I take a deep breath as I wake up, but even this action is enough to cause me a lot of pain in my chest. As I open my eyes, I’m briefly confused by my surroundings- this isn’t my bedroom in Cardiff, or even my old bedroom in London, but somewhere else… A hospital? That’d explain the pain in my chest, anyway…

“Good morning,” a familiar Welsh accent says, chilling the blood in my veins as I slowly turn my head and come face to face with my mother, and the stern look on her face…

----------

THREE WEEKS EARLIER

----------

“Something long, thick and round or something wide, flat and round?” Lee asks, making me chuckle as my girlfriend replies with a disgusted snort.

“And what, exactly, is wrong with the words ‘hot dog’ or ‘burger’?” Chloe replies.

“Less funny,” Lee replies as he continues cooking our lunch on his barbecue, while I and the rest of ‘Team Chwilen’ relax in his back garden. The whole of the UK is currently in the middle of a massive heatwave, and the five of us aren’t going to pass up the opportunity to relax in the Sun- even though this could be one of our last chances to hang out together for a long time.

In September, Lee and I will be moving to London to start university, Lee studying robotics at University College London while I study graphic design at University of the Arts, London. These offers were by far the best that either of us received, so we both jumped at the chance, even if it means leaving Neil and Rob, who’ll be studying computer programming at Cardiff University, leaving grandma alone- again- and, worst of all, leaving Chloe.

After our reconciliation following our fight while recording Robot Wars, Chloe and I have grown closer than ever. Sure, her family can’t stand the idea of us being together, and grandma still goes out of her way to not leave us alone together, but we still find time to be intimate wherever we can. Chloe has stated too that she intends to study costume design at the London College of Fashion next year anyway.

After Robot Wars was broadcast, all five of us started getting a lot more attention from both our college mates and on social media in general. Unsurprisingly, Lee hogged most of this attention, but thankfully, most of the rest seemed to go to Chloe. She didn’t mind this one bit, of course, and nor did I- seeing her happy made me happy, and confirmed to me that despite her love of fame and celebrity, Chloe is NOT my mother.

…Who, naturally, called after our first episode of Robot Wars was broadcast to ‘see how I was’. Or, to put it another way, to see if I was being recognised on the street, if I’d had any offers from any TV companies… Grandma keeps trying to persuade me that mum calls when she does because she genuinely cares about me, and yet I can’t help but notice that when she called after Robot Wars, that was all she asked about- no questions about Chloe, or about college or uni. When it was explained to her that I’d be attending uni in London, all she could think about was that I’d be closer to my famous friends- and, worst of all, closer to her.

As much as I’m not looking forward to leaving Cardiff, knowing my parents are waiting for me in London just makes it all the worse. Last I’d heard, mum and dad were still separated, though I couldn't say whether or not they've reconciled or started divorce proceedings. Or whether or not Grandma Walker will allow my dad to divorce my mum. Of course, I’m not obliged to live with them or even see them while I’m in London, but knowing that they’re in the same country as me is enough to give me shivers, let alone the same city. Especially as, despite it being what mum wants, I genuinely am looking forward to hanging out more with Stuart, Jamie and the other guys. I nearly declined the UAL offer in favour of a uni in Cardiff or somewhere closer (I also had offers from universities in Birmingham and Bristol), but it was grandma of all people who persuaded me to go to London, saying that I need my independence but I’ll still have friends who support me (like Lee or Stuart). Secretly though, I think she’s still hoping that mum and I can reconcile, be the mother and son that we never were as mother and daughter. I’ve warned her not to hold her breath.

In the meantime though, we have a long, hot summer to enjoy, and I fully intend to make the most of it, even if I am sunbathing in a t-shirt while the other guys all have their tops off. None of them are making a big deal of this, of course, but I still feel self-conscious every time I adjust my sweaty t-shirt, or scratch my side- or a bead of sweat rolls underneath my 'flattening' t-shirt and between my breasts.

“Burger,” Chloe says, snapping me out of my ‘trance’ as she hands me a plate with my lunch on it. “Beer. Technically, am I legally allowed to give you beer, seeing as I’m only seventeen?”

“You’re my girlfriend,” I reply. “I think it’s part of the job description whatever your age.” I chuckle and take a swig of my ice cold beer as Chloe sticks her tongue out at me and sits down next to me.

“I am SO going to miss you when you go to London,” Chloe sighs, snuggling beside me despite the heat.

"Tomorrow or when I go to uni?" I ask, trying not to smirk as my girlfriend threatens to tip her drink over me.

"BOTH," Chloe says as she adjusts her skimpy bikini top. "It's going to be hard, you know?"

“Not as hard as it'll be for me,” I sigh. “Besides, it’ll only be for a year. And I’ll be back whenever I can. Cardiff is my REAL home.”

“Don’t you dare forget it!” Chloe giggles as she sips her Coke. “You won’t run off with the first London girl who flutters her eyelashes at you, then?”

“Never,” I say, giving the petite ginger girl a playful kiss- something that naturally earns jeers from my friends. “Besides, I’ll have a hard time keeping Lee away from them all, heh.” I glance over at the guy who has quickly become my best friend- best male friend, anyway- who has a smile on my face that I know masks a good deal of hurt.

Just before the end of June, on one of her regular trips to Cardiff, Lee’s ‘casual’ girlfriend Jacinta- another member of the transgendered ‘fellowship’ I belong to- came to Wales and told Lee that she no longer wished to be ‘casual’- she wished to be nothing at all. On the surface, Lee took his dumping well, but I’m still worried that he’s taking it hard. Especially as he insists he’s more upset about the BBC cancelling Robot Wars after our series was broadcast. However, he says he wants to be left alone in that regard, so that’s what I’m going to do, even if it is hard to fight my ‘genetic’ instinct to pry further.

“I’ll have to tell him to make sure he hogs all the single girls in London, then,” Chloe giggles.

“Trust me, you won’t have to tell him that, he’s already figured that out for himself,” I retort, intensifying my girlfriend’s giggles. “God, it’s going to be so surreal, moving back to London, you know? But as, like, me, rather than who I used to be.”

