Tyler, Taylor - What’s the Difference? (Patreon)

Leaning against the locker door, Tyler, captain of the Harwood Bulls, quietly exhaled as he watched Ethan Prescott, a twenty-year-old music major, walk down the college hallway, trying as if to make himself smaller than he was, clutching a folder of sheet music to his chest as if it were the only shield from the stares.

"No, seriously," Tyler began loudly enough for the whole corridor to hear, "why do losers like that even exist in our campus, huh?"

Ethan, hearing it, froze at once and his gaze, frightened and stunned, shot toward Tyler, but a fraction of a second later dropped to the floor.

"Excuse me, can I get through?" he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly, yet still surprisingly steady for someone a head shorter and dozens of times weaker than the one blocking his path.

"Oh, dude, of course, what kind of question is that," Tyler said immediately, as if expecting that answer, stepping aside. But with that same movement, his elbow "accidentally" hit Ethan’s folder, and sheets of music went flying to the floor, scattering all over the corridor and under the feet of other students. "Oops. Clumsy."

Tyler’s friends picked up the joke, their laughter spreading through the hallway wider than the scattered pages, someone even deliberately kicking one further across the floor.

"Oh, look, some squiggles here," Dylan said, bending down and picking up a sheet between two fingers as if afraid to get dirty. "Is this even music or was he just testing his pen?"

"Give it here," Jake said calmly, snatching the sheet and turning it upside down. "No, seriously, Prescott, do you even understand this yourself or do you need a translator?"

Ethan had already crouched down, gathering the papers, and it looked painfully pathetic, especially because he was trying to move fast, but his hands were shaking, his fingers fumbling, and the sheets kept slipping away when he reached for others.

"Careful," he said quietly without looking up when someone’s sneaker nearly stepped on the notes.

"What?" Dylan asked immediately, leaning closer as if he hadn’t heard. "Louder, I didn’t catch that."

Ethan felt his heart drop and the world blur for a second, but then he repeated, even quieter,

"Nothing."

Tyler watched from above, tilting his head slightly, then slowly placed his foot right on one of the sheets Ethan had almost picked up.

"Exactly. Don’t run your mouth if you don’t want to lick my shoes with it."

Ethan froze, his hand stopping halfway to the sheet under Tyler’s sneaker, and slowly raised his eyes to him.

At that moment Tyler’s gaze seemed completely serious, and his joke about licking shoes no longer felt like much of a joke.

"Well? What are you staring at? Go on, start, or—"

"Tyler Morrison!" came the voice of Mr. Burns, the campus student affairs officer, and Tyler, pausing for a second, quickly shifted his gaze to him, instantly lighting up his face with a wide smile.

"Hey. Everything’s fine, Mr. Burns," he began, raising his hands and stepping back to free the sheet of music that still bore the mark of his sneaker. "Ethan just fell and we wanted to help him."

Ethan flinched at those words, but it seemed no one even noticed.

2

"Help? Morrison! Don’t play games with me!" Burns took another step forward, his gaze sliding over the scattered sheets, then stopping on Ethan, still crouched. "Prescott, stand up."

Ethan jerked as if called too sharply and, hastily gathering the last two sheets, stood up, pressing them against the already crumpled stack. His fingers were still trembling, and one corner of the paper slipped again, but he only gripped the folder tighter, not daring to bend down again.

"You alright?" Burns’ voice softened noticeably, though the usual formality still lingered, as if he already knew the answer.

"Yes, sir," Ethan nodded quickly, not lifting his gaze above the coordinator’s tie. "I… dropped them myself."

"Really?" Dylan snorted quietly somewhere to the side, but immediately fell silent when Burns shot him a short, cold look.

Meanwhile, Tyler already stood straight, hands in his pockets, as if the whole episode had nothing to do with him.

"You see?" he shrugged, his smile still light, almost lazy. "The guy said it himself."

Burns held his gaze on him for a second, then shifted it back to Ethan.

"Prescott, are you sure no one ‘helped’ you?"

Ethan hesitated. For a fraction of a second his gaze flicked up, to Tyler, to Jake, to Dylan, and then immediately back down to his own sneakers.

"No, sir."

A pause. Short, but noticeable, especially for Ethan.

"Alright," Burns finally said. "Then get yourself together and go to class. And you three," he sharply nodded toward Tyler and his group, "stay after the last class. This conversation isn’t over."

"Come on, Mr. Burns…" Jake started, but he didn’t even let him finish.

"After the bell, Cross. No discussion."

Ethan had already taken a step to the side, trying to get past them, but as he passed Tyler, he nearly brushed his shoulder and immediately recoiled as if burned.

"Hey, careful," Tyler said quietly, almost friendly, laughing, yet leaning slightly forward, forcing Ethan to stop for a fraction of a second longer than he wanted. "Don’t drop your music again."

Ethan just nodded, too quickly, too sharply, and hurried down the corridor, clutching the folder to his chest as if it could protect him at least from the stares he felt on his back even after he had turned the corner.

*Beep

The sound of a message distracted Tyler, and pulling out his phone, his eyes immediately stopped on one strange notification that wasn’t from Instagram or Snapchat. A gray rectangle without an app icon. The text read: "Taylor, don’t forget, rehearsal has been moved to 4:00 PM."

Taylor? Rehearsal? What kind of bullshit is that?

Tyler narrowed his eyes and tapped the message, and it instantly disappeared. The screen flickered for a second, and in the reflection he didn’t see his square jaw, thin lips, and high forehead, but a soft, unfamiliar, neat face with a slightly pointed chin, thin brows, and… eyes that were too big, frightened, looking at him as if they already knew what was about to happen.

