1 Chapter 1
1: Comic Cons, the Final Frontier
Billy got himself ready at a slow pace because, as his mom had often said, getting ready was half the fun.
Today he was headed to the comic arts fair in Brooklyn, which opened at ten A.M. Billy lived in Brooklyn already, so he was close enough for a quick cab ride to the venue. He’d easily make it before noon, which was a sensible time to show up.
Plenty of time left to fuss with his hair.
Billy stood in front of his bathroom mirror in just his pants, with his chest bare. He’d only had his top surgery done six months ago, so the whole concept of having a flat chest was still pretty new and exciting for him. Billy loved his square chest and his brand new, rock-hard pecs. Like, some days he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at them and grinning in delight.
His belly on the other hand…Well, that was more of a cupping it with both hands to test the jiggle and silently worrying that he was getting far too big. Maybe one day he’d convince himself to at least set foot inside a gym or, failing that, eat less pizza.
At least with his genes he’d gotten lots of body hair after a few years of hormone replacement therapy. Billy figured he was well on his way to becoming a prime Bear-cub candidate. His beard was nice and thick; dark brown like the rest of his hair, so that was a win in his opinion.
He gathered up his long hair and experimented with it in different up-do’s, turning side to side to check his reflection. He’d shaved in a small undercut on one side yesterday, and dyed the short fuzz in shades of green and turquoise.
The color had mostly rubbed off on his pillowcase overnight, but it still looked alright today.
Billy got his comb, some texturizing spray, and began to work a bit of volume into his hair
Before he finished, he slipped on his T-shirt; a vibrant aquamarine color featuring cult comic art of a handsome and genderqueer merperson. Then he gathered his hair up and tied it with a bright green, sparkly scrunchie.
And he was ready.
Just an additional ten minutes of second-guessing his outfit and worrying over his appearance, like he did most days, then he could leave.
* * * *
Billy arrived at the venue a little after noon.
It was in the lecture halls of the Pratt Institute, so it wasn’t a huge Con or anything. It was mostly for indie comic creators and local artists to sell their work.
And because Billy was a huge comics nerd, he went to every event he possibly could, especially when he lived so close.
Billy got his pass, checked his jacket, and tried not to feel too self-conscious as he entered the main hall bustling with table after table of comics, and people browsing them.
Billy was on his own today. His only friends into comics, Sabah and Rosa, were busy doing couple stuff as they’d just gotten their first place together, and were redecorating.
Billy knew some people who would probably be here today, so he figured he’d just look around for them, and buy himself some new comics as a treat before he went into work this evening.
Just a chill day off doing something he enjoyed. No biggie.
Billy struggled with anxiety on his better days, but it always seemed to surface hard when he was on his own. Lately he’d been trying his best to do more things on his own, to not let anxiety keep him at home when there was somewhere fun he wanted to go to.
Of course, he wished he had someone to go with, but no one else was around and Billy just had to suck it up and go on his own. Besides, it didn’t matter that he was alone. Plenty of people did things on their own, he reminded himself. No one cared, no one was looking at him funny…
Okay, maybe a couple of people were looking at him funny, but it was New York; most people stared at him once and then looked away, and that was that.
Billy ducked his head a bit as he picked his way through the crowd. Maybe he should’ve worn something less colorful. Everyone else here looked pretty straight laced in their casual clothes and muted colors. Billy had gotten a bit too used to the bigger Cons and feeling safe in their vibrancy.
Well, he could always buy a new shirt from one of the tables, he supposed, and maybe take the scrunchie out of his hair. That would mute his appearance some.
There had to be some restrooms where he could change. Not that he particularly wanted to go in the men’s room in public, because then he got anxiety over passing.
