Janet had had enough for one day. He hopped the nearest bus back to his apartment. A few heads looked up as he boarded, which made him stop in his tracks.
"You got a fare card or what?" the bus driver gruffly asked him.
"Y-yeah, one sec." Janet shuffled through his wallet. He located the card and tapped it on the little meter, which gave a reassuring beep.
"Siddown, then," the driver said as he shut the door and the bus started rolling again.
Janet wasn't used to this kind of greeting. Usually her encounters were nothing remarkable, and sometimes he'd get an annoying driver who tried to flirt... He wasn't sure whether he'd prefer a flirter over how he was just treated. It wasn't just big-city "hurry it up" rudeness. It felt to him like the driver actually thought he didn't have money.
He took a seat on an empty bench. A woman seated across the row, who had her purse on the seat next to her, picked it up and placed it in her lap. Janet rolled his eyes at the obvious act. Good practice was to keep the purse in her lap from the get-go. It's what Janet had been told early on how to protect her stuff. To only do it if a sketchy guy sat down nearby? Sure, it was still prudent. But it made Janet feel like he was untrustworthy. That he was dangerous.
He didn't want to feel dangerous. He looked down at his hands in his lap. They were kind of big, even for a guy... at least, he thought so. The skin was kind of rough.
He tried not to look around during the rest of the ride. His thick hair helped in that regard, cloaking the sides of his face and keeping most of his surroundings from distracting him.
From the drop-off, it was a quick walk back to the apartment Janet shared with his roommate. Beatrice was a good roomie, but they weren't quite close enough to be friends. That was just fine with both of them, though. She spent most of her time on the local college campus, going to classes and studying, and hanging out with her classmates, while Janet worked Tuesdays through Saturdays.
What's she gonna think when she finds out her roommate is a guy now? Janet wondered as the elevator took him up to their floor.
The door opened and a middle-aged woman waiting there gasped. She quickly stepped aside to let Janet exit, and then nimbly shuffled into the elevator. They exchanged quick eye contact, with the woman being the first to break it quickly, and with a blush on her face.
Again, Janet felt uncomfortable. She had to admit, though, if a dall, dark-haired, bejacketed dude appeared in front of him all of a sudden, he'd have that kind of reaction too. Hell, he'd done it to plenty of people, especially taller people. It was just instinct. No ill intent behind it. Just instinct.
He kept repeating those thoughts silently on his way down the hall. He unlocked his apartment door. His new boots made heavy, satisfying stomps on the tiled entryway floor.
Beatrice was in the kitchen, pulling something delicious-smelling out of the microwave. Janet stopped in the kitchen doorway, hands in his pockets, smiling and waiting for her to look at him.
She did, and then gave him a little smile. "Hey. Have a good day?"
Janet was dumbfounded. "Do... do you know who I am?"
The dirty blond roommate peered suspiciously at him. "You all right?" She sniffed the air.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Well... kind of." Janet put up his hands. "I just... you notice anything... different?" Jeez, I sound so stupid.
Beatrice humored him and looked him over for a second. "You got a trim?"
"Umm..."
"Janet! Seriously? What about your bet with your boyfriend?"
Janet was taken aback at the mention of his boyfriend, Emmet. Until that moment, he hadn't thought about what impact changing into a man would have on his relationships. And now that it was clear that others believed he was actually a man, a mountain of implications fell on him at once.
"What bet with Emmet?" he asked with trepidation. He honestly had no clue what she was implying.
Beatrice rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "Whatever. I won't tell him. You look good. Seriously." She went back to prepping her microwave dinner.
Janet was left feeling adrift. He hadn't gotten anything close to the reaction he was expecting. He wandered back into the hall and slowly unbuckled his boots and hung up his jacket.
Padding into his room, he turned on the light and was met with a vastly different bedroom than he'd left this morning. It was darker and more cluttered. Wall art depicting dark fantasy characters and cyberpunk cityscapes clashed with posters of metal bands. A yellow and white electric guitar was propped against an amp and a loose bundle of cables. Clothes littered the floor and hung off half the furniture. His closet door was open, and Janet recognized none of the outfits stuffed inside. Very few of them had any color, and those that did still had predominant white or black material. A few silver-studded belts, collars, and decorative chains were scattered around.
He walked backward out of the room and slumped against the wall. Where the hell was he? Who the hell was he?
Beatrice walked by, scooping some rice into her mouth from the tray she carried. She gave him only a passing glance. "If you had mushrooms or anything, call poison control. I've got a test tomorrow." She disappeared into her own room and shut the door. EDM started playing.
That's her studying playlist. So Beatrice hasn't changed... Emmet hasn't changed... just everything about ME. Is this good or bad?
He stood there for several minutes, letting the new reality sink in. With a big exhale, he ran his fingers through his hair. It was thick and silky. He'd always taken good care of it, but for some reason it felt even nicer.
With a few bold steps, he re-entered his room and flopped--actually flopped--onto the bed. "Ahhhh..." He just wanted to relax. He'd figure more stuff out later. A call with his boyfriend would help, for sure. Or maybe he'd eat a quick dinner and then conk out for the night. Anything that would make the night feel just plain and normal.