Archive of Our Own ^beta

I.

The first one was a long, flowy red maxi skirt.

Taehyun was always close with his sister from childhood; he looked up to her, constantly following her around their family home, and she just adored him and his glossy wide eyes.
She would often play with Taehyun and include him in her interests.
When Taehee grew into a teenager, she took up interest in typical feminine things like makeup and clothes, so Taehyun would watch her as she sat on her bed and struggled to apply blush to her own cheeks.

He had never had much conscious desire to be included in her teenage interests, but he found it fascinating, a curiosity sprouting that he wasn’t sure if he should nurture or not.

He watched her from the hallway one afternoon sighing heavily as she checked her bedroom’s mirror, unsatisfied with her work, cheeks decidedly too pink, eyelids decidedly too purple, and lips decidedly too red.
Her eyes caught on him, standing in the doorway as if he wasn’t sure if he could enter despite never worrying before. Her eyes lit up as she urged him in, pulling his shoulders to sit him on her bed facing her.
He complied with an air of confusion, but willingness as she sat cross-legged in front of him, her makeup kits and brushes scattered in her lap.

“I’ll make you look pretty, Hyunnie,” she told him as she hummed an upbeat song that Taehyun didn’t recognize.

Taehyun liked the idea at the time. He liked that his sister wanted to include him in her hobbies, felt proud that she was so excited to play with him. His sister was always pretty after all, and if anyone could make him look just as pretty, he trusted Taehee to do it.
So he sat contentedly as his sister applied too-cold foundation to his skin, spread eyeshadow into his eyelids, brushed his cheeks with blush, and snapped little clips into his short bangs.

When she seemed satisfied with the shades of lipgloss and the length of his eyelashes, she sat back and took in her work with a slightly pensive expression.
Taehyun’s face felt entirely too heavy and unfamiliar, and he moved stiffly, afraid any slight movement would undo his sister’s hard work somehow, like the makeup would fling off his face if he turned his head too quickly. The makeup didn’t exactly feel comfortable, but he tried not to let it show on his face by frowning or squinting too hard.
But Taehee’s face was bright, maybe even a little surprised or impressed. She tapped her chin as if in deep thought before she reached for a small round object in her makeup pouch.

“Take a look, Hyunnie,” Taehee chirped, flipping Taehyun’s hand and pushing her compact mirror into his hands. She looked so happy, and in turn, it made Taehyun happy that she was so proud of her work.

But when he looked at himself in her tiny mirror, something dissonant boiled in his gut.
His short brown, boyish bangs contrasted his pretty face; pinks and reds complemented his skin and complexion perfectly, but his eyebrows were too thick, his face too square, his jaw too sharp.
He wanted to be content, because this was his sister’s work, and she was content, but unease crept into his mind at seeing his reflection.
Whatever mixture of emotions he felt must have made their way to his face, because Taehee was quickly trying to make things better.

“I’m still not great at it, but you really have great skin! You look really pretty, even for a boy!”
The compliments tried to ease the strange swirl of confliction in his belly, but Taehyun couldn’t figure out why he still felt so distant. Nothing he’d ever learned about emotions in school had taught him about what he should feel about looking at himself in the mirror and seeing someone he didn’t recognize.

“I know! Hyunnie, do you want to try on one of my skirts?” Before seeing Taehyun’s answer, Taehee hopped off the bed and headed straight for her closet to find a skirt.

Taehyun was sure that he wouldn’t have been hesitant about the suggestion under normal circumstances, but something about his reflection made him falter, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to add a skirt into the mix.
Perhaps it was because he was young and admired his sister so greatly, but he didn’t voice his concerns to her; looking back, Taehyun wondered if he was hoping she’d notice, or otherwise would just think he was as cool as she was for going along with her.
So even though Taehyun tensed when she pulled the long red skirt out, he simply slid off her bed to address the piece of clothing.

It was objectively a beautiful skirt, the fabric embroidered with a spray of colorful flowers at the ends. Taehyun was almost certain he recognized it as the skirt that their grandparents had gifted Taehee for her 14th birthday.

Holding it up to his waist, the skirt fell way past his feet, sprawling onto the floor at least half a foot in front of him. Taehee giggled lightly, but still helped Taehyun pull the skirt over his shorts, using a clothespin to clamp the waistband around his small hips. It did little to keep the skirt in place though, and Taehyun couldn’t exactly walk anywhere with the majority of the length of the skirt piled on the floor.

“It still looks cute, Hyun!” Taehee insisted, looking at his reflection in her full-length floor mirror. “I’m sure a skirt that fits you would look really cute, too!”

Taehyun stared himself down in Taehee’s mirror, knitting his eyebrows as he fully took in his frame.
When they were kids, they were about the same height, but Taehee’s growth spurt shot her at least a head above Taehyun, something he kind of cursed. All of his classmates in school were taller than him too, so he’d vowed that he’d grow taller when he got older.
He wondered if, when he was older and taller, the skirt would look better on him. He tried to picture it, a taller Taehyun with a form-fitting skirt on.
Despite his face looking wrong, he found that he didn’t really mind the idea of a skirt.

It was strange, and he couldn’t understand it.
The red of the skirt matched his red lips and cheeks, but Taehyun’s eyes involuntarily avoided meeting his reflection’s eyes, always darting down before he could.
The skirt, though loose and falling around him, didn’t cause such a negative reaction in him as he’d expected after the makeup did. In fact, something new and maybe just a little scary bubbled up in Taehyun’s chest when he looked at the flowing fabric gathered at his feet.

Taehee suddenly ruffled his hair roughly, or maybe it was out of grace.
“You can take it all off now, Taehyun. Thank you for letting me try my makeup on you!” she dug into her many makeup pouches and pulled out wet wipes and sat on her bed, motioning for Taehyun to come over.

As she wiped the makeup off Taehyun's face, a question suddenly breached Taehyun’s mind, one that he wasn’t even really sure whether he should ask or not.
Would Taehee think her little brother was uncool if he asked her? Or would he be more uncool if he didn’t ask?
“Um… Noona?” Taehyun asked cautiously, silently chastising the way his voice wavered a little.

Taehee hummed an acknowledgement as she rubbed the wipe over Taehyun’s cheeks, pinching them affectionately while she did.
Taehyun thought deeply about his next words, and spoke slowly as if his words would hurt her if he didn’t articulate them properly.
“Are boys allowed to wear skirts?”

The question was innocent, as innocent as a young boy asking it could be.
But Taehee’s face scrunched up a bit, as if worried, or maybe she was just thinking how to reply.
Young Taehyun took her brief pause before she answered as if he’d asked the wrong question, immediately wondering if he could retract it somehow and panicking that he just destroyed his relationship with his sister and she’d never play with him again. Older Taehyun could retrospectively empathize with all of the thoughts and concerns that surely ran through her head at that moment.
Maybe Taehee thought about how she would have answered afterwards, as well. Older Taehyun wasn’t even sure if he knew how he would have answered the question, and he spent countless nights turning the memory in his head as if he could find a “correct” answer.

Taehee’s answer was calculated in that short pause, even as Taehyun was quietly trying to shove his own question back down his throat, sweating at the mere idea that he might have come off as wildly uncool in front of his awesome sister.
“It’s not illegal.”
Older Taehyun would have cackled at her well-she’s-not-wrong response, but Younger Taehyun’s brain spiraled a tad, thoughts flooding into his mind like Taehee had just pulled the last rock that was holding back the stream.

What did she mean?
Taehyun couldn’t remember his boy classmates ever wearing skirts, and his father never wore skirts, so didn’t that mean that boys weren’t allowed to wear skirts?
But she hadn’t exactly told him “no”, so maybe they were allowed? He had worn a skirt himself, so he wouldn’t be in trouble for wearing it, right? After all, Taehee had asked him to wear it, and Taehee was never wrong.
Young Taehyun decidedly realized that he didn’t really understand what the word “illegal” meant.

(When he looked it up later in his own personal dictionary, he grew more confused. He wouldn’t have thought he’d get arrested for wearing a skirt in the first place, so why did Taehee specify so?
Taehyun, at age 10, developed a sudden fear that there were secret, unknown laws that he would get arrested for if broken.

His mother was pleasantly surprised at how dutiful of a son he became, until he came to her crying when his teacher scolded him for talking to his friend during class, and he’d feared that he’d get arrested for his unlawful crime against humanity.
His mother gave him an impromptu run-down of actual laws at age 12, watered down for a child. Taehyun was safely a law-abiding citizen for the rest of his life.

He didn’t wear a skirt again for another eight years.)

II.

The second one was a cream colored a-line skirt with a belt.

