Chapter 22

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ADAM

ADAM SAT in the waiting room, grinning to himself as both nerves and excitement kept his entire body buzzing. He'd gotten there not just on-time, but early. Adam checked his phone again. Still no response from John. The poor man was probably stuck at work. Adam had texted him two days ago, wanting to make sure he was okay. Several hours later, Adam got a simple, hasty text back, John saying he was fine but exhausted and busy and that they'd talk again that weekend.

But John had promised he'd be at this appointment. Adam fidgeted in his seat. He wanted John to be there. To be part of this big step with him. But what if John didn't want to see or hear any kind of proof of what lay beneath Adam's clothes? Even in something as simple as a conversation with a doctor about breasts.

What if the whole thing turned John off?

Adam started to feel his skin prickle with that old, familiar sense of abandonment when the door flew open and John rushed into the room.

Shit . Adam blinked. John looked awful. There was no other word for it. His eyes were bloodshot and darkened with heavy bags beneath them. His skin looked pasty and pale. And his normally neatly-trimmed hair and beard looked almost wild. The man was in desperate need of a haircut, especially when John ran his hands back through his hair and made it stand up wildly about his head.

John spotted him and let out a heavy breath. "Hey. Sorry I'm late." He sank into the chair beside Adam. "Work has been a nightmare."

Adam winced. "I'm sorry." He wanted to say something to cheer the man up, but what?

Other than the one thing he couldn't yet say. The one word John wanted to hear more than anything.

Adam took a deep breath, trying to see if he could force it out, but before he even managed to brace himself for it, a door opened and a nurse called his name.

John rubbed his back and gave him a tired smile. "You ready?"

Adam wiped his palms on his shorts and nodded rapidly, his heart racing with excitement and anticipation. "Yeah."

He got up and followed the nurse, with John right behind him. They got settled in a room, Adam seated on an exam table while John held up the wall just behind him, staying present but out of the way.

The doctor came in and introduced himself, shaking hands first with Adam, then with John. He sat down on a rolling stool and asked Adam a series of preliminary health questions. Then they discussed Adam's mental state and what he hoped to get out of the surgery. Since Adam had been on testosterone for so long and had already legally changed his name, the doctor said he'd wave his usual requirement of a psychiatric evaluation. They could jump right into the surgery without any other steps or red tape.

Adam beamed. Holy shit. This was really going to happen!

Then the doctor stood up and said he wanted to do an exam so he could plan the best course of action, since there were different surgical techniques depending on what he had to work with. He brought out a small gown—it looked like a half-jacket, but without any way to close it—and set it on the table at Adam's side.

"I'm going to step out. Put that on with the opening in front, and I'll be back in a few minutes." The doctor paused, glancing at John. "If you want some privacy for this part–"

Adam sucked in a breath, his heart kicking into high gear. The very last thing he wanted was for John to see his naked chest, but he also didn't want to be alone with the doctor while the man examined him up close. Not that he didn't trust the doctor, but he knew having someone touch him there was going to wreck him. He needed John to stay.

"Um." Adam trembled, then glanced back at John. The man stood there silently, his face open despite how tired he looked, waiting for Adam's decision. "Just don't look, okay?"

John nodded. "Okay." He shifted to the side, putting himself more directly behind Adam instead of just over his shoulder.

Adam gave the doctor a nod, and the man stepped out of the room. After taking a deep, shaky breath, Adam pulled off his t-shirt and set it aside, then grabbed the small gown and draped it over his lap so it would be ready. Then he had to swallow hard before he grabbed the hem of his chest binder, hesitating there for a moment, heart racing inside his chest. He took a deep breath, whipped the binder off, snatched up the gown, and started to pull it on.

His hands shook, and he nearly dropped the thing. He felt more than heard John step forward. Adam flinched, but John carefully reached around him, took the gown, and held it out so Adam could slip his left arm through the hole. They repeated the process with the right arm, and then Adam snatched the front of the gown, holding it closed, as John silently took a step back again.

