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"Um, G-Grandpa Rick?" [REDACTED] hesitantly cracked open the door and stood directly in the narrow doorway that separated the kitchen and Rick's lab.
He was actively fidgeting with his fingers, all the while trying to mantain his rapidly increasing breath. Sure, the teenager was struggling with anxiety for a long, long time now. However, there were very few situations throughout his life when it felt this intense. It is quite strange if you think about it; is coming out as trans really as stressful as a six-day long non-stop adventure, which resulted in both of them nearly dying? Or collapsing into a spaceless void with no oxygen, while the universe around you is steadily falling away piece by piece? Or being forced to bury your own corpse in the backyard? All of this happening at the ripe age of fourteen?
[REDACTED] had experienced countless traumatic events in a relatively short span of time, yet his body still turned to the fight-or-flight response even in a non-life-threatening situation. Seriously, just how difficult it is to tell your closest relative that you no longer associate with the gender that you were assigned at birth with? Especially when you know that the said relative is ambiguously queer. Yes, Rick had never stated or acknowleged that fact out loud, but there was no need to say it. It was pretty clear at this point to everyone in the family. The possibility of him foresaking [REDACTED] or turning away from him solely because he's transgender was out of the question, yet it still instilled some kind of irrational fear deep inside the boy.
"Yeah?" Rick spoke in a monotone voice without any hint of enthusiasm. The scientist was too caught up in welding some kind of gadget to pay attention to the nervousness in his grandchild's voice.
"T-There's something that I wanted to t-tell you f-for a while now."
"Whatever, just make it quick." Old man didn't bother to look up even once during this interaction. He was responding dismissively, just like he always does, expecting the information to be nothing more than some angsty teenage bullshit he couldn't care less about.
This is it; the moment of truth had finally arrived. [REDACTED] was about to deliver the speech which he had practised for a week in advance, mostly rehearsing it in his own mind and ocasionally in front of a mirror. The boy had no choice but to spill his guts. Turning back or swaying the conversation in a more routine direction was not an option. Geez, this shouldn't be as hard as it is...
The boy took a deep breath and said as calmly as possible, if you can even call it that, in an attempt to lower his voice.
"I-I think I'm a trans guy, Rick.'' he blurted out. "A-And I was wondering i-if you could help me, um, g-get a haircut o-or a new wa-wardrobe."
Teenager's eyes were glued to his own feet and [REDACTED] felt like he physically couldn't look up at his grandfather, even if he really tried.
"And maybe even, um, I-I was thinking, maybe we could g-go to that dimension with greatly advanced medicine a-and, you know, get some kind of serum that would make my voice d-drop? O-or just make my b-body appear more masculine or something like that? I-I-I think that would've been great..."
His voice was shaky and it trailed off with each sentence, so the last couple of sentences sounded like some incoherent mumble. But more than anything, [REDACTED] absolutely despised how squeaky and high-pitched his voice was; especially when his anxiety was spiraling out of control. His voice was the biggest source of dysphoria, and the fact that he couldn't do much about it drived [REDACTED] crazy. Sure, the boy had watched plenty of Youtube videos about masculine voice training, but he simply couldn't overcome this persistent feeling of embarrassment and actually try out some of the exercises. It's quite challenging when you're not out to anybody yet, and the walls in your house are as thin as a cardboard sheet. How could [REDACTED] possibly explain to his family why he is making all those ridiculous noises all alone in his room? It's not like he was involved in some kind of high school theater production and was merely warming up his vocal cords. No, there really wasn't a believable excuse for this.
Rick immediately stopped working and put down all of his tools the second he heard his grandson say, "I might be trans." Up until that point, none of the guys had exchanged glances. Nevertheless, the scientist has been carefully listening and a proud smirk appeared on his face — not an evil or a cocky one, but rather amused.
As soon as [REDACTED] finished speaking, the old man ripped out the safety glasses and tossed them on the working table. He swiftly jumped out of the chair, grabbed his newly-fledged grandson by the shoulders, forcing the latter to face his grandfather's expression, and then roughly seated him down on a nearby stool.
"Say no –burp– more, buddy."
While Rick was cleaning up the working table and setting up an improvised barber station, the boy obediently sat down with his eyes wide open, clearly taken aback by such an unexpected reaction. [REDACTED] definitely had a tendency to overthink and presume the worst, but knowing his grandpa, the boy had predicted a more level-headed response from him. Just a simple question like "Okay, whatever, what should I call you from now on?" followed by "Aight, no –burp– w get the fuck out, I'm busy here". Instead, Rick was acting like he got strucked by another crazy (and most certainly dangerous) idea. As if it was the eureka moment he had awaited his entire life.