Taehyun stood in the middle of Taehee’s room, watching her flit around as clothes lay strewn about her bed and boxes lined the walls.
He was a teenager, about to turn 18, when his sister, at age 22, moved out to live with her long-term boyfriend.

Taehyun liked Jihwan. When he and Taehee first started dating, Jihwan was adamant about getting in Taehyun’s good graces and even offered to buy him ice cream or sweets or toys, even as Taehyun grew into a teen.
Younger Taehyun stubbornly fought the attempts to make friends, frustrated that his sister no longer wanted to play with his plushies and toys with him or bother him when he was working on homework, but he eventually broke when Jihwan invited Taehyun to watch a movie together with Taehee and the night turned into a hilariously fun roasting of a campy romance film.
Taehyun had decided in his mind that if Taehee were to stay with someone for the rest of her life, Jihwan wouldn’t be a bad choice, even if he didn’t admit it to Taehee himself.

Even so, watching his older sister pack away her room while humming that pop song she always loved so cheerfully to herself gave Taehyun the nervous, jealous feeling in his gut all over again.
“Do you really have to go live with him?” Taehyun complained as he tossed an old zoo souvenir cap vaguely in the direction of the bed, where Taehee’s suitcases lay open.

Taehee snorted as she rummaged in her closet for some article of clothing that was imperative that she take with her.
“I sure would like to,” she joked, tossing a jean jacket into the middle of her floor. Taehyun pouted at her turned back but still picked the jacket up to fold neatly.
She continued, her voice slightly muffled by the padding of various coats and sweaters in her closet, “We can always call. And you know Hwannie adores you, so you’re always welcome to come visit us.”

That settled Taehyun’s mind a bit, and he gently packed Taehee’s jacket into her suitcase with his back to her, biting down the shy smile that involuntarily pulled his cheeks up, knowing how much his sister and her boyfriend enjoyed his company.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang out through the house and their parents called for Taehee, who scrambled out of her closet and patted her clothes down, checking herself in the mirror, tucking strands of hair behind her ears.
“Keep packing, Hyunnie. He’ll probably want to say hi to mom and dad, so I’ll be a bit.”
She dipped out of her room, stumbling slightly over a box full of books by the door on her way out, leaving Taehyun alone in her room.

He could faintly hear her squeal as Jihwan undoubtedly picked her up and spun her, planting kisses on her cheeks as he always did when he greeted her. As much as Younger Taehyun would have hated to admit it, Jihwan and Taehee were a disgustingly adorable couple.
Distant chatter between Jihwan, Taehee, and their parents ensued, and Taehyun refocused back on the disheveled room around him.

He took the time to really look over everything she was packing away.
There were basics: her clothes, her books, her makeup. There were a couple sentimental items that eased Taehyun’s worried mind, too: a white cat plushie with a pink ribbon around its neck that matched Taehyun’s black cat with a yellow ribbon, a hefty homemade cookbook that their parents had gifted her after she announced her plan to move out, an apron that she had sewed herself for a Home Ec class.
It made Taehyun feel like his sister was taking her memories with her, and that made him feel less terrified that his sister was just leaving him behind.

As he packed away one of the shirts Taehee had laid out on the floor for him to pack, his eyes caught on a bright, high-waisted beige skirt.
He’d seen Taehee wear it before, with a green-gray t-shirt tucked into the high waist, brown belt accenting the outfit. Taehee’s long legs made longer skirts feel elegant and shorter skirts feel playful and energetic.

A curiosity sprouted in Taehyun’s mind, one that he hadn’t felt in several years.
He picked up the skirt without even thinking about it, examining the smooth texture of the fabric and fidgeting with the brown belt that sat loosely in the belt loops.
He glanced over his shoulder at the floor mirror, catching his own eyes in his reflection, suddenly feeling embarrassed for some reason.
His eyes darted away from the mirror in his fluster, as if the very police he had feared as a child would suddenly burst through the door in place of Taehee and arrest him on the spot for the consideration floating anywhere near his train of thought.
The thought still lingered though, and he was forced to reopen a packed box in his mind that he’d thought he’d taped shut.

His elementary school classmates were adamant that boys shouldn’t wear skirts, that it was “just wrong”, and for a long time, he believed them. Even when he made new friends in high school, the air would become tense whenever he brought it up, a taboo topic that his friends wouldn’t necessarily fight against, but weren’t willing to discuss. The one time he pushed the subject, his friend told him to drop it while shushing him, as if afraid someone else might hear.
He once asked his teacher about it after class, a teacher he had looked up to and considered an excellent role model. She told him, “Boys aren’t supposed to wear skirts.” and that was the end of the discussion, no further explanation.
With no one providing any reasons why, Taehyun left the topic dormant for most of his high school life.
So, Taehyun supposed that was the truth. Boys could wear skirts, on a technical level, but they weren’t supposed to.
Thus, the time Taehyun had worn one as a 10 year old child became some deep dark secret that he’d never talk about.

And yet, he still held the skirt’s waistband up to his own waist in front of the mirror, even as his ears blazed red with something akin to shame.
He stood still for a moment, straining his ears as he listened for any movement in the hallway that would indicate someone coming in; all he heard were laughs from the far-off kitchen.
It would be quick, just to sate his curiosity, he reasoned with himself. No one would know. It would just be another deep dark secret, and then he’d never do it again.

He quickly slipped the skirt on over his shorts, fumbling a bit with the belt as he locked it in place.
Partially thanks to the belt and partially thanks to Taehyun’s (finally) growing body, the skirt held up at his waist properly, unlike the last skirt he’d worn.

He braved his reflection and gazed over the look of the skirt on his body, and something shot off in his heart.
Also unlike the last skirt he’d worn, this skirt hugged snugly around his waist, the fabric ending just below his knees. Despite Taehyun’s reddening cheeks, he twisted his hips slightly to watch the cloth sway around his legs.
His hands and knees trembled as he pulled the edges of the skirt up in a half-hearted, shy curtsy. His breathing felt shallow as he couldn’t take his eyes off the way the skirt fluttered, and he felt… pretty. He felt just as pretty as Taehee always looked, even with his bare face and thick eyebrows and square face and sharp jaw.

He remembered all of his classmates telling him how “wrong” it was for a boy to wear a skirt, and there had never been a moment he couldn’t understand them more.
If it was so wrong for a boy to wear a skirt, why did the skirt feel so right around Taehyun’s waist? Why did he feel so light?
Some unknown feeling was bubbling up in Taehyun’s chest, but he tried to suppress it out of fear, unsure what the feeling was, what the feeling meant.
He was a boy, he was sure of that. He’d never felt like a girl or anything in between, he was always a boy, comfortable in his gender. But if he wasn’t a girl, why did the skirt feel so natural?
After all, boys weren’t supposed to wear skirts.

“Oh my gosh, Hyunnie! You look so cute!”
Taehee’s loud cooing broke Taehyun out of his daze and his eyes darted to the door where she and Jihwan stood in the doorway.

It dawned on Taehyun that he’d forgotten to keep his focus on his surroundings so he could prevent someone catching him. He hadn’t heard them come down the hallway at all.
He was sure his entire head flamed up and he quickly scrambled to undo the belt and pull the skirt off without ripping the cloth, flustered sweat pooling at the back of his neck.
Taehee was at Taehyun’s side, urging him to keep the skirt on for a little bit longer as Jihwan closed the door behind them with a gentle smile.

“I-I’m sorry, I was just, I wasn’t-” Taehyun stuttered, trying to think of any kind of excuse that could explain why he had the skirt on, but his mind blanked.

Taehee squished Taehyun’s cheeks between her palms as Jihwan ruffled his short hair.
“Skirts look really cute on you, Hyun,” Taehee told him directly to his beet-red, sweaty face with the brightest smile she’d had all day, even more bright than when she’d talked about Jihwan coming over to help pack.
Excuses died in Taehyun’s throat, realizing he didn’t need them anymore. Taehee, his awesome sister, called him cute. And Taehee was never wrong.

“Doesn’t he look cute, Hwannie?” Taehee asked Jihwan, squishing Taehyun’s cheeks even more in her cuteness aggression. “Don’t they suit him?”

Taehyun’s nervous eyes landed on Taehee’s boyfriend.
Jihwan’s eyes met his, and in that moment, Taehyun felt like Jihwan understood everything that was raging inside Taehyun’s angsty, anxious teenage mind. It was probably the first time he felt extremely seen by someone who wasn’t family.
“Yeah,” Jihwan nodded encouragingly, “I think you look great, Taehyunnie. I think you should let yourself wear them if you think so, too. Or, y’know, if you just want to wear them. Can’t get arrested for wanting to wear clothing you like.”

