Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Quite prematurely, Dream believed his gender identity had solidified. Once he decided to use he/him and they/them pronouns, he expected to feel comfortable from then on. However, this did not happen.

Late in the evening, Dream submerged themself in a monumental cleaning task. Files cluttered their computer, creating a disorganized mess of icons on their desktop. Fortunately sorting files into new folders became much less boring with the addition of music.

As a certified Swiftie, Dream played the entire “Lover” album by Taylor Swift through his headphones. Completing each song allowed him to keep track of time, for listening to the album from beginning-to-end required about one hour.

Lounging in his swiveling office chair, Dream rested both heels upon his office-bedroom’s carpeted floor as bright light from the computer’s monitor soaked his front.

Taylor Swift’s song “The Man” played. Dream did not anticipate this would be the song whose notes would soak through the filters they unwittingly wore in their ears. Nodding along with the song’s fast beat, they hummed notes to themself. Internally they sang lyrics about how success became more difficult to obtain when one was not a man. With a small smile, they considered that the song - perhaps unintentionally - left room for non-binary listeners like them to agree.

Despite Dream’s affinity for they/them pronouns, the public assumed he was a man. No one beyond the Internet had ever explicitly asked Dream himself what he was. Sure, Dream was male, but did his short hair, broad shoulders, and mountainous height really make him a man? What would he consider himself?

Closing the desktop files they sorted through, Dream drifted to the YouTube tab on which they played the Taylor Swift album. Pausing the song, they hauled themself to sit upright in their office chair. All thoughts of cleaning the hard drive exited their mind; completing the task could wait until another day.

Dream never anticipated that his admiration for Taylor Swift’s music would lead to a shift in his gender identity, but now he could not stop thinking about being a man… or not being a man at all.

Questions swirled within Dream’s head, producing a cacophony of unnerving thoughts. Why did the question of gender confuse him so much? Why did he not like the answers he received from himself?

Determined to uncover an explanation, Dream opened the Internet’s search engine and clicked on the search bar. He blinked, watching the cursor’s patient flickering as it waited for his question.

First Dream’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. Breaking the silence which soaked their office-bedroom, they typed, “what are my pronouns” then clicked Search.

Faintly Dream reminded themself that this was the wrong question to enter. Regarding gender identity, the Internet could only provide research data, guidance, and suggestions. The Internet could not provide solid instructions for gender identification or gender expression; Dream would have to figure those out on their own.

As expected, the first results from the search engine offered a variety of pronouns and explanations of their meanings. However, none of the results provided a concrete answer of what Dream was.

Frustrated, Dream closed the tab, then stared at the page which appeared in its place: the paused video for “The Man” by Taylor Swift. Staring at the cover of Taylor Swift’s “Lover” album, Dream observed the popular singer’s pastel-blue outfit and light makeup. Absently he looked down at his own clothing: a blue t-shirt and Oklahoma Sooners sweatpants. Neither outfit appeared absurdly masculine nor feminine.

Humming to himself, Dream dwelled upon how he related to Taylor Swift’s music. He identified with some elements of the struggles which she faced as a woman. He enjoyed her songs which mentioned wearing lacy dresses, rose-red lipstick, and flower crowns. Maybe he also sang her lyrics a little too enthusiastically for someone who was completely a man.

When they considered their gender identity and gender expression further, Dream learned they did not completely despise the idea of presenting themself in a feminine way. Dream never engaged in activities which were stereotypically feminine - knitting, dress-making, or baking - but those activities were, well, stereotypes. Stereotypes were inaccurate representations of reality. Stereotypes were assumptions made by those who refused to comprehend the world’s complexities. Dream did not fit the stereotypical image of a woman, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be one… right?

Abruptly Dream realized that his path of thinking had led him back to a precarious place of uncertainty within himself.

Lowering their head into their hands, Dream ran fingers through their fluffy hair as they faced an inevitable conclusion: their journey of self-discovery had not yet ended. Perhaps more than two sets of pronouns - he/him and they/them - could apply to themself. Cynically they mused upon the American saying, “When it rains, it pours”, signifying that once one event occurs, similar and more severe events are bound to follow.

Hiding his eyes from the computer monitor’s bright light, Dream tried to embrace his confusion. Under his breath, he recited an experimental sentence. Speaking quietly from a third person point of view, he described himself as a narrator would.

“Wow, he is handsome.” He hesitated; except for the quietly whirring blades of a bedside fan, the room produced only silence. When Dream felt no discomfort, he tried another version of the same sentence.

“Wow, they are beautiful.” Again, no protest from their gender identity. As expected, he/him and they/them pronouns still fit them.

Preparing themself for trying a new pronoun, Dream finished the series with a low mutter: “Wow, she is gorgeous.”

Dream’s belly churned as she - she? - experienced a wave of unforeseen euphoria. She/her pronouns worked, too.

Dream’s heart pounded within her chest. She lowered both trembling hands to rest upon the desk surface. Her hands were large and her fingers were thick: they did not resemble the dainty hands of a lovely young woman. Instantly Dream’s mind began to propose solutions, battling the despairing idea that she could not qualify as feminine. Maybe painting her nails would help? Maybe a moisturizing hand cream would make her skin more supple?

Stunned, Dream realized he relished the idea that, with some extra effort, he could appear androgynous enough so people in public would ask for his pronouns. A sudden determination to fulfill this task overwhelmed him.

Restlessly Dream stood from her swiveling office chair, stretched her arms and legs after a long period of sitting, and turned off her computer. Initially her heart sank as she checked the time on her smartphone and realized 9:47pm might be too late to leave the house. What kind of location which sold - feminine things? - would be open right now?

