Oliver let himself into his apartment, shrugging his coat off his shoulders, glitter cascading off like a case of shiny dandruff, he really should shower, wash the last vestiges of Anya odd for the night but first, cake. Cake and tears. 

It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It hurt that nobody could see past the rhinestones and dramatic liner to see him underneath. It hurt nobody even tried to. It hurt that he was dismissed, looked past and down at. It just..hurt. 

Anya was stronger, Anya would have laughed at that silly little man with his silly little starstruck crush but Anya was on the last of his makeup wipes stuck to the inside of his bin. Oliver was here and Oliver was hurt. 

The door exploded inwards as tho it had just been kicked by a massive drag Queen (it had been). Dina never knew how to enter a room simply. She always commanded attention and now she was flinging bags of donuts at Oliver and talking a mile a minute. “That little creep! He’s a-“ Oliver caught random snippets as Dina stomped about kicking heels off and peeling off expensive lashes “-stage sniffing bastard” 

Oliver laughed despite himself and grabbed a donut coated liberally in what promised to be cookies and cream icing. “He didn’t fancy me. It happens” 

“Oliver please. You saw how he was looking at you when you were all wigged up! It’s just rude is what it is!!” 

The rant continued as Oliver thoughtfully chewed his donut and then not so thoughtfully chewed a second one. 

“It hurt, I hated how he looked past me. But it’s okay. I’m used-“ 

“Oliver! If you say you’re used to it I am going to scream” Dina interrupted “honestly you say that as though it makes sense!! That it makes it okay! It doesn’t.” 

Oliver gave a weak smile. “I am used to it. I know it doesn’t make it okay but the last few guys I’ve dated didn’t want to see me out of drag, the guys I flirt with in bars look past me. They don’t see me. They want a real man” 

Dina stood clutching her chest like she was in the middle of an exaggerated heart attack. Oliver knew he was in for it now. Dina was one of the only people in his life who knew he was trans and if anything Dina seemed to know more about transitioning than him. When Oliver came out Dina spent weeks doing research and learning everything she could about it. By referring to himself as ‘not a real man’ Oliver had opened a hell of a can of worms and he knew it. But knowing something is coming doesn’t make the blow any softer. 

“When Michael Dillon transitioned (the first trans man to medically transition in the 1950’s) do you think he allowed people to consider him “not a real man”? When that 17th century servant was out there living as a man no matter the odds he was letting himself be considered “not a real man”???!!” “Dina-“ Oliver tried to interrupt but she had already started. “IN ANCIENT GREECE, 7000 years BCE-“ “Dina!!!” “THEY WERE REAL MEN, WOMEN AND EVEN THIRD AND FOURTH GENDERS!” “…Dina, please, I’m sorry” 

Dina may have been a the most boisterous bearded beauty to have ever graced the stage at the club they called home but she was also that kind of person who spoke in parentheses and cited sources. She really really had done her research. She knew so much queer history and about queer icons it was a miracle her lip sync routines had room in her head. 

She knew names, she knew dates, she knew important surgeons and groupings of people who believed in multiple genders from the beginning. She also knew he needed to hear it. 

He needed to hear about Michael Dillan, Lili Elbe and to hear about Stonewall. He needs to hear about Dave, the guy from up the street and his beautiful wife Aidriene, both trans people. He needed to hear he wasn’t alone. And he wasn’t. 

Icons aplenty, friends both real life and online, tonnes of proof that being trans doesn’t have to mean misery and constant depression but that voice. That voice in his head, that whispered mean thoughts about his hair line, his eyes, his biceps and worst of all his height. It whispered loudly tonight. 

He smiled, he crushed that voice down and when he spoke he imagined shouting over the whispers, “sweetheart, I’m fine, I’m sorry.” He ramped up the sweetness with a little rueful laugh “I just got caught up in this one. I thought he seemed nice, I wasn’t expecting him to be another drag hag”

And just in case Dina wasn’t believing him Oliver pulled out his secret weapon. The dimple. 

“Okay, okay. I get it. It’s just one bad night, who cares what he thinks though okay? I think you’re wonderful” She smooched him on the head and stalked into her room. 

Stephen looked up at him, narrowing his eyes and for a moment Oliver felt he was about to be called out on his lie but Stephen just sneezed and slinked away to lie under the radiator in his favourite spot. 

Oliver looked around despite knowing nobody was looking, and stuffed another donut in his mouth, whole. This one had a creamy chocolate filling and he let it melt as one stubborn tear, lost its grip on his eyelashes and flitted down his cheek. It still sucked