Taehyun, at age 17, wasn’t even sure if he did want to wear skirts. It was true that they made him feel comfortable to some extent, that he wasn’t necessarily opposed to wearing them, but… boys weren’t supposed to wear skirts, right?
Still, Jihwan, a grown adult 6 years his senior, had just inadvertently told him that it was okay, that he should, if that was something he wanted.

Maybe it was because Taehyun’s adrenaline was already high from his frantic shame, maybe it was just the comforting way Jihwan reassured him, or maybe it was just a series of words Taehyun had secretly hoped to hear from another boy, but his eyes became salty oceans and his nose became a cold, drippy mess.
Even while Taehee was panicking, not quite understanding Taehyun’s sudden outburst and Jihwan just ruffled Taehyun’s hair and patted his back, Taehyun still held his hands under his head, catching his teardrops and snot as to not ruin Taehee’s lovely skirt.

Looking back, it was ridiculous, and it took several hours, a worried knock on the door from their parents, and a steaming cup of hot chocolate, for Taehyun to calm down and explain that they were happy tears.
Taehee had laughed and kissed his head, preening over him like a mother hen while retelling how she thought Taehyun had been hurt or offended.

When Taehee moved out, she left a couple skirts with Taehyun.
Taehyun didn’t wear them, still shy and unsure about openly wearing skirts, but he gave her the biggest hug before she walked out the door of their family home.

(Taehyun called Taehee the night she moved out. He told her that he was glad that she was moving in with Jihwan. She had teased him, saying she was hurt that he was so glad that she moved out.

Taehyun laughed with her, and then sincerely told her that if she decided to stay with Jihwan forever, it would be nice. Taehee went quiet, and Taehyun could hear the bright, emotional grin on her face when she agreed.

Taehyun eventually told Jihwan that as well, though much more shyly.
He had visited Taehee and Jihwan’s apartment and when Taehee had dipped into the kitchen to grab them all snacks, he muttered it quickly, almost inaudibly. Jihwan had always been attentive of him though, so he caught the words easily.
Jihwan had to quickly wipe tears collecting in his eyes when Taehee reentered the room.

When Taehyun moved to college, he brought one of the skirts Taehee had left with him. He refused to wear them, but he felt like he was taking a piece of Taehee with him when he did.)

III.

The third one was a light rose-pink tulle handkerchief skirt.

When Taehyun met Choi Yeonjun, he thought Yeonjun was just about the coolest person in the world, second only to his sister.
Like Taehee, Yeonjun exuded a charismatic aura, someone that could get along with others easily, someone who was so unequivocally himself, unable to be anything else if he tried.

They had a couple classes together, but were little more than just that.
Taehyun ended up admiring Yeonjun from afar, positive that Yeonjun had life and his identity all figured out at age 20.

How he and Yeonjun became friends was a mystery to Taehyun.
Taehyun spent most of his college life holed up in his dorm studying, despite his roommate’s insistence that he leave more, mostly so his roommate could be the one holeing up in the dorm. Even though he and Yeonjun were classmates, Taehyun never talked to him; Yeonjun was often chatting with others around him, pulling everyone else into his orbit somehow.

Yeonjun wore fashionable clothes, styled his hair, and wore hints of makeup along his eyes.
He was kind of everything that Taehyun secretly, deep, deep down wished he could be: confident. And for some reason, that made Taehyun panic whenever he saw Yeonjun.
For the first few months of being classmates with Yeonjun, Taehyun fought that gravitational pull so hard, convincing himself that someone as shy and withdrawn as himself couldn’t get along with Yeonjun, or that Yeonjun would just find him boring.
He settled on just orbiting on the outskirts of Yeonjun, listening in when he sat near Taehyun and chattered with others, or keeping Yeonjun out of the corner of his eye when they walked the same way across campus.

It was Yeonjun who approached Taehyun first, because Taehyun would never approach someone so cool himself unless related to them.
It was outside of class, one random Tuesday as Taehyun was nested in the library to study and comply with his roommate’s begs to leave the dorm for a while so he could turn the dorm living room into their personal gaming den.

Taehyun had sat down with all his notebooks and laptop and organized colored pens laid out when Yeonjun plopped himself down right across from him.
Taehyun’s heart jumped, a little shocked to even be in such close proximity to Yeonjun, but he had assumed Yeonjun was just sitting down to study by himself. So, Taehyun continued focusing on his work, paying no mind to the person across from him drilling holes into him with lasered eyes.

Taehyun must have worked for at least 20 more minutes before he glanced up and fully flinched at Yeonjun’s glare jabbed right at him.
Taehyun’s mind started running immediately, trying to remember if he’d ever conceivably done something that could even be slightly mistaken as an attempt at angering Yeonjun, but he came up with nothing. He always tended to avoid Yeonjun if he came too close, a little intimidated by how… himself Yeonjun was, and positive that he would flounder if a conversation ever ensued.
Unfortunately, it seemed like he was about to find out whether that was true or not.

Long, dangly earrings glinted under the library’s bright lights as Yeonjun, apparently finally having gotten Taehyun’s attention, pouted deeply at him as if he were a child that was just told he wasn’t allowed to have ice cream.
“I’ve been sitting here for a while now, shouldn’t you at least say hi?” Yeonjun asked, eyes wide and glossy, perfectly executed puppy-eyes. He leaned his head over his arm so he could look up at Taehyun with those pitiful eyes.

Taehyun froze with his pen still hovering over his notebook page. He blinked slowly, wires in his brain getting crossed because surely someone as dazzling as Yeonjun wasn’t hoping for Taehyun’s interaction, right?
“Um… hi,” Taehyun replied blankly, trying to figure out if maybe it was all a prank, maybe now Yeonjun would actually realize that Taehyun was pretty boring.

Yeonjun’s pout melted into a smile that had Taehyun’s neck heating up. Eyelined eyes narrowed as the smile reached them, and Taehyun was suddenly struck with the realization that Yeonjun had, indeed, been waiting for Taehyun to interact with him.
“I’m Yeonjun,” Yeonjun purred as he extended his hand, keeping his head resting on his own bicep. “I’m going to be kind of offended if you don’t like me, honestly. I’m sensitive. So, I’m here to make friends with you to make sure you do.” There was a teasing lilt in his tone, but his eyes were genuine.

Taehyun couldn’t help the indignant huff that left his mouth. It was kind of ridiculous to insinuate that Taehyun didn’t like Yeonjun, everyone liked Yeonjun.
“You’re a likable person, of course I like you,” Taehyun said plainly, trying to focus on fidgeting with his laptop or the corner of his notebook or the button of his pen - anything so that he didn’t have to keep looking at Yeonjun’s lip-glossed lips.

Yeonjun scoffed right back at him with a playful roll of his eyes. “You don’t even know me, so how do you know you like me?”

Taehyun thought that was kind of obvious.
Yeonjun wore makeup like it belonged on him, wore clothes like he didn’t spend hours overthinking if something looked too feminine on him, had clean nail polish like he painted them three times a week.
Objectively, Yeonjun was attractive because of his confidence, and that was kind of intimidating on its own.

Taehyun answered, eyes scanning over lines of an article that he wasn’t paying attention to anymore, unable to even recall what the article was about.
“Everyone likes you,” he said matter-of-factly.
Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t entirely true. Taehyun had seen people shoot looks at Yeonjun before, caught breezes of cautions or worse, insults, whispered in low voices. Taehyun was certain that if he were in Yeonjun’s position, he’d have crumbled by now; instead, Yeonjun wandered around campus with proud strides, laugh and grin ever-present on his face.
Even if there were those who expressed their distaste for him openly, the amount of people who casted admiring gazes toward him far outweighed the opposition.

Yeonjun barked a laugh a touch too loud for a library and dipped his head in apology at the few people who turned their heads his way with sharp expressions.
“But do you like me?” Yeonjun asked with a hint of genuinity and bashfulness that Taehyun only recognized long after the conversation had ended, and Taehyun’s inner voice answered immediately, before Yeonjun had even finished his sentence, yes, of course I like you. I basically idolize you.

“I don’t know,” Taehyun half-heartedly answered instead, swiping his fingers around on the touchpad of his laptop; it didn’t do anything besides wiggle his cursor around and scroll the article page unhelpfully, but he tried to pretend like he was working. He was pretty sure he wasn’t really selling the illusion.
It felt easier to just feign ignorance than admit that every time Taehyun saw Yeonjun, he wondered what it would be like to be Yeonjun, outgoing and secure in himself.