Ultimately the image of a nearby shopping mall entered Dream’s mind. Located one mile from his and Sapnap’s shared house, the shopping mall offered plenty of options for late-night shopping.

Crossing the darkened house by the light of their smartphone, Dream advanced down the hallway toward his housemate Sapnap’s bedroom. After a long day of live-streaming and editing a video which probably wouldn’t appear on YouTube for another two months, Sapnap left his door ajar. When Dream peeked into the room, they observed a blanket-covered lump in their childhood friend’s bed. Slow, steady breathing reverberated through the still air.

Lifting their smartphone, Dream messaged Sapnap’s contact: Hey Sap, you’re asleep now, but just in case you wake up and I’m not here, I went out shopping at the mall. I’ll be home soon! :)

Dream waited for a faint vibration from where Sapnap’s smartphone charged on his bedside table, then she turned away. Relieved that she did not have to explain her sudden outing to a shopping mall at nearly 10:00pm, Dream took advantage of the opportunity and hastily prepared to leave the house.

Donning three disposable blue face masks and borrowing a lid hat from Sapnap’s doorside collection, Dream hurried out the front door and locked it behind himself. Inhaling humid night air, he climbed into the Lamborghini which Sapnap won from a Mr. Beast challenge video; luckily Sapnap would not mind if Dream used it.

Seating himself in the driver’s seat and closing the door, Dream stared at the dashboard and ignition. Really he had no plan beyond simply travelling to the mall; I’ll know what I’m looking for once I find it, he promised himself. Gritting his teeth, he turned the car key. The Lamborghini’s engine powered to life, ready to take its driver wherever his heart yearned to travel.

Navigating through late-night streets to the shopping mall, Dream pulled the car into a half-deserted parking lot. Selecting a spot beneath a lamp post near the mall’s main entrance, Dream emerged and searched his surroundings. Except for a disgruntled person smoking cigarettes several meters away and an elderly couple walking their dog, the dim parking lot appeared empty. Relieved, Dream locked the car, pocketed his keys, and approached the massive building.

Moths lingered near light bulbs which glowed high above the entrance. Insects clung to grimy sliding glass doors, then fluttered away when the doors opened for their newest visitor.

Squinting, Dream surveyed the shopping mall’s bright interior. Their caution ebbed when they observed a dwindling population of people milling around. Dream strolled across the shopping mall’s shiny white-tiled floors at a determined pace. Curiously they glanced up at the glowing signs of every cafe and clothing outlet until they stumbled upon a fashion store.

Like she predicted, Dream halted in her tracks once she knew she had found something.

A gust of air conditioning wafted from the fashion store’s entrance. Pop music played too loudly on overhead speakers as Dream intertwined his fingers nervously before himself and entered. Studying intricate displays of perfume, accessories, bath products, and makeup, he felt surprisingly self-conscious even with no one else around.

“Need help finding anything?” From the far end of the fashion store, the single other resident - a young cashier - flashed a polite smile from behind their own face mask.

Although Dream wished to respond that yes, he definitely required emotional support and in-depth advice, he knew the cashier would be unable to help with his personal problems. Instead he responded, “I think I’m okay. Just… what would you say are the most standard, uh, makeup products?”

“Do you mean products that are the most commonly bought?” Skirting the register, the cashier trotted closer so they would not need to call across the store. Sidling up beside Dream - luckily too far to observe his facial features closely - they recommended, “If you want to build an easy, quick, neutral look, then I would recommend starting with an eyebrow pencil, mascara, and lip gloss.” As they described each item, they gestured to a different area of the store’s makeup selection.

Feeling overwhelmed with the information, Dream acknowledged gratefully, “Okay, I’ll take a look. Thank you.”

“Anytime!” The cashier nodded before returning to the register.

With the pressure of someone watching and waiting for him, Dream chose the first mascara, eyebrow pencil, and lip gloss that he found. Gathering the three makeup items, Dream approached the register and dumped his purchases upon the counter.

“Your girlfriend had a fashion emergency, huh?” The cashier joked light-heartedly as they scanned each item.

First Dream considered chuckling softly in agreement, then she realized that coming out to a complete stranger - someone Dream would never see again in her entire life - seemed less daunting than revealing the truth to a close friend. Impulsively she blurted, “Actually they’re for me.”

“Oh, cool.”

No backhanded compliments, no sour expression, no prejudice… only mild surprise, then acceptance from the fashion store’s cashier.

After paying for the makeup and clutching the products in one hand, Dream left the cashier to finish their shift in peace before she hurried from the fashion store with a giddy smile. She dumped the items into the pockets of her cargo pants, then strode from the shopping mall back to the parking lot.

Despite the humidity and buzzing insects outside, Dream felt rejuvenated as they breathed clean nighttime air. A smile glowed upon their face as they entered Sapnap’s Lamborghini car and drove home, eager to try on makeup for the first time in their new life.

If she could see him now, Taylor Swift would surely be proud.

Chapter Text

Too late, Dream realized the impulsivity of his decision. Upon returning to his shared house with Sapnap at 10:27pm, he turned off the Lamborghini’s engine and stared into the bag of makeup products from the shopping mall. Blinking in the dim light, he learned that buying feminine items was the easy part; actually incorporating them into his life would be the challenge. Unless nail polish counted, Dream had never worn makeup before.

