Face Reveal

 

@BrodoFaggins2968 2 hours ago
Is it me or does your voice sound different? Not that I mind, your voice has always been very soothing. But you sound chipper!
Also loooove the idea of making the wither farm look like an actual coal mining plant, the design is so cool

 

---

 

 

Reality came crashing down on me the moment I saw his eyes widen in surprise. Something twisted in my gut, and I felt like I’d made a huge mistake.

“No,” he whispered loudly, elongating the last sound of the word. He put his hands on his temples and looked down, frowning.

I inhaled violently, bracing myself for the worst. Reflexively, I grabbed my left arm with my right hand, squeezing it hard in order to ground myself.

“No. No, no, no, I'm so dumb.”

“What? What do you mean?” I clenched my jaw.

He looked back at me, eyes wet. “Scr— Lake… I’m gay.”

My nails clawed at my skin. I’d become so focused on myself. Again. And I’d forgotten him. Again. How could I have been so naïve? My throat knotted itself like a creeper that would—

Like an enderman trying to—

Like a guardian lost in—

Fuck it.

He must have caught the way my face scrunched up, because his eyes lit up in an instant. “Oh. No, I’m sorry, it came out wrong. Yes. Of course, yes. You can be a girl. That’s fine. That’s splendid, even. It suits you.” He paused and averted his gaze. “But I don’t think it can work. I don’t think—” he pointed to himself, then to me, then back again “—we could work. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Because I’m gay. I can’t just be straight like that. It’d be fake. I wouldn’t be enough. It’d be so…” He mumbled something under his breath that I couldn’t make out. Then, as if to blow this last thought away, he sighed. “I’m so sorry. I also got jumbled up in my own thoughts throughout the day, and I never actually took the time to understand what all of this would mean in the end. I feel so stupid. I— I’m sorry.”

I hugged my knees.

“Lake, look. You can be a girl. That’s okay. But you…” he trailed off.

It was easy to finish that sentence: I couldn’t be his girlfriend because he didn’t like girls. And at the end of the day, I couldn’t force him. He couldn’t change his sexuality, that wouldn’t make sense. It didn’t work like that. Even though it hurt intensely, I had to admit that his reaction was okay as well.

“I’m sorry, too,” I said with what remained of my voice. “I understand.”

There was silence for a little more than a minute. It had become too hard to speak when I realised tears were rolling down my cheeks. But worse than that was the belief that I was making a scene, which only strengthened the flow.

“Come here,” he whispered with a hiccup. He took me into his embrace, and I hid myself in his arms. I heard shuffling noises behind me. Gwenn spoke a few words too quietly for me to discern, then left the room with someone else I could only assume was Marie, because Mandel was still there, holding me.

“I— I can’t quite be your girlfriend, can I?” I asked in between sobs.

His voice was hoarse, like he had to put effort into every one of his words. “If I were a girl, I’d love for you to be my girlfriend.”

“You—” I sniffled. “You can, you know that? That’s the whole point.”

“No. I don’t think so. Not me.”

“You could be such a beautiful, strong woman.”

“Don’t—” He broke the embrace. “Please don’t call me that. I don’t want that. I’m too… I’m not like you! You’re all smooth and pretty, it makes so much sense,” he grunted between two sobs. “But me? Me!? It doesn’t suit me at all. I know it. I’m way too bulky. So no, I don’t feel like that. I— I have to be realistic.”

I had many things I could’ve retorted to him, but I abstained, biting my cheek from the inside.

“I’m sorry. And— I— I’m sorry.” He repeated the apology five times, his voice gradually shrinking. After a moment, he exhaled a big breath and fought the tears coming down his cheeks with desperate swipes of the back of his hand. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I need time. I’ll text you.” He stood up in a hurry, then left the room without looking back.

There was a short interval where I was alone. And unfortunately, as often happens with brutal realisations, my brain decided to stretch my perception of this moment to a stupid amount. I slumped down on the bean bag, both arms fully extended, and looked at the ceiling, slightly shaking, clenching and unclenching my jaw repeatedly, struggling to go through each breath without my throat blocking the airflow, and waiting for the tears to dry. The room that once felt wondrous and full of secrets now appeared dull, cramped, and suffocating.

