His hands wavered as he buttoned up his shirt, the wool felt rough against his chest, and he felt the scream rise up in his throat all over again. With his hands shaking, he buttoned up his father’s old army jacket. He bent down; pawing at the floor underneath his bright pink canopy bed, and the scream kept rising. He barely managed to fight the scream in his throat, his fingers desperately reaching around, before finally settling on his prize; Charlie pulled out the grey dress pants he’d pilfered from his brother’s dresser the night before. They were big on him, but he’d grow into them. He’d have to.
With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and walked into the bathroom. The pink shower curtain always set him on edge, always reminded him that he was… wrong. He looked into the mirror, examining himself. His hair was a mess, but not much else could be expected. He’d had to cut it himself the night before, and all he had were his old safety scissors, and they’d started to rust a while ago. His hands had shaken as he cut off all 14 inches that Matt had always loved. Thinking of Matt made his stomach turn over and red hot coals burn in his cheeks. Thinking of Matt always set him on edge, because all he could wonder was what Matt would say when he saw her. He’d always loved her hair, he’d always say Charlie was “the Rapunzel to my Prince Charming”. That’d always irked Charlie, prince charming was Aurora’s beaux, not Rapunzel’s.
A sharp knock came at the door, and he heard his sister Ruth’s shrill voice.
“Charlotte, get the hell out of there. Dinner is almost ready. Dad will friggin’ murder you if you’re not at the table by the time he gets home. It’s the Sabbath.”
Charlie winced at the sound of her – his – at the sound of his name. It felt like a slap to the face.
“I- I’ll be right out! I’m doing my makeup!” Charlie squealed.
“Jesus tap-dancing Christ” Charlie muttered.
“What the hell did I just do?” Charlie whispered, looking in the mirror.
And with a start, Charlie began applying his makeup, liked he’d practiced so many times.
First, he applied primer and foundation.
Then, he went to work on his eyebrows, filling them in, making them rougher, denser, and closer to his eyes.
Then, he put on some pale nude lipstick, and then added some concealer – just for durability.
Then, slightly darker eye shadow, to give his eyes a stronger, more angular look.
And finally, he added some bronzer underneath his cheekbones, to give him a more solid, angled jaw.
He looked in the mirror. It wasn’t quite right, but he looked… passing. He didn’t really know what else to do, so he began to put his things away. He quickly walked into his room, and prepared the bag on his bed, checking he had everything he might need. Clothes, phone, charger, makeup... he quickly went to his shelf, and grabbed his stuffed pink rabbit. Charlie knew it was ridiculous, but he wasn’t going to leave him here, not after all they’d been through together. He stuffed his socks into his old combat boots, and placed them – and his bag – by the door. Charlie took a deep breath, gathered his wills, and took his first step out of his room, the smell of Sunday dinner hitting his nostrils for the last first time for quite a while.