Leaving the Lamborghini behind, Dream hurried to unlock the front door. To their surprise, when they shoved open the polished wood with one hand, the lights within the house were already on. Sapnap must have woken up; Dream hoped he had not been awake long enough to keep track of how long they had been gone.

Quietly Dream allowed the front door to click shut behind herself. Clearing her throat, she stepped carefully upon the hardwood to avoid creaky floorboards. She clutched her plastic bag’s handles tightly until she entered the kitchen and stumbled upon her groggy roommate.

“Dream?” Sitting on a stool beside the kitchen counter, Sapnap lifted his head from staring at his smartphone. Frowning with confusion, the tired man squinted. “You’re still dressed. Did you go out somewhere?”

“Shopping,” Dream replied, nervously shifting his feet. Purposely changing the subject, he remarked, “I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Sapnap shrugged. Losing interest in the conversation, he crossed his forearms upon the kitchen counter and rested his chin upon them. “I’ll go back to bed soon.”

“Okay then. Sleep well.” Eager to recede to their room, Dream exited the kitchen with a silent sigh of relief.

After placing the bag of makeup products upon his office-bedroom’s desk, Dream hurried to the restroom to wash his hands. While lathering soap upon his fingers, he hummed quietly, then observed his appearance in the mirror. He had not shaved in several days; light stubble grew upon his jawline. Conflicted, he debated whether to shave again or let the facial hair grow out. It’s not like anyone is going to see it, he mused to himself. However, he also realized he might have to reckon with not only makeup, but also with his entire physical appearance.

Turning off the sink, Dream dried her hands and glanced over her shoulder again. Even without the restroom light, she discerned the masculinity of her features. She worried that even if she wore a full face of makeup, she could never truly hide her body. Should she even hide her body at all?

Dream returned to their office-bedroom with confliction weighing heavily in their belly. They viewed the plastic bag full of makeup products with a strange disdain, even though these were exactly the products which the fashion store’s cashier recommended. Unloading the bag, Dream arranged the makeup containers in a row upon their desk. They wished to try it at least once. Powering on their computer, they typed into their search engine: what order to put on makeup.

Resisting the growing urge to sleep as the clock advanced toward 11:00pm, Dream researched makeup application techniques. Every few minutes, he scooted his swiveling office chair toward the full-length mirror upon his wall to apply a little more eyebrow pencil, mascara, and lip gloss.

Constructing a full face of makeup would create too much stress for a first-timer like them, yet by the end of the process, they almost wished they bought more from the fashion store. Dream fell in love with the quiet determination and focus which accompanied makeup application. They admired the skill required to create such delicate artwork upon their face.

Once Dream finished the look, she stood from her desk chair and stretched. Within seconds of breaking focus, her head began to pound with exhaustion. First she glanced at the clock, which read 10:58pm, then she glanced toward the closed door. Over twenty minutes had passed; could Sapnap still be awake? If so, should Dream keep her secret until later or reveal herself to her roommate now?

Stepping into the hallway, Dream glanced toward Sapnap’s bedroom; from this angle, he saw an open door and a dark room. In the other direction, a shaft of light still streamed from the kitchen.

With a dry throat, Dream crept down the hallway until a faint whirring noise reached their ears. They halted at the linoleum floor’s edge.

In one hand, Sapnap held his smartphone. With the other hand, he held the microwave handle as the machine cooked something.

Despite the years of friendship she shared with Sapnap, Dream swallowed and her heart pounded. How would he react? Would he suspect her new pronouns right away, or would he assume that Dream had simply entered a makeup phase? Would it really be bad if this were just a phase?

Without looking at Dream, Sapnap left the microwave and rummaged through the utensil drawer. He admitted sheepishly, “Okay, so, yeah, I lied. I didn’t go back to sleep.” Dream’s anticipation built as Sapnap turned, but again, he did not look at his roommate. Instead he continued to focus on the microwave as it heated what smelled like a frozen burrito. “I’m making junk food, too, so you can laugh at me all you want, but let me just say, I don’t give a -” Finally Sapnap looked at Dream. He trailed off. Except for the microwave’s low hum, silence drenched the kitchen.

“Yes?” Dream implored shyly. “Please continue.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, right.” Sapnap struggled to resume his sentence. “I felt hungry.”

“That’s okay,” Dream accepted. Dread still overshadowed her thoughts. “I haven’t eaten in a while myself. Would you mind if we split the food?”

“I wouldn’t mind, but, um…” Sapnap gestured to his own face, making a circular motion. “Dream, your face - you look, um… different.”

“Different in a bad way?” Dream fiddled with his shirt collar.

“No, of course not!” Sapnap refuted immediately. Hastily he explained, “I’m super tired and I just didn’t expect to turn around and see you with makeup. You don’t look bad at all.” Blue eyes shone with care as he asked, “Is there a reason you wore makeup?”

Dream expected to open her mouth and provide a lengthy explanation. She expected to convey her entire thought process in a well-defined story. Instead she blurted only, “She/her pronouns work, too.”

There it was.

The microwave stopped humming; it beeped, signifying the burrito inside was fully heated. Sapnap did not turn to look at it.

“Wow, that’s… really cool, Dream.” Holding his childhood friend’s gaze, he murmured, “Thanks for telling me. I wouldn’t have wanted you to keep that to yourself. It’s a part of you.” He flashed a supportive grin, then winked. “You look stunning, by the way.”

“Thank you, Sapnap.” Dream’s knees weakened with relief.

The kitchen felt warm and cozy beneath a single yellowish light as Sapnap stepped forward. Best friends wrapped arms around each other in a tight hug, brimming with admiration and approval.