The scientist pulled out a slightly cracked and dusty mirror the size of an large picture frame out of the cabinet, then pressed a button somewhere on the back, making it a full-length one, and placed it in front of his grandson.
"So-o... Wh –burp– what do you have in mind, m-my guy?" Rick was standing right behind him, combing through the wavy hair with his fingers and grinning with delight. "A buzz cut? Side part? Mullet? Undercut? Mohawk, maybe?"
"Aw, geez, Rick, I-I don't know about this," the boy began to fidget involuntarily again. "C-Can't you just take me to a hair salon or something?"
The old man grunted and shook his head in disagreement.
"Fuck no, screw those guys. You go up to them, sh-shove them a picture of a young Adam Curry, state very explicitly that you want it to look masculine, and not only do they give you a goddamn pixie cut anyway, but they al –burp– so charge you, like, sixty dollars. W-What kind of fuckery is that?"
Rick's facial expression had suddenly changed and his lips pursed nervously. His voice back there sounded pretty dramatic and full of frustration; it's almost as if he was speaking from experience...?
[REDACTED] did find the experience to be somewhat unusual among cisgender men, but chose not to raise any questions and simply brushed it off. Throughout the course of their shared adventures, the boy had learned that it was often best to silently agree and not interfere with Rick's decision-making process. "Just go with the flow," as he always said.
The scientist coughed to clear his throat. "W-Whatever, I'll just give you a middle part. Fine by you?"
[REDACTED] nodded in agreement and let out a simple "mhm".
Rick had three basic tools at his disposal: a comb, a rusty electric razor, and a pair of kitchen scissors, all laid out on the working table. Nothing too fancy, just as you would expect from the man. The teenager's hair fell slightly past his shoulders, with a messy fringe swept to the side, but that was about to change in a matter of minutes.
Rick carefully detangled his grandson's long hair with the help of a comb, and without any hesitation whatsoever, he snipped, causing a brown lock to fall down onto the cold tile floor. Snip after snip, repeated again and again. His movements were quite chaotic and the usage of dull kitchen scissors made [REDACTED] reconsider this entire venture for a brief moment. But with every lock of hair that joined the others, the boy felt lighter, somewhat liberated. This twisted feeling in his stomach was long gone now, and he wasn't uncomfortably aware of his own heartbeat anymore. Dangling his feet cheerfully, he experienced a newfound calm and relaxation.
"So," Rick took a short break to drink some sort of hard liquor out of a flask, "Have you picked a new name yet? I'm kind of running out of gender neutral 'slash' masculine common nouns, y-you know?"
"Aw g-geez, Rick, no, I-I haven't, really." [REDACTED] watched closely as Rick was almost done removing the overall length, and was now moving on to the razor in order to buzz the sideburns and taper the neckline. "There are just s-so many options out there, you know? And what if I pick out a name, but it d-doesn't stick, a-and then I change it again, and everyone has to relearn it? That would be too inconvenient, y-you know?"
"Um-hum, I see..." Rick was deeply engrossed in the haircutting process, opting to save the advices for later time and just letting the boy speak his mind for now. Although there were many things that the old man wanted to say, he just couldn't figure out how to verbаlize them without outing himself subsequently.
"Maybe Bob or Alex would work just fine, I-I don't know." Teenager was unwittingly thinking out loud; it was only when [REDACTED] saw his grandfather's cold-eyed stare in the mirror that he realised he probably should've kept that one to himself.
Rick knit his unibrow and stayed silent for a couple of seconds, all while mantaining the judgemental stare through the mirror. [REDACTED] pressed his lips together and looked away in shame towards the bulletin board on the wall.
"Fucking Bob? Are you shitting me?" He started off eerily toneless, but quickly built up the volume and began displaying full-blown annoyance. "Holy fuck, out of ALL names in the ENTIRE multiverse, y-you chose Bob? Be. For. Fucking. Real."
Scientist took a deep breath, tilted his head backwards and groaned loudly before continuing on with his rant.
"Seriously, d-did you go on 'NameBerry dot com' and typed in 'Top 10 Lamest Names of All Time'? Look, I-I know that's rich coming from a guy who lit –burp– erally named himself Rick, but y-you really reached a new low here, buddy." Rick was pacing around the garage in circles, something he used to do whenever he felt overstimulated or stressed, while both actively gesticulating and swinging a pair of scissors in his free hand.
