Chapter Text
First day of 5th year, 2nd September 2024
To say Preston Doyle wasn’t particularly excited for his first day in a new secondary school would be a gross understatement. The jump from being the only trans boy in his all girl’s catholic school in quiet Cabra to being lost in the crowds of students at a mixed secular school in what was certainly one of the rougher areas of Finglas was massive, no matter how much his well-meaning ma tried to downplay it.
His 7am alarm brought with it nothing but dread as it echoed throughout his well-decorated room, the boy’s bleary eyes opening to the dim light of the same fairy lights he’d had strung across his walls since he was a young child. Running two hands over his face, he sat up slowly, the batman T-shirt he’d slept in sticking to his back with sweat. Preston’s eyes drifted from item to item as he fought off the urge to go back to sleep. He was more than happy with his room and the way it managed to capture every one of his interests. From where his DC action figures stood side-by-side with his sylvanian families; his collection of funko pops that stacked up to the ceiling and teetered worryingly every time he opened a window; to the assorted owl-themed pieces that littered every corner, namely the squishmallow he’d just been sleeping on.
If there was one thing about this school that seemed promising, it was the lack of uniform. Perhaps it was just Preston’s struggles with the rules at his last school and the punishment for his refusal to wear a skirt that filled him with relief at the fact he could wear whatever he wanted here, but whatever it was, he was making the most of it. Facing his mirror, he dressed in his carefully curated outfit for the day, pulling on his beige cargos, a plain white t-shirt, a brown zip-up Nike hoodie and black converse to finish. Once done, he found he couldn’t stop himself from carefully studying his own appearance, biting his plump bottom lip as his eyes flit across every feature of his face carefully. Preston just let his brain pick apart every aspect of his looks, every transphobic comment ever thrown at him sticking in his mind and destroying his self image, even if the boy was more than capable of blending in as cis. He had a soft face overall, with smooth skin only tainted by light, complimentary freckles across his nose and cheeks; his pale blue eyes were bright and innocent, his spark slowly coming back after months of being dulled; ash brown hair topped his head, fluffy and cut with a fresh taper fade.
“Now, are you sure you’re ready, love?” Preston’s Ma checked for what was the fifth time since he’d first got out of bed this morning.
“Yeah, ma! I’ll be grand.” The teen reassured, slinging his bag onto his back as he pushed any nerves down to the pit of his stomach.
“Ah, God. C’mere.” She fussed, running fingers through her son’s hair and smoothening his slightly crinkled t-shirt with cold hands, smiling proudly as she stood back.
“All grown up; your Da would be proud.” She smiled, that familiar look of long-standing grief flashing through her eyes.
It had been 16 years since Preston’s Dad had died and his Ma hadn’t ever truly gotten over it. The boy himself had never met him, but was consistently reminded of how much his mother saw the man in him, even before he’d transitioned.
Leaving the house not soon after, Preston walked the short few steps to the bus stop for Finglas, his knee bouncing nervously as he sat waiting. Although, when the bus pulled around, he was only faced with the day’s first issue.
“Yer ten cent short, pal.” The bus driver grunted, an overweight, ugly man whose beady eyes glared down at Preston from his seat.
“I- Wha? Oh, it's probably… in me pocket.” Preston fumbled, already feeling his pale cheeks heat up as he had another two people waiting behind him to pay in cash and could not for the life of him find that missing coin.
The bus driver huffed, clearly not the type to just let someone off with such a small difference like most would, “If ye’ve not got it ye can get off me bus. I’ve not got time for shite like this.”
Just as Preston felt he was on the verge of tears with the amount of stress this morning was causing him, a girl around his age pushed past to tap her leap card on the bus driver’s scanner.
“I’ll pay for him.” She smiled, being far too kind to the driver in Preston’s opinion, “Two kids, please.”
The man just grunted and punched in the numbers, shooing the two along and grumbling about time wasters, not at all helping Preston’s flushed cheeks.
“Here.” The girl spoke sweetly, passing him his ticket and heading off to her own seat before Preston could even get a proper thank you out.
At least one thing was going his way so far.
That was, however, until he got off the bus ten minutes after school had already started, clearly having misjudged the journey time from his house on Broombridge to ‘Finglas community academy’, which was further than he’d thought. Almost tripping over his own feet as he scurried up to the gates, he soon slowed as a group of three fellas in similar disgusting tracksuits came into view. They were all similarly tall and off-putting, each one talking loudly and so indistinguishably it seemed they were all speaking at once. Preston just hoped to god he didn’t have to deal with fellas like that in his class.
After prolonging his lateness even further by having to wait for his timetable at the office, Preston finally reached his classroom. Sighing deeply, he pushed open the door, his eyes landing on his teacher who opened up her mouth with a smile to greet him before being rudely cut off by a grating voice.