When the pair pulled apart, Sapnap slapped his taller friend’s shoulder blade. “So what’s your plan for what to do next?” Then, suppressing a yawn, he answered his own question. “Okay, you know what? Whatever you were going to say, hold that thought.” Turning away from Dream, he opened the microwave. Scents of beans and cheese filled the stuffy air. “First we’ve got to eat this burrito, then sleep.”

In the morning, a new determination fueled Dream’s soul. Today he would tell George about his new pronouns.

When Dream’s head lifted from their pillow, a stained pillowcase revealed they forgot to remove their makeup before collapsing onto the bed last night. Wincing, Dream stripped the fabric from the pillow and tossed it into their laundry basket.

In the shower, Dream used facial soap to rinse makeup residue from her eyebrows, eyelashes, and lips. Once she dried herself off with a fluffy white towel, she brushed her damp hair before recreating the same makeup look upon a clean face. To Dream’s delight, she showed signs of improvement when she applied the eyebrow pencil, mascara, and lip gloss more neatly and more quickly than the first time.

Sapnap did not comment on the comical manner in which Dream ate breakfast at the kitchen counter, gingerly placing chunks of food deeper than necessary into his mouth to avoid smearing his lip gloss. Sapnap laughed when a piece of egg fell off Dream’s fork and squished upon the floor; after a moment of despair for the poor egg, Dream grinned, too.

After breakfast, Dream returned to their office-bedroom and opened the curtains. Streams of golden sunlight gave the room a warm glow which contrasted against the growing nerves in Dream’s belly.

Slowly swiveling her black office chair in a slow circle, Dream stared at the Discord page on her computer monitor. George’s contact occupied the entire page, yet she procrastinated to call him. Eventually she gathered the courage to send a video-chat request.

Initially Dream considered speaking to George only with audio, but he knew if he did not show George his makeup now, he might lose his bravado for the future. While he waited for George to answer the call, Dream plugged in his facecam and reluctantly turned it on. George wouldn’t make fun of me, he reminded himself.

After several rings, George logged onto Discord and answered Dream’s video-chat request. Color bloomed on both Dream’s computer screen and their cheeks.

Simultaneously both friends saw each other. Under other circumstances, Dream and George might have greeted each other with snarky hellos, backhanded compliments, or playful banter, but none of those occurred this time. Instead, when Dream’s flashing icon transitioned to his face, George knew immediately that this would be a serious conversation.

“Hi, George,” Dream greeted quietly. Not only did he show his face - a rare act for him - but he wore makeup, too.

George noticed immediately; he blinked with surprise. Deep umber eyes fixed upon the screen. Dream’s friend appeared momentarily stunned before he returned the greeting, “Hello, Dream, what’s going on?”

“I’m alright,” Dream nodded. “I slept well last night, so I feel okay.”

“That’s great, but…” George hesitated. Searching the video before him, he motioned toward his own face with a finger. “I see you have, uh…”

“Makeup?” Dream supplied helpfully. “Yeah, I do.” Clearing their throat and rubbing sweaty palms together beneath their desk, they explained, “Also, I just wanted to tell you…” Their voice cracked. “I’ll be using she/her pronouns, too.”

Dream’s breath hitched as she anticipated her close friend’s reaction. George would never openly mock Dream for her gender, yet she couldn’t help but regret coming out as he processed the information. She didn’t want to cause complications by continually adopting new pronouns; what if people secretly thought she only did it for attention?

“Alright, that’s good to know.” Interrupting his friend’s descent into anxiety, George’s response seemed nearly casual. George was never really the mushy type; Dream knew his nonchalance meant acceptance. Sensing his friend’s sensitivity, George complimented, “You look great, too.”

“Thank you.” Like Taylor Swift's song, Dream felt delicate.

Rubbing his neck with visible uncertainty, George added, “Dream, you know I don’t have much experience with these things since I’m not non-binary, but, um, if your pronouns ever change or anything, don’t be afraid to let me know. If I call you by the wrong pronouns at any time, you can correct me.”

“Okay, I'm glad because...” Dream trailed off. Stressed, she kneaded her fingers together before inhaling a deep, calming breath. “I was just, you know, worried…”

“Why?” Confused, George tilted his head.

“I mean, I came out to you about my they/them pronouns only, like, a couple of months ago. I didn’t want to annoy anyone by changing them again.”

“Dream, even though literally everything else you do annoys me, changing your pronouns is not bothersome at all.” George’s retort was light-hearted. “And if anyone does call your pronouns annoying, send them to me. I’ll handle it.”

“Oh yeah?” Dream raised a teasing eyebrow. “What would you do if someone misgendered me? Bite them?”

Completely straight-faced, George answered promptly, “I would make a TikTok diss track.”

Nearly laughing, Dream rolled their eyes. “Sure you would make a diss track. I’ll count twenty minutes before TikTok takes it down for ‘inciting hostility’ or something like that.”

“That just means the diss track would be so diabolical that even TikTok couldn’t handle it.”

“Alright then, what if the diss track doesn’t work?”

“The TikTok diss track is only Plan A,” George shrugged. “Plan B is that if someone insults your pronouns, you should marry one of their parents. You’ll become their new step-parent and they’ll have to respect you. Problem solved!”

Like every other conversation they exchanged, Dream and George’s discussion spiraled into a battle of wits, trivial disputes, and outrageous dares. Bursting with validation from George’s acceptance of her gender identity and pronouns, Dream wouldn’t have wanted anything else.