“Can imagine,” Chloe sighs. “Though I hope that means you’ll be able to show me around London when I move there next year?”

“’Course, babe,” I reply with a nonchalant shrug that makes my girlfriend roll her eyes, before giving me a playful kiss.

‘Surreal’ isn’t just a good way of describing me starting university, but it’s also a good way of describing the last two years of my life. Being ‘Ian’ is so different to being ‘Kayleigh-Ann’ that I sometimes feel like pinching myself to make sure it isn’t all a dream. Back when I was ‘Kayleigh-Ann’, the idea of being able to hang out in shorts and a t-shirt, wearing no make-up and sporting hairy legs and a stubbly face seemed as far away as living on Mars. The thought that I’d have good, genuine male friends (unlike Ollie, or even Abbey-Gayle and her gang for that matter) and a girlfriend who was genuinely into me would have been laughable. And yet, here I am, enjoying my summer holiday the way I always dreamed of. I just wish I wasn’t so worried that it could all be taken away at a moment’s notice…

Later that evening, I’m relaxing on the sofa playing a videogame while grandma quietly reads her Kindle, the same as virtually every evening over the last year. After a while, she heads off to bed, and I’m not far behind, smiling as I brush my teeth and shave my face clean (I have work tomorrow). As I head into my bedroom, however, I can immediately tell that all is not right.

“What the hell?” I exclaim as I suddenly find myself back in my- or rather, Kayleigh-Ann’s bedroom back in London. Gone are my shelves with my college books and Star Trek miniatures, replaced by my old dresser and its vast collection of make-up and perfumes. Gone are the piles of jeans and t-shirts in my drawers, replaced by the skirts and dresses I loathed so much. And gone is my relaxed feeling, especially when I hear a voice come from downstairs that chills my blood.

“Kayleigh-Ann?” Mum calls. “Come down here. Kayleigh-Ann? Kayleigh-Ann!” My heart races and I feel a wave of nausea flood over me as my entire body becomes drenched with sweat, and the shouting gets louder, and louder, and louder, until-

“Ahh!” I yell as I wake up in my bed- MY bed, not ‘Kayleigh-Ann’s. After I take several deep breaths to calm myself, I examine my room- my college books and Star Trek ships are back where they should be, as are the jeans that I carelessly dumped on the floor last night before getting into bed. I sigh as I stare at the clock on my phone- 3:35am, hours before I have to get up, but I seriously doubt I’ll get back to sleep.

Nightmares like the one I had are nothing new- in the weeks following my move to Cardiff (and my other, more ‘obvious’ change) I’d have them almost every night, but they gradually became rarer over time, as the ‘new normal’ became simply the ‘normal’. However, as my move back to London grows closer, they’ve started up again with a vengeance…

I eventually get up just after 7:30am, having got precious little sleep during the prior 4 hours. I’m still yawning as I head into work a short while later- something immediately picked up on by my supervisor.

“Try not to yawn all over the counter,” Dean mock-chastises me as I log onto my usual till.

“Ugh, sorry, didn’t sleep much,” I reply.

“’Cause of the heat?” Dean asks.

“More ‘cause of everything that’s going on,” I sigh. “Moving back to London, starting uni… My parents…” Dean rolls his eyes at this final, mumbled bit- he’s had to play ‘agony aunt’ for me several times when I’ve had parental problems (and girlfriend problems, and transitioning problems, and numerous other problems…) and I do get the impression he won’t miss it when I leave the job in September.

“Do your parents even know you’re going to uni in London?” Dean asks.

“I think grandma’s told mum,” I reply. “’Dad’ probably wouldn’t even notice if I’d told him. My other grandmother certainly doesn’t, and I want it to stay that way.”

“Understandable, given what you’ve told me about her,” Dean remarks.

“The one consolation is that mum hates her too,” I say. “Probably the only thing we’ve got in common, heh. I- I’m sorry, I know you don’t like hearing all this…”

“No, but it’s okay,” Dean shrugs. “When are you next seeing your therapist?”

“Today, actually,” I reply. “Straight after work. Got a whole notebook of things to go over, heh. Especially as I’m off to London tomorrow too, heh.”

“So the whole family thing is weighing on your mind a bit?” Dean asks, smiling sympathetically as I nod.

“God knows how bad it’ll be when I’m actually living in London, heh,” I reply.

“But you’re sure you want to go?” Dean asks.

“Tomorrow or September?” I ask, before sighing. “Either way, the answer is ‘I think so’.”

“And I think you should talk to your therapist about this and not me,” Dean says with a snort of laughter as he unlocks the front door of the shop.

With it being summer, the working day is quieter than usual (videogames aren’t in as high demand when it’s blazing hot outside), but at Dean’s insistence I keep my anxieties to myself for the duration of my shift. When I arrive at my counsellor’s office, though, I open up fully- though she isn’t quite as happy with my answers as Dean was.

“When you say ‘you think you’re sure you want to go’,” Dr Harris says, “does this mean you’re having second thoughts about going to university?”

“Not university in general, but London… Yeah, kinda,” I sigh.

“Because of your parents?” Dr Harris asks, smiling supportively as I nod. “London is a big place, a VERY big place. Just because you’ll be living in the same city, it doesn’t mean you’ll have any contact with them.”

“Yes, logically I know that,” I sigh. “But last year, when I went to the football match, mum tracked me down in no time at all, so chances are I’m going to run into them whether I like it or not. It’s not like I can get a restraining order on them or anything, heh.”

“If their behaviour causes you distress, there’s no reason why you can’t,” my counsellor advises. “Ian, you are an adult. You decide what it is you want to do, who you want to be, how you want to live and where you want to live. After the childhood you’ve had, it’s understandable that you’d be anxious about your parents interfering in your life, but they need to understand that it’s your life, and not theirs, and they do not have any right to dictate to you how you live it.”

“I can tell them that until I run out of breath, but they won’t listen,” I snort.

“Then that would be their loss,” Dr Harris says.

