may-i-lead-this-dance/chapters/chapter-05.md

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title: lkj
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Galadin's mother stormed into the house, slamming the door as she entered. The magical lock sparked as the door swung back. "Damn you, Stanton! This is all your fault!"

He winched and continued after her. He felt sick to his stomach and his eyes burned with tears. He didn't mean to tell her that he wanted to wear a dress to the ball, but he didn't expect the fury that followed.

The carriage ride back home could have been through a frozen wasteland. She had said nothing. When he tried to speak, she had silenced him with a glare.

Inside, his father looked up from his working desk in the living room. He still wore his normal suit and tie, even when he remained at home for the day. He seemed unpreturmed by his wife standing in front of him.

"I told you! I told you that would happen if he was near that... that... Benard! That monster turned my baby into a sissy!" She raised her hand to strike him.

Stanon looked up at her palm, his face impassive.

Maran swung her hand.

He leaned into the strike.

Her palm caught his cheek. The crack of flesh on flesh caused Galadin to flinch.

Stanton looked at her. "Feel better?"

"No, I don't!" she screamed. "I hate it when you do that!"

"Then hit me again."

She sank to her knees. "I can't," she sobbed.

His father slid out of his chair and joined her on the floor. He pulled her into a tight hug.

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and sobbed. "My baby."

Galadin inched into the room. There were tears in his eyes. He knew that she was in pain, but he couldn't tell her he would be the man she wanted. He couldn't. It felt like a dam had burst and he had a chance. He caught his father's gaze. "I'm sorry, father."

Stanton shook his head. "For what?"

He wanted to say he would go back to the tailor to get the suit fitted but he couldn't. It felt like a horrible lie, as if he had to shove is true self back into a box just to make his mother happy. He sniffed and shook his head. "I... I can't. I want---"

"No, you don't."

"What?"

"You are who you are. You haven't magically changed from a week ago. Every change that you have gone as gradually happened, day by day, year by year."

Galadin stared at his dad in shock.

His mother looked up at him. "How can you say that? After everything we've done."

"After what you've done," Stanton corrected her. "I remember the first day you saw him differently. You were in tears because you caught Galadin trying on that little girl's dress."

His mother sniffed. "You remember that?"

Stanton kissed the top of her head. "I'm always paying attention, you know that."

"What do we do?"

"Well, first we talk as if our child is in the room." He looked up at Galadin. "And then we ask how you want to move forward?"

Galadin gasped. Blindly, he reached out for a chair. When he caught it, he found his legs wouldn't move.

"Well, how far do you want to go? Have you figured out you like men? Or that you prefer to wear dresses?"

The world spun aroudn Galadin again. He tried to sit in the chair but missed. His hip caught on the wooden arm before he sat heavily on the ground. "You knew?"

Stanton shrugged. "You can't force someone to be someone else. You also can't force someone to be themselves either. Everyone grows at the rate they need to, no faster, no slower."

His mother sobbed. "No, no. I can't do this."

"Really, Love? Does your child's happiness mean so little to you?"

She looked up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. "How can you say that? It's my son! I love him."

"Enough to let him live his own life?"

"N-No. Yes! Damn you!" She punched his arm.

Stanon shrugged again. "You accept or you fight, those are you only two choices. You already know I accept things, that's who I am and I can't change that." He cupped her chin with his finger. "You accepted what I was when we met so many years."

She let out a choked sob. "You were such a pile of shit when we first married."

"I'll admit, you weren't the most plesant of flowers either. Yet, here we are. Your pile of shit." He wiped the tears from underneath her eyes.

"How can I?"

"Because we're parents, Love."

Galadin realized that he wasn't part of the conversation, but he was also on the edge of losing his own emotions. He staggered to his feet and inched out of the room, never taking his eyes away from his parents.

As soon as he could, he spun and race up the stairs. His throat siezed up as a sob of his own threatened to tear out. He shook with the effort. He managed to make his room before he lost it. The cry rose out of his throat, a terrifying mixture of fear and relief. His parent knew what he was going through, the guilt and desires.

He had a chance to be someone else.

Now that he had it, he wasn't sure if he could go through with it.

Burying his face in his pillows, he let the tears flow.