"Listen, you could've literally named yourself Sephirot, or Vergil, or ev-even Cerberus, for crying out loud —whatever. If that were the case, I-I assure you I wouldn't bat an eye. Believe me, throughout my entire life I've heard and seen some bizarre shit. But c'mon, Bob is outright ridiculous," the old man practically shouted at the poor kid from across the room. "Y-You're completely bonkers for even considering it as an option. You're –burp– deranged, kid, you know that?"
Rick went on and on, ridiculing [REDACTED] for his poor choice of a hypothetical name, though in reality, [REDACTED] had no intention of actually naming himself Bob whatsoever. What he really meant is that he wanted an average, normal sounding name that wouldn't get him clocked instantly. Blending in with other (presumably) cis guys around his age with a name like Cerberus was, uh... Certainly a tough row to hoe.
It was a typical scenario: [REDACTED] uttered something stupid without thinking twice, and Rick is unreasonably splitting hairs about it, although there were plenty of situations where it was the other way around. But it wasn't his grandpa's disgruntled rant that made something click in the boy's mind. His thought process had slowed down, focusing on one specific phrase. Yes, he was vaguely aware that Rick was still badmouthing him, but at this point it was more of a ringing background noise. This one particular phrase was lingering in his mind, refusing to back off.
"I know that's rich coming from a guy who literally named himself Rick."
... Could it be? Was he not alone in that uneasiness, caused by gender dysphoria and widespread cisnormativity? And if not, what else could Rick possibly mean by that?
There is a slim chance that he's a regular cisgender man who changed his birth name for whatever reasons, given that Rick's past's whys are wherefores still remain a mystery. However, even if that were the case, one question still left unanswered: what was this previous remark about hairdressers 'not doing it right' all about? Granted, everyone has experienced a situation where a hairdresser messes up your hair so badly that you break out crying the second you get home (or so [REDACTED] thought), but that explanation didn't seem so plausible either.
"H-Hold on, Rick, what did you just say?" [REDACTED] broke off the old man mid-sentence.
Rick turned around and gave his grandson a dirty look.
"Uh, a lot? You should really be more specific." The old man said, despite knowing full well what exactly [REDACTED] was referring to.
But the boy didn't reply, causing the room to fall into silence. There was this notable tension hanging in the air, that neither of them was ready to break. The old man leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Rick's gaze was avoiding his grandson's as it danced around the garage. [REDACTED] observed the scientist with a worried look on his face, struggling to find the right words. The boy had never seen his grandfather so worried and distressed before. Usually, when something troubled Rick, he kept it to himself, choosing to drink his feelings away and engage in high-risk behavior. This tense posture and the pitiful expression on Rick's face were completely out of character for him, stirring genuine concern in the boy.
[REDACTED] let out a shaky breath and asked quietly.
"Rick, a-are you...?" He began to speak, but the anxiety held his tongue. It's not like 'transgender' was a bad word by any means, but it still stucked in his throat.
"Yes, I am." The old man exhaled tiredly and a faint smile crept onto his lips. "Yes. Me too, buddy."
Then, a wave of relief swept over Rick, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. [REDACTED], on the other hand, was left in a stunned silence. Everything finally makes sense now, but that confession ultimately changed the perception of his grandfather. Could this the reason why Rick was so hesitant to acknowledge his own transness? Was it because he feared [REDACTED] was going to see him in a different light? It's one thing to talk to fellow trans people online, but discovering that his own grandfather is trans, just like you, surely would bring their relationship to a whole new level of understanding.
"B-But why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"It's, uhh... Y-You see, it's sort of not a big deal to me anymore." Rick took a sip out of his flask. "I've done everything I wanted regarding my transition. I'm fine with my body, at least in the terms of, uh, gender presentation. I don't feel sick to my stomach whenever I see m –burp– yself in the mirror like I used to. Believe it or not, kid, sometimes I-I even forget that I ever transitioned."
The boy listened eagerly, leaning slightly forward in the chair and interlocking his own fingers. Rick chuckled a little upon seeing [REDACTED] being so interested in his whacky life story.
"At some point, I just stopped thinking like 'Oh shit, I was assigned female at birth and lived, like, the first twenty years of my life as a woman'. It's, uh, certainly impossible when you're just starting out with your transition and have to deal with your deadname being all over the legal documents, and everyone around you misgendering you on the daily basis, but I'm sure you'll –burp– get there eventually, especially in the modern age." The old man scowled and curled his lip. "S-Seriously, you guys have it way too easy. Gotta admit, I'm a bit jealous that you get to have so many resources, guidances, support groups and shit."
"Wish I had all of this growing up," he added in a frustrated whisper after a quick pause.
"You'll get there eventually."
