Chrysalis Days & Butterfly Nights [Wattys 2023 Shortlist]

22

22

He had seen these kinds of places in movies and on tv. A single, empty room, bearing a wall of mirrors and a wooden floor that had seen more than it's fair share of footfalls and polishing. A dance studio, lights illuminating the area so bright, any occupant could see every single thing that occurred within, which was, Luke surmised, the entire point. Dancers were known for their perfectionist attitudes. They needed to see every part of their bodies as they danced, in order to discover and rid themselves of any flaws.

Helen breezed into the room without a second thought, dropping the shopping bag to the side of the door and practically tackling the man within. He looked exactly as Luke expected a dancer to look. Lean, muscular, but only as much as he needed to be. Shoulders that looked as though built by chopping down entire forests, or breaking a quarry's worth of rocks. The man returned the embrace given to him by Helen and hooked his head around to catch sight of Luke.

"So, this is the one you phoned about? Pretty. Strong thighs." How the man could tell what his thigh's looked like, Luke couldn't guess. The man swatted Helen's arm with his hand. "And you are late, missy! And before you blame anyone else, I know it's your fault. You're always late. Luckily, I anticipated that and told you I needed you out earlier than I actually do need you out. Nightmare, I tell you."

Those last words were aimed toward Luke and the man strode over to him with a dancer's grace, grabbing Luke's hand and almost crushing it as he shook Luke's hand. The man had called Luke pretty, but Luke could say the same about the man. Beneath the stubble, the slightly balding head, hair cut close and gelled, Luke could see a strong, but round face with deep blue, expressive eyes, long lashes flickering as the man gave Luke a genuine, friendly smile.

"Deacon, may I introduce Luke. He's in the process of exploring who he is." Helen stood to the side of them both, a hand on each of their shoulders like a referee in a boxing match, preparing for the two to beat each other senseless. That wasn't going to happen. "Luke, this is Deacon, the best dance instructor in this entire room. May I tell him?"

"After that insult? No. I'm the best dance instructor in the building and you know damned well I am." Deacon wheeled away, legs crossing, opening again as he spun before coming to a flourish of a bow. "What Hell's Bells is trying to say is may she tell you that I'm trans. Female to male. I expect because your exploration is along similar lines?"

Luke nodded. It felt as though everyone they had met during this long day were either trans, or non-gender conforming, as Clarisse had put it, gay, both, neither, or were a bigot of some kind. It had all become a bit of a whirl in Luke's mind. So much had happened. Now it appeared that Helen had brought him here to see the other side of the trans story. If he had to admit, though, this was all better than reading about it on T-Connekt. It felt more real.

What also felt very real was the fact that Deacon looked as much as, if not more, of a man than pretty much any man born that way. That handshake, for a start, felt rock solid. Luke could practically smell the testosterone in the air. Deacon stood around the same height as Luke, but had a far better build. If the gender critical people, online, had their way, people like Deacon would have to use women's toilets and Luke could imagine the outrage that would cause. The only thing that even barely resembled anything close to femininity about Deacon were those eyelashes, and Luke had seen plenty of other men with lashes almost as long.

"I'm ... yeah, exploring is probably the right word." The wall of mirrors made Luke feel more than a little uncomfortable. "Accepting? Maybe? I don't know. I dress. In women's clothes."

"They're not women's clothes! They're yours. Bought and paid for." Helen pulled him up on his choice of words and Luke couldn't disagree with her. Clothes were only material stitched together in different ways. "He looks good in them, too. Style needs some training, but he'll get there. And he plays football, too, so his body's not bad, either. He never mentioned that and now he's wondering how I know. Photos, darling. You have photos on your phone. Oops!"