What do I do now? I asked myself. Every option was rotten. Repressing gender stuff to please him? A fool’s errand. It would lead nowhere. Continuing down this path? A dead end. I would only wind up alone. What am I supposed to do? What can I do? And the only answer I could come up with was ‘nothing’.

After a while, I heard footsteps outside of the room. And someone definitely tripped on a book — the Wittig, probably, I thought, pressing my lips into a thin line — while calling “Lake!” Well, I supposed that was the intent, because I never heard the word in its entirety; the last part of it had been muffled by a cushion connecting with the intruder’s head. Pushing with both my arms on my seat, I raised my head just high enough to spot two little dog ears. That was Zee, recovering from his fall with a stretch. After getting up and straightening his dress, he joined me and settled at my side.

“So,” he said, extracting as much of the ‘o’ he could get away with. “Are you alright? I just saw Mandel leave. I tried to talk to— Well, I talked to him, very briefly, but he said he needed time. How are you feeling?”

Like crap, that was for sure. But I wasn’t feeling like talking right now. So I took my phone out and wrote ‘not great ngl’ on a note, then I showed it to him. He read it with a grave face, nodding.

“Yeah. Makes sense. But you know, I do really think he just needs time.” He paused, as if pondering carefully his next words. “If you could remember one thing, it’s that you should trust him. Trust Mandel to make the right choice.”

‘wdym?’ I wrote.

“He’ll come around. I am sure of it. Like, ninety-nine percent. Just enough below a hundred so that Marie wouldn’t be mad at me because, ‘there is no such thing as zero risk,’ or something,” he said, imitating with perfection the way Marie ends all her sentences with a rising tone. “Well, then I suppose what I really mean is… trust me? Ugh, I’m so bad at this.”

‘no no dw, you’re good,’ I replied, and I felt my voice coming back. “I— I understand, I think,” I said with a frail voice. “I get where he's coming from. And I think I can wait for him to figure things out. But the situation still sucks. I feel our relationship is falling apart, and I can’t do shit about it.”

He put a finger on his chin and closed his eyes, deep in thought. “I can’t fix a relationship like that; I’m not good at it. But I think I know how to cheer you up,” he said, still sounding somewhat unsure.

“At this point, I’d take anything. Go on, spit it out,” I said.

“Only if you’re into that,” he replied with a smirk and a voice I wouldn’t forget easily. 

And no, before you ask, my face didn’t warm nor redden, all evidence to the contrary was counterfactual.

“Just kidding,” he said with a smile, and he stuck out his tongue. Then he stood up and offered me a hand. “Can you move?” I nodded. “Will you follow me?” I nodded again and accepted his hand, and we proceeded out of the little library.

Much to my relief, the hall was now unoccupied. We walked towards the corner with the fireplace, which was still burning with a roar and warming the room. On the side, there was an old concrete flight of stairs with a beautifully carved wood railing. As I followed Zee up to the next floor — he had grabbed his dress in his hands to hop eagerly from step to step — I marvelled at the smooth sensation of the curves against my hand. “Just here,” Zee exclaimed, pulling me from my haptic reverie, “there’s a room with tons of clothes.” He pointed to a door on the right. “That’s where I got these.” He wiggled his dog ears. 

I opened the aforementioned door with trepidation. The room looked like something out of a dream. The floor was all shiny planks, with six vertical beams of old, dark wood on the left. From each of them, a section of wall continued further, separating seven little wardrobes, all in a different colour from the rainbow. On the right side of the room, boxes upon boxes of accessories and unsorted garments were strewn across the floor.

I took a step into the room. There was a sweet and fruity scent of fabric softener in the air. On a chair next to the entrance, there was a discarded black and red flannel skirt—

I heard Zee clear his throat behind me. When I pivoted to see him, he took my hand and flung me outside the room. I elicited one of my finest eeps.

