“How did you get in here? How did you get past security?”

“I couldn’t possibly tell you.”

Noah had sauntered right up to the security in his new body and been waved right in. No ID necessary. His new body must’ve looked older. He’d never been to a gay bar before. Of course he hadn’t. He was 15. But while he was Freaky Friday’ed with Mason, he was going to make the most of it.

He’d gone an op shop earlier in the day and bought all the clothes he’d never been able to wear. He’d bought a white tee-shirt. A tank top. A black mesh shirt. He’d bought tight pants. Every moment in the store, trying things on, was euphoric. He’d never been able to stomach the sight of himself. Now the body in the mirror was his. Except it wasn’t. It was still weird to look in the mirror and see Mason staring back. It was going to take some adjustment time to get used to having a new face. A new body. A new life. But overall, Noah felt like he’d won the lottery. He wished his entire life to be cis. And now he had a chance to do it. He’d decided to try clubbing on a whim. He wanted to celebrate. To be around people. To get dressed up and enjoy this new life of his. So he’d painted in nails black, smudged on some eyeliner, and chucked on the mesh shirt.

A week ago, if you’d told Noah that he’d be wearing a mesh shirt, he would’ve laughed at you. Now look at how far he’d come. From being unable to breathe in a binder for all those years to a shirt that is barely there at all. He could breathe better than he ever had in his life.