Yaniel Ayala Velez

August 10, 2023 7:25 AM

Bring your daughter to the slaughter by Yaniel Ayala Velez

OOC: CW - dysphoria BIC:


Yaniel parked his broom at the back of the coffee shop, unhooked the boxes from the back and took them in to be signed for. Delivery runs were one of his favourite parts of helping out with the bakery, though he loved the actual baking too. To be honest, all of the bakery stuff was good. It was his happy place, perfectly balanced between his parents, because when they were all in the bakery together, they had a common goal, and one he liked.

It was the long, empty afternoons that were harder, especially when he wanted to give Mama a turn at having the child she wanted. And today in particular… He’d had this plan for a while, but it had been easy to put it off. Now though, he was running out of chances.

He dawdled on the way back, enjoying the freedom of using his broom while he was in the magical part of town, before stowing it in his backpack and switching to the bus when he got to the Muggle side, hopping off outside his parents’ bakery.

In spite of taking his time, he was still greeted with “Good job, mija! Wow, it goes so much faster when we have you to help!”

“No problem.”

“And now we have a nice long afternoon. What do you feel like doing?”

The answers were always baseball, Quidditch, or—if they were including fantasies—chopping off the long braid of hair that still snaked its way down his back.

“We could go fantasy dress shopping,” he said. “For the ball. I know there’s no point buying one now, because I’ll grow, but… But you’re never going to get to take me to one of my school dances,”—it was a good thing he had a lot of practice at swallowing his feelings because Mama would only take that in the sense of him being away at boarding school, which wasn’t enough of a reason to feel like crying about it—”or help me pick the actual outfit, but we could go dress up for fun.” Because that was what Mama wanted. Because seeing him in sparkles and pink would make her happy. Because Yaniel had no idea what he was actually going to do about the ball, but he couldn’t picture himself wearing anything that would meet her expectations. “You could even bring the camera.” Because he couldn’t guarantee she’d get the pictures she wanted from the actual school ball.

If he was going to take away her daughter, he wanted Mama to have a real high to end on.

*

It was a good thing that changing rooms were private spaces. It allowed him to scrunch up his eyes, refusing to look at his reflection, and to press his screwed up fists against the wood until he could breathe again, and was ready to plaster on the smile that Mama expected to see.

He stepped out to a round of applause and enthusiastic compliments from Mama. He wished she wouldn't be so loud, but he twirled dutifully, pretending he was enjoying himself as much as she was as the sparkles of the gown caught the light.

He let her smile and click the camera. He already hated the entire record of his life’s history. What were a few more contributions?

At the point at which he was nearly suffocating, he retreated to take it off again.

He waited until they were heading home, not to fully burst her bubble but to… gently prod it, to see what it might withstand.

“You know I probably won’t wear something like that for the actual ball, right?” he asked.

“I’m sure we could make it happen, if you want. We could find something second-hand. Or we can pull together the money—”

“No. That’s not what I meant.” They had been shopping out of their price range, seeing as it was just for fun, but the last thing Yaniel wanted was them spending money they didn’t have on something he didn’t even want. The dresses with their thick skirts and self-conscious pinks were already heavy enough without weighting the hems with guilt. “I just mean… I’m not going to wear something that sparkly or attention-getting.”

“Would the world end if people paid you attention, mija? You’re a very pretty girl.”

Ouch.

“I know,” he lied. Crap. Now they’d hit the self-confidence concerns again. Time to backpedal before he ruined their outing completely. What could he say, to make her feel like he wasn't unhappy in himself, but also that he hadn’t just been doing this for her? He had to be happy to make her happy. Him wanting to make her happy wasn’t enough on its own. "I know. But those are probably fun for about five minutes. It would be really uncomfortable wearing one for a whole night." Really. Truly.

"Ahh, welcome to being a woman. It's frequently uncomfortable."

Which was one thing he could agree with.
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