“Okay, clothes are cool and all, but the real deal is up there.” He ran up the stairs and beckoned me. “Not a lot of people know what’s behind this bad boy.” We had stopped next to an iron door, and he was leaning on it with a smug smile. “It’s a nice spot. I hide there when I’m feeling down, or when there’s a party in the hall — there’s no better feeling than being outside, hearing the muffled sound of a band playing through a wall, and feeling the bass rearranging your atoms with its vibrations.” He opened it, ushering me in. On the other side, there was a bridge leading to nothing, suspended over an overgrown hangar filled with light and rusty equipment. I felt a light breeze that, when I traced its point of origin, led me to discover that the gate of the hangar was slowly crumbling on itself. “This is where people did coal stuff back in the day, I guess. There must have been big pulleys or something, and they needed a little bridge like this one to work with them. Now, it’s a super cool place with loads of cute plants. Anyway, I’m Glob.”

My head whipped around to face him, and my eyes widened like two Minecraft pufferfishes. “Wh— Hh— What? No way.”

“Yes way! Earlier, while I was fetching the biscuits, I had a really strong debate with myself as to how I was gonna deliver you the happy news. I was thinking, an ARG? Hiding clues in one of my streams or something? And at the end, there would’ve been a party with a square cake and some confetti, and I would be like, ‘Ta-daaa, face reveal, Glob’s me, I’ve been here the whole time~,’” he said in an unusual but very successful baritone. “And I would’ve stared at you like a Minecraft pig. You know? That look.” 

His gaze slowly locked with mine, and he stared at my soul. I had to close my eyes before he could snatch it. 

“But, like, you seemed like you could do without that kind of crap right now. Plus, I’m awfully bad at keeping secrets. So, yeah, it’s a-me. Here, look.” He took his phone out, and after a few taps on his part, I checked my DMs and…

Globule

gluball

This is the beginning of your direct message history with Globule.

_{1 Mutual server   •   Add friend   Block   Report Spam}

—01 January 2024—

Globule _{Today at 17:24}
I AM A DOG 🐕

I looked up, befuddled. “But— But why did you react like you didn’t know us when we came earlier?”

“Um. So. The thing is, I never watched your videos, that was a lie. Sorry about that. I'm more of a Twitch kinda guy. Though I did watch parts of the Battle Royale one, just to see if you did cut the girl part. Which you did, well done, good job. I’m proud of you!” He winked. “And as for why I didn’t recognise your voice, well… I have, um, a plugin on Discord; and I modified the voice chat mod we use on Minecraft. And the modification is…” He ate the rest of his sentence and fake-coughed.

“Is what?”

“It— It modifies everyone's voices to be high-pitched like the…” He sighed and looked to the side dejectedly, kicking a little rock off the bridge. “Like the Chipmunks…”

I chuckled. “Right…”

“It’s true! I promise!”

I pinched my nose and smiled. “Ugh, I guess that would be a very Glob thing to do. Can’t argue with that.”

“Exactly! Thank you! You understand my character perfectly!” He pointed at me, grinning ear to ear.

Suddenly, I was taken over by a powerful laugh. I wasn’t able to stop, and I had to perch on the bridge to steady myself.

“See. I did it! I lifted your spirits. It worked!”

After some time, I succeeded in catching my breath. “Yeah you did, thank you. It worked. Waw. But for real, thank you so much, Zee.” I lied down, my two legs dangling in the void. And he did the same.

From here, I could see why this place had felt so bright. The ceiling was actually made of glass! There were only some vines hiding part of the sunlight coming through. Just enough to be pleasant and exposed to the best part of the weather, but sufficiently so that you still felt like you were protected and able to hide, if need be.

“You were right, it’s a nice spot. I think I’d like to stay a bit.”

Hunger be damned, we laid there a good while, following a butterfly as it pollinated a rusted beam full of flowers and marvelling at an old conveyor belt that served as a refuge for a flock of sparrows. We took it all in, and we rested.

After a while, I ended up taking out my phone reflexively, and I saw two things: first, Mandel had texted me; second, my dad had texted me, too.

It was pretty much guaranteed that Dad’s message was a nice one, but I wasn’t sure about Mandel’s. And thus the immemorial dilemma sprung up once again: do you eat the fries or the salad first? Do you start with the good or the bad news? Do you begin the search for an End portal by gathering blaze rods or ender pearls?

I ate the fries.

Big-Daddy _{Today at 16:59}

Hello!  Happy new year!  From your mum and me!
We hope everything’s going well for you.  Don’t forget to pay us a visit sometime.