“They don’t seem to think so,” I mumble. “Well, I can believe mum’s sad she’s lost her ‘pension fund’. I doubt dad will have even noticed that I was gone, heh. Ugh, I do NOT want to end up like him…”

“No danger of that happening, don’t worry,” Dr Harris assures me. “And it is understandable to be anxious, every teenager moving away to university for the first time feels the same thing, though they obviously don’t have the added stresses of being transgendered.”

“Or crap families,” I say.

“Exactly,” Dr Harris says. “But you do have supportive family in your grandmother, and lots of good friends who genuinely care about you. I get how this might not make up for the years of what can only be called abuse that your parents subjected you to, but you have to understand than you CAN share your stresses with your friends. And when you move to London, you’ll be closer to many more friends who’ll be able to help you as well, right?” I chuckle tiredly as my counsellor points at my tattoo- it’s obvious what she’s implying, even though this is also a topic we’ve discussed before.

“Yeah…” I grimace. “’Cause THAT isn’t going to make my mum stalk me, right?”

“You know,” Dr Harris says, “one of these days I’d really like to talk to your mum, see what caused this obsession with celebrity.”

“She’s a bored housewife who’s never had a job and only gave birth to me so I could fulfil all her fantasies for her,” I retort, before sighing. “…Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s healthy to vent,” Dr Harris says calmly. “Though you really should be telling your mother this. Maybe not using those EXACT words, admittedly.”

“And then watch as she pretends to collapse with depression,” I scoff. “I’d be just as happy if I never spoke to her again.”

“If that was true, it wouldn’t be causing you so much stress,” Dr Harris says, and I’m forced to sigh and concede the point. “To answer your next inevitable question, no, it isn’t too much to ask to have a mother who accepts you for who you are. As I’ve stated repeatedly, you are your own man. Your parents need to recognise this, and if they don’t do of your own accord, you need to at least try to make them recognise this, ideally before you move to London.”

“Think I’d rather gargle with razor blades,” I snort, before an idea pops into my head. “Though there is something… Something that could, you know, ‘demonstrate’ this…”

“I know what you’re referring to,” Dr Harris says stoically. “And yes, it is the next logical step, and I agree that it would be best to get it done before you leave for university. But not while you’re this stressed out. I highly recommend sorting out the situation with your parents first, especially if you’ll be living in London come September.”

“You just said it’s such a big city that we may not even run into each other,” I say.

“And you said that it’s causing you extreme stress,” Dr Harris retorts, and yet again, I’m forced to concede the point. “My advice for the next few days would be to try to forget about your parents. Try to enjoy your time in London, not just for the next couple of days but for the next three years as well. Uni should be an adventure- yes, it’ll be hard work, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Thanks,” I say with a tired chuckle.

“Your life is yours to live, no one else’s,” Dr Harris says as she turns a page in her file, which usually symbolises that we’re about to move onto a new topic. “You’ve more than earned that right, Ian. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t,” I say confidently as I sit back and try to relax.

However, I can’t help but feel a little twinge of apprehension the following morning as the train pulls into Paddington Station and Lee and I step into the hustle and bustle of the English capital. The apprehension is briefly replaced by exasperation, though, when we step out into the car park and greeted by the sight of a man holding his infant daughter in one hand and a sign with ‘ROBOT NERDS’ written on it in the other.

“I think you’ll find that’s ‘champion robot nerds’,” Lee says as we greet Stuart with a handshake each. “Should’ve been, anyway.” Stuart frowns at Lee’s barb- he knows that I wasn’t driving the robot in the final and he knows the reason why, so Lee’s comment could easily come across as a personal attack on me. I, however, know that this is just Lee blowing off steam in his usual way, and a playful roll of my eyes is enough to assure my older friend that all is well between us.

“Fair enough,” Stuart shrugs. “Kinda disappointed that it ended though, my mate Mikey was looking at designing a robot for the next series, heh.”

“Does he have much experience with robots?” Lee asks.

“No, he just gets overly enthusiastic about anything new that crosses his path,” Stuart replies as he loads his daughter into her car seat and Lee and I slide onto the back seat of his car. “That plus he drives a van, which is all you really need, isn’t it?”

“I’ll let you know if my dad ever lets me drive his,” Lee snorts.

“Passed your test, then?” Stuart asks, smirking as Lee nods and I sigh and shake my head. “You don’t really want to be driving a car in central London anyway, especially with the congestion charge and the amount of insurance you two’d have to pay anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s one of my favourite Top Gear episodes too,” Lee chuckles. “Proper Top Gear, like.”

“It’d still be nice though,” I shrug. “Even if Lee is too much of a wuss to drive his crappy Corsa all the way from Cardiff to London.”

“Oh, pi- piddle off,” Lee says, trying not to blush as Stuart glares angrily while his daughter giggles.

“You’ve probably saved on petrol and parking costs anyway,” Stuart replies.

“And repair costs, probably,” I tease, laughing as Lee gives me an elbow in my ribs. Even though we’re talking about trivial nonsense, I already feel happier and more relaxed. Or maybe it’s because we’re talking about trivial nonsense, I don’t know. When I used to hang out with Abbey-Gayle and her gang, the ‘trivial nonsense’ would include fashion, make-up, celebrities and (more than everything else put together) boys. It should go without saying that cars and robots are much more interesting topics of conversation! And while I realise that girls can talk about cars and robots just as much as boys can- Chloe is living proof of that- everything about being able to relax with guys, as a guy, is blissful to me.

A short while later, we arrive back at Stuart’s large, fancy home, where his wife is on hand to greet us with a hug each before taking charge of the little girl who is obviously delighted to see her mother. I sometimes wonder if I was ever as happy to see my own mother as Olivia is to see hers…

“Hey, cutie!” Jamie coos to Olivia as Lee and I drop our overnight bags in the hall. “Did you have fun with your daddy and his friends?”

“Think she’d have had more fun where you were this morning,” Stuart chuckles, before smiling at mine and Lee’s confused faces. “Wednesday morning is the traditional get-together for the girls at their B-A-L-L-E-T class. And I have to spell it out because if this little one hears that word said out loud, she kinda gets excited, heh!”