Chapter Text

While Dream was still giddy about coming out to his close friends, Sapnap and George collaborated undercover. They planned to buy new feminine clothing for their friend to accompany his makeup.

Sapnap infiltrated Dream’s office-bedroom and closet with the excuse that he was “looking for something.” Glancing over one shoulder, Dream simply shrugged before returning their attention to their computer. Carefully Sapnap pulled a ruler from his hoodie’s front pocket, then measured the waist and height of Dream’s shirts. In Dream’s wooden dresser, he measured the inseam and length of his friend’s jeans as well. Memorizing the numbers, he hurried from his friend’s office-bedroom to browse for dresses online. Finding a dress which fit a broad-shouldered six-foot-three-inch male body proved to be a challenge, but eventually Sapnap ordered the perfect outfit.

George’s task was much easier. From his distance in the United Kingdom, he could not measure Dream’s clothing, so his assignment was to buy a pair of high heels. He faced a similar challenge of finding US men’s size-14 (31cm) high heel shoes, but again, the Internet is full of surprises.

Within two weeks, both the dress and high heels arrived at Dream and Sapnap’s house in unmarked cardboard boxes. When he received an email notification that the packages arrived, Sapnap raced to the front door and hauled them inside before Dream could notice.

“Need any help?” The friend in question asked curiously as Sapnap passed her room with the boxes.

“I’m good, but thank you!” Politely dismissing her offer, Sapnap crossed the hallway, entered his own office-bedroom, and placed both boxes upon his desk. Opening his smartphone’s messaging application, he texted George, Commence Part 2 of Operation Feminization.

George responded with a bewildered, What???

Rolling his eyes, Sapnap specified, The dress and heels are here. I have them in my room. Dream hasn’t seen them yet.

Catching on, George resolved, I’ll be ready in 30 minutes.

With the plan’s setup complete, Sapnap powered off his phone and quietly opened the packages with a pair of heavy-duty scissors. Removing the high heels from the shoebox and the dress from its plastic packaging, he placed the items into a decorated gift bag.

When George texted Sapnap that he was ready for gift-giving, Sapnap logged onto his computer’s Discord application and opened a voice-call between himself and George. He disconnected his headphones, maximized the window which showed George’s face from the UK, and pressed a finger to his lips to signal for silence. Clearing his throat, Sapnap turned in his swiveling chair and called loudly, “Hey, Dream, get over here!”

“Why?” Dream’s reply reverberated through the house. When Sapnap purposely did not answer, he heard a grumbling sigh, then footsteps. Entering Sapnap’s open doorway, Dream complained, “I’m still editing -” Their voice trailed off once they spotted George patiently waiting on the computer screen. Dream’s annoyance faded into apprehension. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” George affirmed with an expectant smile. When Dream remained still, he encouraged, “Why don’t you step over here? I can’t see you.”

Slightly unnerved, Dream stepped forward into the camera’s view. She raised a questioning eyebrow toward Sapnap.

“Now, you might be wondering why we called you here, Dream.” Sapnap gestured to the decorated gift bag resting on his desk. “We wanted to express how proud we are of you.”

“We bought you some presents,” George added.

“You bought presents for me?” Dream’s teal eyes widened with wonder. Gingerly she leaned forward to peer into the bag.

Usually Dream was the member of the team who showered the other two with gifts, so Sapnap and George knew that she was long overdue to receive presents for herself. They watched with bated breaths as Dream reached into the bag. When her hand re-emerged, clutching the dress, Sapnap and George exclaimed simultaneously, “Surprise!”

“Is it a -?” Dream’s question halted when the long, flowing green fabric unfurled. He gasped, stretched the dress by its shoulders, then erupted with joy. “What? Oh my god, is this my size?”

“You bet it is,” Sapnap confirmed with a proud smile. He could not say any more because after his final words, his friend slammed into him.

“I love it!” Squeezing Sapnap against themself in an incredibly forceful hug, Dream bounced with ecstatic celebration.

When Sapnap needed to breathe again, he tapped Dream’s shoulder with growing breathlessness until his taller friend pulled away with a sheepish apology.

George watched the scene with mingled amusement and jealousy. He wanted to hug Dream and Sapnap like that, too, but he reminded himself that the right moment would come another day. He encouraged, “Come on, Dream, you’ve got to open mine, too! You’ll probably like it more than Sapnap’s present.”

“We’ll see.” Dream returned to the gift bag and reached inside. Her face fell with astonishment yet again when she withdrew a pair of shiny, dark green high heels. Instead of expressing gratitude with words this time, she immediately tore the cotton socks off her feet and flung them onto the carpeted floor.

Sapnap clutched his friend’s elbow, holding Dream steady while they slipped their feet into the high heels one at a time. From his peripheral vision, Sapnap saw George’s deep umber eyes soften with fondness.

The sight of such feminine footwear upon Dream’s own feet mesmerized him; he exhaled slowly.

“Try walking around,” George suggested.

“Okay,” Dream accepted the challenge. Instinctively grabbing Sapnap’s shoulder to stabilize herself, she attempted to walk from the desk to the bed.

Upon one of his cautious steps, Dream wobbled with a sharp hiss, then froze as he struggled to avoid falling. Sapnap wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him.

“Careful,” George warned from behind. “If you break your ankle, I’m not liable!”

Sending a light-hearted glare over their shoulder, Dream responded, “You’re lucky that I love the shoes, or else I would have sued you by now!”

Fortunately Dream did not lose his balance a second time. He stood tall, confidence growing as he paced back and forth across the office-bedroom. Despite wearing shoes which impaired his balance, he felt… exhilarated.

