tw: implied/referenced transphobia, gender dysphoria, knives, thoughts of violence/blood, implied/referenced abuse

trans florida with a backstory for his name

"Mama," he starts carefully, "I was thinking." She hums in acknowledgement and he freezes, blinking slowly and turning to stare at her, he wasn't expecting a reply. "Nevermind." He tries to avoid looking at her, doubting what he wanted to say would go over well.

"It doesn't seem like nothing." He watches the knife in her hand, slicing through the food easily and regrets the timing of the conversation.

"I don't like," he pauses again, staring at his hands, wondering how he should continue, "...me." He finishes finally, it didn't say everything he wanted it to, but it said enough.

Her movements still and she glances between him and the food in front of her. They settle into an uncomfortable silence that he feels lasts forever.

"Did your father say something?" She goes back to the task in front of her, anger she could never quite hide from him resurfacing and he wonders if it started before he came into the picture.

"No," she never managed to convince him it wasn't his fault, try as she might, he couldn't help but feel like he was responsible for their separation, "he didn't say anything to me, this is different."

"Different how?" She asks.

He isn't sure what to say, he doesn't feel like any explanation will get her to understand it, but it couldn't hurt to try.

"I don't fit," he doesn't look at her, afraid he'll look up and see that she's no longer trying to hide her anger, or that she'll look disappointed and send him back to his father, but he carries on regardless, "it feels weird," he huffs, "I can't-" he's struggling to hold back tears now, "I don't feel like me." He finishes finally bracing himself for whatever her reaction will be, expecting yelling and screaming or tears and sending him away, neither happen.

"You don't... feel like you?" She asks but it doesn't feel like it's a question for him, "what do you feel like?"

He clenches and unclenches his fists nervously, "like I'm a boy."

She nods numbly, food in front of her forgotten, "alright," she says, looking as though she's returning to herself and their conversation, "alright, we can work on that."

He gapes at her, trying to figure out why she was being so kind about this, his father would've hit him by now.

"Yeah, yeah," she's speaking more to herself, "a haircut, we'll see if we can do something about your voice," she nods, "I think that could work, I'll ask your father to cover, say we sent you off to work on your colony, and- oh! A name! You're going to need a new name." she realizes, turning to beam at him.

He gives a nervous smile in return, "won't that be kind of dangerous?"

She frowns, "I suppose so," she adds rather dejectedly, "so it'll just be for us then." His brows furrow and he opens his mouth to reply but she waves her hand, silencing whatever protest he could think of so she could clarify, "Do you remember that play I took you to?" He nods, "how does William sound?"

"It sounds right." He smiles softly, mouthing it to himself, for the first time, in a long time, he feels awake, he feels like himself, "it sounds like me."

"Wonderful!" His grin widens as he looks back up at her, "Will, my son."