A pause followed, and Taehyun briefly wondered if this was the moment Yeonjun would decide it wasn’t worth it, but Yeonjun just leaned forward a little across the table and nodded to himself.
“Then, let’s find out.”

What commenced for the next 5 months was a series of Yeonjun following Taehyun around and giving him puppy-eyes, bringing him to lunches and dinners and study sessions, exchanging numbers so he could pester Taehyun at any given hour of the day, and finally, Taehyun admitting that he enjoyed Yeonjun’s company and wanted to consider him a friend.
Taehyun still felt a little out of place when Yeonjun was next to him, but Yeonjun was easy to talk to, and that charismatic aura oozing from Yeonjun urged Taehyun to become himself more and more.

He found that Yeonjun wasn’t actually as flawless and effortless as he made himself out to be. True to word, Yeonjun was quite sensitive and liked when Taehyun engaged in conversation properly with him, eye contact and all. If Taehyun’s focus wavered from Yeonjun’s conversation, he would pout and stare at Taehyun, slowly pushing his head closer and closer to Taehyun’s until Taehyun finally gave him his full attention, after which he would happily continue with his story or whatever he was rambling about like nothing happened.
He got lonely easily, even despite how many people around campus would wave at him and greet him when they passed by, often dragging Taehyun out of his college dorm to escort him on little errands for groceries or dentist appointments, much to Taehyun’s roommate’s delight.
It occurred to Taehyun, about 2 months into their friendship, that Yeonjun didn’t actually have a whole clique of close friends like he had initially thought. In fact, Taehyun had clearly become Yeonjun’s closest friend that Yeonjun happily bothered with texts at 2am and 7am about a drama that he couldn’t get off his mind or a song he found that was mind-blowingly catchy or an interaction that was slightly off and now he wondered if he could ever show his face in a coffee shop ever again. Taehyun pretended like Yeonjun’s persistent rambles annoyed him.

It happened so naturally and quickly before Taehyun could even realize it; Taehyun blinked and suddenly Yeonjun had integrated himself into Taehyun’s life.
It was the first time Taehyun had really become close with someone outside of his family, and it felt strange, like he was doing something wrong at all times. A sort of guilt planted itself in the back of his mind, for holding himself back so much around Yeonjun when Yeonjun himself was so open and… well, himself with Taehyun.

He had yet to bring up anything even breaching the subject of skirts or makeup or anything remotely feminine with Yeonjun, and Yeonjun never brought it up naturally himself despite the splashes of makeup on his own face.
There were questions Taehyun wanted to ask, but didn’t feel qualified to, or maybe he wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer, because it might answer questions he’d quietly asked about himself.
He thought he was being pretty lowkey about his interest in feminine clothes for the most part, until Yeonjun finally caught him out.

They were at a shopping plaza, a place Yeonjun often brought Taehyun to wander around, whether it be shopping, eating together, watching movies, or just vagrant walking and talking.
Taehyun liked to window shop with Yeonjun, because Yeonjun would often eye up different clothing shops themed around feminine fashion, and Taehyun got to admire the clothes from afar while acting like he wasn’t interested and was just letting his puppy sniff the store windows as he waited to keep walking.

While they dipped inside a small boutique, Taehyun wandered what he hoped looked aimlessly while Yeonjun pulled hangers apart to observe designs on shirts.
A pastel pink fabric caught his eyes and he stopped, glancing around to make sure that Yeonjun was focused on his clothing rack, before he delicately reached out to touch the fabric.
He recognized the net-like tulle fabric; his sister had shown him about a million different types of fabric the last time he’d visited her, excited to show him some of the things she’d personally sewn in her free time.
The tulle was layered all down the handkerchief skirt over soft pink fabric underneath, making the ankle-length skirt appear full and flowy. It almost resembled a wedding veil, the sheer material embedded with subtle sparkles only visible if viewed from very close up.

Taehyun thought to send a picture of it to Taehee; she’d surely love the style of the fabric, and would eagerly talk about the craftsmanship of the article of clothing, but she would also adamantly encourage Taehyun to try it on, already knowing why he’d be looking at the skirt in the first place.
Not that Taehyun would really mind his sister prodding him for pictures of him in the skirt - he found it sweet and endearing - even if he still wasn’t quite confident in wearing them properly.
But, Yeonjun was with him, and Taehyun was even less confident in wearing a skirt in front of him.
Not that he thought Yeonjun would react very negatively to him wanting to try a skirt on, but… well, what if he did? What if Taehyun wasn’t cool enough to wear a skirt like Yeonjun surely could? What if he somehow looked foolish enough in a skirt that Yeonjun decided he didn’t want to hang out with Taehyun anymore? What if Taehyun’s childhood fear suddenly came true and Yeonjun called the cops on him for wearing a skirt?

Logically, Taehyun knew most of those anxieties were ridiculous, Yeonjun really wasn’t that type of person. If he disliked something, he was straightforward, but not rude about it. And when it came to Taehyun, Yeonjun was always gentle and considerate. He’d probably love to talk fashion, anyway.

Taehyun had heard Yeonjun offhandedly remark, “You’d look great in plaid,” or “I bet you could rock this style of jacket,” or “With your physique and face, you could make anything look good” plenty of times while shopping - window or not - with Yeonjun. The last one may have made Taehyun’s stomach do silly little flips that he pushed to the side to analyze at a later date (as in: never, preferably) but the sentiment was there.
Taehyun always chalked it up to Yeonjun’s interest in fashion; he’d be great friends with Taehee, Taehyun would often think.

Still, Taehyun felt a deep-rooted anxiety as he stared at the pink fabric in his hands.
Sure, Taehee and Jihwan readily and eagerly accepted him as he was, but they were family. His old elementary and high school friends and teachers made it clear that boys weren’t supposed to wear skirts, after all.
Even if Taehyun wouldn’t be arrested for it, the last thing he wanted was for his coolest and only friend to think he was a weirdo for being interested in them.

“Oooh, that’s really pretty.”

Taehyun froze when Yeonjun’s voice appeared from over his shoulder. The layered fabric carded through his fingers as gravity pulled it away and he blinked into space, already trying to find excuses as to why he was looking.
“Uh, yeah,” Taehyun chuckled nervously, “My, uh, my noona picked up a hobby for sewing, so I was just…” his sentence trailed off, dying in his throat as Yeonjun reached past him to paw at the tulle.

Taehyun watched Yeonjun’s side profile as he inspected the skirt seriously with a gentle smile on his face, a smile that felt like it knew everything. Or maybe it didn’t. Taehyun bit his lip, hoping to never open his mouth ever again, ideally.
In fact, ideally, Yeonjun would grow disinterested in the skirt and just walk away, never bringing up Taehyun’s clear fascination with it ever again and they could continue their window shopping like normal.
But Yeonjun’s gaze shifted from the light pink cloth to Taehyun’s eyes, eye contact that made Taehyun’s heart race even though his body stiffened.

Yeonjun, looking Taehyun in the eyes, with a soft grin on his face, said, “You’d look really nice in it, Taehyun.”

This was it, Taehyun thought. The world opened up under his feet and swallowed him up, leaving him floating in a void alone with no one else in his orbit. He was doomed to spin around in a galaxy with no light and no other humans.
His mind blanked and he was sure his face ran a deep red, and he was pretty sure his lip that he clamped between his teeth spilled red onto his tongue, too. His throat became a desert despite his increasingly salty eyes.
Yeonjun had made comments about certain clothes looking good on Taehyun before, but somehow it felt so much more targeted when it came to the skirt.
Taehyun tried to convince himself that that was all it was, Yeonjun just making a passing comment like he always did, but Taehyun’s emotions got the better of him, spiraling out of control.

Taehyun was certain there must be some mocking undertones in Yeonjun’s words. Why else would he have said it when Taehyun had never mentioned skirts to him?
Maybe Yeonjun wasn’t as cool and charismatic as he’d always thought, maybe Yeonjun was playing the long game, getting close to Taehyun just so he could chew him up and spit him out. Maybe Taehyun hadn’t pinned Yeonjun’s personality as easily as he had thought, and Yeonjun was just making a fool out of him on some bet or something. Maybe Yeonjun really thought Taehyun was some kind of pushover, easy to bully or something; that’s how it always was in movies, after all.
Taehyun had time to feel betrayed for this made-up villain in his head, because for some reason, that was easier to swallow than just Yeonjun being genuine in his compliment.

“You don’t know that,” the words clawed their way out of Taehyun’s throat despite the way up being narrow and all of Taehyun’s efforts to push it down. It came off biting and harsh, and Taehyun kept his eyes trained on some far-off point of the store so he couldn’t see the expression Yeonjun made.
In his mind, Yeonjun’s expression was shocked and offended, which betrayed Yeonjun’s soft voice.