“Oh my god, boys. What is tha?” Taunted a rather intimidating fella from the back.
He smirked cruelly as he spoke, joined by two friends at either side of him, crowding together like a pack of mangy hyenas. Who, if Preston wasn’t mistaken, were exactly the same lads he’d had the misfortune of trailing behind on his way into school. The speaking fella in question was, of course, Darren Whelan. A tall, lean boy with pale skin and dark hair that was long overdue a trim. To his right was Calum Doherty: a stocky blonde with eyes of ice that carried a piercing stare, his face was slashed with a deep scar and his thin lips twitched unconsciously. Perhaps his stark opposite, on his left, was Eoin Kelly. The boy held the same mean gaze, although his seemed so fabricated you could hardly find him alone to be scary. His tight cut hair was the type of brown that glowed auburn in the sun and his hazel eyes along with tanned skin created a beautiful harmony of features that was wasted on such scum.
Dismissing the boys in such an unbothered manner that showed this was the norm for their class, the teacher greeted Preston and gave him a free choice of seats. Palms now sweaty, he sat at the front next to, to his even further surprise, the exact same girl who had paid for him earlier on the bus. Taking the worksheet that was passed to him, he made sure to actually thank her now, before getting on with the page in front of him.
“Fuckin dirty fag.” Calum spoke, no hint of a smile on his face as he practically shuddered the words from his lips.
“Ha, he looks like a bleedin’ girl.” Eoin was quick to agree, all three boys focused in on the back of poor Preston’s head, finding far more entertainment in this than they ever would in trigonometry.
Their insults and cheap jokes continued to fly out throughout the lesson, not one of them even trying to keep things quiet, Calum the least so. It was almost a sort of punishment for Preston in their eyes, since he’d chosen to sit so far away from them. To the lads, that just confirmed how much of a pussy this fella was.
However, Preston knew better than to give them any sort of reaction, as that was all they were looking for after all and why should lads like that ever get anything that they want? The lack of response from the new boy began to agitate the three at the back after a while, Darren being the first to properly show this. Reaching down, he picked up a rubber from the floor and threw it right at the back of Preston’s head, all three boys erupting into laughter as it hit him. The Cabra lad’s cheeks burned pink yet he didn’t dare turn around, especially not after the poor girl next to him did and was faced with just as much abuse as he would likely get.
“Ignore them.” The girl, who had introduced herself as Amelia, huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “They’re just horrible bastards.”
Preston nodded, although didn’t take much comfort from the girl’s words. That was all he needed: to come from one school where he was constantly targeted to another where the exact same thing happened.
Finding amusement in this torment, Eoin and Calum didn’t take long to join in for themselves. Every time their teacher would turn her back, another rubber, ruler, sharpener or pencil would go flying over at Preston, this infantile bullying very clearly hilarious for the inflicters.
“Windy in here, lads. Shite flyin everywhere.” Darren commented loudly, earning more snickers and similar jokes from the two at his table.
“Pencil’s pure flyin out me hand.” Eoin chimed in, Darren rolling his eyes at his badly copied joke.
Preston just contained himself for the remainder of the class, finding great relief in the noise of the bell when it rang. He wasted no time scrambling his belongings together and stuffing them in his bag to leave, tears pricking his eyes. Not entirely from the comments alone, more so from the literal headache those bastards had caused him.
He skipped the next lesson, sitting in a toilet cubicle on his phone instead. God, this was just like third year playing on repeat, only this time people at least saw him as a fella, or so he hoped anyway. Silently, he scrolled on tiktok for the next half an hour, ignoring the crude graffiti and piercing sting in his arm from how he’d foolishly taken out his frustration after maths. Although, much to the boy’s dismay, his silence was interrupted after those peaceful thirty minutes by an all too familiar voice.
“Here boys, d’ya not think that fella from earlier looked mad like a bird? Is that just me, or?” Darren Whelan posed as he entered with Calum and Eoin and sat up on the row of sinks, completely unaware that the boy in question was sitting in a cubicle as they spoke.
“Wha? Ye need to get yer head checked, Dar.” Calum disagreed, pacing around the bathrooms and lighting up a joint as he did so, “He’s just a fag or su’um, it’s obvious. Isn’t it, Eoin?”
Eoin looked up from his phone like a bewildered meerkat upon hearing his name, just nodding and murmuring a few ‘yeah’ s before returning his attention to his dry snapchat.
“Course he’s gonna agree with ye. Stupid pox just agrees with whatever the last person says.” Darren grumbled, slapping Eoin around the back of the head.
Meanwhile, inside the cubicle, Preston just sat on the closed toilet with his legs pulled up to his chest and phone turned off in case anything played loudly. He listened to the fella’s ongoing conversation with shaky breath, his stomach suddenly dropping with just a few words.
