Work Text:
Blue
Jimin knows what this is. His heart tries to deny it, but his stomach is rolling as he clenches the incriminating piece of fabric in his hand. it's white and pink and polka-dotted, and all together too cute to hold such a dark weight. He tries to ward off the impending thoughts but they twist and squeeze his mind like a python, whispering painful words and ideas, drawing up recent memories. He recalls Yoongi pushing him away when his hands would wander, when Yoongi would disappear at night under the guise of work, the time Jimin went looking for him at the studio but found it locked and dark.
Jimin shoves the bra back under the bed and rushes out. The truth begs him to bring it up to Yoongi, but he can't, not yet. He needs more time, he needs to collect his thoughts. The wound is too fresh right now, an aching gash that oozes and festers the longer its left unattended.
Tomorrow, he tells himself.
Tomorrow.
True
It's too early to be spilling secrets, but it'll be too late if she doesn't say anything now. Jimin stares Yoongi down, eyes burning with pain and betrayal. A pink and white bra that Jimin had fled from the room to retrieve lays limply in his clenched hands, knuckles turning white.
“Is this is then.” Jimin’s vice shakes, eyes rimmed red. “Is this why you’ve been pushing me away, lying to me?” Jimin’s questions throw themselves at Yoongi’s face like a slap. Yoongi’s throat goes dry.
Yes.
And no.
Yoongi’s fingers tug at the edge of her sweatshirt sleeves, desperate for something to ground her. The feeling of soft fabric across her palm and under her nails does little to calm her though, and she can feel her thoughts spiralling further and further from her control.
It’d be so easy to lie. To tell Jimin his suspicions are right. To say, ‘yes, I’m cheating.’
But his suspicions aren’t right, and the truth is even scarier.
Jimin is still staring her down, stance stiff and angry, but eyes begging for an answer.
Yoongi swallows hard. She can do this. She can tell Jimin. She isn’t ready to do this, but she needs to. She needs to say this.
“I-” her words catch on the lump on her throat, choking her. Jimin waits.
“I’m a girl.” Yoongi breathes. “The bra is mine.”
You
“Yoonji, come on, we’re gonna be late.”
Yoonji swears and adjusts the skirt of her dress, sparing one last glance in the mirror before she leaves. It’s a reflection she’s become more accustomed to, but it still sends a thrill of happiness through her when she catches a glance.
In four months, her hair has managed to grow just past her chin, a short bob for which she has acquired endless clips ranging from butterflies to skulls. It’s curled for the occasion, held back with simple sparkly clips that match the slight glitter on her short, black dress. It clings to her in a way that gently reveals the curves she’s just starting to get.
“You look beautiful.” Jimin says from the doorway, voice hushed. When Yoonji glance over her shoulder, their eyes meet and a crooked smile lights up Jimin’s features.as she walks towards him. Ignoring the way the statement makes tears prick at the corners of her eyes, Yoonji leans in to press a soft kiss to Jimin’s lips.
In the long list of scenarios that had a run through Yoonji’s mind when she first came out as trans, Jimin, dressed to the nines for a Christmas party, Jimin on her arm, out and proud, wasn't even a fantasy. But Jimin had cried, first in happiness, second for Yoonji, and done his best since to help her. Four months ago, Yoonji had expected to be broken up with and kicked out. Four months ago Jimin had expected to lose his boyfriend to some girl, and instead he'd discovered the truth of his beautiful girlfriend. And as they walk into the Christmas party and are greeted by their friends, watching them coo over how beautiful Yoonji is, he can't imagine living any other way.