Yeonjun simply pulled the hanger off the rack, gently nudging Taehyun’s shoulder with it.
“Then, let’s find out.”

Taehyun stood in the dressing room opposite of the skirt, hanging on the hook on the wall. He stared at it like a boss enemy, like it loomed over him; something he had never been able to defeat due to being unprepared, due to hesitance and weakness. No amount of potions or buffs could make him feel powerful enough to take it down, and so he just glared at it under bright lights, behind a creaky wooden door, reflected in no less than three mirrors.
Yeonjun waited patiently outside for him, like an audience member waiting to see the result of the battle. Would he cheer or boo for Taehyun’s triumph or failure?

Taehyun had already taken upwards of ten minutes just sizing up the clothing, and he knew he couldn’t hide in the dressing room forever.
He took a deep breath and let it roll out a large sigh. Whether or not Taehyun would go to sleep at night with a maintained friendship with Yeonjun, he would have to wear the skirt either way.

To give his brain a push, he quickly took a picture of the skirt and sent the image to his sister without a second thought, already predicting her reaction.

Taehee replied to him in less than a minute: CUUUUTE!! I wanna see it on you!!!

Now both Yeonjun and Taehee were waiting for him to put the damn thing on, so Taehyun let the pressure drag him towards and into the skirt.
With his back to the trio of mirrors, Taehyun looked down at the skirt around his waist. It fit snugly, like it was meant to be, and the tips of the layers of tulle brushed his ankles.
Taehyun felt his heart rate pick up in adrenaline - dopamine too, but he was too scared to fully acknowledge that - as he took a spin with flourish to face the mirrors and look at himself.

His throat closed up for the second time of the day as he watched the skirt flutter around as it followed his movement. It was the first time he had properly worn a skirt without any haste (save for his waiting patron outside the room) and without feeling like he was keeping a secret.
The skirt suddenly looked less like an enemy boss monster and more like the most powerful and rarest piece of armor that he had been lucky to find.
It felt nice, and that was scary to acknowledge. Taehyun looked… he was afraid to finish the thought, too scary to acknowledge that, as well.
He pulled his scabbed lip back between his teeth, hoping to kill the tug of the corners of his mouth, hoping to pop the bubbly feeling in his gut before it flew up any higher, hoping his wet eyes would undergo a drought like his throat was.
His hand clutched his shirt over his heart, willing it to calm, trying to suppress the soaring feeling it was experiencing to little avail.
An evil little thought crossed his mind, it whispered, “Why have I waited this long to feel this happy?” but Taehyun smothered it quickly, worrying the moisture coating his eyes would overflow if he allowed the thought to slip through the cracks.

“Everything okay?” came a mellow, slightly concerned voice from outside, accompanied by a light knock on the wooden door.

Taehyun was sure that if he opened his mouth to reassure Yeonjun, he would start crying. But, Yeonjun couldn’t see him nod from behind a closed door.
So Taehyun gathered every ounce of courage in his body, everything he could possibly have in his guts, and with shaky hands, ran off his adrenaline to reach for the doorknob.

Yeonjun’s face greeted him, a worried pout on his lips as the first thing he saw was Taehyun’s emotional eyes.
“Oh, Taehyunnie, you didn’t have to-” Yeonjun cut his sentence short, no doubt a reassurance that Taehyun didn’t have to wear the skirt if he didn’t want to, likely an apology of some sort, but he stopped.
Taehyun wasn’t sure what exactly Yeonjun saw that made him realize, but when Yeonjun stepped forward and enveloped him in a tight, comforting hug, Taehyun knew that Yeonjun understood something.

Any monstrous image Taehyun’s anxious brain had formed of Yeonjun to lessen the hurt of a potential rejection was washed away in hot tears and quiet hiccups.
Taehyun, for the first time, allowed himself to just accept the hug, resting his head on Yeonjun’s shoulder and swallowing his sniffles.
It was a little embarrassing, to be crying in the middle of a store, but he thanked whatever higher being made it so the store was basically empty and no one inside paid them any mind.
He was sure it would be a horrifyingly embarrassing memory to look back on, but Yeonjun’s hands smoothing across his back hushed those worries.

“I was right, you know,” Yeonjun murmured against Taehyun’s head, smile clear in his voice, “You look really great.”

It was the first time Taehyun purchased a skirt for himself.

(Yeonjun took a picture for Taehyun to send to Taehee before they left to go eat together. Taehyun sent it with a selca of himself and Yeonjun even though his eyes and nose were red, attached with a message: Noona, I made a friend too! I’ll tell you about him soon.
Later that night, when Taehyun called Taehee, she sobbed over the phone about how happy she was for him while Jihwan expressed his pride as well. Taehyun refused to admit he also cried, but he knew Taehee already knew.

He texted Yeonjun too, their selcas attached: Thanks, hyung :)
It was a short message, but he knew Yeonjun would understand the deeper gratitude behind it.
And, in return, Yeonjun replied: Sure thing, Taehyunnie! :D Send me the other one, too! You looked really nice in it and it deserves commemoration too!
Taehyun stared at the message, confused. He asked: The other one?
To which Yeonjun clarified: The one of you in the skirt, silly. :P

A funny, strange feeling sent his heart speeding and Taehyun could no longer stay sitting in his desk chair, pacing around the room aimlessly.
His fingertips were electric as he finally sent the image five minutes later, along with the message Oh, of course lol! Here you go! ^^)

IV.

The fourth one was an elegant red high-low skirt.

When Taehee called Taehyun early in the morning before his classes, Taehyun hadn’t expected much. He was baffled why - or how - she was so excited so early in the morning, but when she proudly announced that Jihwan had proposed to her, Taehyun shot out of bed on full alert.

The proposal was apparently quite grand, complete with a fancy dinner, a romantic walk in the park, and the question popped among moonlight and roses.
Taehee had said she felt like a princess, swept off her feet by a beautiful prince, and Taehyun had laughed while congratulating her.

He was the first person to know about Taehee and Jihwan’s engagement, even before their parents, and Taehee would spend the next half year dreamily describing the details of their planned wedding over the phone, during visits, and various family meals together both with their parents and just with Taehyun.
“You know,” she had told him, giggling over dinner, “If Hwannie had been mean to you that time you wore a skirt, I would have dumped him right then and there.”
Taehyun didn’t doubt that, and it made a warm little current of satisfaction surge through him, even despite considering Jihwan a good man.

Taehyun had come a long way with Jihwan, looking back.
Taehee often called Taehyun a kitty-cat, the way he took to warming up to Jihwan over time; he used to be shy and cautious of Jihwan and as he became an adult, he began to go out with just Jihwan to dinners or movies.
Occasionally, he confided in Jihwan in his little anxieties. Jihwan was an excellent listener and a natural at easing Taehyun’s mind. Taehyun always imagined Jihwan would make a wonderful counselor, he had a way of wording things gently so they were easy to take in, no matter what he was saying.
So as far as Taehyun was concerned, Jihwan was basically family already, and he felt just as ecstatic to hear about the engagement and wedding.

Months passed, and as the wedding began to draw near, Taehee gave him details of the wedding, telling him to invite his “cute friend that he’s always talking about”.
Taehyun would argue that he didn’t talk about Yeonjun that much, but refused to let Taehee go through their text messages to see how many times Yeonjun’s name cropped up ever since revealing him to her.

“Oh, I know! Hyunnie, do you have a skirt you want to wear for the wedding?” Taehee asked him one day over the phone. “The dress code is red, so I’m sure you can find something in that color!”

The suggestion was lighthearted and casual, but Taehyun froze, his fingers stilled as the pen he’d been twirling fell over them.
He’d become a bit more confident with skirts ever since Yeonjun encouraged him, even once showing Yeonjun some of the skirts Taehee had left him when she moved out. (Yeonjun had been just as encouraging, asking Taehyun to try them on. Taehyun had been too shy, so he only held them up to his waist instead. Yeonjun had cheered and clapped, making Taehyun’s face burn up.)
Since the day in the dressing room with Yeonjun, Taehyun hadn’t really worn another skirt despite the desire still comfortably warming his heart.
But wearing a skirt in front of other people aside from his family and Yeonjun was still intimidating, and despite how nice skirts felt on him, he still had conflicting feelings despite everything.

Taehee noticed his pause and continued, “Of course, the guests will just be friends and family, Hyunnie. I can help you pick one out, if you want!”