“Six and a bit months and she’ll be old enough for her auntie Krystie’s toddler class,” Jamie says, giving her giggling daughter another gentle kiss. “I would say ‘assuming that’s what she wants’ but it’s a pretty safe assumption, heh!”

“She has more dress-up costumes than her mother,” Stuart teases. “And believe me, that’s saying something!”

“Speaking of which, there are no official costumes tonight,” Jamie informs us. “But I hope you brought something smart to wear in those bags? By which I DON’T mean your Robot Wars hoodies!”

“No, no, we brought actual, uncomfortable clothes,” Lee says with a smirk as Jamie sighs and rolls her eyes.

“BOYS,” Jamie teases. “Right, Olivia?” The four of us all chuckle as Olivia yelps happily, though I can’t help but fidget uncomfortably at the prospect of tonight.

When I told Stuart that Lee and I would be coming to London today to look for flats, he immediately told his best friend (the man he told us about in the car who drove a van), who immediately told his fiancée, who just happens to be Miss Fullerton, my former dance teacher, who is also an Angel, and whose 26th birthday just so happens to be today. Lee and I immediately got invited to the party, and naturally, I nearly had a panic attack on the spot.

Lee was up for the party, of course (even if it meant running into his ex), but all I could see in my mind was the worst case scenario. I go to the party, I’m photographed there, mum harasses me for the next three years, and I end up in a mental hospital or worse. The frustrating thing is, I do want to be friends with Jamie, with Krystie (aka Miss Fullerton) and co. They’re genuinely nice, friendly people, I enjoy spending time with them and any party hosted by them is both extremely fun and a guaranteed safe space. But I also know that if I enjoy it and mum finds out, she’ll take that as validation for all the stress and abuse she inflicted on me for the first sixteen years of my life. And it will never, ever stop.

“So which flats are you looking at today?” Jamie asks, bringing my thoughts back to the here and now.

“A couple in Highbury,” I reply, smirking as both of my friends roll their eyes. "Got to be somewhere close to, well, a cultural centre, right?"

"In Highbury?" Jamie asks.

"He's talking about Arsenal's stadium," Stuart sighs. "Should've guessed, really. You're welcome to say BOYS if you want."

"No, pointless wasting one of them on a football discussion," Jamie replies. "Unless either of you make any bets." The tone of Jamie's voice makes it very clear that neither of us will be making any bets any time soon.

"We're also looking at Highbury as our local MP would be Jeremy Corbyn," I say. "Looking forward to my grandmother's reaction to THAT, heh."

"Well- that's slightly better," Jamie chuckles.

“Sadly it’s gonna be one bedroom only," Lee says with a smug grin. "So Ian’s gonna be sleeping on the sofa most nights for- well, yeah.”

“Keep dreaming,” I snort.

“Ugh, you deserve it now,” Jamie sighs. "BOYS."

“Too right,” I retort, making my host giggle.

“Have fun, okay?” Jamie says. “We’ll see you back here at what, five?”

“Should be done by then, yep,” Lee says. “See you in a bit, then!”

“See you guys!” Jamie says as we three men head back to Stuart’s car.

“Thanks for ferrying us around today,” I say as I slide onto the front seat of the car (which Olivia is obviously no longer occupying). “Do you want any money for petrol?”

“Nah, I don’t need any money from you guys,” Stuart replies. “I earn bucket loads each year and you’re students so it kinda doesn’t seem fair.”

“Enough ‘bucket loads’ that you’re off work on a Wednesday morning?” Lee asks.

“The joys of working from home with extremely loose deadlines,” Stuart replies. “Sometimes I need to go into the office, like when Joshua rents out the recording studio, he has a tendency to rent me out with it, but I do kinda get to make my own hours. I’d recommend you find a job where you can do the same, Ian, ‘cause it really helps if you plan on working while recovering from SRS.”

“Yeah…” I say with a grimace. “I kinda think Lee’s gonna puke all over your car if we keep talking about that.”

“Just had six months of that with my ex, don’t need it with my flat mate either,” my friend says. “No offence to either of you.”

“None taken,” Stuart replies. “I guess it’s not the kind of thing guys talk about, I mean, Jamie talked about it at length with Nikki, and also with Kelly, Paige, Jacinta… When Kurt went in for his mastectomy it was basically a ten minute chat and a get well soon card, heh.” My interest is piqued at the mention of Kurt’s name- he’s also transgendered, like myself and Stuart, and is a little further along his transition than me (though not as far as Stuart). He’s also currently dating an Angel, which raises a possibility…

“Will Kurt be at the party tonight?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s not optional if you’re an Angel’s significant other, heh,” Stuart replies. “Not that I mind, of course, the parties are good fun as you two already know and it’s good to actually have some male company there. Don’t tell Jamie that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say with a chuckle as we head toward our first destination of the day.

We spend most of the afternoon looking around three different one bedroom flats, all of which are small, cramped and would likely be unpleasant to live in for an extended period, but all of which seem like palaces to two eighteen year old boys living away from home for the first time (I will always consider Cardiff to be more my ‘real’ home than London). Of course, arriving back at Stuart & Jamie’s house makes them seem as puny as we know they are, but it doesn’t dampen our excitement to start university in September- or our enthusiasm for tonight’s party!

After a quick dinner (and dropping Olivia off at Jamie’s parents’ house), we pull up outside the even fancier home of Charlotte Hartley and her family and are quickly ushered into the already-bustling party to while away the evening drinking, dancing and having fun. And we do genuinely have a lot of fun- even Lee, despite him avoiding his ex-girlfriend all night. So much fun, in fact, that I’m able to forget about my stresses for one night and am able to relax, not caring about work, or uni, or family- or the numerous photos that are being taken, many of which I’ll inevitably be in…

I let out a loud groan as the sound of loud voices downstairs rouses me from my slumber. I didn’t drink a lot last night, but enough to make my head sting this morning- though as the voices come into focus, I realise it’s not just the booze that’s making me feel unwell.