Shit . Adam felt uncomfortably naked, sitting there with that flimsy piece of fabric covering him.

The doctor knocked and came back in. He shut the door, sat down on the stool, and rolled forward.

Adam slowly let go of the gown, looking up and away as the doctor narrated everything he was doing, opening the gown, palpitating Adam's chest to determine breast tissue volume, and talking about the merits of a buttonhole technique versus keyhole.

Throughout it all, Adam's heart felt like it was trying to beat its way right out of his chest. His underarms were damp, and he felt sweat running down along his spine. The overhead lights burned like a blazing spotlight on a stage.

But while he liked stage lights, he most definitely did not like this one.

"Okay, I'll let you get dressed," the doctor said, rolling back, "and then we'll have another quick talk and get you scheduled. Sound good?"

Adam let out a shuddering breath, managing a nod in response. The doctor barely pulled the door shut before Adam was snatching up his binder, ripping off the gown, and rushing to get dressed again.

He didn't take a full breath until everything was back in place, keeping the unwanted parts strapped down.

A heavy, warm hand landed gently on his shoulder. "Breathe, baby. It's okay."

Adam nodded, reaching up to rest his own hand over John's, then took a deep breath, the trembling slowly easing out of him while they waited for the doctor to come back. "Thank you for being here," Adam said.

"Always," John murmured in reply just before the doctor knocked and came back into the room.

"So?" the doctor asked as he resumed his seat. "How are you feeling?"

"Ready to finally get this over with," Adam admitted.

The doctor nodded, then they talked again about the different techniques now that Adam was calmer and could more easily focus. Adam opted for the buttonhole technique, since it would allow the nipples to be moved farther down and apart, giving his chest a more masculine appearance. Once that was settled, the doctor brought them into the office of his surgical coordinator, who would review costs and payment options and get the appointment scheduled.

Adam and John sat beside one another in front of the desk. The woman handed Adam a sheet of paper, detailing the charges for the surgery. They discussed insurance and payment plans, and Adam said he could pay for it out of pocket, if need be.

The woman didn't even bat an eye at that, but simply pulled up the schedule on her computer and said, "Let's see when we can get you in."

Adam clamped his hands between his knees.

"We have an opening in three weeks," the woman said, "and the next availability after that is late September."

"Three weeks," Adam blurted out. Holy shit. Really? "That one," he insisted.

John leaned forward. "What about the wedding? Is your healing going to interfere with that?"

"I'm singing at my friend's wedding in the middle of August," Adam explained.

"Oh! You should be fine. You'll have your first follow-up a week after the surgery, at which point you'll have any stitches out, and then weekly follow-ups after that for a while, but other than not being able to raise your arms above shoulder-level for a few weeks and having restrictions on what you can lift for about a month, there shouldn't be anything to interfere with that."

Adam nodded to himself. The doctor had already thoroughly explained the post-op restrictions. He'd have to set up his apartment so that everything he needed was no higher than chest-level. And as far as singing went, he'd only have to lift his hands to his mouth to hold a microphone if he stepped away from the stand.

A grin took over his face. "Three weeks," he said again, giving a decisive nod. The sooner he got the whole thing over with, the better.

He'd already waited a decade, after all.

Adam went home after John promised to make arrangements to take time off work to take care of Adam post-op. The poor man still looked exhausted but determined. Adam started to say he'd find one of his friends to do it so John would have one less thing to think about, but John immediately shut down that idea. He'd promised Adam that he'd always be there, and this was too big and important for him to miss.

The whole thing had Adam grinning incessantly. His cheeks ached by the time he got home, but he couldn't stop. He ran straight to his calendar and drew a big, red circle around the date. Three weeks. Holy shit! He couldn't wait!

Adam pulled out his phone and sent a text to the whole group, daddies and boys alike. Then he sent a separate one to Skylar, though he didn't expect a response from him for hours, considering the boy was probably fast asleep.

Me : I'M GETTING TOP SURGERY!

The group thread exploded, responses coming in one right on top of the other.