Hello! This is your aforementioned mum and I’m sorry for the emojis, especially the first one, but I couldn’t stop this oaf of a parent. And happy new year, Julien! I hope all is well for you.

“Everything alright?” Zee asked. He had lifted himself up on one palm to look at me.

His voice surprised me a little, so I answered without thinking. “J— Just my parents being silly, that’s all.” That wasn't all. Even though the messages were cute, I’d had to suppress a pained laugh while reading them. Seeing my name uncomfortably sitting in the middle of a sentence sent a jolt down my spine. It felt so hollow.

Zee had to have picked up on my discomfort, because he gave a simple nod with a small, warm smile without prompting me further, then he raised his eyes towards the ceiling again and relaxed.

I quickly thanked my parents and sent them my best wishes. Yes, I should probably go and visit them again. They’re nice, and they always complained about not spending enough time with me. Usually, I would’ve argued I had work to get on with, but that defence wasn’t even sound anymore.

Before opening Mandel’s messages, I gritted my teeth, preparing myself for the worst. Maybe that was it? Two weeks and already the end? What would I even do? We’d practically vowed that we would join Covencraft together. We’d have to stop working on our mutual series, at least for a time — or even forever, if it became too hard for us to work with each other again.

When I imagined that this could very likely be the last message I would receive from him, my heart skipped a beat. So I breathed evenly, just like he’d taught me, and then finally I ate the salad.

Mandel _{Today at 17:32}
Hey. So sorry for earlier. You did nothing wrong, I just had dumb thoughts.
I’ve said things I don’t think I believe.
I wanted to make it super duper clear that I don’t want to end things with you. I love you. Whatever your gender may be, I love you completely.
Now I have things to think through, nothing to worry about, just a bit of me time will do the trick.

I put my phone on my chest, closed my eyes, and let the message loop in my mind a few times.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” I answered. I couldn’t think of anything but three specific words in the middle of his message. He’d said he loved me. That was new. “Things will be okay.”

“Does that have anything to do with your parents being silly?” he said, then approached me and rested his head on his left palm, looking confused. “Is silliness that important to you?”

“Yeah, something like that,” I answered absentmindedly.

As I heard Zee giggle, I opened the conversation again.

sonicScrew _{Today at 17:36}
I love you too
so much
Can I do something to help?

Mandel _{Today at 17:37}
No, don’t worry, I’ll manage. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask.
But thank you for the offer.
if I need anything, i’ll tell you

Not without a bit of stress, I squeezed my phone. I was hopeful. That was the first time he said he loved me. Things will be okay, I mentally repeated, hoping that mantra would come true.

Eventually, Zee and I spoke again. First, because I wanted to ask questions about queer subjects. Despite always insisting she wasn't the best person to talk about it, Zee was very resourceful and sent me many links for further exploration. I learned a lot, and especially, I learned how large my ignorance on this matter had been, and still was. And second, yes, I asked her what form of address she preferred, and she picked the feminine one, though not without insisting that pronouns didn't equate gender.

"Still a guy," she continued, lifting her signature pointer finger up, signifying she was about to explain something important to her. "I dabble in gender presentation when I’m here at the Gayette, because it's the only place left where I feel nobody'll bat an eye. But rocked a dress once at my parent's — my genitors, I should say — and I was gently encouraged to skedaddle far away and find my own place.” She sighed. “Ah sorry, didn't mean to vent that,” she continued with a chuckle. “I’m better off without them anyway, and I have people I can rely on. What I wanted to say is, I want to be the type of guy who's a good example, you know? Like the best ally possible, showing that guys can play with all of this, that they can show those parts of themselves. We need guys like me. As much as I hate being bundled up with men, it's also a great opportunity: I get to change things from the inside! I shouldn't rob the world of a good guy — or at least, a guy who tries to be good; I clearly don't succeed one hundred percent of the time,” she mumbled, looking away for a moment. “Oh, by the way, on that note, I should really stress that all of this is a me thing. Like, I'm not saying that transfem people are robbing the world of 'good guys'; that's a disgusting idea. No, it's just, like, I'm a guy, right? Right," she said with conviction. "So, in my case, that'd be a shame."