During his school years, Dream often volunteered to voice female characters when classes read books aloud. He adhered to reciting narratives from women’s points of view without considering the action’s significance. Now, Dream’s new outfit made him wish to embrace femininity even more.

Once Dream removed the high heels from her aching feet and folded the dress for storage in her dresser, she and Sapnap said good-bye to George. Their UK-based friend exited the video call, leaving the roommates to bask in comfortable silence. Sapnap excused himself to make a late lunch in the kitchen while Dream returned to her bedroom.

Brow creased with consternation, Dream hesitated to put his gifts into a drawer. He had not yet experimented with wearing the dress, but he adored the outfit.

With the confidence they gained from their friends’ support, Dream wondered if they were ready to face the judgment of strangers. They would not reveal their face online, but maybe if they walked outside, it would still mean that they had gone out in public as a completely new version of themself. They wanted to try it.

Gradually aromas of melting cheese and tomato sauce permeated Dream’s office-bedroom. Adrenaline rushed through him as he changed into the dress and put on his makeup. Striding down the hallway toward the kitchen, he relished the cool touch of mascara against his eyelids and the feeling of soft fabric fluttering around his legs.

Glancing up from a freshly baked pizza, Sapnap noticed the new outfit immediately. His expression brightened with glee, then he purposely smirked and wolf-whistled.

Dream took his revenge by snatching the first, most attractive slice of pizza from the pan; he stuffed half of it into his mouth.

“Okay, I should have anticipated that response,” Sapnap chuckled. Then the conversation turned serious again as he asked shyly, “How does the dress feel?”

Subtly swaying from side to side, Dream answered the question with her announcement, “I want to go outside while wearing this.”

“‘Outside’ as in, like, the backyard?” Puzzled, Sapnap tilted his head. When Dream held his gaze, Sapnap’s eyes widened with surprise, then darkened with uncertainty. He knew what she meant.

“‘Outside’ as in, the streets.” Wringing their fingers together, Dream explained helplessly, “I want to keep… moving forwards, you know? Moving upwards? I won’t try to draw attention, of course.”

“Dream.” Conflict weighed heavily upon Sapnap. He wished to be a supportive friend, yet he also wished to discourage any impulsive decisions. “You don’t have to transition immediately to doing public stuff just to, I don’t know, prove yourself.”

“I know I don’t have to,” Dream acknowledged gratefully. “But if I do it once and nobody outside sees me, I think I’ll feel… really good.”

Observing his friend’s fragility, Sapnap heaved a deep sigh. Although he did not like the idea of accompanying Dream in public where people might recognize them, he decided to encourage his friend instead.

“Alright, sure.” Cautiously Sapnap agreed. “If you want to go outside in the dress, I’ll go with you.”

“Awesome!” Dream beamed with appreciation. As the pair began devouring the pizza before them, their conversation’s mood lifted.

“Maybe in a parallel universe, I would take you to the skatepark.” Food muffled Sapnap’s voice. “We could tell everyone that you were my girlfriend and film their reactions, like in some sort of ‘social experiment’ video on YouTube.”

“To be fair, that would be hilarious,” Dream admitted. Then they paused in consideration. “Actually… where is the skatepark? I haven’t been to one in years.”

Slightly embarrassed, Sapnap confessed, “I was joking.”

“Well, I wasn’t joking.” Mind racing with excitement, Dream conveyed her idea. “I’ll be your fake girlfriend or whatever. I don’t care if strangers judge me for wearing a dress in public.”

“You really want to go to the skatepark of all places?” Sapnap stared with disbelief.

“I do.” Wiping their lips with a paper napkin, Dream suggested, “Why don’t we go before sunset?”

“Tonight?” Sapnap glanced at the clock on the microwave.

“Yes, tonight.” Inspecting his friend, Dream instructed, “But you’ll need to disguise yourself. No one should guess who you are.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?” Sapnap raised a dubious eyebrow.

Dream lifted Sapnap’s black cap from his head, flipped it around, then placed it on backwards.

“Okay, no, that isn’t fair.” Adjusting locks of reddish-brown hair beneath the cap, Sapnap pouted. “Wearing it backwards defeats the entire point of the hat! Also it makes me look like a fourteen-year-old.”

“If you think that a backwards hat makes you look like a fourteen-year-old, then you agree that a backwards hat makes you look like someone else,” Dream concluded curtly. “And if the sun hurts your eyes, you can wear sunglasses.”

“Great,” Sapnap responded sarcastically. “Will I have to wear the sunglasses backwards, too?”

“Oh, come on.” Dream rolled her eyes at her friend’s insolence. “You can’t be more afraid of people judging you than I am of people judging me.”

“Alright, whatever.” Finally Sapnap sighed with defeat. “Let’s go to the skatepark after we finish the pizza.”

“Deal,” Dream agreed.

Before sunset that evening, Dream and Sapnap prepared to walk to the skatepark. They organized a basic system of nonverbal communication so they would not need to shout across the park and risk revealing their voices. Both friends sprayed mosquito repellent upon their exposed skin before emerging from the house into the humid evening.

In addition to his new high heels, Dream wore the dress with boxers and a tank top underneath. Sapnap wore athletic shorts, the backwards hat, and a white t-shirt which sported the handwritten phrase, “I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND.”

Glancing around nervously, Dream scanned the empty suburban street. Sapnap jerked his head to the right. He muttered, “The skatepark is this way.”

