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It's just any other day for Brianna.
She sits cross-legged on her swivel chair, scrolling through online clothing shops and taking nibbles of a birthday cake flavored protein bar. Her nails tap against her desk as she puts items in her cart one after the other. She doesn't know if she'll actually buy these clothes, but fashion has always been her passion. The love of her life. Of course, not including the guy in the other room who was playing Valorant with a certain sharp-tongued Yelp reviewer.
Because Brianna is neck-deep in the fashion world and well-versed enough to call herself an expert, there are hundreds of online specialty shops that intrigue her. She has long outgrown frequent trips to Forever 21 and buying every single thing at Chanel, so she turns to small business whose work are on par and even better at times compared to name brands. There's one whose name she can't recall at the top of her head that specializes in handmade, crocheted clothes. For her birthday, she gifted herself a giant crotched scarf that kept her warm throughout the winter. Funnily enough, the blanket covering her legs is also from that place. And oh, there's another online shop where they sell clothes made in Japan, from Harajuku style clothing to beautiful lolita fashion. All high quality.
Thinking about that site gets her all curious everytime it pops up in her mind. Like, oh, that site exists! I wonder what's new. She hasn't been on it for a while. Last time, Brianna bought herself the highest heels known to man and distressed jeans more distressed than her in 2015 from that shop, but she hasn't been browsed it for a while. Quickly skimming through her browser bookmarks, she beams when the site loads and she is greeted with a funky but somehow cohesive interface. Apparently, a lot of lolita style items are on sale. Lolita Week, the banner on the site says. Brianna oohs and aahs at the sight of frilly dresses and tall platform shoes, eyes practically turning into hearts as she does so. The accessories give her cuteness aggression, specifically the array of adorable jewelry that seemed to occupy at least five pages of the site.
What catches her attention, though, is a dress that reminds her far too much of a certain someone.
“‘Wolf lolita dress?’” Brianna reads the product name, puzzled.
She's seen a lot of lolita dresses with illustrations in the front, but... never a wolf? Brianna thinks about the wolf shirt that Chosen owns seven of (one for every day of the week) and it gets a laugh out of her. Wouldn't it be funny if she asked him to change it up for once and wear this dress instead of that shirt?
Yeah, funny.
So funny.
Brianna stares at the dress for what seems like eternity and tries to suppress the urge to click "Buy Now". It was far too expensive for something that won't even be worn regularly (three-fucking-hundred US dollars) as far as she was concerned. The Chosen has never changed his style since he was perfectly content with wearing the same clothes everyday like an early 2000s cartoon character would. And Brianna takes no offense at that, despite being a self-proclaimed fashionista. Would it be nice if he went out of his comfort zone once in a while? Maybe, yes, but Brianna isn't the type of person to force anyone into doing anything they disliked. She used to be, but that was more of a queen bitch façade that faded away naturally over time rather than a real desire to force people into doing what she wanted.
As she's about to click Add to cart, Brianna is startled out of her stupor when The Chosen walks in the room.
“Hello,” The Chosen greets casually. His stance looks much more relaxed, probably from the exhaustion of playing several rounds of Valorant. “Augustus has left. What would you like to have for dinner?”
Brianna can feel cold sweat down the nape of her neck. “Oh, uh... Korean?”
“A fine choice, but we had that yesterday. I have yet to recover from that tteokbokki,” The Chosen explains, a frown tugging at his mouth. The tteokbokki must have done a number on him. “Do not use the bathroom. You're going to regret it if you do.”
She laughs, a little frozen and forced, which Chosen picks up on it quite easily. They've lived with each other for a year now, so they had each other's microexpressions memorized pretty well. Brianna was a good actor only when she was given preparation. Right now, she had none.
The Chosen frowns, steps a little closer towards her. Brianna almost freezes and wants to close the tab, but she can't. “Are you alright, Brianna? Are you sick?”
Brianna shakes her head profusely. “Um, no. I don't.”
“Did you perhaps see something unsettling? I did introduce you to Reddit, didn't I?” Ah, she was done for. The Chosen turns his head, curious on what was on her monitor, and promptly sees the wolf lolita dress on her screen. He's silent for a moment, staring at the garment in deep, deep contemplation.
Finally, he asks. “What... is that?”
Brianna sighs, the tension leaving her body almost immediately. The Chosen would never act negatively to this kind of thing. He probably doesn't even think it's for him. “Is that for me?”
Oh. Well, shit.