Rick had no idea just how much [REDACTED] needed to hear those words. It was such a subtle way of telling 'It does get better and I am living proof of that'. Ever since [REDACTED] realized he was transgender, there were all sorts of depressings thoughts constantly crawling all over his mind: "Why wasn't I born a cis guy?", "I'm faking being trans", "This is just a phase". The prospect of starting HRT and undergoing gender-affirming surgery felt like a world away, leaving [REDACTED] in a constant state of anguish, burdened by the crushing weight of dysphoria. Sometimes, even merely seeing a male actor on a screen, or listening to a song performed by a male vocalist, felt like being punched in the gut. It's like every little thing perpetually reminded [REDACTED] that he is not a guy, and he will never be seen as one. His narrow shoulders, twig arms, the lack of facial and body hair, high pitched voice, his chest — there are no men who look like this, right? How could he have the audacity to call himself a guy, when literally every part of his body tells otherwise?
Whenever a guy in [REDACTED]'s class tried to strike up a conversation with him, he just felt like an freak; especially if the intentions were good and the conversation went smoothly. For the longest time, [REDACTED] just wrote it off as an anxiety thing, but deep down, he knew that there was more to it. On rare occasions when he was accepted as "one of the boys", he couldn't shake the feeling of being an intruder. The absurdity of his thinking process was not lost on him, yet he still felt like he was appropriating manhood. Yes, even though [REDACTED] was closeted and no one in the whole world perceived him as a boy up until now, he just sensed like he didn't belong... Anywhere, actually. Neither among cis guys, and definitely nor cis girls.
Without even realising it, a single tear escaped, tracing its path down [REDACTED]'s cheek. Oh god, no, no, no, not now. There was nothing he hated more than crying in front of other people, and especially showing any kind of vulnerability in Rick's presence. The thought of appearing weak in the eyes of a man who already sees you as nothing, but an expendable garbage and a tremendous pain in the ass, was horrifying. [REDACTED] would rather drop dead this instant than endure Rick mocking him for being such a wuss. No, he can't let it happen again; he must fight back the tears.
But one can only hold back tears for so long before reaching a breaking point. And before [REDACTED] knew it, he was a sobbing mess. Despite rapid blinking, tightly clenched fists and violently biting his lower lip, he still bursted into tears like a fucking crybaby. [REDACTED] kept his head bowed, tears dripping onto his knees. He could feel Rick's gaze upon him, and although he wasn't sure if it held scorn or condescension, he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. The shame was so unbereable that he wanted to scream, but he just couldn't stop weeping and shivering. Geez, how pathetic of him.
But the most perplexing thing about this situation was the lack of apparent reason for [REDACTED] to dissolve into tears so suddenly. Rick showed no signs of aversion, quite the contrary, he was very supportive and even came out as well. It's not like the boy was hurt because Rick yelled at him; [REDACTED] got used to his outbursts over time and thought nothing of it. It was as if the tears were discreetly building up, and eventually they spilled over like an overfilled glass. Seriously, everything was going so well up until this point, why did he have to ruin everything by being such a fucking wimp?
Rick hovered silently near his grandson, leaning on the table behind them. Oh god, he was absolutely the worst when it came to situations like these. He sucked at comforting people, and most of the time his attempts were just adding fuel to the fire. The old man suddenly found himself recalling his pre-transition life. He remembers feeling so lonely and isolated from the outside world; feeling like his trans status is the reason why he was unworthy of engaging with the world in the same way "normal" (read: cis) people would. He remembers not having the language to articulate the dysphoria he was feeling. He remembers feeling like a freak, being in denial about his transness and desperately trying to supress his dysphoria. Well, needless to say, that didn't work. It always came back. Depression, self harm, suicidal ideation, all that came with it too. A constant battle in his mind that he had no chance of ever winning.
And then Rick also recalls the bright side of it. He remembers the profound relief that washed over him upon discovering that other trans people exist, and many of them lead joyful and fulfilling lives. He was raised to believe he was doomed to merely exist until his final breath, firmly convinced that if you happened to be trans, there's just no way to live your life to the fullest. It was as if his entire world was turned upside down on that day. He remembers the anticipation of his first T-shot. He remembers the day when he looked at himself in the mirror and noticed that his stache had gotten darker, as well as some tiny hairs under his chin and neck. He remembers reaching the point in his transition when he started to pass consistently, and he hasn't been misgendered for decades now. He remembers going outside shirtless for the first time in his life, despite many years of thinking that he would never get here. Although Rick was, undoubtely, a real scumbag, he wanted [REDACTED] to experience that pure, heart-warming trans joy.