“…Kayleigh-Ann,” a familiar Welsh voice says that sends a chill down my spine. I take several deep breaths and focus as hard as I can, trying to wake myself from this dream, but I’m quickly forced to conclude that this is no dream, that even here in Stuart’s house, somewhere I assumed to be the safest space imaginable, I can’t hide from my past…

My deep breaths to calm myself quickly become shallower as I start to hyperventilate, and when a knock comes from the bedroom door I nearly wet myself. The fact that it’s Lee’s head that pokes around the door does nothing to calm me down, and the uncharacteristic look of worry on his face definitely doesn’t.

“Mate,” Lee whispers. “You should come downstairs.”

“No,” I reply, hastily shaking my head.

“You can’t just leave Stuart to deal with this,” Lee says. “He’s got your back and so have I, but you need to face her yourself.” I take a deep breath and blink back tears as my friend speaks, but I’m forced to conclude that he is right- she is undoubtedly here to see me.

“How- how did she even find this address?” I sigh as I sit up and pull on my jeans and my t-shirt. “Jamie doesn’t exactly publicise her address…”

“Dunno,” Lee shrugs. “Think Jamie’s asking that herself. And I thought things were going better between you and your mum?”

“Haven't talked to her in seven months,” I reply. “On purpose, like, after Christmas and- ugh."

"Yeah, I remember you saying," Lee says. "But I thought that was more your dad and your grandmother?"

"Yeah, but mum hasn't stopped since," I sigh. "Every time I think she makes progress, she falls straight back into old habits straight afterwards. That's why I tried to avoid coming to London, she was kinda, you know, 'out of sight, out of mind', but- I dunno, it’s just- ever since I knew I was moving to London, I was getting more and more stressed. I thought I was being paranoid, but now I know that I’m going to have to look over my shoulder every second I’m at uni.”

“Maybe you are being paranoid,” Lee shrugs.

“Not met my mother, have you?” I retort.

“Never had the ‘pleasure’,” Lee says.

“Then come and see,” I whisper, taking a deep breath and walking downstairs, momentarily freezing when my eyes meet my mother’s.

“Kay-“ mum says, before pausing and taking a deep breath. Even though Stuart and Jamie have their backs to me, I can tell that the looks on their faces are VERY disapproving of my mother’s near-use of my dead name. “He- hello, Ian.”

“Hello… Angela,” I reply. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see my d- so- child,” mum replies, trying not to bristle at my use of her first name. “Is that such a crime?”

“How did you even find out I was here?” I ask.

“Good question,” Jamie says with a distinct snarl to her voice.

“I- I asked your grandmother,” mum says, a look of shame spreading across her face. “I told her your father was ill, she gave me the address to pick you up to- umm, take you to the hospital…”

“…I wouldn’t have gone with you even if that was true, grandma knows that,” I spit, taking several deep breaths to calm myself. This is NOT a nightmare. I do NOT have to give in to my fear. I am NOT going to let this woman bully me or emotionally blackmail me the way she did throughout my childhood. And my name is NOT Kayleigh-Ann, and I am NOT a girl. “And I- I want you to leave.”

“…You always were selfish, Kayleigh-Ann,” mum spits. “I come here to see how you are and all you can think about is yourself.”

“You came here to meet Jamie,” I retort. “And- and my name is NOT Kayleigh-Ann."

"Oh yes it is," mum snorts. "The only reason you're PRETENDING to be a boy is to spite me, because you can't accept that I know what's best for you!"

"My. Name. Is. Not. Kayleigh-Ann!" I growl, my hands clenching into fists.

“Much like mine isn’t ‘James’,” Jamie says, stepping forward. “I REALLY want you to leave my house. Now.”

“Not without-“ mum begins, before taking a deep breath, raising her hand to her head and letting out a low moan.

“We’re not falling for that,” I say hastily as I feel my legs start to tremble. “And I don’t want you to contact me again, especially not after I move here in September for uni.” I try not to frown as this piece of information causes mum to almost immediately snap out of her ‘funk’.

“You- you’re moving to London?” Mum asks, her stare boring into my skull. “So you’ll be closer to your friends?” Naturally, this idea makes my mother VERY interested- and seems to have completely cured her ‘depression’ as well.

“Not- not my friends in Cardiff,” I mumble. “Or my girlfriend, either. I- I’m going to be studying, umm, graphic design…”

“Good,” mum says, triggering an awkward silence in the room. “Kay- umm, Ian- Ian… I want us to be closer, to have a better relationship. I’m not the person I used to be.”

“Yeah, I could tell when you accused me of being selfish and when you pretended to be about to faint,” I retort, trying not to smirk as Stuart and Jamie nod in agreement.

“And don’t forget we both saw what happened last year after the football match,” Stuart says, gesturing to himself and his wife. “And we both think it’d be best if you did leave now.”

“More importantly, so does your SON,” Jamie says firmly, using the same tone of voice for ‘SON’ as she does whenever she says ‘BOY’ to me or Stuart- though this time, it is certainly intended as a compliment.

“I-“ mum snaps, before taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I am entitled to see my child if I so wish.”

“Except I’m not a child anymore,” I say, my voice hoarse from the stress of the situation. “I’m an adult. I’m a MAN. I’m my own man, and I’m going to decide what I do with my life, who I do it with, and why I do it. I’m going to decide that- not you, not ‘dad’ not anyone else. And I’ve decided I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“…Very well,” mum whispers in an emotional voice, before turning and leaving the house. Immediately after Stuart shuts the door behind her, I feel my legs turn to jelly and if it isn’t for Lee’s quick reflexes, I would’ve ended up plummeting down the last few stairs.

“Easy, easy now,” Lee says as he and Stuart put their arms around my shoulders and all but carry me to the sofa in the living room.

“I’m sorry,” I sob, feeling utterly helpless and pathetic as my friends make sure I’m comfortable. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorr-“

“Don’t apologise,” Jamie sighs, sitting down next to me and gripping my hands to keep them from shaking. “I know just how stressful that must have been for you. Believe me, I do- I was estranged from my parents for years, including the first few months of my transition. But we eventually worked it out in the end.”