He got cheers and congratulations. Questions about who was doing the surgery. And when. And where. Offers to help with anything he or John needed. Endless streams of advice from the other boys who had gone through the procedure.

Do everything the doctor says.

Don't lift anything!

Set up your space ahead of time.

Button-front shirts only for a few days. Absolutely no t-shirts! Trust me, don't even try it!

Plan to sleep a lot.

Plan to sleep sitting up at first.

Expect to feel numb for a long time.

It'll look ugly at first, but it'll get better!

The messages went on and on all afternoon while Adam roamed his apartment, wanting to get everything set up now. It was so much easier without all the clutter that had been removed. He felt like he could see things so clearly.

Late that evening, just as Adam was finishing dinner while watching a movie, his phone beeped with yet another incoming message. This one from Skylar. Adam snatched up the remote to pause the movie, then picked up his phone.

Skylar : Congrats!!! It's about damned time.

Me : I know, right?

Skylar : How are you feeling? Nervous? Excited?

Me : BOTH

Skylar : HAHA I feel that!!! I bet John's excited, too, huh? Probably can't wait to get his hands on you afterwards.

Adam squeezed his legs together. Oh, fuck . He thought of that dream he'd had a few weeks ago, the one with John rubbing his cock all over Adam's chest. Adam's very flat, very naked chest. Shit . That sounded so hot. He couldn't wait to feel John touch him there for the first time. With his hands. His mouth. Anything. Everything.

He'd finally get to be truly naked with John. Finally take a shower with him. Finally be able to fall asleep in the man's arms without having to worry about whether John might accidentally graze his chest in the middle of the night, since he couldn't sleep with his binder on. That garment felt suddenly tighter than usual. He couldn't wait to be free of the damned things for good!

And considering how long it had been since he and John last had sex, he was even more desperate now.

Me : Fuck. It can't come soon enough!

Skylar : I bet. I'm assuming John's gonna take care of you afterwards?

Me : Yeah. He's supposed to be arranging time off work.

Skylar : Okay, good. I was gonna say if you needed help, I'd try to find a way to come down, but my schedule has been crazy lately, and the boss HATES it when I cancel appointments with clients.

Adam winced as he wrote out a reply.

Me : I've been inundated with offers of help, but thank you. :) But you're still totally welcome here anytime! I've even got the apartment all cleaned out and decluttered now. I was almost going to get rid of the furniture in Haven's old room, too, but I thought I'd keep it. Just in case you changed your mind.

Skylar's reply was a long time in coming. Adam waited, hoping the boy might cave and actually say yes .

Skylar : I appreciate that. I really do. But I have to finish this. I need a clean break between chapters of my life, if that makes sense. I don't want to leave the city until I'm certain I can afford the surgery and can fully leave this part of my life behind me.

Me : Okay. I get it. Just know the offer still stands in case anything changes.

Skylar : Thanks, Adam. :)

Skylar : Sorry, gotta run. Off to work. Have a good night!

Me : You, too!

Adam winced as he sent the text, imagining what Skylar would have to endure that night. Still, he meant what he said. He wanted Skylar to have a good night and get himself closer to his goals. The sooner the boy managed that, the sooner he could get his clean break and move on.

Speaking of. Adam got up and took his dishes to the kitchen, then padded down the hallway to the third bedroom. He opened the door and found himself grinning at the sight of the empty room. Not a single item remained. No furniture. No boxes. It was all either relocated to his bedroom or gone on somewhere to be put to use rather than collecting dust. Adam felt light with relief as he pulled the door shut and went to his own room. Even with the few boxes added, his newly thinned out closet wasn't the chaotic disaster it had always been. Adam was easily able to reach the box of VHS tapes and pull one out, a bittersweet smile taking over his face as he traced his fingers over his dad's handwriting.

"I still miss you so much," Adam whispered. "But I'm gonna be okay now. Thank you for being the best dad ever."

Adam put the tape back, shut the closet door, and went back to getting his apartment ready for his post-op restrictions, taking his dad's blessing along with him.