Arima thought it was just him, that for some reason, God, or whoever was out there, decided to be funny - cruel, maybe, by making him transgender. That whoever made him was having a bad day, and that they decided all of this as a funny joke, a prank to himself and others whenever he told them that he wasn't a girl. Sometimes, Arima wished he was born one: it would have saved him a lot of trauma and the repetitiveness of repeating himself to his peers, teachers, even strangers. But sometimes, Arima was more than grateful to be born a guy. Genderqueer, he remembered hearing.

So, when he saw a flier online for an LGBTQ teen meeting - and for a split second, Arima thought it was a setup, but after actually looking at the address, it wasn't. He set out to go that Saturday, even if he was a bit nervous - he was still a bit more than eager to go. To meet others like himself, maybe.

The building was small and made out of bricks, which the flier posted in one of the windows. Inside, it wasn't much. A front desk, a table with snacks, and a large, rounded table in the center of the room. There was only one other person there, a teen his age. Sitting down, Arima looked around. A few posters with affirmations were hung up.

"Hey."