“Here, is someone in there?” Eoin snickered after a moment, nodding to the only occupied cubicle in the bathrooms, Darren and Calum smirking at the sight.
“Bro, come out!” Calum piped up, his voice the most threatening that Preston had ever heard be directed at him.
The blonde paused for a moment after speaking, as if for effect, before booting the cubicle door as hard as he could, making the entire thing shake on its hinges and the other lads burst into laughter. His mate’s reactions only spurred him on more, the fella moving back so he could kick it again with more force, almost fixated on making it fall in now.
Preston couldn’t take it any longer in there. He’d thought it was bad enough being bullied relentlessly by the girls in his last school, but now it was fellas he had to deal with.. well, that was a different story. After freezing for what seemed an eternity, he finally built up the courage to just take a deep breath and open his stall door, trying to leave as quickly as possible, although of course Calum wouldn’t let that happen. The taller boy slammed a rough hand down on Preston’s shoulder, thick fingers squeezing him harshly.
“Leavin so soon, are ya?” He sniggered sickeningly, his eyes flashing with that insane glint that all his mates would recognise.
Darren stepped in quickly, as much as he’d have liked to see that new bastard get bated. He pushed Preston along with a rough hand, stepping in front of his blonde friend, “Ah, here, let him go, Calum. Gowon.”
He hadn’t stopped the interaction because he felt bad, far from it. It was just that everyone that knew Calum Doherty knew he was off the loaf - massively. No fella needed to get bated by him on their first day, unless they’d really done something. All this Preston lad had done was be gay, Calum could save it for now.
Preston hurried to science with hands that were still visibly shaking, sitting down in the middle as he managed to get there for the start of the lesson. He just hoped those three would pick some other seats were they to arrive, he didn't need any further reason to change schools again already.
Darren alone arrived at class about 20 minutes later, having been caught skipping by his year head when he left the bathroom for a second and escorted to lesson by his year head.
“Sit there, Darren, where I can see you.” His teacher instructed, gesturing to, to both boys' luck, the chair next to Preston, whose heart dropped immediately.
“Ah, Sir, come on! Are ye takin the piss or su’um?!” Darren protested, not even once looking at Preston as he spoke.
The teacher was firm in his order, however, not budging no matter how much Darren went on, each word just making Preston feel worse and worse. Irritably, the taller boy took his seat, making sure to scoot it as far away from the other as possible.
“The fuck are ye looking at?” He snapped at a level that only Preston could hear this time, instead of announcing everything to the rest of the class as he had done earlier, his eyes burning into the Cabra lad’s own pair before he tore them away with a huff.
Science passed at a snail's pace for Darren, the dark-haired fella having nothing to entertain himself with now he was alone in the class, even one of the group’s other friends, Niall, being sat at the opposite end of the room to him. Begrudgingly, he pushed himself up from where his head lay in his arms, his eyes flitting to Preston as he scribbled away at a set of stupid, little drawings.
“What ye drawin, pal?” He smirked in a condescendingly friendly tone, poking an unwanted head over Preston’s shoulder in an attempt to get a better view.
Preston flinched at the sudden action, his face only flushing up as he did so. He said nothing, although still allowed his arm to move back so Darren could see, as if he’d even want to anyway.
Leaning more over for a split second to see the drawing, Darren raised his eyebrows, expression otherwise neutral. It wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, although he’d rather shoot himself in the foot than compliment this fella.
“Not bad, bro.” He nodded, turning away as he spoke to resume his earlier position.
***
Lunch came soon enough and brought with it the illusion of freedom. Preston, of course, hadn’t made any friends yet and so walked down to the shops alone. He wasn’t exactly bothered about that fact, it just meant no drama, or so he thought.
“Here, Picasso! Do us a drawing, yeah!” Came Calum’s voice booming out of the blue, making Preston inwardly freeze up for what felt like the twentieth time today.
Their footsteps audibly sped up until Preston felt Darren’s clammy hand slam down on his shoulder, almost sending him off balance.
“Slow down, bro. We only wanna talk to ye.” He sniggered, squeezing his grip uncomfortably against the lad before letting go.
Preston bit his bottom lip, eyes glued to his phone as they all bombarded him. Short, plotting laughs rang in his ears as if warning of something further happening, Calum’s heavy arm around the Cabra boy’s shoulders soon confirming that.
“Paint me a little picture, yeah, bro?” The blonde teased, leaning his face in so close that Preston couldn’t stop his nose from wrinkling at his breath.
The teasing only let up as the four grew closer to the shops, Calum taking his arm away and studying Preston’s flushed features as he did so.
“Fag.” He scoffed, shoving the poor boy in the opposite direction as he led his trio over to the shops, Preston just deciding to skip the rest of the day and go straight back home, tears finally free to fill his eyes as he did so.