I wanted to post something for pride month for the Gen Z Eltingville club AU so here!
The picture
[Author’s Note: The drawing’s not all the way accurate. I made it quick for the story and forgot the poodle—and yeah, I know the proportions are off. Just imagine the poodle in there, okay? And the grass isn’t that tall.]
When I was six, my teacher asked us to draw our future family. You know—stick figures, smiling suns, crayons worn down to the wrapper.
Most kids drew a wife or husband, a son or daughter, maybe both. Some added little houses or trees. It was cute.
I drew me… with a wife and a husband. One on each side, holding my hands. We had twin girls—brown ponytails with little swoops in the front, pink dresses. And a tiny gray poodle with a bow on its head. That was our pet. We were all smiling.
I knew what I wanted for my future.I was six—but I meant it. I didn’t think it was weird. I thought it was kind of beautiful. I knew what I wanted: a husband, a wife, and twin daughters. That was it. Simple. Safe. Mine.
The next day, my teacher called home. She said she was “concerned.” You know—that fake polite kind of concerned, where what they really mean is “your kid isn’t normal.”
That night, my dad found the drawing.
“What the hell is this?”
“Why do you need a husband?!”
“What kind of boy draws this crap?”
“Stop acting like one of those f*gs!”
I frowned. He always said stuff like that when I did anything even a little bit soft. I didn’t play sports. I liked reading. Anime. I used to play on the Bratz website with Jane sometimes. That stuff embarrassed him. He thought it was all “girl crap.”
My mom tried to calm him down—“He’s just a kid. Let it go.”
But they started yelling. Like always. Their marriage was already trash. I guess I gave them something new to fight about.
I went to my room and cried. I didn’t get it—why was I being punished for wanting something that would make me happy?
The only person who made me feel okay that night was Jane. She was three, waddled into my room and said, “Oh! I’m aunty of the wins!” She meant twinsbut said wins and it made me laugh.
She didn’t care. But she was three. She didn’t know yet.
Later, my mom came in and said, “Just draw something simpler next time, okay? Just… make it easier.”
So I did.
Me. A wife. One son. A normal dog. No poodle. No twins. No husband.
I brought it to school the next day. The teacher smiled and said, “See? All you need is a wife.” Then she gave me a gold star.
But I never forgot the first drawing. The real one. The one I threw away because it made adults uncomfortable. The one where I actually looked… happy.
That was the first time I learned that wanting something outside the script makes you a problem. Even if you’re six. Even if it’s just a crayon drawing of your dreams.
Sometimes, I still see that mini poodle in my head.
Still see those twin girls.
And I wish—more than anything—that someone had looked at it and just said:
“That’s a beautiful family, Bill.”
at the end of the day, this is all just head canon and I’m just having fun so yeah, this is not Canon. This is just a head canon of mine. I truly don’t understand a queer experience so if you have any opinions and you’re a queer person, and you think, I need to work on some things with his head cannon and stuff say it in the comments.