The pair’s journey began. Apprehensively they passed grassy lawns and parked cars in driveways before quickening their pace. Then, when one of Dream’s feet landed awkwardly on the sidewalk, she wobbled with a gasp and spread her arms for balance.

“You alright?” Reaching to stabilize his friend, Sapnap raised a concerned eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dream grunted as he regained his balance. Awkwardly leaning down, he grimaced and rubbed each ankle. “My feet hurt, though.”

“We’ve been outside for, like, thirty seconds,” Sapnap pointed out flatly. Glancing over one shoulder, he gestured back down the sidewalk toward their house, which remained visible less than a block behind them. Although he knew Dream would protest, he offered, “You know, we don’t have to go to the skatepark. You’ve already gone outside. You don’t need to prove anything else to anyone.”

Instantly rising to their full height again, Dream refused, “No, we’re doing this.” Adopting a determined stride, they declared, “This isn’t even that bad. I’m sure walking in high heels would be way harder if I were pregnant or something.”

Sapnap sent Dream a weird look, then decided not to say anything when her concentrated expression revealed that she was probably just trying to reassure herself. The rhythmic clack-clack of Dream’s high heels seemed to echo in Sapnap’s ears until he finally asked, “Can you walk any more quietly?”

“I don’t know,” Dream huffed. “Can you talk any more quietly?”

“I’m literally not even talking!” Sapnap protested indignantly. “You’re the one who - okay, you know what? Nevermind. Let’s just keep going.”

Descending into another break between their conversations, Dream and Sapnap continued their journey across the neighborhood beneath a late afternoon sky.

Once the roommates turned a street corner, they sighted swathes of green rolling hills in the distance. Eagerly they approached, then veered toward a large circle of sun-bleached cement near the park’s outer edge.

Located between a picnic area and the local tennis court, the skatepark awaited its newest visitors. Leafy elm trees shaded one half of the cement circle; several skateboarders of varying ages gathered in the weakening sunlight of the other half.

Donning a protective helmet, Sapnap led Dream to the skatepark’s most uncrowded area as his friend glanced tentatively at the scattered groups of people in the park around them. Suddenly he realized that she did not bring a skateboard with her.

“Are you just going to, uh…?” Referring to the shaded park benches nearby, Sapnap made a circular motion with one hand. “Hang out here?”

“I’m going to do literally anything that isn’t standing.” Panting, Dream plopped themself down upon a park bench beneath one of the elm trees. With an exaggerated sigh, they dragged off both high heels and placed the shoes on the bench beside them.

“You hate high heels already?” Sapnap teased.

“I hate feeling like I’m about to break my ankles with every step,” Dream responded. Despite the frustrating ache in her feet, she was not actually upset at all. Instead she felt free. No one in the park had turned their attention toward her. However, her anxiety had not completely vanished. Leaning toward Sapnap, she whispered, “What if someone harasses me for wearing a dress and I can’t risk saying anything?”

Without missing a beat, Sapnap replied protectively, “Then I’ll give them two reasons to shut up: Reason #1…” He lifted one clenched fist. “- and Reason #2.” He raised his other clenched fist. When Dream responded with a small smile of amusement, Sapnap lowered both fists. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to practice some killer kick-flips.”

After patting his friend’s back for support, Sapnap jogged toward the skating area with his skateboard slung under one arm.

Swallowing their nerves, Dream seated themself upon the bench to relax.

As time passed, Sapnap practiced a few tricks and jumps with his skateboard in an unoccupied part of the cement circle while Dream watched from a distance. Under other circumstances, she might have felt bored with the inactivity, but right now she felt pride in herself. This trip to the skatepark enabled her to present as feminine in public without being the center of attention.

As the sun drifted toward the horizon, late afternoon transitioned into early evening. Cooler weather encouraged more people - skateboarders, young children, and elderly couples - to visit the park.

Both Dream and Sapnap were already becoming antsy, so they would have departed soon anyway, but the perfect opportunity arrived when a stranger sauntered toward them. A tall man with tattooed arms and a backwards hat, one of the expert skateboarders, challenged Sapnap.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yeah?” Sapnap leaned down to pick up his skateboard without breaking eye contact. He tensed, preparing for a confrontation.

“This is the area where my guys and I practice. We were generous, so we let you use our territory for a little while, but you’ve spent plenty of time here already.” Aggressively jerking one thumb toward the distant street, the skateboarder ordered, “I suggest you take your girlfriend and head out.”

Alarmed, Sapnap glanced back at Dream; he expected to see a similarly worried expression upon his friend’s face, but instead she nodded agreeably and gave a thumbs-up. Her lip gloss sparkled as she smiled brightly. Dream was so thrilled that the stranger called her a “girlfriend” that she did not care about him instructing her to leave. The guy who confronted Sapnap was rude, but he was not transphobic, and that was enough of a victory for her.

As Dream stood from the bench and straightened his dress, Sapnap shrugged courteously.

“Sure, we’ll leave. No worries.”

Several of the expert skateboarders watched with pleasant surprise as the newcomers conceded without a fight and left the park.

Walking through the suburban neighborhood again, Dream and Sapnap approached their shared house at a leisurely pace. Dream carried their high heels in one hand, walking barefoot on the sidewalk. Occasionally they winced as rough concrete rubbed against the soles of their feet.

Unwilling to allow his friend’s discomfort, Sapnap halted the pair. Pulling off his shoes, he donated his cotton socks to Dream, then put his shoes back onto his own feet.

“Thanks, Sap,” Dream sighed with relief.

“Don’t mention it.”