[REDACTED] felt a wave of dizziness and his mind raced, but not a single coherent thought emerged in there. His brain oscillated between a haunting emptiness and an overwhelming, all-consuming blaze. All of a sudden, he stands up and throws himself on Rick in an unforeseen way, catching him off guard. Never in his wildest dreams did the boy imagine that one day he would be clinging to Rick and sobbing into his chest like a frightened animal.
For a rare moment in his life, Rick found himself completely at a loss for both words and actions. The old man stood frozen, his mind going blank. He couldn't think of anything: not a sarcastic remark, not a witty comeback, no sappy reassuring phrases, nothing. He remained as motionless as a statue, not daring to move a muscle, just silently gazing at his shivering grandson. This was new for him too; he couldn't remember the last time he had a heartfelt interaction with another living being, let alone with his family. It took Rick a hot minute to unfreeze and push away the hesitation, before limply wrapping his arms around [REDACTED]. Physical contact was not something Rick typically enjoyed. It's not like an accidental brush on the arm could send him into sensory overload, but it remained as one of his pet peeves. Generaly speaking, there are situations when Rick is able to tolerate it, whether it's because he's so wasted to the point where his senses are completely numb, or because the circumstances demand tactility. Nonetheless, it still brought him severe discomfort.
Despite constantly treating [REDACTED] like garbage, Rick just didn't have the heart to push the boy away and respond with something dismissive along the lines of, "Jesus Christ, just man up and get a grip of yourself, y-you giant ball of wuss". No, even for him, that would have been an ultimate dick move. Instead, Rick gently stroked the boy's back as [REDACTED] cried in his arms. Occasionally, he murmured some reassuring phrases such as, "Shh, shh, it's okay, kid," despite visibly grimacing at the mess the boy was making all over his undershirt and lab coat.
How long have they been staying like this? Two minutes? Five minutes? For Rick, it felt like eternity. Despite the sentimental nature of the situation, the old man just wished [REDACTED] would calm down as quick as possible, so they could both wrap it up. And so he did, eventually. At some point, the boy pulls back from Rick and wipes away the tears from his swollen eyes.
"Rick," he said with a lump in his throat, "W-What name do you think would suit me?"
Rick thought for a brief moment and smiled, "I think Morty would be nice. Don't read too much into it, you just look like a –burp– Morty to me." He pulled out his flask and took a big sip. "I'm not calling you Mortimer though, y-you're just not there yet. It sounds waaay too fancy and pretentious."
So he's fine with Sephirot, but draws the line at Mortimer? Besides, has anyone ever called him Richard before? Geez, this old guy...
"Morty, huh..." The boy rubbed his chin, quietly repeating the name a couple of times. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and a wide grin stretched across his face. "You know what, Rick? I-I actually really like this one! I think that settles it, at least for now!"
Rick gave out an amused chuckle and ruffled Morty's hair, touching the long sideburns and the back of his head. To say that the boy looked ridiculous is an understatement, but luckily, it's easily fixable.
"Alright, Morty, c'mon, we've got a haircut to finish. And after that, we'll get you some s-space boy juice."
"Gross," he blurted out, in stark contrast to his grin growing even wider upon hearing his correct name. Morty found himself drumming his fingers on his lap and humming in excited anticipation of starting testosterone therapy. God, who would have thought that everything would fall into place so well?
"Y-You're the one making it weird, Morty, you know what I meant by that." Rick rolled his eyes. "Getting gender-affirming care in the multiverse is like taking a walk in the park. Besides, as you already know, earth medicine f –burp– ucking sucks in comparison with these guys." The old man pulled out his flask and swigged from it before continuing. "No kidding, Morty, t-they gave me a fully functional dick that can ejaculate, glow in the dark, work like a goddamn Bluetooth speaker AND shoot lasers from the head. And I only paid twelve schmeckles for it, including top surgery. Name an earth surgeon that can outdo that."
"Geez, alright, I get it." Morty makes no attempt to stifle his giggling. Having visited a few intergalactic hospitals, he had a reason to believe this to be true. "Um, Rick, d-do you mean it? About helping me start HRT and stuff?"
"Of course I do, buddy."
In response, Morty wraps Rick in a tight hug once more, reflecting on his immense luck to have a genius grandfather who can effortlessly travel through dimensions and take care of all his medical needs. No need to wait for years on absurdly long waiting lists or deal with an overwhelming amount of documents that require changing upon transitioning; simply hop through a portal and follow Rick's lead. The boy can't help but wonder just how many transgender people all across the globe would kill for that opportunity, and squeezes his grandpa even tighter.