My Son Likes To Crossdress?!

"Actually, Mom, you don't need to worry about the clothes. I do have some here for you." I suddenly snapped my fingers, as if a light bulb had gone off in my head. I then looked away with a slightly wary gaze and said, "It's just that it's been a long while since I've taken them out that I totally forgot they existed for a second."

"You do, Luca?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, wondering why exactly her son had women's clothes lying around.

Before she could press further, I walked over to the wardrobe, grabbed the handles, and swung the doors open with a flourish. 

The insides of the fancy cabinet revealed a neatly arranged array of women's clothes—soft sweaters, hoodies, sweatpants, even a couple of dresses, most of it all consisting of cosy casual wear one would wear around the house.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then my mother blinked, her mouth dropping open as she gazed at the unexpected surprise for her.

"What in the world...?" She took a step closer, her fingers grazing the fabrics like they might vanish if she touched them too hard. She then looked back at me and hesitantly asked, "Are you running a clothing store for women or something, Luca? Why do you have so many women's clothes that it almost looks like you have more of this than your own clothes?"

I smirked, bracing for the inevitable barrage of questions. But before I could answer, she suddenly froze, her eyes going wide. She whipped her head around to stare at me, horror creeping onto her face like she realised something terrifying.

"Wait." Her voice dropped an octave as she asked the question in her mind. "D-Did you possibly get a girlfriend, Luca?"

I barely had time to blink before her expression shifted. Shock melted into something sharper, something...possessive? 

Her brow also furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes flashed dangerously. It was the kind of look that could make even the bravest man sweat.

"Be honest with me, Luca." She demanded, her voice cold and demanding. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

I opened my mouth, but the words stuck in my throat. 

'Was that possibly jealousy I saw in her eyes?' Her cheeks flushed as she glared at me, the intensity of her stare almost comical.

"Well?!" She pressed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You better not be sneaking around behind my back with some random girl you probably met in a ditch."

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to laugh at how absurd this was...Here I was, a grown man, being interrogated by my mother like I was some kid caught with contraband.

"Mom, seriously—"

She cut me off with a huff, her foot tapping against the floor. 

"I knew it." She turned back to the wardrobe, scowling at the clothes like they had personally offended her. "You're actually spending all your time on some girl who's probably using you, seeing as you bought her so many clothes when you can't even bother to answer my messages."

I sighed, running a hand down my face...Yup. This was going to be a long night.

But I also couldn't help the smile that formed at my lips. So, instead of answering directly, I tilted my head and asked, 

"You know, Mom, whether I have a girlfriend or not isn't the big issue here...I'm more interested in why you sound borderline jealous about it?" 

'Could it be…?' I let the thought hang in the air, a mischievous glint in my eyes. 

But unfortunately for me, her face scrunched up in a mix of irritation and disbelief. 

"Oh, please." She shot back, waving a hand dismissively as if to swat away my ridiculous idea. "Of course I'd be jealous! What kind of mother wouldn't be, when some random girl gets to spend time with her son while she barely gets a reply to her messages?" Her voice sharpened with righteous indignation. "Which mother in the world would be happy about some girl stealing her beloved son away?"

She let out a dramatic huff, her lips pursed and her eyes blazing like she was ready to square up and fight this imaginary girl. The sheer intensity of her protectiveness was both hilarious and…well, oddly heartwarming.

I sighed, shaking my head as a half-smile crept onto my face...Of course she didn't have feelings for me in that way. It was just my mom being my mom—overbearing, dramatic, and completely unwilling to let go of her son.

As she muttered under her breath, probably plotting the demise of this hypothetical girlfriend, I rubbed my temples and stifled a laugh. 

"You know, Mom, you make it sound like I'm some prize to be won."

"That's because you are, Luca...A prize so priceless that no one else deserves to hold it in their hands other than me and your mothers, because you're so precious." She shot me a glare, but her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. 

"Well, lucky for you, Mom, I don't have a girlfriend at the moment, and I don't really feel like looking for one soon." I sighed as I thought of how possessive my mother was while crossing my arms with a smirk. 

My mother's shoulders dropped, and she let out a dramatic sigh of relief, clutching her chest as if she'd just dodged a mortal blow. 

"Thank goodness. My son is still my son...She hasn't been stolen away by some vixen yet." She murmured, as though reassuring herself. 

Her beautiful purple eyes twinkled with satisfaction, like she'd just reclaimed some kind of territory, which looked rather adorable.

But then her gaze drifted back to the open wardrobe full of women's clothes. Her brow furrowed, curiosity bubbling to the surface. 

"Wait a minute." She said slowly, her eyes narrowing. "If you don't have a girlfriend…Then why do you have so many women's clothes?" She looked at me, suspicion creeping back in.

I opened my mouth to explain, but before a single word could escape, she let out another exaggerated gasp, her hand flying to her mouth like she'd just uncovered the secret of the universe. Her eyes went wide, glimmering with both shock and reluctant realisation.

"Oh my god!" She shouted in lowercase. "Luca…D-Do you...Do you...Do you possibly have a hobby of dressing up like a girl?...L-Like the ones they call crossdressers or something?!"

"What?! No!" I blinked in shock at her absurd theory.

But she didn't seem to hear my denial. And for some reason her expression softened into that tender, motherly gaze she reserved for when I fell off my bike as a kid. 

"Sweetie, listen." She said gently, stepping closer like I was some sort of pitiful person. "No matter what strange hobby you have, I and the rest of your mothers will always love and accept you...You could wear frilly skirts or high heels, and you'd still be our son."

"Mom, seriously, it's not—" My jaw dropped.

She held up a finger, cutting me off. Her eyes shimmered, and her lips curled into a sly smile. 

"And honestly, you'd probably look adorable in these clothes." She teased, a mischievous glint replacing her shock. 

Her gaze flicked back to the wardrobe, and for a terrifying second, it looked like she was genuinely considering picking out an outfit. 

"I bet a cute little dress would really bring out your eyes...Oh! Maybe a ribbon in your hair!" She chirped like a mother going shopping with her daughter.

"Mom, please, I am not putting on a dress." I groaned, running a hand through my hair in exasperation. 

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, clearly ignoring me. "Maybe I should get my phone ready...A few pictures wouldn't hurt. The other girls will probably kill me if they knew I got to see such a lucky sight and I didn't even take a few photos of our adorable son in frilly clothes to show them." Her eyes sparkled with a dangerous excitement.

"Don't even think about it...Even if I did wear a dress, there's no way I'm going to allow you to take pictures, as I know you and everyone else will put it as your profile picture just to humiliate me." I took a step back, holding up my hands defensively so that I could avoid some trauma.

She pouted, crossing her arms. 

"Fine, fine, Luca...You're such a shy boy, you know that." She said with a dramatic sigh, though the sly smile curling her lips told me she wasn't about to let this go even. "But just so you know, if you ever do decide to try on one of these outfits, I'm here to help...No judgement at all."

She finished with a playful smile on her face that made me let out a deep sigh at how troublesome of a mother I had.