The guests being just friends and family was the scary part, though.
There were too many people to have opinions about him wearing a skirt, and he would actually rather die than to face someone who had a negative one.
And aside from that, there was still another, separate but not unrelated fear that held him back.
So he replied slowly, “Can I think about it, Noona? I’ll find something nice to wear, I promise.”

“Of course you will, Hyunnie,” Taehee answered gently, and Taehyun could imagine her soft, reassuring expression, “I’ll just be happy that you’re there, no matter what you’re wearing…”
But will you be happy, no matter what you’re wearing? Even over the phone, Taehyun could tell that was the intended conclusion with the way Taehee’s words trailed off at the end.
Taehyun wasn’t sure if he could answer the unspoken question.

Taehyun’s logical brain had been working overtime and it felt like he ran in circles chasing his own tail every time he tried to address it himself.
It didn’t make sense to him, why was it so hard? If he felt good in skirts, what did that mean for him? He was certain in his gender, had been ever since his sister had tested her makeup on him when they were kids.
He disliked his face when it was slathered with concealer, as if he were trying to hide himself more than he already did; he disliked blush and eyeshadow and eyeliner on his own face, accentuating aspects of his complexion that changed the perception of his profile.
He’d be remiss to deny the elated feeling of fabric wrapping his ankles, and makeup had never made him feel that way.
Taehyun just wanted to wear skirts. What was so complicated about that? He wondered, too.

“And you look good in them, too!” Yeonjun pouted as he fidgeted with Taehyun’s Rubix Cube on Taehyun’s dorm couch.

Taehyun had promptly kicked his roommate out so he could have a mini-conference with Yeonjun, much to his roommate’s - who was in the middle of a video game - pleas of “just give me one second”, “let me just pass this level”, and “you guys can just talk, I won’t listen”.
His roommate had seemed surprised Taehyun had even invited someone over, and it suddenly made Taehyun painfully aware that his roommate’s perception of him must be pretty skewed with the expression that had lingered on his face when Taehyun pushed him out of the dorm.
Yeonjun lounged comfortably on Taehyun’s couch juxtaposed to Taehyun anxiously pacing the tiny living room space, traveling from one edge of the floor rug to the opposite.

Taehyun paused his path, only briefly, to glance at Yeonjun after his comment - who just grinned at him - before continuing walking rabbit burrows into his carpet, trusting that his racing heart was just the adrenaline of overthinking.

It was more than just public opinion of him, though he was just the tiniest bit afraid of that, too.
He couldn’t stand feeling as though people were judging him, as if people scrutinized him just as much as he himself did, deep down.
He’d heard both sides, after all. While his sister and brother-in-law celebrated and encouraged him, his past friends and teachers had condemned him. Yeonjun was so proudly himself, but there were still those who looked down on him, spoke poorly of him, called him words that he should be proud of but hissed through derogatory whispers behind his back when they thought he couldn’t hear.

It was also his own hesitation with himself.
He didn’t even know why he liked skirts so much, why it was only skirts he liked so much. If he didn’t like makeup, but liked the skirts, what did that make him?
If he was content in his own gender, why was he so drawn towards pieces of clothing that were primarily meant for women? Was he even allowed to be himself if that was what he wanted?
Could it be called happiness if wearing them stressed him out this much?

“Taehyun,” Yeonjun interrupted slowly, sitting the cube down on the coffee table. It was nowhere near being solved, in fact Taehyun could tell at a glance that Yeonjun had actually jumbled the cube up even more than when he had initially picked it up.

Taehyun halted his NPC route on the carpet and watched as Yeonjun sat up properly on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees as he looked Taehyun in the eyes with a serious look.
“You like skirts, yeah? They make you happy, you look good in them, you want to wear them?”

Taehyun swallowed, digging his toes into the rug as if he were about to float up to the ceiling suddenly. His bottom lip found its way between his teeth, and his eyes shifted around the room, unsure how to answer - or rather, how to cope with all answers being yes.
So instead, he diverted, “W-well, I wouldn’t… say I look…” he trailed off. Regardless of Yeonjun’s opinion of him, he’d always preferred how he looked with a skirt on, even if he was hard-pressed to let himself admit it.

It was enough for Yeonjun.
“Well, I would. And I think deep down, you would too,” he said, not giving Taehyun the time to process the reply, “You know I wear makeup sometimes, right? And sometimes I dress in more feminine clothes?”

“Well, that’s…” Taehyun’s brain supplied him with an excuse, one that forced its way out of his mouth before he could decide that it was a stupid excuse, “because you’re Yeonjun. And I’m Taehyun.”
At first glance, the words made sense to him. Yeonjun was so… Yeonjun, of course he could pull off makeup and feminine clothing whereas Taehyun hid himself away, hoping to never have to come out of his shell if it were easier.
But on closer look, the words were a harsh line needlessly drawn between them that Taehyun realized he disliked the moment it came out of his mouth.

A shock of hurt flashed across Yeonjun’s face for a split second in the way his eyes widened, eyebrows furrowed, and lips frowning, and Taehyun panicked, sending himself into overdrive.
Taehyun sputtered, shaking his head quickly as he tried to explain uselessly, “Well, no, I mean, you can do all that stuff because you’re just, like, I mean, you look good when you do all that, but when I do it-”

“You look good,” Yeonjun pressed, a hardened look on his face as he spoke the words directly to Taehyun and right through to Taehyun’s soul, like he hoped to engrave the idea himself into Taehyun’s very being so that Taehyun couldn’t deny it, no matter how hard he tried.

The words flung sand over the growing flame in Taehyun’s mind and he short-circuited, mouth opening to probably refute, but nothing coming out, the fire having been doused and left him with nothing else to argue back, anything he could possibly say sounding pathetic and baseless.
Yeonjun let out a short sigh, something between frustration, disappointment, or resignation. Taehyun felt like an idiot, standing at the edge of his rug, digging his fingernails into his palms and chewing his bottom lip swollen.

“They make you happy,” Yeonjun stated calmly like a fact. “But something is still holding you back.”
Taehyun expected him to be angry, but he sat with his eyes locked on Taehyun’s, searching for the same genuinity.
Taehyun wondered if he would have preferred Yeonjun to be angry so he didn’t have to face his own feelings about himself ever, but he instead took the resigned walk to sit on the couch next to Yeonjun, sinking down into the cushions.

Taehyun took the moment to collect his thoughts, and he sat just breathing in and out to settle his rattled heart. Yeonjun allowed him the space, attentively watching from the side.
Taehyun finally opened up the mental box of things holding him back from being himself, dusty and taped up about a hundred times over.

He had never experienced true vitriol from the few people he had revealed interest in skirts to, nor had he ever really seen extreme repulsion from those he brought it up to, barring the avoidant tip-toeing around the topic or firm views in opposition.
Logically, he had no reason to believe anyone would truly denounce him if he began wearing skirts. (It wasn’t illegal, after all.)
But his concerns seemed to boil down to just one sentiment that he was told from an early age by an adult he looked up to.

“Boys aren’t supposed to wear skirts,” Taehyun spoke quietly, his voice smothered by the low hum of the fluorescent kitchen lights and the living room’s ceiling fan.
In Taehyun’s periphery, Yeonjun blinked, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to say something, but Taehyun quickly continued, not really sure if he was prepared to hear what would come out, “That’s what someone told me once. I mean, I’ve never felt,” Taehyun gestured vaguely, “like I want to be a woman or anything else, I just…” he sighed deeply, doubting his ability to explain.

Yeonjun hummed a thoughtful acknowledgement as he nodded slowly, as if fully absorbing Taehyun’s nonsensical words. Maybe he was, Taehyun tried to keep his hopes from fully rising.
“So, like,” Yeonjun began, carefully picking his words as he cautiously reached out to rub Taehyun’s shoulder. Once certain that Taehyun didn’t mind the touch, he continued, “For me, it’s just a matter of expressing myself through clothes. Wearing what I wear makes me happy, and no one can take that away from me. You’re the kind of guy who has to understand though, aren’t you?”

Always in search of information, Taehyun always prided himself on being able to learn and learn until he had a full understanding of something.
It seemed like the one thing he couldn’t grasp as a whole was himself.

“You don’t have to change anything about yourself, Taehyun,” Yeonjun’s fingertips fidgeted with the hem of Taehyun’s hoodie, “Just because you like skirts doesn’t mean you have to start wearing makeup or become more feminine if that doesn’t appeal to you. As long as you’re happy.”
The words hit Taehyun’s heart a bit harder than he’d expected them to, and he fought the sting in his eyes.
“You have people who support you and accept you, and hey, if you decide down the road that you changed your mind, that’s completely fine. For now, if you feel comfortable wearing skirts as yourself, then no one can arrest you for wearing clothes you like.”

