I Don't Care (Short Story)

I don't care

11th January 2018

Today Henry stood in front of the whole class. He made an announcement. He told us that he's not a girl anymore. Or more like he never was, I guess. Of course, I've noticed that he's different but I've never thought of the possibility that Henry is actually not a girl. Sure, he always had short hair and never dressed like a girl. And he didn't talk like a girl either. But still, I've seriously never considered it. And to be honest, I don't really understand it either. Well, how? Not like I feel the same.

But it's not that big an issue. I've always called him Henry. Everybody on the basketball team did. And about the pronoun. It's just a habit. If I pay attention to it a few times, it'll surely feel natural soon.

To be honest, I don't really care. To me Henry is just Henry. Maybe it's because we're not that close. Or it's because I don't understand quite well. But I feel like nothing's changed. Maybe a little word. But in the end he's still Henry, no matter who or what he is.
I

s it bad I think like this? It's not like I don't accept or respect his decision. I just don't think about it. I just don't care.

I quickly turned to another page so nobody could see I had accidentally discovered Krystal's secret diary entry hidden between her history notes.
I looked up flustered but it seemed like everybody was too occupied with the boredom resulting from the movie our history teacher was playing and I was the only one bothering to take notes.

11th January. How could I forget that day? After all it was the day everybody finally saw me as Henry and not as the boyish Henriette anymore.

And this diary entry of Krystal? These thoughts of hers declaring my issue unimportant were pretty neutral. Neither good nor bad, I guess. But if I had to choose, they would be good because I liked them.

Maybe she thought about the issue differently now. It has been half a year after all. She might have changed her mind and we also got closer after that.

But although she labeled the issue of my gender as 'insignificant', with every passing day after I discovered her secret diary I became more and more intrigued by her.

The girl who used to play an unimportant role in my basketball team and was now my friend was suddenly much more than that.

Her small figure suddenly wasn't only small but small and cute.
Her brown eyes weren't only brown anymore, they were warm and soothing.
Her smile wasn't just nice, it was lovely and heart-warming.

Every day I was reminded of Krystal's simple words which surely weren't meant for me. They were hers and hers only. Although she didn't underline them in red or mark them, I couldn't forget them. Henry is just Henry.

I fell in love with that thought because she wasn't the only one who didn't understand. I wasn't very sure of myself either so I was glad that she had decided that she wouldn't care what gender I was.

Others told me it didn't matter but she didn't care. Why did I come to like her thoughts more? I don't know. But I liked them and with every passing day I felt more and more attracted to the quiet girl who wrote like one would think without any consideration or doubt.

I came to love the girl whose writing looked like she just wrote whatever she thought but still had structure and depth to it.

I loved her simple nature and outspoken honesty. She was mostly quiet but said what she wanted to say. I dearly hoped I was the only one who had noticed the unnoticeable girl. I hoped she wouldn't be disappointed I had noticed her.

I hoped she would notice me. I was sure she didn't mind that I didn't have a label determining my gender yet. After all, she didn't really care.

But even though she didn't care, she hung out with me. She was my friend. She smiled at me. Sometimes she would look at me shyly and I hoped that was because she saw me the way I saw her, even if it's just a bit.

And one time when she looked away shyly again, I decided to risk it. I decided to try my luck. I raised my hand and softly put it on her cheek to slowly move her face so she would see me, see how nervous I. So nervous my heart raced so loud I was scared she would hear it.

I looked at her eyes and she looked back. What was I supposed to do now? Ask her out? Confess? Kiss her? Why did girls always think that boys had to take the first step? This wasn't easy for me either!

Especially when I didn't know whether she was fine with me. I was a boy. I was definitely a boy. But others called me transgender. I guess I was also that. But first of all I was a boy. But even though I was sure of that, I still didn't dare to ask her out. I still didn't dare to confess. I still didn't date to kiss her.

"Take action. I want you to do something now. Do what I think you're going to do. Please," she said calmly without blinking and moved back a bit as if she was warning me that I was too slow. "If you're not going to do anything, then let go right now. Don't lead me on like this."

This was her. The girl I fell in love with. The girl who wrote whatever she thought and occasionally also voiced her thoughts out.

"I like you," I tried and my heart felt like a bomb about to explode as its pace picked up. "But I'm scared. I'm a boy. But do you think I'm a boy?"

That wasn't exactly what I wanted to ask. I should have asker her on a date or to go out with me. Anything romantic but not told her about my greatest insecurity!

She opened her mouth to answer and it felt like it took an eternity for sounds to finally come out of her mouth.

"I don't care," she answered and suddenly relief washed over me. "I have no idea whether I think of you as a boy. And to be honest I don't even want to know right now. I just want you to ask me out!"

I looked at her in shock at the bluntest thought she ever voiced out.
"What kind of guys do you like?" I asked her nervously altgough she had just told me to ask her out.

"Somebody who likes me is fine," she replied avoiding word determined by gender.
I took every bit of courage I could find inside me to ask her, "I like you. Can I take you out, please?"

"I'd like that," she answered with a smile.
"I'm a boy," I told her as we were walking down the stairs of the school building. "In case you ever do want to know."

"I don't care," she reminded me.