“But I don’t WANT to work it out,” before sighing and grimacing as tears start to flow from my eyes. “But maybe I do, I don’t know…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jamie whispers. “If you need to cry, you cry. I’ll make sure the BOYS keep their traps shut, right?”

“Cross my heart,” Stuart says, Lee nodding in agreement.

“Take all the time you need,” Jamie says softly. “Neither of us are working today, whatever you need, just say it.”

“No- no, really,” I moan. “Don’t, just on my account…”

“Yes, especially on your account,” Jamie insists. “You’ve got that tattoo, as far as I’m concerned, you’re family, even if you do live 150 miles away.”

“Which I really hope won’t be the case come September,” Stuart says. “And besides, I still feel guilty about last August, when I dropped you at the station and didn’t, you know, stick around to make sure you were okay. Not making that mistake again.”

“Oh- you of all people have nothing to be guilty about,” I mumble between shaky breaths.

“I hope you realise soon that neither do you,” Jamie says.

“Definitely,” Lee says in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “When you talked about your family in the past I always wondered if, you know, you were exaggerating… You really weren’t. And I’m sorry if I ever thought you were, you know, milking it.”

“Because whatever you might think, you’re not doing that now,” Jamie insists. “It’s okay to be stressed, and it’s okay to need help. Speaking of which, I’m just going to make a phone call, okay? Do- do you need anything?”

“…Kinda need the toilet,” I shrug, smirking as my friends chuckle at my response.

“You know where the downstairs is, mate,” Stuart says, helping me up and directing me to the small room.

After sitting down on the toilet (and trying not to think about how that’s still a necessity), I take several deep breaths, but try as I might, I can’t stop the tears from flowing from my eyes. Not just tears of frustration or anger at my mother’s behaviour, or even at grandma for leading her into my ‘safe space’, but tears at the unconditional love and support my friends have showed me.

Growing up, it was always drilled into me that I should only make friends with the people who would help me ‘get ahead’. The sole reason mum introduced me to Abbey-Gayle and encouraged, or rather, forced me to make friends with her was because she was signed to Heavenly Talent and she thought it’d help ‘Kayleigh-Ann’ get ahead with ‘her’ modelling ‘career’. I never felt comfortable hanging out with the girls, not even with Ella, who I was closer to than any of the other girls. And yet, the ironic thing is that as ‘Ian’, I can genuinely count many of the Angels as genuine friends, not because I want anything from them, or they want anything from me, but because we genuinely like each other.

Of course, there is a specific reason why I’d be friends with Jamie and Stuart, and if I’d been born male, there’s likely no way I’d have ended up making friends with them. However, I almost certainly would’ve made friends with Lee, Neil and Rob, and the same would be true of my relationship with Chloe too. Mum, however, would be just as monstrous, insisting that I either take endless singing lessons to be a member of the next One Direction or playing football all day in order to be the next David Beckham. I sometimes wonder whether I’d have been tempted by feminine things if I’d been born male, but I quickly put thoughts like that out of my mind- there’s no sense in dwelling on what might have been, especially when what is is causing me so much stress.

Though that being said, the confrontation with my ‘mother’ wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined- especially considering it was literally a nightmare that came true. And this is all because of my friends- my TRUE friends that stood by me, not because they stood to gain from doing so, but because that’s what true friends do. However, I can’t rely on my friends to be there 24/7 for the next three years- and there’s nothing stopping mum from coming back later. Or worse yet, coming back with reinforcements…

“You okay in there?” Stuart says, knocking on the door of the toilet and derailing my train of thought. “Need a bit longer? …Ian?”

“I’m okay,” I reply. “I- umm, just need to, you know, clean up…”

“Ugh, yeah, I should know better than anyone,” Stuart snorts. “Take all the time you need, okay? Jamie’s called someone over but she won’t be here for about half an hour.”

“Who- who’s she called?” I ask, my panic response immediately triggering again.

“It’s someone who can help, don’t worry,” Stuart says reassuringly. “She’s someone who’s helped me and Jamie a lot. We’ve got some coffee and some toast on the go when you’re ready, figured you’d want some breakfast after- well, after that.”

“Definitely,” I reply, a defiant thought crossing my mind. “Do- do you have any bacon?”

“Think we’ve got some in the fridge,” Stuart replies. “Jamie’s not much of a ‘red meat for breakfast’ kinda person, she’s got to maintain her figure, that sort of thing.”

“Mum said the same thing to me growing up,” I retort. “Hence why I was kept on a strict vegan diet from the age of six.”

“Bacon sarnies it is, then,” Stuart immediately replies. “Been looking for an excuse to have one for ages, heh!”

“You’re welcome,” I reply with a sarcastic snort of laughter as I clean myself up, flush the toilet and head through to the kitchen, where I’m greeted by Jamie, Lee and Olivia (who is, of course, oblivious to what’s been going on).

“Hey,” Jamie says softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” I sigh. “And I’m sorry again that she found your home address, I’ll have to talk to grandma about that.”

“Yeah, we might have to talk to a judge to see if we can’t get a restraining order,” Stuart snorts. “Figured that we’d have to eventually due to Jamie’s job, didn’t figure that the first one would be for a 45 year old Welsh woman.”

“Yeah…” I grimace. “Who- umm, who’s this- this friend you’ve called?”

“You’ll like her,” Jamie replies.

A short while later, a knock comes from the front door, and a distinguished looking middle-aged woman enters the house, taking a seat next to me on the sofa and introducing herself to me with a formal handshake.

“Hello, you must be Ian,” the older woman says with a warm smile. “My name’s Dr Beverly Phillips, I’m a counsellor specialising in gender identity issues. Jamie and Stuart have told me that you’ve had a stressful morning, is this right?”

“Just a bit, yeah,” I reply, smiling involuntarily as the counsellor lets out a gentle chuckle. “No offence, but I- I kinda have a counsellor in Cardiff.”

“Jamie and Stuart also tell me that you’ll be moving to London soon,” Dr Phillips retorts. “If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s okay, I’m not going to put any pressure on you. But I heard about what happened, and I'm to lend a professional ear, and a sympathetic one, if you want."

