(tw; homophobia/transphobia)

Demi sighed as they buttoned up their shirt, trying not to think about how it was tight across their bust. They would just have to deal with it. They hated the way their pants caught on their wide hips. At least their hair they could clip up well enough.

Meeting with their grandparents and cousins was intimidating. A few years ago, maybe it wouldn’t have been. Things were simpler then. But now they held secrets close to their chest, ones they couldn’t trust their family to know.

Demi’s mother, father and sister knew, but the word accepting was relative. Kicked Demi out? No. Disowned him? No. But they hadn’t been exactly considerate of the name change pronouns. Demi had only just gotten their hands on the button up shirt they worse today.

“Dereja,” Their mom yelled from downstairs, making them cringe, “get down here! We’re going!”

“Coming!” Demi yelled back as they closed the door to their room.

“Dereja, what game do you want to bring?” Their dad asked. Demi shrugged.

“Uno! Uno! Can we bring Uno please!” Rachel cheered. Demi smiled down at her.

“I’m fine with Uno.” Demi shrugged. Their dad nodded and grabbed the game off the shelf.

“Okay, now come on, come on, in the car, lets go!” Demi’s mother ushered, moving behind her children and pushing on their backs.

—//—

Demi was fine for a while. They were glad to see everyone, and playing rounds of Uno while they waited for food was enjoyable as always. But slowly, it all started to get to them.

“Dereja!” “Dere!” “She this-“ “She that-“ “Her-“ “Dereja pay attention-“

“Demi.” Demi corrected their grandfather as he spoke.

He turned to her, eyes open in confusion. Demi stared back at him, ignoring the glare they were receiving from their mother and the worried look of their sister.

“Excuse me?” Their grandfather asked.

“Can you call me Demi? I prefer to be called Demi.” They explained.

“But why?” Their aunt jumped in. “Dereja is such a pretty name! You don’t need a nick name.”

“I prefer Demi.” They repeated.

“But why?” Their aunt pushed, not accepting their answer. Demi dug their nails into their other hand under the table.

“Dereja?”

“Demi is non-binary.” Their sister said. Everyone turned to her, surprised at the young girl.

“What on earth is that?” Their grandmother asked.

“It’s something we don’t have to discuss at the dinner table.” Their mother said shortly.

“Isn’t that the made-up gender thing.” One of Demi’s oldest cousins asked with a gross look. “She’s not like that!”

“They!” Demi’s sister corrected.

“Rachel, no.” Their father hissed. Rachel crossed her arms and sunk in her chair.

“Dereja, you can’t just pretend to be something just because you want to be.” Their Aunt laughed, but her look serious.

Demi slammed their fist down, silverware rattling as they stood. They didn’t even have any words for their pain and anger as tears began to fall down their face. Demi simply walked straight out of the restaurant.