When Peter was 8 he looked in the mirror in May and Ben's room. He was wearing a hand-me-down tutu from a cousin on May's side and couldn't quite understand what about the image was wrong. He looked at his chest, bare above the tutu and kept thinking about the adults in his life. May had boobs and so did his mom. Ben and his dad didnt. He knew why: girls had boobs. Boys didnt. He was always told he was a boy.
He looked back at the bare chest in the mirror. He thought that maybe he should see a pair of boobs there, just like May had. He didn't. Maybe, when he was older, he would. He'd know then, Peter thought: I'll know if I'm a boy or a girl if I grow boobs or not when I'm older.
He didn't know there were other options.
*
It had started younger than that. When distant relatives of Ben and May's, and further back, his mom and dad, had tried to buy him 'boyish' clothes. He never wanted them. Not the hockey jerseys or the camo trousers or the stupid tops with cars and trucks.
He liked the pretty ones: with flowers and butterflies. They made him feel light and happy when he saw them. He's seen photos from when his parents were still alive, dressed up for halloween as Bob the Builder or at the park in dark colours with t-rexs and pirate flags.
He didnt have a problem with those things. Dinosaurs and pirates were cool, Peter thought, but they weren't cute. Peter wanted to look pretty. Like the girls at school. With their skirts and pigtails and dresses. But none of the photos he had with his parents showed him dressing like that.
When he moved in with Ben and May, they were so concerned by how to support this small, grieving child that they gave him whatever would bring a smile. So when he asked for clothes from the girls section and grew out his hair, they let him, just grateful that he had a smile on his face. When he got older and the girls at school had cheap makeup sets and nail polish from kids magazines, he begged Ben to let him get them too. At first, Ben had come home with some magazines he thought Peter meant: the ones aimed at little boys, with baseballers on trading cards and posters of footballers. Peter had yelled when he had seen. Screamed and cried and fell to the floor, not understanding why Ben hadnt known. May returned the magazines the next day, and when Peter asked months later (after apologising and apologising for being so rude and ungrateful and-), May knew what type to buy.
So when puberty came, Peter couldn't really look in the mirror. There was one on the cupboard at the end of the shower. He had never been able to look in it before because he was too short, but at 12 he had a growth spurt and everytime he showered would look straight forward at his own reflection.
He hated it. Hated seeing a flat chest that increasingly grew hair. Waist in line with his hips, no shape what's so ever. He tried to avoid looking down further.
*
At 13, Peter and Uncle Ben would go to museums on Saturdays. They would walk around while Ben made silly jokes and games out of the exhibitions and Peter read every plaque in the place, despite knowing he'd forget by dinner.
Public restrooms were usually not a problem for Peter. He absolutely refused to use urinals, but that was fine because the stalls were usually empty. Except this day, when all the stalls were busy, a few urinals full. Peter and Ben were in a hurry because they had to pick up May for a night shift the hospital.
Ben had always assumed that Peter was just shy. He was usually loud and happy and boisterous but when it came to his body, Peter was very closed off. He crossed his arms across his chest when walking from the changing room to the pool during lessons and wrapped his tower under his underarms, even when none of the other boys did. He had complained after school once at having to wear shorts in gym, losing himself in the rant and admitting that the other boys laughed at him for having no hair on his legs. May had kissed his cheek, told him it was natural and that he'd grow hair like all the other boys soon. Peter's face flushed scarlet, as if he was caught doing something nefarious.
(Ben assumed Peter was embarrassed that May was addressing the changes his boy was going through. They didnt know about the razor Peter used to rid his body of hair).
So Ben assumed that Peter hated the urinal for the same reason. That Peter was just a bit shy and embarrassed about his body. They knew Peter had to be quick and he had confidently told Ben that he would be. He couldn't wait for a stall, lie about needing one, or explain the real reason that he wanted one. That he couldn't bring himself to stand up while peeing, to see and hold a part of his body that Peter was growing increasingly uncomfortable thinking about. As the weeks went by, and Peter grew, he felt more and more unease at the way his body was developing. It felt like betrayal, in some ways. And standing at a urinal, doing something as basic and natural as peeing felt wrong. He couldnt do it.
He turned around, told Ben that actually he could wait, '"I'm sure Uncle Ben, it's not as bad as I thought."
Ben didnt look sure. He knew about Peter's aversion to urinals, but they really did have to leave and Peter was 13, he was old enough to make that choice himself.
It turned out to be a mistake. Not 20 minutes into the drive home, Peter was bursting. He could probably hold it until they got back to the apartment, but they were already running late to collect May and he knew there wouldn't be time to run in. May was already waiting on the curb when they arrived and Peter made peace with his predicament. He knew he was going to wet himself during the ride, but he tried to hold out.
He latest 15 more minutes before the stream began. At first Ben and May didn't notice, until stench of pee ensnared the small car and two sets of concerned met his eyes met his in the mirror.
"M'sorry" Peter sniffled, before dissolving into tears.
*
It was when he was 14 that Peter discovered the term "genderfluid". He knew about trans people, vaguely, but not given much thought to them. Sure, he himself considered himself a fairly fem guy, but that was that. He didnt like the jock aesthetic: the tough guy, sporty, bully type of persona had Peter cowering away. He was a bit of a nerd, sue him, and was happy to do things that were traditionally girly. But he had never even considered trans people in relationship to him.
