Chapter Text
Van pressed their hands to their chest. Flat. Sorta. The constricting fabric under the thin material of a soccer jersey felt like a hug from one of their overbearing aunts. Tight but firm. It felt… good. For once Van didn’t cringe whilst looking in the mirror and actually felt a small smile tug at their lips.
It was one thing to change your pronouns. And a whole other thing to start wearing binders.
Lottie had bought it for it last week, actually. With an alcohol dependent parent there wasn't usually enough space within their trailer home for Van to actually be a teenager going through changes. God forbid Van acted like a child for once instead of being forced into the position of a caregiver, collecting empty bottles of beer every night and tucking their mum into bed after a heavy bender. Despite this nightly routine, Van couldn’t bring themselves to hate their mum. When your dad leaves in the middle of the night you tend to gain a soft spot for your sad excuse of a broken mother. Even when she spends all their money on booze. Thank god for Lottie and her daddy's money. The brunette was never one to flaunt her family's wealth but geez, was Van happy to be in her good books when she buys them a binder after a weed-induced breakdown over gender expression.
It had only been a few months since Van had come out to their friends
—
soccer team, really. But they felt close enough to Van that the word ‘family’ suited them better
—not as gay. But as nonbinary. They all knew Van was a raging lesbian the moment they had walked into the locker room freshman year.
“It was your vibe,” Lottie would say over some stolen cigarettes during a seniors party they had snuck into. “You’re just so… dyke.”
“That's a slur, Lottie.” Van would argue back, coughing on the smoke caught in their throat.
“Nuh-uh. I’m gay too, I’ve reclaimed it.”
Despite the two friends placing bets on pretty much everyone in the team being queer (even the JV) most had yet to say anything on the topic. Which was understandable to Van. They were teenagers in a kid eat kid highschool. The hallways could be vicious and leave you bleeding in a bathroom cubicle. No amount of soccer related popularity could save you from the odd wolf-whistle from a boy with a disgusting mustache.
So Van kept their secrets close to the chest. Only telling hushed secrets to their teammates during practice or in the privacy of the locker team. Because the Yellowjackets would never intentionally hurt each other. They were a hive, a working system each with their own level of importance. Equals. Unless you were queen-wasp Jackie. But Van tried to steer clear of little-miss-popular anyways.
Here they were, staring into the dirty mirror that belonged in the locker room and had seen one too many fights between Jackie and Lottie. Van slipped a hand up their jersey to feel the fabric of their binder, double checking it was real. Finally, they felt a sense of peace in their body. It wasn’t completely quiet in the bustling of their head, but it was something. And something felt like a lot to a seventeen year old Van.
“What's up, hot stuff?” Nat lifts herself up onto the bench in front of the mirror Van’s been staring into for the last 5 minutes. She cranes her neck to get into Van’s field of vision. “Feeling alright? You’re not hungover— are you? Cause I’ve already claimed that spot today—”
“I’m great, Nat.” Van exhales deeply and tries to control the toothy grin playing on their face. “Just trying out the binder Lottie got me.”
Nat whistles and casts her gaze down Van’s chest— which would usually make them feel slightly uncomfortable— but actually made them feel a lil’ proud.
“Hell yeah, look at you.” She grins toothily and Van notices some of her lipstick has gotten on her teeth. They decide to say nothing. Natalie was the only person they’d ever known to wear deep shades of lipstick during a soccer game.
“Not looking too bad yourself, brat.” Van slaps a hand to her knee and she winces at the resounding ‘slap’ that echoes in the room. “But can you stop partying every night before a game, thanks.”
Nat shrugs and picks at her nail polish. Black, of course.
“I’ll think about it. Aren’t you not supposed to wear binders during physical exercise, or something.”
Van blinks. “Surely it’ll be fine. I’m a goalie, I barely leave my corner.”
“Mmm, I dunno—” Natalie’s oddly skeptical response is cut off by Lottie calling out.
“Nat, come here. I need to read your palm for practice.”
“Why me?!” Nat hops off the bench and swivels around to glare at the brunette across the locker room who had just finished lacing up her cleats.
“Your palm has the most… interesting stuff going on.” Lottie shrugs and Van raises a quizzical brow at her. This sounded like a typical Lottie excuse for physical contact that Van was all too well-versed in.
“It’s the childhood trauma, isn't it.” Nat drags her feet across the ground and takes her spot beside Lottie. Van masks a laugh behind their hand and goes to grab their goalie gloves.
“Ready for a win today, Palmer?” It’s Taissa. She takes a long swig from her water bottle and waits for a response, a quip back, some usual banter. Van can’t quite make eye contact with her without thinking of their last makeout session after practice last week.
“Mhm, gonna put my whole pussy into this game.” Van cringes at their own words but Tai smiles and Van even swears they hear her giggle.
“Nice.”
“Alright ladies and my non-binary babes, let’s go fuck some shit up!” Jackie’s clapping her hands and gathering them all for a huddle. Tai rolls her eyes and gives Van a ‘can you believe her’ look before merging with the team. For some reason Van feels their cheeks flush.
“Buzz, buzz, buzz!”
Even their usual chanting has Van’s chest feeling constricted. Worry dances across their thoughts, momentarily second guessing the intelligence behind choosing today of all days to wear their binder.
Nah, they think, it’ll be fine.