The wait between him grasping what this is, and him speaking felt way too long and way too fucking tense. It just kept going and she wasn't sure where the road lead. But the tension breaks, he apologizes for his part in that garbage fire, and her shoulders let go of that tension she's been holding since she started talking.
"If it wasn't for the fact that you're gay, and you acted like I had a cactus under my shirt, I wouldn't have minded a little attention like that. Just- you're not really the guy for it." Stupid sexy fox guy and his stupid sexy words. Probably part of why Abby didn't think that far ahead, also that she's met more bi people than straight people since her arrival.
Of course, how she had to explain, she let a small sigh out as she dropped into a beach chair. No, it wasn't there a second ago, Abby has just fully taken to the Loony Tunes nature of this world and chairs exist when she needs them. "I did try to find a dress for the party, do the whole fairytale princess shit. There were two problems that kept coming up. Well- fuck, one problem. Just in two different ways. It looked like me."
"Practically, going to a party where the game is not to be recognized looking like yourself is stupid." She tucked her legs up against herself in her seat. There's a muted nature to the way Abby's talking, like she's taken a step back from herself, as her only defense to explain what was in her head. "And I could stop there and say 'and I had the great idea to dress as a boy.' But this is me explaining myself, and ending there is a fucking lie. I hated- seeing myself, trying to be that girl. Who I've never been good at being. I felt so fucking weird at my Bat Mitzva in a dress, and this was just the same. Only worse. Because thirteen year old me was a lot less insecure than I am now."
"I'm not a boy, I liked some of the ways Maxwell handled things. Which I am trying to be a bit better at as me. But I picked that costume because it wasn't me, if I was just me I couldn't have really enjoyed myself. All the shit I hate about how I look, didn't fucking matter if I didn't recognize the person in the mirror. My tiny tits and flabby thighs didn't matter, people seeing them didn't matter."
She hopes it's relatable enough, he's not a girl. He doesn't have the same weight on him she does, he has different weights, different concerns. The kind a gay kid gets in the same systems she was in. The same rules to play by, the same rigged fucking game. Which she hoped was enough that he could see that, just maybe, she could get whatever the fuck drove him to attack himself that night, both at the start with his shadows and the end with his words, and talk about it. "So I gave Maxwell a name, and a backstory, and I decided to go out, flirt with anyone cute and see where the night took me."
no subject
"If it wasn't for the fact that you're gay, and you acted like I had a cactus under my shirt, I wouldn't have minded a little attention like that. Just- you're not really the guy for it." Stupid sexy fox guy and his stupid sexy words. Probably part of why Abby didn't think that far ahead, also that she's met more bi people than straight people since her arrival.
Of course, how she had to explain, she let a small sigh out as she dropped into a beach chair. No, it wasn't there a second ago, Abby has just fully taken to the Loony Tunes nature of this world and chairs exist when she needs them. "I did try to find a dress for the party, do the whole fairytale princess shit. There were two problems that kept coming up. Well- fuck, one problem. Just in two different ways. It looked like me."
"Practically, going to a party where the game is not to be recognized looking like yourself is stupid." She tucked her legs up against herself in her seat. There's a muted nature to the way Abby's talking, like she's taken a step back from herself, as her only defense to explain what was in her head. "And I could stop there and say 'and I had the great idea to dress as a boy.' But this is me explaining myself, and ending there is a fucking lie. I hated- seeing myself, trying to be that girl. Who I've never been good at being. I felt so fucking weird at my Bat Mitzva in a dress, and this was just the same. Only worse. Because thirteen year old me was a lot less insecure than I am now."
"I'm not a boy, I liked some of the ways Maxwell handled things. Which I am trying to be a bit better at as me. But I picked that costume because it wasn't me, if I was just me I couldn't have really enjoyed myself. All the shit I hate about how I look, didn't fucking matter if I didn't recognize the person in the mirror. My tiny tits and flabby thighs didn't matter, people seeing them didn't matter."
She hopes it's relatable enough, he's not a girl. He doesn't have the same weight on him she does, he has different weights, different concerns. The kind a gay kid gets in the same systems she was in. The same rules to play by, the same rigged fucking game. Which she hoped was enough that he could see that, just maybe, she could get whatever the fuck drove him to attack himself that night, both at the start with his shadows and the end with his words, and talk about it. "So I gave Maxwell a name, and a backstory, and I decided to go out, flirt with anyone cute and see where the night took me."
"We know how that went."