Adan

"I'm home!"
"Hi, baby! I made cookies!"
"Thanks Mom," Adan said, taking off his shoes and going into the kitchen.
"Oh, how's my sweet little girl?" his mom asked. She walked up to Adan and hugged him closely, ruffling his hair.
"I'm not little, Mom," Adan protested, pretending that that was the only part of the statement that troubled him.
"You'll always be my baby!" Adan's mom argued. "You're hair's so pretty today! What'd you do? New shampoo?"
"Yeah," Adan answered. "...I was thinking of cutting my hair actually."
"No! No, it's so pretty!"
"But--"
"No buts!" she interrupted. "You may be my little tom-boy but you still want to be pretty don't you? Don't you want the boys to like you?"
"Yes," Adan said with feeling. "I really do."
"Then don't cut your hair!"
"...Some boys like short hair," Adan disagreed.
"Only the gay ones!"
"...Exactly...."
"What was that, baby?"
"Nothing Mom. I'm going to my room. To do homework."
"Alright. Bye!"
"Bye...."
Adan headed down the hall towards the stairs, grabbing his backpack. After all, he needed to use it as a prop to promote his 'doing homework' lie. His house was old and the stairs creaked as he ran up them. He hurried down the white-walled hallway that lead to his room. The walls were lined with pictures of him and his relatives. Graduations, winning awards, Her first hair cut, his first day of school...he wondered if there would ever be a milestone that wouldn't be cemented on the wall. He realized there would only be one such milestone. The day he finally looked like a boy. His mother wouldn't want to remember that.
Adan reached his room and locked the door behind him. He stopped, breathed, and sank to the floor. His room had dark green walls, though they were barely visible over his metal posters. All of his furniture was an unpainted wood of some kind, though the kinds varied from item to item. The floor was covered in mounds of his clothing and the closet was full of Hers. He never opened the closet.
This room was his room. His oasis. His home. Everything in it was his. Everything in the closet was Hers. Everything was as it should be. Outside of the room he and Her seemed to be vaguer and vaguer concepts. He liked to think of the outside world as Bizaro World. This room was the real world. Everything else was backwards.