“No! Of course not. I—I'm just exploring, um, fashion and stuff,” Brianna stumbles on her words. It's embarrassing. “I thought this dress kinda, uh, suited you. The design suits you, no? But you would, you would never wear anything like this, so, like—”
“I would not, no,” The Chosen interrupts her mid-stutter. He still hasn't stopped looking at the dress, though. Brianna shifts her attention to the garment on her screen, a little shifty and uncomfortable at being caught shopping clothes for her life partner. Well—if phrased like that, it doesn't so bad. But it was no more less embarrassing. “Huh. It is... different.”
Brianna's shoulders eases at those words, partly because it was a funny thing to say. “Of course it's different. Like, you wear cargo shorts. This is a lolita dress with frills and a big ol' bow.”
“There's still a wolf on there, anyhow,” The Chosen makes a compelling argument. There is indeed a wolf. That's why Brianna was looking at this in the first place! “But it is—it is pretty.”
Pretty? The Chosen does not say ‘pretty’. Even when he's complimenting Brianna's makeup or outfit, it's always ‘gorgeous’ or ‘absolutely beautiful’. Some kind of word you'd only ever find on WordHippo or in a thesaurus. There is something so delicate about the word pretty stumbling out his lips that her heart skips a beat. Brianna looks at him, her features softened from endearment, and tucks a stray strand of hair behind Chosen's ear. He tenses at the sudden touch, but relaxes almost immediately.
“Should I get it?” Brianna asks, serious and genuine. She's always known that there was something different about Chosen. She would hate to assume anything but she's always known. Brianna recalls one of the only few people she liked back in her influencer house days. Just like Chosen, he'd always been different and it was a point of contention between him and everyone in that house. But now, she was a truly beautiful woman. Even if she didn't want to assume, say anything that would scare him, this was the person she would spend her life with. It was her top priority to understand him inside and out.
The Chosen bites his lip, like he's trying to stop himself from saying something he might regret. “If you want to.”
“It's not for me, you know that,” Brianna reasons. She caresses Chosen's cheek with her manicured hand and watches him melt slightly. “You can do whatever the hell you want. You do know that, don't you?”
The Chosen nods. “I do. I know. You taught me that.” His glasses slip down his nose, and Brianna can see a peek of his eyes from this angle. She smiles, kissing her bestest friend's forehead with all the tenderness in the world.
“I'll buy it, then.”
The dress arrives on a quiet Sunday morning.
Brianna is sipping on a matcha latte and perusing Netflix's catalogue. She doesn't know what to watch! Luckily, she doesn't have to know, since the doorbell rings. She receives the package from a grouchy delivery man (who could blame them, honestly, it was a Sunday) and she finds herself wondering what it is. Brianna gets a lot of things, see, so she can only ever guess which package this was. But as soon as she examines it closer, reads the label and sees what shop its from, Brianna immediately knows.
“Did you receive a package?” The Chosen comes out of the bathroom, only a towel wrapped around his waist. She desperately tries to ignore her partner's V line glistening with water. Instead, Brianna gives him a blinding smile, nodding excitedly. She grabs a pair of scissors and cuts open the package.
The first word out of her mouth is, “Wow.”
It's exactly what she expected it to look like and more. With its subtle ruffles and lace, a full and poofy skirt, and a structured bodice — it's far too well-made to be only worn once or twice. Not to mention, the wolf illustration painted over the soft fabric makes it look so unique; it was unlike any lolita dress she's ever seen. And she's seen a lot too. Like a cherry on top of a banana split, the big bow completed it, made it truly look all doll-like. Not everything looks good with a bow, but this dress definitely needed it. Ah, the fashionista in Brianna can barely be contained at the sight of it. She admires every detail of the dress, touching and gliding her fingers against the intricacies of the garment. Her heart stammers every time she spots another detail to obsess about.
On the other hand, The Chosen is shirtless and in the middle of putting on his cargo shorts. Brianna snaps out of her own world and turns to The Chosen, who's successfully put on the shorts. He's looking at the dress too, admittedly with less excitement than Brianna, but looking nonetheless.
“It's interesting,” The Chosen says after a long silence. Brianna snorts, but agrees. It is interesting. Gorgeous. Amazing. Whatever adjective works.
Brianna grins up at him. “Yeah. But, you know, I'm not gonna force you to do anything! I don't even mind owning this, really. Even if you won't wear it, I'm keeping it. It's gorgeous.”