As I listened carefully to her words, drawing connections and trying to make sense of them, I remembered overhearing her say something along the same lines a little earlier in the hall. She kept putting exceptions on herself and self-deprecating in the process. Exceptions that would be totally outlandish if said about someone else (if I understood correctly all the things she taught me about transphobia earlier). Hating being a guy, but staying one because it’s a ‘good opportunity’? Wasn't very convincing. But what did I know? Maybe there was something I didn't get. I still had much to learn, after all.

Only an instant after finishing her explanation, her eyes twinkled. "Oh,” she said, with an edge of malice in her voice. “You, on the other hand, if you want to be a girl, please be a fucking girl.” She paused, probably for effect, then threw her arms to the sides and shouted, “Exclamation marks!"

“Um.”

As I blinked repeatedly, conflicted emotions took place within me. I couldn’t avoid reminding myself of Mandel, and one thing crystallised for certain: if he hadn’t been okay with me being trans, that would have sucked, and thus, by simple reasoning, I could safely assume that it meant I was kind of trans.

And my boyfriend wasn’t into girls.

I tensed up and scrunched my face. Again, I scolded myself for how naïve I’d been, never realising the mess I’d put our relationship in. A trans girl with a gay boyfriend; in what kind of odd world would that have even worked out? If he hadn’t sent those messages earlier, confirming we wouldn’t break up, what would I have done?

And even with those, it was still weird. Did he still identify as gay? Would I be an exception? Does he just like guys and… whatever I am?

With that, the scowl left my brow, and finally a thought finished brewing: if I couldn’t be loved as a girl, why bother?

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

A furious cocktail of emotions fought its way to my stomach. Every single one of them intoxicated my mind. And at the top right-hand corner of my field of view, the ‘How Did We Get Here?’ advancement toast slid in and out of my vision.

“Zee, I think I am a girl.” 

I stood up, biting my lip in excitement. 

“I can be a girl. I can try, at least. I can try to be a girl and see if I like it. I can actually do that. I can try new pronouns. I can try new clothes. I can customise my body!”

“Well, yeah, of course,” she said, lifting herself up. “That was always allowed.”

“I know!” I jerked my arms in front of me. At that point, I already had everything I needed to understand that thoroughly, and still, it took so much time, so many setbacks and loopings before landing on the correct track. “I feel dumb as hell, but lucky too; I don’t know. But I can’t wait. Oh! You have to teach me your thing with the voice!”

“Hehe, of course.” She smirked and rubbed her pointer finger with her thumb, as if to file her nail with it. “Girl voice’s definitely within my purview.” That was true. No one in a million years could argue with that statement. “But first, I have to ask one thing: pronouns?”

“Well, yeah! Why not? Let’s try she/her. Same as you.”

Then Zee immediately covered her eyes with the palm of her hands and started frowning.

“What are y—”

“Oh no!” she whined loudly, giving me a start. “Where is she?”

Oh. Why do I feel so warm?

“Where is Lake? She just disappeared in front of me! And now I lost her!”

Wow, what’s happening? My heart is swelling. Why do I feel so happy?

“Try as I might, I can’t shee her!”

 

✦ ▶ ✦

 

40bees _{Today at 20:01}
Hey Screw! I hope you’re feeling well.

sonicScrew _{Today at 20:02}
Hello
Weird day, ups and downs, but I’m fine

40bees _{Today at 20:02}
Well, you probably knew this was coming, but in twelve days from now (January 13th), CovenCraft season 5 will start with a livestream.
In the next few days, we’ll need to form a plan for what we want to do this season:
- Storylines, for those who want to participate in them
- The seed
- The positions of the different districts
- A trailer (I was hoping you could help us with that!)
- And suggesting ideas

And I need to know if you’re in! Mandel already said yes, on the condition you’d accept too.

sonicScrew _{Today at 20:04}
Yeah, if you’ll have me, I’m in!!
But um, we kind of have a new proble|

I stopped myself before finishing that last message, then selected all the text and hit backspace.

“Fuck,” I whispered, my head in my hands, alone at my desk. Things might not be that okay after all, because between all my girly ventures, I might have forgotten that… “I’m a Minecraft YouTuber.”