He blinked, nearly dropping the phone, and when he opened his eyes again, he was looking at his usual reflection once more. He squinted again, as if checking.

"What’s with you?" Jake’s voice came.

"Nothing," Tyler answered immediately, shoving the phone into his pocket as he walked with his friends. "Just some glitch."

3

And everything was as usual. At least for the first ten steps. In those steps he was still walking like he always did. Like the owner of the entire campus. Like the one who decided people’s fates here and could get any girl he wanted. In one word, the king of the campus. Though no, king was too soft. Tyler. Tyler Morrison. Here, that name meant more than king.

"Hey, gu—"

Tyler started on the eleventh step, but didn’t finish, because suddenly he dropped. But it wasn’t exactly a fall, since he didn’t hit the ground, yet he noticed how the world around him suddenly became bigger. Much bigger.

"What the hell?!" he began, and immediately cut himself off when he heard that instead of his confident male voice, a high, thin, almost squeaky sound came out of his mouth, breaking at the end into a ridiculous tremble, as if he hadn’t cursed, but gotten scared.

He froze, suddenly clearly feeling tight bra straps pressing heavily into his shoulders, and the underwire supporting the noticeable weight of his breasts, digging into the soft, delicate skin under the black sweater.

Slowly. Very slowly he lowered his gaze and immediately lifted it back up.

"No… no-no-no…" he began whispering, realizing that what he had just seen on his body instead of his usual flat chest were two pronounced mounds pressing from the inside against the fabric of the sweater, pulling it down with their weight.

"Hey, what’s wrong with you?" Ethan’s voice came from somewhere above. Not from where Tyler was used to at all.

He lifted his gaze and ran straight into Ethan’s chest and automatically looked down again, and then, realizing he couldn’t stand the sight of his own breasts, looked up and froze even harder, his mouth slightly open.

Yes, it was the same Ethan. The same loser, nerd, freak, and weakling. But now he towered over him like an older, confident guy who instinctively shields someone weaker, and that “someone” had suddenly become him.

Ethan frowned slightly, noticing his look, and without asking stepped half a step closer, placing his hand on Tyler’s thin shoulder. His hand felt unexpectedly big and strong, and Tyler’s gaze involuntarily fixed on his palm gently but firmly gripping his shoulder.

"Are you… are you okay?" Ethan asked carefully, leaning a little lower and saying it softly, quietly, too gently.

Tyler wanted to snap back. Say something like "take your hands off," but instead his throat tightened and his lips trembled on their own.

"I… I…" his voice broke into a thin squeak, and he immediately fell silent, feeling heat flood his cheeks.

Ethan frowned a bit more and squeezed his shoulder more firmly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, to hold him in place.

"Taylor, hey…" he said quietly, tilting his head slightly, trying to catch his gaze. "Did you forget to eat again or what? You’re pale as hell."

Taylor?!

She suddenly snapped her gaze up at him, and in that moment the braces on her teeth painfully caught her lip as she tried to say something faster than she could think.

4

"I’m not… I just…" her voice trembled again, and she herself heard how stupid it sounded, weak, almost pleading.

She didn’t understand. Didn’t understand why she was so nervous. Why she couldn’t say something simple, sharp, familiar, the kind of thing that used to slip off her tongue without the slightest effort, but now instead something small and trembling just tightened in her chest, and her voice got stuck somewhere between fear and that strange feeling when from just his gaze she wanted… not to argue.

"I…" she swallowed, feeling the bra strap dig unpleasantly into her shoulder when she jerked slightly, trying to straighten up, but immediately caught herself hunching instead, as if trying to hide her breasts, "I’m fine…"

It came out so quiet and unconvincing that even she barely heard it.

Ethan immediately frowned more deeply and leaned a little closer, his hand not leaving her shoulder, but instead tightening slightly, holding her as if she might disappear at any moment.

"Are you sure?" he lowered his gaze to her face, and that look… not mocking, not cold, but attentive, caring, made something inside tighten unpleasantly, her heart beat faster, coloring her face even redder. "Taylor, you’re shaking again."

She jerked, trying to pull away from his touch, but instead only awkwardly stepped back, and at that moment her backpack slipped off her shoulder, tugging at her braid and painfully pulling at her scalp.

"Ow…" slipped out of her, too thin, too plaintive, and she immediately pressed her lips together, feeling the braces scrape the inside, adding yet another small, humiliating reminder.

Ethan immediately let go of her shoulder, but didn’t step back.

"Taylor, hey…" he reached out again, more carefully now, like to something fragile, "maybe you should see a doctor?"

A doctor?

Maybe. Maybe she really should. But what would she even tell that doctor? That just a few minutes ago she was a guy, the king of the campus, and now she looked like some scared girl who couldn’t even string a couple of words together without thinking about how and what to say “properly,” and who, apparently, was now in love with Ethan, but from admitting that to herself she was still thousands of kilometers away.

"I… no… I… why?! What the—" gathering the last of her will, she shouted, but immediately stopped when she saw people passing by throwing surprised looks at her.

'They think I’m weird! They think something’s wrong with me. Now they’ll start talking about me, saying I’m some kind of freak. I… I…'

The thoughts, at once new and yet so familiar, rushed through Taylor’s head, mixing with Tyler’s pride and some small, pulling feeling under her ribs that wouldn’t let her breathe properly or straighten up.

She needed to act. To understand what had happened. Why she had become like this, but… at the same time it all terrified her so much, and she so badly wanted someone to just hug her and calm her down, to say that everything was okay and she had nothing to worry about. But even that desire was now forbidden for the girl. She couldn’t and didn’t want to admit any of it. It was already too much.