(Pride) Cut your hair
Peter was 12 when he found out he was Trans. But he didn't say anything. He didn't know how to express what he was. What he was feeling. All he knew is he was a boy.
Dysphoria hit a few months later. When he hit puberty. His chest started to develop. He didn't know why he felt so wrong. He wanted to claw his chest off. It didn't feel like his.
Peter stared at himself in the mirror. He was disgusted by what he saw. His hair was too long. It wasn't his. He hated it. So he did something about it. He grabbed the kitchen scissors and ran back to the bathroom. Lifting the scissors up with shaky hands. He grabbed a fistful of his hair. Haking away at his hair. A pile of brown hair was scattered across the bathroom. When he was down he fluffed his hair. It wasn't near being professionally done. It was sloppy but it was short. It was him, and he was happy.
Aunt May walked in when he finished. She gasped out in horror at his hair. Peter had tears streaming down his face as she screamed. But she explained she was mad he did the haircut himself. She cleaned up the mess and took him to get his hair fixed.
The barber got to work fixing the hair to a decent length. It suited his face. When they were done they went home. They sat at the table. Peter cried out what he was holding in. How his body wasn't right. He was a boy. Aunt May hugged his nephew as he cried.
"How about instead of Penelope we use Peter. So you can keep your first letter." Peter nodded.
Aunt May helped educate both of them. Peter started seeing a therapist and slowly he grew happier. They were together when Peter got his first binder. They sat in the bathroom. Peter crying in his Aunt's lap. It made him happier, and he was so grateful. It was a struggle getting him some more suiting clothes. But the struggle was well worth it. When she saw how happy he was. She supported him as much as she could and since she hasn't seen Peter so sad.