Ship: Jackcrutchie/Crack
Tw: Self discovery? I don't know, if you find any, please tell me
Pov: Jack
I'm sorry for not updating in a while, take some nice trans Jack as a apology.

He puts her hair the way he's expected to put his, two tight braids that are gonna make his head ache later and his heart sink now. He puts the clothes he's expected to wear on, hands scrabbling as he tries to find her clothes in the dark. He stops, a thought rushing through his usually empty mind. He swipes it away, no, of course, it's being ridiculous. It's not her clothes, it's his clothes. It's this stupid brain of his, always making stuff, as if it had a mind of its own. Yeah.....it was that; or maybe the early morning tiredness, as his alarm did read 8am. He threw her bag on his back, no, he threw his bag onto his back. It wasn't hers... right?

He walked to school in her shoes, occasionally cursing the annoying rubbing against his heel that they caused. They were getting small. Again. He cast that thought to the back of his mind, he doesn't need new shoes yet, maybe it's because his socks are getting thin. He looked down at the thick, winter socks. Yeah....it was that, right?

He smiled as he saw Charlie. He could make this day better, he always does. Tackling hugging his boyfriend was a daily tradition, being sure not to knock him off his crutches. Charlie (or as he was more commonly known around his peers, Crutchie) could turn the worst day around. He was the kindest boy you could imagine, hair always a messy, sticky-uppy fashion that only he could pull off and looks of a innocent puppy. With a smile that spreads like the smoothest butter, he should be able to fix this stupid feeling that something's missing, right?

The day took a turn for the better, or so it seemed. His hair had fallen out of her braids, but after Crutchie had offered to re-do them with the look of a small child being given a toy on its birthday, he hadn't the heart nor words to say no. And besides, it was nice. He'd be gentle, as if he was brushing each hair individually, and apologizing profusely every time he janked a little too hard. And the small, shy forehead kisses between every brush, everything inperfection and wrong in the world seemed fixed. The hole inside of him, saying he wanted, no, needed more had disappeared. But all good things must come to a end, right?

He feels dishonest. Why, he doesn't know, cause he tells Charlie everything. Literally everything, from who annoyed him today to what kind of pasta he had for a snack randomly in the middle of the night. He has nothing to be dishonest about, yet he can't seem to shake this feeling of.... guilt? What on earth for? He's just a normal person, nothing different, right?

His hands shake as they hover over the ordinary keyboard. Just one word, why was it so hard to type just one word?! Just one small push. His hands remain frozen, and he lets out a huff of annoyance. Willing his hands into motion, he types out the word. He can't forget it. It's emblazoned in his memory, as if it was spelt in a raging fire. He stares at it, how can one word make so much sense, it's just one word,it doesn't have importance. Hands commanded to be still, he moves the mouse to click the enter button, but stops himself. He takes one last look at the word, even though he doesn't need to, it won't go anywhere and as he's said, still.....the word 'transgender' doesn't mean anything to him, right?

Quiz after quiz, this cycle seems like a endless maze to him, all with the same result. But it can't be right, I mean, what would his friends say? Or his mother? Gosh this would be hard to explain to her. He needs reassurance that this is real, not just some self-identity phase. He needs to know. So he does another quiz. And another. And another. It's addicting, but he needs to know. He can't be...it isn't possible, right?

His hands stumble and ultimately fail at writing. The nerves overwhelmed him, so he tries to block his mind. When that doesn't work, he tries humming, which eventually turns to singing which turns to silence. He can't do this. Both the maths and the next event. He has to, it's easier this way....right?

He did not expect that reaction. No-one, not even the universe (if you could count that as a 'one'), expected that reaction. But this was a good thing, he did the right thing. And the universe (who he decided was a one) provided, like, uh, what's the word Charlie had to told him, karma! You do good stuff and good stuff happens. Well.....you can believe in miracles and not be five years old or naive, right?

The wedding bells ring as Mr and Mr Kelly-Morris sit outside the church. Close as they can be in public without physically hurting each other, they watch the birds fly into the unknown, sipping the bitter coffee and praying to the universe that it doesn't drip onto the rental suits they are both wearing. Hand in hand, arm wrapped around Charlie's waist, he could say he was happy. He could also say that this was the best moment of his life and he never wanted it to end. He could say a lot of things. But he had said the most important thing inside, and that's all that matters to anyone, including himself. All he knows is that if life stays this way, drinking half-burnt coffee out of a styrofoam cup and questioning whether that bird pooping on the oak tree is a blackbird or crow, then life is gonna be really fricking good. Life is good, maybe it has it's ups and downs, like everything in the world, but life is good, all in all....right?