Beneath a dimming sky, Sapnap and Dream reached the house. Once inside, both roommates relaxed. While Sapnap showered, Dream went to his office-bedroom and removed his makeup. Despite the sweat which collected under his arms and on the back of his neck, he did not feel a compelling urge to remove the dress yet.

Dream faced the full-length mirror hanging from one of the bedroom walls. Dim light from her bedside lamp illuminated her backside and outlined her figure.

Slowly twisting their torso, Dream clutched the fabric of their dress to watch it flutter around their calves. They observed the curves of their legs and the broadness of their shoulders, trying to remind themselves that the width of their hips and torso did not define their gender. Contrary to what Dream’s insecurity willed them to believe, they were in control of their own identity.

Dream did not want to complicate the lives of her fans. Would feminine pronouns overwhelm the members of his fanbase who were uneducated about LGBTQ+ issues? Even if she requested that her fans remain respectful to each other, revealing her they/them and she/her pronouns would inevitably cause heated discussions. Entire friendships might collapse. Closeted transgender people might despair upon learning that some of their friends refused to tolerate their pronouns, and those friends might blame Dream for inspiring the friendship-ending arguments in the first place.

Furthermore, Dream’s critics might accuse him of coming out for attention. Antis might claim that he was only catering to his fanbase, but Dream did not fear their judgment. Thousands of Dream Team fans around the world depended on their favorite content creators for inspiration; if the popular Minecraft YouTuber revealed his non-binary pronouns, coming out might help his LGBTQ+ fans feel less alone.

Dream’s decision required mere seconds of thought. They did not want to hide. Even if coming out would require debates about their own gender identity, they knew it would be for the greater good.

As a compromise, Dream decided not to openly announce her new pronouns. Instead she smoothed wrinkles from her dress and walked toward the full-length mirror on her wall. Carefully angling her smartphone’s camera so it only captured her body from the neck down, she took several pictures of herself standing in the mirror. Once finished, she opened her camera roll and deleted every image except for the blurriest one.

Next, Dream opened the Twitter, Reddit, and Instagram applications on his smartphone. Simultaneously he uploaded the same picture to each application; his thumb hovered between the “post” buttons. The photo revealed almost nothing; to ensure that fans would recognize the photographed person as Dream, he captioned the image with, “Him. Them. Her.”

One side of Dream warned themself that they might regret this impulsive decision. Their other side floated: light and free. It yearned to extend this feeling of gender euphoria forever. Dream wanted happiness, not anxiety, to win the battle.

Switching between each application, Dream clicked the “post” buttons on Twitter, Reddit, and Instagram. Immediately their uploads gained likes, shares, comments, retweets, reposts, reblogs… everything.

In one moment of fervent hope, Dream had revealed herself. She exhaled a wavering sigh, then turned off her smartphone and tossed it onto her bed. Running fingers through her fluffy hair, she paced across her bedroom to release her pent-up energy. She did not need to wait long before her closest friends noticed the image.

First Dream’s phone vibrated against the bed sheets. When they leaned over the device, the notifications read, Text from George: “???” and Text from George: “DREAM”.

Then a series of rapid footsteps pounded down the hallway toward Dream’s office-bedroom. Without even knocking, Sapnap thrust open the door and stared at his roommate with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Dude, did you really just -?” He trailed off into a series of confused hand gestures.

Heart pounding, Dream responded in a weak voice, “I, uh, guess so?”

Throughout the rest of the night, Dream monitored fans’ reactions to the uploaded image. He scrolled through hundreds of responses to his posts. His heart soared when he witnessed that most of the responses were positive.

“HE’S IN A DRESS”, “OH MY GOD”, and “HUH?!?!” appeared to be common reactions. Even fellow content creators sent supportive messages into Dream’s direct message inboxes.

However, as hours passed, several adverse comments began to filter into Dream’s feed as well. Some critics accused her of falsifying her gender, adopting non-binary pronouns just to please her fans, and even of lying that the photographed person was herself.

As harsh insults infiltrated their notifications, Dream began to regret posting the image of themself. Surely they could have found an effective way to support their LGBTQ+ fans without coming out as non-binary?

Drumming nervous fingers upon his desk surface, Dream flinched when Sapnap’s booming voice suddenly echoed through the house.

“Dude! Dream, check Twitter!”

Dream opened their mouth to respond that they were already on Twitter, but a new notification in the corner of their screen distracted their attention.

Taylor Swift (@taylorswift13) has replied to your tweet!

That had to be fake, Dream assumed. Regardless, her breath hitched as she opened her notification page. Shockingly enough, the notification did not lie; the real Taylor Swift - her idol - responded to one of her tweets!

Glowing with delight, Dream frantically opened his computer’s Discord application and sent George a video-call request. Simultaneously he heard footsteps thumping down the hallway until Sapnap burst into his office-bedroom.

Panting, Sapnap blurted, “Wait, don’t read the tweet yet!”

Dream trembled with anticipation before George answered the call. Apparently he had seen the response as well. His voice blared through the speakers, demanding, “Read the tweet!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Dream’s voice pitched with impatience.

George listened with avid interest and Sapnap rubbed Dream’s shoulder blade supportively as their friend displayed the tweet upon his computer monitor. Tears of joy streamed down Dream’s freckled cheeks as she read Taylor Swift’s response to her picture.

Quoting lyrics from her own discography, Taylor Swift’s message read, “Coming out and being openly true to oneself takes a lot of courage. To all of the people stepping on her gown: you need to calm down. And Dream, darling, you look lovely. :) <3”