Work Text:
It was a stormy June day in the Storyteller’s world, and the chaos outside mirrored the anger she had carried all day. Even so, she still felt restless.
Because it was Pride Month, one subject weighed heavily on her mind. With no one to talk to, she opened her laptop and sprayed it with Portal Potion, hoping for a distraction.
When nothing happened for five minutes, she wondered if the potion had expired. Then a sudden flash of light burst through the air and knocked her onto the bed. “Ow! That hurts!” the Storyteller groaned as she felt someone helping her to her feet.
“I apologize, Storyteller. I was a little wary of the portal after everything that happened to end the war,” the pale-skinned, blue-eyed boy replied sheepishly.
“It’s all right, Kodiak. I completely understand,” she said, taking a closer look at him. He looked ordinary, just as everyone did after stepping through one of the potion’s portals.
Like the others before him, Kodiak wasn’t wearing his usual Water Tribe clothes. Instead, he had on a Pride Month shirt with a crescent moon cradling a small flame, black cargo shorts, and sneakers. Kodiak wiped his brow. “I’ve only been outside the poles a few times since the war, but this heat feels worse than my father’s homeland!”
The Storyteller wiped her brow. “Sorry. The temperature in this building is never right, and if we complain, the landlord either ignores us or threatens eviction for asking for basic living conditions.”
Kodiak frowned. “That’s not fair. You deserve a home that meets your needs.”
“My world can be just as messed up as yours, Kodiak—maybe more. But we shouldn’t compare. Come on, I’ll get us some ice cream, and we can sit by the AC and talk.”
“What’s ice cream?” he asked, following her into the kitchen as she pulled it out. Because the space was small and there was no way to circulate the air, they sat on the floor and ate in silence for a few moments.
“This stuff is great!” Kodiak exclaimed, shoveling more in before grabbing his head from brain freeze. The Storyteller let out a small laugh. In a world that felt increasingly broken, watching a child enjoy ice cream for the first time made her smile.
She set her bowl in the sink. Scratching the back of his head, the twelve-year-old looked up at her. “So… did you open the portal just to give me ice cream, or do you need something else?”
“I need someone who will listen and understand what’s been weighing on me. No one around me really understands this or wants to hear it.”
“Okay…” Kodiak said slowly. “So what do you want to talk about?”
The Storyteller sighed. “Growing up, I lacked the language and support to understand myself or others. I relied on TV cartoons to teach me what ‘real life’ was supposed to be. I’m ashamed and angry about that now, but even more upset that no one told me it was okay not to feel attraction toward others.”
Kodiak looked hurt and confused. “I still don’t fully understand why I’m here. Did you summon me just because I’m trans?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head. “Kodiak, I didn’t summon you for any bad reason. I asked you here because you have the empathy and patience to help me understand this. I see you as a kind, empathetic boy, and I hoped your gentle nature might help heal my soul—not because of anything you must do, but because of who you are.”
Her clarification helped him relax. He handed her the empty bowl as a black cat curled into his lap, and he stroked her gently while they talked. Kodiak took a breath and spoke gently. “In my world, I didn’t have the right words for myself either. I’m sure you’ve heard some of the cruel names people use for someone like me.”
She nodded for him to continue. “People mocked many parts of me—my heritage and my identity. And until Ember nearly died, I never felt able to fully be myself. So yes, it’s not always easy to find words for your true self. Even when my family accepted me, the world still struggled to accept that everyone deserves respect and the right to live in peace.”
“I know. You’re not hurting anyone by being yourself, and I’m not hurting anyone by not feeling attraction. But it’s hard to accept yourself when no one tells you people aren’t so black and white,” the Storyteller interjected.
Kodiak nodded with a grin. “Exactly. Kids mocked my brother and me, even though our parents were just two people who fell in love and built a family. We’re all human, yet the Tribe treated us as less. I think that’s what hurts you most.”
The Storyteller wiped away a tear. “Yes. I hate being dehumanized and treated like I’m not normal—and it’s not only because I’m somewhere between ace and aro. You said both our worlds are messed up when it comes to accepting that LGBTQ people have always existed?” she asked gently.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it hurts. Why can’t people just let us live? I hate the cruelty, and I know you do too. I see now it’s more than not having words when you were my age. It’s a wound that keeps reopening because no one has ever truly sat with you and let you say this out loud.”
“You really are a healer, you know that?” she smiled. They talked for another hour until both began to yawn. “I think we both need some sleep, Kodi. Ready to go home?” the Storyteller asked, helping him up.
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m about to crash. Maybe we can talk again soon—and have more ice cream?” he asked slyly.
The Storyteller smiled and ruffled his raven-black hair. “We’ll see about the ice cream. But yes, I hope we talk again soon. I already feel lighter after this conversation.” She reopened the laptop and lightly sprayed the potion. After one last hug, Kodiak returned home. When the portal closed, the Storyteller shut the laptop, fed her cat, and got ready for bed.