But... genderfluid, that sounded interesting. It was someone who ran a Star Wars cosplay tumblr account. They dressed as all characters, regardless of gender and in their bio sat 'Charlie, 23, genderfluid - they/them'.
Peter didn't know what genderfluid was or that people used different pronouns. He scrolled Charlie's profile, finding some answers to fan questions, explaining a little bit about their gender identity. A few reblogged posts about the non-binary experience and gender dysphoria, whatever they were.
Peter was curious by nature. He loved to read every plaque in the museum and ask every question he came up with. So he did the natural thing: turn to Google.
He spent the next few months finding out more about the LGBTQ+ community. There was more than he expected. A lot that he didn't know, not just about gender but sexuality and romantic attraction and it was a bit overwhelming but really interesting and- weirdly- safe. He saw photos from Pride parades and people pre- and post-transition and he felt warm. Almost homely. He felt comfortable and happy and he wished he could be a part of this community, have these people that he found so beautiful and inspiring and brave and powerful look to him and see their kin.
But he couldn't claim them as his own. He'd never liked men: he wouldn't care if he did, he just hadn't yet, and he was pretty sure he didn't want a vagina or to be called a girl. He was straight and cis.
He checked Charlie's profile everyday for a year.
*
When he was 15 he was bit by that stupid spider and got crazy powers. At first it was terrifying; he really thought he was going to die or that he was going completely insane. Then it was weird, trying to figure out how to open a door without crushing the handle and how to stop listening to the teacher in the classroom 3 doors down. And then it was awful, Ben happened and Peter resented that his crazy, superpowered body froze in fear and he couldn't stop Ben from bleeding out in his arms.
Peter had been Spiderman for months by the time of The Incident. He was watching TV on his laptop, bare chested in the New York summer heat. The screen went black between scenes and Peter saw his chest in the reflection and suddenly felt cold and sick. He usually avoided looking at his body, and the sudden confrontation was a lot, but also... it was the first time that Peter had looked at his chest as a teen and really thought, that's wrong. It shouldn't look like that. It's missing something.
He couldnt get the thought out of his head for weeks. He thought back over his childhood, incidents years and months apart that seemed inconsequential at the time but now started to stack up to form a picture. An image of a kid who hated his body, not because of his weight or athletic ability or shyness but because it didn't fit right. It shocked him, like he had geniunely forgotten that his body looked like that. Like maybe when he got changed or looked in the mirror, without realising, he braced himself for it. Because the image he saw in the laptop was a surprise to him. He knew what his body looked like. He did. And yet.
So maybe there was more going on. He laid back on his bed, night after night, churning the thoughts in his head. He didn't want to be a girl. He was pretty sure. He didn't like standing up to pee, and he tried to avoid looking directly at his penis, but honestly he didn't hate having one. Sometimes it felt good. Really good. He knew how to use it to get pleasure from it. So yeah, masturbating with a penis was good.
But he... wasn't a boy, was he? He never had been. He could see that now. Always had questions in his head, always feeling wrong being forced into associating with things 'for boys'.
So, maybe he was like Charlie. He didn't like the term genderfluid, but non-binary felt okay. Genderqueer, definitely. There was certainly something queer about his gender.
*
Peter spent the next few weeks mulling it over. He started to notice when people referred to him as a boy or a man and how it made him feel. Not great, he realised. Weird. Not him.
And then, he noticed pronouns. How "he" and "him" felt off. Familiar, sure. But not quite right.
Peter considered "they" and "them". It didn't feel right straight away, there wasn't an epiphany or moment of elation. They/them felt unfamiliar, but not bad. Not like he/him was starting to, like it was grating on Peter's skin.
They could get used to it.
*
A few weeks later, Peter felt up for telling MJ and Ned. They supported Peter's weird spider extra-curriculas, keeping this massive secret close to their chests and never making Peter feel weird for the odd powers and body changes that came with the bite.
Peter knew they would be supportive. MJ liked girls and was surprisingly open about it, considering how closed off she was about everything else. And Ned was always chatting about how fun the Gay-Straight Alliance at Midtown was.
What Peter was surprised at was their first questions. They expected to be asked how long they had known, or if they were sure, or anything else youtube reaction videos had prepared him for. Instead-
"Oh. Cool. So, they/them? You got a new name or sticking with the current one?" MJ had asked, looking up from her sandwich with little interest in her expression.
"Uh, yeah they/them. I don't- I mean, I'm not sure about the name. Maybe just Pete for now?" Pete had stuttered.
Ned had clapped them on the back and said, "well, thanks for letting us know Pete. Tell us if there's anything else we can do".
And lunch continued in its usual fashion of gossiping about classmates and chatting about TV shows.
Over the next few weeks, Pete expressed their dislike of the terms boy and man, and anything specifically male gendered. They asked to avoid being called dude for the time being. MJ and Ned were so supportive with it all, and Pete felt that warmth again. The same warmth they had felt years ago, looking at the community through the screen, not understanding why they felt so safe and seen and drawn and connecting until years later. They felt a spark of hopefulness, that maybe their future would be filled with less confusion and more of this love and acceptance.