their wedding and–even though Aspen desperately wished it hadn’t been necessary–he’d been there for Aspen through their disastrous coming out and the consequences that followed. That included helping Aspen find an apartment in the same building he lived in to weather the tumultuous year-long separation.
Things were finally looking up, though. Aspen and Ethan had reconciled all their belongings, bank accounts, and other assets. Ethan had signed the papers, and now they just had to wait for the court to accept them. Then it would once again just be Aspen and Noah, living on opposite ends of the hall like at the Beta Psi house.
Back then, they’d traded keys to their closet-sized rooms, spending just as much time curled up on Aspen’s bed as they did reclining in Noah’s bean bag chair. In adulthood, they’d never traded keys because Ethan hadn’t been comfortable with it, and Aspen wanted to respect that. Thus far, Aspen and Noah had maintained that practice. For some reason, Aspen wasn’t sure how to bring it up now.
Well…maybe it was because as Noah turned a corner, and gripped Aspen’s hand a little tighter, a new barrage of questions flooded Aspen’s aching head.
Was there something more to the way their hands fit so effortlessly together?
When had the pale blonde hair across Noah’s knuckles, and the way his wrist bone curved up at the side, become so enticing?
And, most importantly, why was Aspen asking themself so many hard fucking questions today?
Aspen turned sideways in their seat, pressing their cheek into the worn upholstery as they pulled their legs up to their chest. Noah glanced over, the last of his anger seeming to dissipate as he took in Aspen’s position and whatever their tear-streaked face was doing.
“I like your pants,” he said, rubbing his thumb across the silver signet ring on Aspen’s middle finger. “I know when you got them, you weren't sure if they’d work with your new look, but I think they go really well with that top.”
The pants in question were men’s black cargo joggers, paired with a pink peasant blouse and black steel-toed boots. In other words, it was their power uniform.
Aspen, like many other nonbinary folk they knew, had gone from one gender extreme to the other when they’d first come out. They’d boxed up all their femme clothes, tossed their heels into a trash bag to be dealt with later, and bought flannels and men’s jeans in every color and fit. This had lasted for around six months, during some of the tougher marriage conversations with Ethan. Aspen hadn’t loved the way they looked. The angry, hack-job haircut they’d given themself one late night hadn’t helped, either. Ethan had begged them to at least go for something “cute, like a bob,” and Aspen had gotten the ends cleaned up—right around the time they began binding, changed their name, and came to the conclusion Ethan was never going to accept them.
Moving out had forced Aspen to sort through their femme clothes, sparking a whole new aesthetic journey for them. They were still figuring out how to express their nonbinary identity.
Speaking of. “I think when the divorce is finalized, I’m going to dye my hair blue.”
The corner of Noah’s lips turned up. “Are you going to dye your eyebrows, like you did for rush senior year?”
Aspen snorted. “I might leave my eyebrows alone.”