Deja Vu swam in Taehyun’s ears in a voice that sounded like Jihwan’s, and Taehyun snorted a wet laugh at the coincidence, jostling the dam open and letting saltwater spill onto his cheeks.
It felt like such a simple solution, but hesitance was always Taehyun’s weakness. Perhaps because of his insistence to learn until he understood, he was particular about his knowledge; if it seemed too easy, there must be something deeper to it.
It felt as if Taehyun had turned that Rubix Cube around for hours, trying to figure out how to set that last square in place only for Yeonjun to shift it once to the left and complete it in seconds.
Still, Yeonjun spoke to him with such gentleness that it didn’t make Taehyun feel particularly foolish. Maybe a touch embarrassed, but in a shy way rather than a horrified way.

A question lingered in his mind, a really, really, stupid one that basically had nothing to do with their conversation but also had everything to do with the conversation but it was so, so ridiculous that he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.
It wouldn’t contribute anything to the conversation, and Taehyun could reasonably go on with his week without knowing the answer but the fact of the matter was that it would ease Taehyun’s mind tenfold. That in itself was just a bit humiliating, and unfortunately, the question was horrifyingly embarrassing.

Still, Yeonjun, by some celestial power or maybe it showed on Taehyun’s demeanor, could sense that Taehyun had some unspoken words, so he smoothed down stray strands of hair on Taehyun’s neck as he encouraged, “Go on, I’m listening, no matter what it is.”

Taehyun choked out another moist chuckle, taking advantage of his tears to cover his reddening face under the guise of wiping drops from his cheeks.
Perhaps fortunately, his cry-stuffed head clouded the sane part of his brain that would have transferred the sheer cringe of asking the question and the words were gracing his tongue before he could remind himself to stop.
“I just… care for your opinion,” Taehyun was pretty sure he never cared this intensely for someone else’s opinion in his life aside from his sister, “I just want to make sure that you think it’s like… cool. Me wearing skirts, or whatever,” he barely managed to mumble the last sentence, digging his nails into the palms of his hands, wishing he could timeskip forward two hours so he wouldn’t have to deal with the present.

A millisecond of silence had Taehyun convinced that this was finally the moment, after years, where Yeonjun finally walked away, too weirded out by how pathetic and desperate Taehyun was being.
“Taehyun,” Yeonjun’s voice broke through Taehyun’s hands shielding his eyes from Yeonjun’s expression, pulling Taehyun’s eyes up to meet him as if hypnotized to.
Yeonjun’s eyes folded softly, a fond, gentle gaze accompanied by the sweetest smile. “I love it.”

Taehyun’s stomach did all kinds of flips, his neck felt hot with sweat from how flustered he became.
It, what did it even mean? Taehyun was the one who had worded it that way, but he was suddenly uncertain of what he even meant, overthinking cluttering the back of his mind.
The skirts? Taehyun wearing skirts? Taehyun? No, that felt too outrageous. Surely, he had just meant the skirts, Taehyun rationalized.

“Why don’t we go together to pick one out for the wedding? With your noona.” Yeonjun offered, reaching for Taehyun’s hands that still hovered over his face.
Taehyun’s mind raced to remember what he meant before the context of the whole conversation popped into his head again and what spurred all of this on. The wedding.
Taehyun let Yeonjun take his hands, holding them warmly, tracing the lines of his palms. For the first time, Taehyun felt sure about himself, like he didn’t need to hide anything.

“I’m gonna be the only guy wearing a skirt,” Taehyun snorted offhandedly with a smile, a light joke that was laced with appreciation.

Yeonjun raised his eyebrows and smirked something mischievous and smug, and Taehyun hadn’t planned on getting the reply out of Yeonjun, but he could already guess Yeonjun’s next words: “Of course you won’t be, silly.”

Taehee was delighted to meet Yeonjun. As expected, they got along wonderfully, excitedly discussing fashion and fabrics and makeup as they fervently attempted to explain it all to Taehyun. Taehyun was just happy that they hit it off like he’d always expected them to.
When Taehee talked to Yeonjun, she held pride in her eyes, but Taehyun wasn’t exactly sure what for.

When Taehyun sheepishly told Taehee that he planned on wearing a skirt, Yeonjun quickly added that he hoped to find matching ones for the both of them. Taehee was over the moon, clapping her hands together excitedly.
What followed was nothing short of a fashion show in the department store as Taehee picked skirts off clothes racks in piles and sent Taehyun and Yeonjun into dressing rooms over and over.

Though it was tiring, it was the most skirts Taehyun had worn in one instance and… he was happy.
It probably didn’t help that Yeonjun hooted and cheered in earnest every time Taehyun stepped out of the dressing room, but Taehyun couldn’t help the swelling in his heart every time he tried on a new skirt and met Yeonjun’s eyes.
Although it made Taehyun’s cheeks match the deep red color of the dresses he tried on, he felt himself becoming more and more confident under Yeonjun’s encouragement and Taehee’s adamancy in finding the perfect skirt, going so far as to strike poses and twirl, much to his sister and Yeonjun’s raucous joy.

When he stepped out in the cherry-red taffeta skirt that stopped at his knees and hung low in the back, Yeonjun was speechless compared to Taehee’s enthusiastic compliments.
“This one is beautiful, Hyunnie!” Taehee clapped her hands in delight, glancing over at Yeonjun, wide-eyed and shellshocked, a matching red blooming across his face. She added with a sly grin, “I think this is the one, Hyun. Let’s find one in Junnie’s size, too.”

The skirt looked perfect on Yeonjun, as expected. His confidence spread to Taehyun as he held the fabric up to show off his thighs. Taehee whistled, Taehyun gulped hot air.

When Yeonjun got a moment alone with Taehyun as Taehee browsed the skirts for other guests at the wedding, he leaned down to whisper in Taehyun’s ear.
“You look pretty, Taehyun,” he said, the rumble of his voice traveling all through Taehyun’s ear and right into his gut, lava in his abdomen that he desperately tried to cool off.

It was a sweet compliment, one that Taehyun had heard from Taehee before. But somehow, coming from Yeonjun, Taehyun’s mind spiraled, dipping dangerously close to the gutter, but lifting up before he could become a degenerate.
Taehyun was sure that if it were anyone else in the world telling him, he’d brush off the compliment with a shy gratitude, but Yeonjun left him breathless, unable to even utter that. Still, Yeonjun seemed to get some kind of message from Taehyun’s reaction, because he simply patted Taehyun’s shoulder and wandered off to browse the clothes himself.
Taehyun thought he might have seen a light blush on Yeonjun’s face, but he refused to get his hopes that high.

It dawned on Taehyun, much later, that it was the first time he’d ever had a positive reaction to being called pretty.

Yeonjun cried at the wedding, even more than Taehyun himself did, but definitely not more than Jihwan did.
It was kind of funny, really. Taehyun’s perception of Jihwan for years had been the cool, older brother type, the one who was always looking out for Taehyun, the one who made his sister happy. It was the first time he’d seen Jihwan cry, especially the buckets in which he did.
Similarly, Taehyun’s idea of Yeonjun was always his idol, someone who was far cooler than he could ever be but came down from his perch on the highest branch of the tree to mingle with him. It was the first time he’d seen Yeonjun cry that much, as well.
Taehyun realized that Yeonjun was instead right next to him.

(Taehyun realized a multitude of things the night Taehee and Jihwan got married.

One, that Jihwan was an absolute loser for Taehee. This fact made Taehyun positively thrilled; he always thought that Taehee deserved a man that would completely fawn over her.
Though Taehyun had gotten closer with Jihwan over the years, he felt like he finally got to see a different side of his brother-in-law, someone who was sensitive and not nearly as put together as he’d expected.
Taehyun felt certain about Jihwan and Taehee, and he told them as such, which made Jihwan cry even more.

Two, that Taehyun truly loved wearing skirts. When guests started flowing through the doors of the wedding venue, Taehyun almost chickened out, had Yeonjun not encouraged him and spurred him on. Yeonjun followed him around the venue all night, a rock in Taehyun’s rapids of anxiety.
Guests, Taehee and Jihwan’s friends and family complimented his and Yeonjun’s skirts, how it looked on them, how cute it was that they were matching, and Taehyun’s adrenaline boiled over into elation.
Anyone who didn’t pay any mind to the skirts, Yeonjun would begin the conversation mentioning the skirts, boldly explaining, “Taehee noona actually helped pick out these matching skirts that Taehyunnie and I are wearing. They’re beautiful, right?”, much to Taehyun’s embarrassment.
Still, Taehyun felt the spring of joy blooming in his chest when he received compliments, when Yeonjun insisted he be called gorgeous and pretty without feminizing him.