"O- okay," I say, taking a deep breath as Stuart, Jamie and Lee retreat to the kitchen to give us some privacy.

Even though I've never met this woman before, I know I can trust her- she isn't just a friend and former counsellor to Jamie and Stuart, but is also the mother of my friend Sarah (who has quickly become friends with Chloe, thanks to their shared interest in fashion design) and as such, the mother-in-law of my friend Nikki, who bears the same tattoo as myself, Stuart and Jamie. A family not linked by blood (well, with the obvious exception of Beverly and Sarah) but who are far closer than my own 'family'.

"My whole life," I begin, "I've felt less like a child and more like my mother's 'project'..."

Dr Phillips sticks around for another 45 minutes, listening intently and offering advice as I explain the situation not just with my mother, but the rest of my family, Chloe, my repeated ‘brushes with fame’ and, of course, my transition. By the end of the discussion, I do genuinely feel less stressed out about my whole situation, especially when Dr Phillips gives me her email address and advises me to email her any time I’m feeling stressed (as she’s a private counsellor, regular sessions will be a bit beyond my student’s budget). I take her parting advice to heart- that I don’t ever need to feel alone, advice that Jamie naturally backs up with her now famous catchphrase of ‘you can never have too many friends’.

However, that doesn’t make what I have to do next any easier…

“Hello?” Grandma says as she answers the phone, causing my body to tremble as I take a deep breath to steady my nerves.

“Hi grandma, it’s Ian,” I say.

“Oh, thank god!” Grandma says. “Are you at the hospital now?”

“Nope,” I reply, gripping my phone harder than I probably should. “…And neither are mum and dad.”

“What do you mean?” Grandma asks. “When your mother called, she said your father was seriously ill.”

“Well, she- she, umm…” I stammer, before taking another deep breath and meeting the supportive gazes of my friends. “She lied. She wanted to know where I was staying so she could confront me about going to the celebrity party last night. Just as she’s done all the time over the last two years.” This information causes grandma to pause, and I feel my palms start to sweat and my heart race as I deliver this information. Grandma is more reasonable than mum, that goes without saying, but she’s still stern, doesn’t react to bad news well and isn’t above inflicting a guilt trip on someone even if they are only the messenger.

“You are NOT responsible for this,” Jamie whispers.

“…I see,” grandma says. “Thank you for calling, Ian. What time do you expect to be home today?”

“Umm… Late evening, probably… Maybe?” I reply. “Going to, umm, stick around, show Lee a bit more of London, that sort of thing.”

“Okay,” grandma says. “I’ve got to go now, Ian, I need to make a phone call. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah- okay, see you later,” I say, letting out a long sigh of relief as I end the call and lean back onto the sofa.

“Mate, that could NOT have been easy,” Lee says.

“Meh, it’s done now,” I sigh.

“You can’t choose your family,” Stuart chuckles. “God knows Olivia will probably never know her great-grandmother thanks to her attitudes.”

“True,” I sigh. “But I can choose my friends. And I like to think I’ve got pretty good taste. Even if I do pride ‘quality’ over ‘quantity’, heh.”

“Oh- you BOY,” Jamie says with a giggle. “Though I agree ‘quality’ is the most important thing too. Speaking of, me, Krystie and the rest of the girls will all be meeting up for lunch, kinda like a ‘post birthday’ celebration for her. You’re welcome to come along, but as there’ll be cameras there, we’ll understand if you give it a miss.”

“Would prefer to skip that, thanks,” I say, smiling as Jamie nods understandingly.

“Alternatively, a lot of the boys are coming over here for a Mario Kart session,” Stuart offers. “And you’re welcome to stay for that if you want.” I smile as I exchange a glance with Lee, who nods in agreement, seemingly knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

“BOYS,” Lee and I say simultaneously, making Jamie giggle and shake her head.

Several of Stuart’s friends arrive a little while later, and as promised, we while away most of the rest of the day on the sofa playing videogames, before heading out into Stuart’s modest garden for a quick lunch of takeaway pizza. Stuart’s friends (those who don’t have to work today anyway) are all friendly, as always, and just as happy to treat me as ‘one of the guys’ as they are Stuart or Kurt.

Eventually, the time comes for myself and Lee to take our leave and head back to Paddington station, and I try to make sense of the last 24 hours as I pack my overnight bag. The next three years are going to be fun, but also extremely stressful if today is anything to go by.

Mum will NEVER get the message that I have to live my life the way I want. Every time I think we've made progress, like at Christmas, she just slips right back into her old attitudes. Maybe she really is depressed, I don't know. All I know is that every day I'm in London, I have to be prepared for a confrontation with her- especially if I continue to hang out with the rest of the 'fellowship'.

Of course, there's nothing stopping me from making other friends at uni, which I thoroughly intend to do, but the damned thing about it is that I like hanging out with Stuart and his friends. Stuart is a great mentor, as is Kurt from the few chats I've had with him. Both are eager to help me with my transition, willing and able to answer any questions I have and happy to see me as 'one of the guys', just as Lee and his friends were in Cardiff. The fact that they're both either married to or in long-term relationships with famous models just adds a different dimension to the relationship- namely that I'll always at least slightly resent it for the effect it has on my mother.

...Which, as I discover when I get ready to leave, is even greater than I'd dreaded. Just as I'm clamping my trusty new Arsenal cap to my head (and enduring the inevitable mocking from Chelsea-loving Stuart), I spot a familiar car pull up outside and my mum gets out, heading straight for the front door.

"Oh for god's sake," Stuart sighs, not bothering to disguise his exasperation. "She didn't get enough of a hint last time?"

"What's up?" Mikey- Stuart's best friend- asks.

"It's my mum," I sigh, biting my quivering bottom lip to try to keep my emotions in check.

"...Ah," Mikey replies, clearly aware of the significance of this beyond my brief recap of this morning.

"Should- should we call the police?" Lee asks as a knock comes from the front door.

