i was thinking about fenton coming out again to his mamá, how terrible nervous he must have felt to have to come out to his overbearing but well-meaning mother who he doesn’t want to disappoint anymore who maybe accepted the first time out of indifference but now could be mad for this shit happening a second time??? and i wrote this??? i should like end sapphic september but The Feelings™ hit me about fenton and his mamá and i needed to get it out of my system so here have a fanfic.
It happened on a Sunday, he had been planning how to do it for months. When and how in a very detailed manner so his mother would understand and she would not freak out. He would do it a day her favorite soap opera wasn’t on T.V. so she would give him her full attention, a day where she wasn’t as tired of her job, a day she wasn’t stressed out with bills and taxes and paperwork. A day when she only would stare at him in a “normal disappointed and tired” manner, instead of an “extremely disappointed and exhausted” manner. He would prepare her a tres leches with her coffee and sit down with her at the table and they would have a peaceful and normal conversation about it.
Because maybe she had never straight up said she was disappointed in him, but he felt it, every time he said that he didn’t do too well on his last internship, that he was very, very fired, every time one of his inventions just exploded in his face, or when the day of paying taxes came and she only had her wage to pay it off even when there were two adults at home who could both split it out and pay for them if one of them wasn’t jobless. And there were so many, many more. He just didn’t want this to add to the long ass list of Fenton’s Disappointments her mother maybe had in her head.
Maybe he shouldn’t feel as anxious considering the first time he came out to his mamá he had not even thought about it as something that it could have other consequences. but at that time he wasn’t a full pledge adult overwhelmed with responsibilities, fear of rejection, a consciousness of the ways of the world, anxiety, and unemployment.
Funnily enough, it didn’t happen in any of the ways he wanted. And funnily enough too, it happened as out of nowhere as when he told his mamá he definitely didn’t like dresses and that baby girl sounded just really weird for him.
He actually blurted it out, his mind had been running out on anxiety all day, thinking about the issue and his mouth felt like tingling and “Oh Dios, what happens if she reacts badly? If she finally gets done with her disappointing son and just snaps at me?”. They were actually cleaning the dishes, his mamá washing, and him, drying. He stopped midway of drying a plate, losing himself in his head.
His mamá noticed and asked, “¿Qué pasa, mijo?” in a concerned voice, still washing the dishes. And he responded to the question automatically, immediately, his mind screaming too loud.
He said, in perfect Spanish, almost unintelligible and screaming, all his body shaking, a plate in his hand and a towel in the other, “I think I may like boys and girls, mamá”.
And she just stopped washing the dishes, and looked at him blankly, like that time he was in high school and told her at 10 p.m. in a Sunday he needed to print an essay he did for tomorrow morning and he like....forgot to tell her he needed to print it out. Her eyes telling him “Fenton, its freaking 10 p.m., every shop is probably closed, why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” but in a calm manner, a very particular but done expression on her tired face.
But she didn’t scream nor she responded verbally, she just put the sponge on the counter, shook her hands, getting rid of the extra water, dried her hands with a towel, left the towel on the of the counter too and walked to him.
For a moment, just for a moment, Fenton felt his heart going from 0 to 200 km/s, unshed tears agglomerating in the corner of his eyes and feeling the horrible want to run away. She’s going to tell me something, she’s going to be so disappointed, oh Dios, why did I say that? I-.
But his mother didn’t rage, nor stared at him disappointed, she actually took the plate and the towel out of his hands and put them in the counter.
And then she hugged him, as hard as she could, holding his head into her shoulder, caressing his neck and the other hand caressing his back, and just softly, lovely, reassuringly, said, “oh, nene, pollito, mi Fenton. I’m the same.”
Everything poured down out of him. His tears, his fears, his worries, his anxiety. He sobbed and cried and mumbled to his mother how scared he was to tell her, on how he definitely liked boys and girls not just may, that he loved her so much and that he was sorry for not telling her sooner and his mother just laughed, crying too, saying over and over again “lo sé, pollito, lo sé.” with the most patience tone and apologized to him, saying that she was sorry that he ever felt like he couldn’t tell her something like this without feeling scared, that he was the bravest boy and that she was so, so proud of him. She just kept kissing his temple and murmuring loving words into his ear, that sounded strange but reassuringly like one of his abuelita’s lullabies.
Fenton remembered then, his mother laughing her ass off in the way of going to the library that Sunday at 10:30 p.m., because “Oh mi Dios, Fenton, you can count how many beans are in a package by just looking at it but you forgot to tell me you needed to print out a just one-page long essay? You’re so smart and so stupid, te amo tanto, please, don’t do that ever again. Oh God, I’m tired but this is so funny.” He remembered the mother that straight up bought him new clothes and sold all his dresses, changed “pollita” to “pollito” and that put herself between him and his dad when he tried to slap him just because Fenton told him like he had told his mamá that he didn’t like being called a girl. He felt kind of stupid for doubting his mamá like this.
Fenton felt relieved and promised to never hide something from her again (at least that it was something he needed to really hide, like a super secret suit in progress in a lab or something, you know). His mamá accepted and kissed him on the cheek and told him that those dishes were not going to wash themselves so they better got going.
That day they cuddled up in the living room, watching reruns of Patos de la Pasión, his mamá let him comment about every tiny detail he found on the telenovela and she mumbled interested every time, with “wow, I didn’t notice!” or “I would have never known, that’s good!”, they drank hot chocolate and his mamá held him like when he was a duckling, caressing his feathers and letting him put his head in her chest.
His mother had said she was so proud of him. Fenton felt very proud too, of her and himself.
