Work Text:
Pico (3:17 PM) : hey im outside
You put down the phone with a sigh and turn your attention back to the mirror. Your reflection stares back, the stress apparent on its face. This will be the day you tell him. You have to eventually.
You adjust the binder slightly so it doesn’t pinch as hard and throw on your shirt and hoodie. You take a quick second to shake out the nerves before leaving your house to meet Pico.
He’s leaning against the fence, smoking and scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you walk down the steps and puts his phone away.
“Hey!” you say cheerfully, trying to disguise your nervousness.
He doesn’t seem to notice, snuffing out the cigarette with his foot and wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into a hug. “Hey, babe. Ready to go?”
You nod and he lets you go, turning to lead the way. The plan is to get takeout before going over to Pico’s place and watching a movie. You calculate in your brain what would be the best time in that plan to tell him, panicking when you realize there isn’t one. Mentally, you curse yourself to not just saying it when you started dating, instead keeping it a secret for so long.
You’ve been dating for around three months or so now. There have been countless times where you’ve almost slipped up about taking T, or mentioned how much your chest hurts from the binder, or even had to stop a steamy makeout session because you’re scared it’ll go further. He’s told you before that it’s not a big deal, but deep down you know he’s getting impatient.
You pick up some Chinese and head over to Pico’s apartment. He takes the food from you and puts it on the table, gesturing you over to sit with him on the couch.
“What do you wanna watch?” he asks as you sit down.
“Uhhhh, doesn’t matter to me, I guess.”
He hums and begins to browse through his movies. You nervously bunch up your hoodie. Is now the time? Or would it be better to just get through the date so he’ll be in a better mood? What will happen when you even tell him? Will he be upset? What if he-
“This okay?”
You jump, startled, before you remember where you are. You look over to Pico, who’s holding a movie you don’t recognize.
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You okay, man?”
You nod, cursing yourself mentally. Now he thinks you're weird. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Was too deep in thought.”
“Whatcha thinking about?”
You flush and shake your head. “Not important, don’t worry about it.”
Damn. That would’ve been the perfect time. Now it’ll be even worse when you do tell him…
You spend a majority of the movie fidgeting, which you’re certain Pico notices. He stays quiet, right up until near the end of the movie, when he throws his arm over you and pulls you to him. You shiver as he kisses behind your ear, an event which leads to an intense makeout session, movie long forgotten. He slides a hand from your back to your waistband-
You flinch and throw yourself away from him, immediately being filled with embarrassment. It’s not the first time it’s happened. You feel so stupid.
“Sorry, sorry!” he apologizes.
You barely even hear him, too caught up in your own self loathing. You fucking hate yourself, why is this so hard? Why did you have to be this way?
“Hey…”
You jump as you feel a hand touch your shoulder. Pico stares at you, eyes unreadable.
“Why are you crying?”
You give him a confused look before wiping at your eyes and realising you’ve actually been crying. You chuckle sadly.
“I don’t really fucking know. I’m a mess. This is...all messed up.”
“What’s messed up? I told you before, it’s fine if you don’t wanna do anything.”
You shake your head. “It’s so much more than that, Pico. You’ve got no clue.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything.”
Yes you do.
You take a deep breath.
“I’ve been lying to you.”
The moment the words leave your mouth, you feel like drowning yourself in a lake. This is not how this was supposed to go.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m-” You’re stopped by a gasping sob. You take a minute before trying again. “I-I’m not who y-you think I am!”
“You’re freaking me out, Keith.”
You laugh quietly, the situation almost seeming ridiculous to you. “I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
He doesn’t say anything, instead backing away from you a little bit. His hand stays on your shoulder, however.
You close your eyes, willing every ounce of courage you can muster, and finally whisper your confession.
“I’m trans.”
The silence that follows is louder than any crowded room you’ve ever been in. It’s suffocating, threatening. At any moment, the tension will snap, the pin will drop, the reality will set in. Every horrible possibility passes in your brain, making your thoughts even more jumbled than before. You worry that you’ll pass out.
Then, Pico laughs quietly.
You go red, embarrassment flooding your veins. You want to shrink into yourself and disappear. You open your eyes, but you don't dare to look at him. “What’s so fucking funny?”
“That’s it?”
You’re too stunned to reply at first, managing to look at Pico in confusion. “H-huh?”
He smiles at you, taking your hand in his. “You really think I would care about that kind of shit?”
“But, like, aren’t you uncomfortable?”
“Why would I be?”
You flush. “Well, I mean, you’re gay and I don’t...have those parts.”
He scoffs and moves his hand to your cheek, holding it gently. “You’re a guy, right?”
“P-Pico, I’ve got a-”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” he interrupts. “You’re a guy, yeah?”
“...yeah?”
“Then, I don’t see the problem here.”
Deep down, happiness begins to bubble up through the confusion. “I-I don’t…”
“Keith, baby,” he starts, gently pulling you in to hold you. “It doesn’t matter to me what parts you’ve got, okay? I mean, okay, yeah, you’re gonna have to teach me some things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. It doesn’t change a damn thing.”
You finally let what he’s saying click in your mind, and you’re now crying from pure happiness. You melt into him, letting him hold you as you cry it out. Never in any of the scenarios you had in your head about how this would go was him accepting you even an option. You’d prepared for the worst, even the worst of the worst. You hadn’t expected to be loved regardless.
“I love you…” you quietly whisper into his shirt.
He chuckles, petting your hair. “I love you too. You wanna watch another movie or something?”
You laugh and nod, leaning away from him enough to make eye contact. “Sure, sounds good.”
He leans in and kisses you softly. “Okay. Your food is getting cold too, I can go warm it up.”
“You don’t gotta do that.”
“Too late!” With that, he springs up from the couch and grabs your takeout box, carrying it into the kitchen.
You watch him walk away, still in awe of how well this went, of how free you feel, of how you feel so lucky to love someone like him. You’ve never imagined you could feel so warm and welcomed.
You finally relax, sinking into the couch as you wait for Pico to come back. This is probably the best date you’ve ever had.