"...No, I'll deal with this," Stuart says, taking a deep breath before opening the door. "Last time you were here, Mrs. Walker, you were asked to leave. That hasn't changed. Please go away before I call the police." Mum opens her mouth as if to respond to Stuart, but no words come out- instead, she simply breaks down in a flood of tears. While many of the other guys immediately rush to comfort her, I stand back, my arms folded over my chest and hoping that I'm displaying an emotionless look. Though even I have to admit that this time, mum's tears look real...

"I- I'm sorry," mum says, instantly disarming me. She's been known to say anything to get what she wants, but an apology, an admission of guilt? This IS new, especially as it actually sounds genuine.

"O-kay..." Stuart says, clearly as surprised as I am.

"I really, really am sorry," mum says. "Not- not just to you but to- to Ian as well. To my son." Naturally, this makes my jaw drop. She's used my male name before, but grudgingly, and she's never acknowledged me as her son. Stuart looks to me expectantly, and after a hesitant nod, leads mum into the living room, where she sits down, takes a deep breath to calm herself and starts to explain her change of heart.

"Your grandmother called me when I got home," mum explains. "Told me that you'd called her, told her what I'd done, and I- I felt I needed to come and see you, Ka- umm, Ian."

"Just a coincidence that you felt this 'need' the night after I went to a celebrity party, was it?" I sneer, instantly cringing as I feel several pairs of angry eyes stare straight at me.

"No, no it wasn't," mum confesses. "I- Ian, all I ever wanted was for you to grow up to be rich, healthy and happy... But I now realise- I- I acknowledge that I didn't go about this the right way. I- I tried to make you into what I wanted to be- what I wanted to be when I was younger. I never asked if it was what you wanted and I- I'm sorry, I am SO sorry." Needless to say, mum's apology leaves me speechless, especially compared to how she was just a few hours ago. Grandma can be stern, and mum's always been slightly scared of her. But even that doesn't account for this dramatic a change.

"What-" I begin, choosing my words carefully as I'm conscious of the judgemental stares of my friends. "What, umm, what's brought this- brought this on?"

"...Your father and I filed for divorce in April," mum explains. "After what happened at Christmas, I knew the marriage was over. And going home to the empty house made me realise that my choices, they- they could've been better. Not just with him, but how I've treated you as well. I pushed you too hard, I never listened to you and I tried to justify it by thinking that I knew best, and it- well, grandma told me about, umm, about your, well, wrists..." I bite my lip at this- the last thing I need is for all of my new friends to know about a history of self-harm...

"Yeah..." I mumble.

"I now realise that if I hadn't done this, you wouldn't be so stressed out just being in the same room as me," mum says. "You don't know how much that hurts me as a mother. But- but, umm, you shouldn't feel guilty about that. It's me that's done this, pushed you away... If I hadn't pushed too hard, you wouldn't be so stressed out, and would probably be just as successful as you are now. I mean, I never went to university, for starters. If I hadn't pushed you, you'd probably still be a girl too..." Needless to say, this comment erodes a lot of the sympathy mum had built up since her return.

"Wouldn't bet on that," Kurt says in his soft Canadian accent.

"I- I'm sorry, have we met?" Mum asks.

"Kurt Vance," my Canadian friend introduces himself. "Born 25 and a bit years ago as Kathryn Vance but now every- well, pretty much every bit male. The important bits are male, anyway."

"I- I'm not saying that Ian's transitioning to spite me," mum says. "I now realise I was dead wrong to say that, but if I hadn't been, you know so pushy, maybe I wouldn't have caused, you know, the 'stress'..."

"Despite what some people would have you believe," Stuart says, "transsexualism is not, I repeat, NOT a mental illness. Your son was destined to be a man from the day he was born, and would've been regardless of who raised him, or how he was raised. Maybe he'd have arrived at the 'destination' a different way, but he'd have got there nonetheless."

"I- I'm sorry," mum mumbles. "But- but I just see Ian and all I can see is, well, 'Kayleigh-Ann'."

"My name is NOT Kayleigh-Ann," I say firmly. "And I am NOT a girl."

"It wasn't easy for my parents either, not at first," Stuart says. "Or for Kurt's, or Jamie's, or any of our transgendered friends."

"But if you need 'proof'," I whisper, "I- I can do something that can, well, show you..."

Several days later, I wake up in a Cardiff hospital bed to be greeted by the concerned faces of my mother, grandmother and girlfriend. I have a lot of pain in my chest, but pain that's welcome because of what it signifies- that the breasts that I've been taping down for the last three years are no longer a part of me. They have been removed, excised, discarded. Now I no longer need to worry about being 'found out', even when stripped down to just my underpants. I still have that to worry about, of course, and the scars on my chest will remain for a long time, but I have taken a large, important step to becoming a man.

Though as strange as it sounds, the reconciliation with my mother feels like a much larger step. She's even said that she'll move back to Cardiff to live with grandma when I start university, to try to keep her 'urges' regarding me in check, and to make sure that I can hang out with who I want without any fear of her overreacting or stressing me out unnecessarily. For the first time since I moved to Cardiff and became Ian on a permanent basis, I feel like I've taken a major step toward who and what I want to be. Of course, dad and Grandma Walker will never be on my side, but the last time we were in the same room I damn near knocked him out, and I'm sure he won't be eager for round 2 any time soon. I can relax, recover from my surgery and look forward to university with a blank slate, ready for anything and everything life throws at me.

"Hi, glad to see you're awake!" My surgeon says as he pops in to check on me. "Still feeling sore?"

"Yeah, a bit," I reply. "Okay, more than a bit, heh."

"The soreness and the swelling WILL go away," the surgeon assures me. "This time next year you'll be able to sunbathe with your shirt off and no one will be able to tell a thing. Assuming, of course, you aren't playing with robots in a shed somewhere!"

"I- I'm sorry?" I say.

"You were on the latest series of Robot Wars, weren't you?" The surgeon asks. "I have a 15 year old son who loves that show, he'd be thrilled if he learned I was the one handling your surgery!"

"Y- yeah," I say, laughing nervously as the all too familiar feeling of stress creeps back up on me. Maybe I'm not ready for EVERYTHING life throws at me...