Alphabet AU Challenge

W is for Work: Don't Listen to Them (Kellic)

right ok so this fic came from this au: "i'm on the verge of tears because of a rude customer and you step in and stand up for me." it's pastel/punk again - specifically, pastel!transgirl!kellin and punk!transboy!vic. as far as warnings go: as you might be able to guess, there will be transphobia displayed in here (including a couple slurs), along with a bit of dysphoria in kellin's pov mainly near the beginning. it ends fairly nicely though.

—

For Kellin, some days are better than others.

Some days, she walks around like she's on top of the world, a queen, a goddess. Other days, though, days like today, she feels like she could only be accurately described as the scum of the earth.

She didn't even do anything wrong, really, except be herself. She can usually pass as a woman quite easily—she thanks God every day that she naturally looks quite feminine—but sometimes, people can just tell. They can tell that she talks with her voice slightly higher than it normally is, even though it's already pretty high to begin with. They can tell that her shoulders are broader than they "should" be. And this person can definitely tell.

Is it because she forgot to shave this morning and there's already noticeable facial hair growing? Is that what gave it away? Or is it something else, her stride, her voice, her body? She wishes she just didn't give a fuck, but she does. She really, really does.

It starts when this dude, no older than thirty, glances over at where she's standing behind the counter next to the cash register and mutters to the woman who came in with him (his wife, Kellin assumes, judging by the way they hold hands and the rings on their fingers), "Can you believe this place hires trannies?"

That hurts more than it should, but it makes Kellin wonder just how obvious she is, if some random customer can tell after less than five seconds. She thought she was looking great. She thought the pink flower crown was a nice touch. She thought the white-and-pink crop top over the white cami and the pleated pink skirt all made her look pretty. She's not feeling very pretty now, though.

It would be fine if that was all the dude said. Unfortunately, that's not the case. After about fifteen minutes of Kellin continuing work as usual and telling herself that she's beautiful (she's not sure she believe it), the guy and his probably-wife head up to the counter with their things near the very end of Kellin's shift. The woman wrinkles her nose at Kellin, whom the guy stares at for a few long moments before saying, straight to her face, "You know you're a man, right?"

Kellin is taken aback by the comment, and for a few seconds she doesn't even know what to say. Part of her can't believe that this guy is an actual person that exists. Part of her can't believe that someone would actually say that to her. The other part of her knows better, though.

"I—I'm not, sir," she says politely, about to take the items on the counter and ring them up when the lady speaks up.

"Honey," she says condescendingly, "we can all see it."

"I don't—I don't know what you're talking about," Kellin says pathetically, feeling her face heat up, and all of a sudden her chest is tight. She just wants to ring up these people's things and get them out of here as soon as possible.

"Fucking freak," the guy says, pushing the items toward her. "What do your parents think, huh?"

This dude just won't quit it, even as Kellin starts to ring everything up. Her hands are shaking as she answers timidly, "M-my parents are okay with it."

The guy looks almost angry at that response. "I sure as hell wouldn't be. My son ever did that, I'd beat his sorry ass."

I'm sure you would, Kellin thinks, but she doesn't dare say it out loud. Even if she wanted to say it, her throat is closing up and her mind is starting to go blank. Her anxiety is already bad enough around new people that don't harass her.