The Chosen nods firmly. Perhaps a little too firmly. Stiff, maybe? Brianna's smile falls a little, but not completely. She understands that he struggles with identity. Hell, she too struggled with it, once upon a time. A religious upbringing and a school that had more girls than boys, that didn't serve her well. But she was somehow grateful since those uncertainties helped her figure out who she was. It took her a long time, far too long, but every journey is different. Which is why she understands. Perhaps, not in a microscopic, spiritual level—but she could empathize. She could, at the very least, see. Her mother always said to her, Brianna, you have eyes, don't you? Use them.
“I... I want to try,” The Chosen's voice is shaky, so uncharacteristic of him. Brianna stands up from the seat and places a hand on his face, thumb brushing off a droplet of water dripping down his cheek.
“You're sure?” Brianna asks in a gentle whisper. “You shouldn't push yourself. That's no good, Spence. You taught me that, didn't you?”
He hums in agreement. Though clearly nervous, the sureness that Brianna has come to associate with The Chosen is still there. When he expresses he wants to do something, he will. Why wouldn't he? Brianna sighs, the sound soft and fond, and picks up the dress gently. She hands it over to The Chosen, who takes it with trembling hands. Brianna chuckles and touches his nose.
“It'll suit you. I swear.”
“Really?” He sounds so unsure. Brianna says to herself, I want him to know how beautiful he is.
Brianna nods with all the sincerity in the universe. “Really.”
The thing with Brianna is she's very rarely wrong in her intuition. She knew she would lead a difficult life if she decided to enter the limelight, she knew she would be neck deep in misery if she continued to indulge herself in snow, and she knew she would die if she stayed in that world for another day. It all sounds so grim, so sad, but she had intuition for the good things as well. Brianna knew that The Chosen would enjoy a DDR mat, that he would absolutely love overnight oats, that there was a part of him that he hid so deep inside himself that it never saw the light of day. Whenever Brianna kissed his forehead, it felt as if there was something there.
And today, she knows one thing for sure: The Chosen will walk out of the bathroom and look absolutely stunning in that dress.
She's right, of course. Brianna is very rarely wrong.
The Chosen's silhouette emerges from their bathroom, his muscular frame emphasized by the delicate folds of the dress. The fabric clung to his skin in a way that drove Brianna insane. Behind his sunglasses is a look of insecurity, a touch of nervousness that Brianna wished she could take away. He stands, frozen and unmoving, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of the dress. Brianna is so enamored by his figure that it doesn't even register for a second that he was wearing translucent, doll-esque knee high socks that were far too small for him. But when she notices it, when she takes in her beloved's appearance wholly and truly, Brianna can't help but warm up at the sight of it all.
She places her hands on her cheeks and crosses her legs, overwhelmed. Why did The Chosen have to look so damn good?
“I—I, well—” While Brianna is rarely wrong, she is also rarely speechless. Attempts at forming words to describe how she was feeling are futile at best as the syllables refuse to exit her lips. “Spencer—”
The Chosen frowns, the corners of his lips deepening. Brianna immediately feels horrible. “Does it look bad?”
She stands up so quickly that she almost falls over.
“No!” she yells. She flinches at the sound of her own voice. Decorum, Brianna! She is a woman of dignity, she will not have her mouth trembling and knees shaking at the sight of her buff partner. She's better than that. She—
Is she? Is Brianna better than this?
His arms. His legs. His torso is stretching the fabric. His pink cheeks. My shy boy! My sweet, shy boy!
“You, I—you look so... good," Brianna tries. “I, I mean, more than good. I —Chosen, you—”
She can see his confidence bubbling, pride slowly coming up to the surface. Thank God. There is little insecurity to be seen behind those tinted lenses, though he still seems slightly anxious. Brianna understands. This is unfamiliar territory to him. Perhaps he's thought of dressing up, maybe her beloved has had daydreams. Regardless, this is new. And it was Brianna's job to make it feel like it's right. Like this is exactly how it should be, that he shouldn't feel ashamed.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Brianna musters the courage to walk toward her ridiculous soulmate. The same one who wore sunglasses indoors, who wore cargo shorts every single day, who would happily live off tater tots and cheesy macaroni, who loved her more than she deserved. Now, he's in a beautiful dress that was made for him and him alone, and Brianna can't help but think she's fallen all over again.
I'm in this shit for life, she thinks. What kills her is the fact that she doesn't mind. She loves him. She loves him, Brianna fucking Boho loves him in his shorts, in his wolf shirts, in this stunning dress—
The Chosen looks up at her, bright eyes peeking behind the spectacles. “Bri...?”
Brianna holds his face in her hands and closes the distance between them.