Two-and-a-half, that Taehyun considered, for a very, very brief moment, that praise or being called pretty might be a thing for him. At least when Yeonjun did it. But he wasn’t keen to unpack that at Taehee’s wedding, so he shelved the thought and hoped to not have to pick it back up anytime soon or maybe never.

Three, that Taehyun was objectively, irrevocably, inadvertently in love with Choi Yeonjun.
That one, he stored in plain sight, something he could reach for if the opportunity arose, but hopefully - for his own sanity - it never would, and it would just be a nice little decoration atop the bookcase of Taehyun’s mind.
Still, he printed the memories of Yeonjun’s sobbing, his laughter, his joy, in the pages of the revelation, surrounded by flowers to look back on with pride and happiness.

It was useless to argue with facts. After all, Taehyun had watched his sister fall in love, and he found that he fell in love much the same way: quietly, suddenly, in a crashing wave. A solution that always felt like it was the answer, but he hadn’t been sure until he noticed the red on his cheeks and the rise in his heart when he watched Yeonjun laugh with his full body, when he watched Yeonjun’s eyes crinkle into crescents when he smiled, when he watched Yeonjun’s eyes meet his and all the features of Yeonjun’s face softened, when Yeonjun called him sugary words and he melted into the soft batter of affection and adoration.

Taehyun realized, very, very late, that he was afraid of losing Yeonjun. Terrified of Yeonjun walking away, of deciding Taehyun was no longer worth it.
When Taehyun had first met Yeonjun, he had expected it to happen, but now that he’d gotten to know Yeonjun, he dreaded it happening.
Taehyun had never cared so much about someone he tried to convince himself was just a friend.
And so, Taehyun hoped, desperately so, that things stayed the same between them, if only so he would never have to face a reality where he might lose Yeonjun.)

V.

The fifth was a high-waisted brown plaid pleated skirt.

There were few in Taehyun’s life that he cared to maintain his image for. In fact, he could count the number on one hand: Taehee, and by extension, Jihwan, his parents, and Choi Yeonjun.

Previously, Taehyun might have been a bit more apprehensive about strangers’ perception of him, but ultimately, his reservations came down to his own insecurities and overthinking rather than the fear of outside opinion of him.
Taehyun wasn’t an impressive person, he’d known this ever since he was a kid. In fact, he would be the first to admit that he was quite boring and a bit too stuck in his own head.

When it came to his family, he’d only ever been shown continuous love and support, ever since he was a child.
Taehee would defend Taehyun to the ends of the earth, and anyone that treated Taehyun poorly, she would gladly confront. Taehyun truly believed that, had Jihwan shown disgust for him rather than acceptance back when he was a teen, Taehee would have called off the relationship right then and there after chewing Jihwan out.
Similarly, though Taehyun’s parents had always been eager for their children to follow their dreams and express themselves however they wanted, Taehyun suspected that Taehee would have scolded their parents had they shown any sign of rejection for Taehyun’s interests.
They might have been a tad confused when Taehyun had mentioned it in passing during a family dinner, but with Taehee in the room, any apprehension was smothered within seconds.
And so, Taehyun would always have Taehee; thus, Taehyun would always have his family, no matter what.

Choi Yeonjun, on the other hand.

Choi Yeonjun, at first, was this force in Taehyun’s life that he watched from afar, a wind that blew through other people’s lives and would occasionally breeze by him. And Taehyun would close his eyes and let the breeze pass through him before he carried on with his day feeling a little lighter.
And then the breeze that was Choi Yeonjun somehow pushed in through the cracks of Taehyun’s walls, finding every little pocket of space that he could nestle into until he lived at home in the fortress of Kang Taehyun.

Taehyun wasn’t even sure when it had happened, somewhere in between the library that Yeonjun sat with Taehyun in, along the racks of clothing that he window shopped with Taehyun in, among the carpet of Taehyun’s dorm room where Yeonjun sat while chatting with Taehyun into the night about nothing and everything.
Yeonjun became a fixture in Taehyun’s life, someone he expected to talk to at some point in the day, even if it was just a “hey, what’s up?”. (It was never just that. Yeonjun liked chatting at 2am too much.)

Taehyun found the pages of his mental notebook of Yeonjun’s profile growing and expanding without ever consciously writing the notes.
He suddenly knew that Yeonjun loved pandas and would watch videos of them for a ridiculous amount of hours. He now had stories embedded in his memories that Yeonjun told him, like the time he took in what he thought was a stray cat only to find out he had inadvertently and accidentally catnapped his neighbor’s pet. Taehyun would go to the bookstore and find himself remembering a book series that Yeonjun had said he’d enjoyed… back in high school, as he didn’t read much anymore. Taehyun would study his notes and find the doodles that Yeonjun scribbled on the edges of the paper, little monsters and puppy faces with flowers drawn around them and speech bubbles that said silly quotes from their conversations.

Yeonjun was a wonderful presence in Taehyun’s life, one that supported him wholeheartedly, listened to his concerns; a presence that genuinely enjoyed being around Taehyun and actively chose to spend his time with Taehyun.
Yeonjun accepted Taehyun’s every fiber, everything Taehyun said had Yeonjun hanging on every word, even if it was just small talk about what Taehyun had for lunch. Yeonjun was genuinely curious about what Taehyun did before he went to sleep, what he did when he woke up the next morning, and was shameless about asking him.

It was new, something Taehyun had never experienced before.
At first, it might have been a touch irritating, having someone so earnestly curious about his everyday life and what brand of hand soap he used. (Yeonjun said it smelled nice. Taehyun bought more of the hand soap, made sure to use a frankly obscene amount of it when he washed his hands.)
Taehyun could easily recall the nights when he would wake up at 3am to messages from Yeonjun asking him his opinions on tomatoes, if they were fruity enough to be in a fruit salad (“no but you are”, Taehyun had replied), and thinking how wonderfully bothersome it was to have someone so actively invested in his thoughts.

And then Taehyun blinked and he suddenly began staying up past midnight in anticipation for a text from Yeonjun, made sure to keep his phone nearby when he studied just in case Yeonjun texted him about some obscure movie he’d just watched and learned every piece of information about via Wikipedia rabbit hole.
In fact, embarrassingly, Taehyun took his phone with him everywhere. To brush his teeth, out into the commons room of his dorm to the vending machines, into the dorm kitchen just to pour water into his cup ramyeon.
It was actually a bit frustrating, how fast Yeonjun took up residence in Taehyun’s mind.

Taehyun had pondered about it before, how Yeonjun thought of him. It permeated his mind every minute he spent with Yeonjun.
I love it, Yeonjun had said when Taehyun had asked him about his thoughts on Taehyun in skirts.
Even now, Taehyun found himself searching for the answer, twisting it in all angles so he might gain a deeper understanding of it.
Taehyun never wanted to get too confident in Yeonjun’s feelings towards him, because he couldn’t work with hard facts when it came to that topic. There was always a small chance that Taehyun was just reading Yeonjun wrong, he wasn’t actually that interested and only saw Taehyun as someone to protect and affectionately pester.
Taehyun was occasionally prone to misreading people, his ambition to be logical in his views of others and his relationship to them often preventing him from understanding another’s perspective of him.

To that extent, what if Taehyun was misreading his and Yeonjun’s relationship entirely?
He considered Yeonjun an incredible force and pleasant part of his life, but that didn’t mean Taehyun had such a huge role in Yeonjun’s life. Yeonjun had talked before about how he didn’t have many close friends aside from Taehyun, but what about Yeonjun’s family?
Taehyun knew he was close with his mother, and he was an only child but surely Yeonjun had other people in his life. Surely Yeonjun had someone in his life to fill the role that he took up in Taehyun’s life.

This, too, was new.
Taehyun had never spent so many nights in a staring contest with his ceiling thinking about useless thoughts like what Yeonjun’s mother would think of him, based on what little he knew about Yeonjun’s mother. (He liked to think she would really like him. He liked to think that she would be like a second mother to him, like how Taehee treated Yeonjun. He hoped, secretly, that he could meet her one day, whatever he was to Yeonjun.)

Taehee could tell there were things on his mind that he wasn’t sharing. She always could, but she’d gotten even more perceptive as Taehyun grew older.
Taehyun wondered if he was just obvious, or if Taehee just had experience being in her 20s.
He suspected a hint of both.

Taehyun had her on speakerphone as he organized his desk, mumbling about his week when she suddenly said, “Hey, Hyunnie. What’s on your mind? You seem kind of… well, not down. Just thoughtful.”
Taehyun paused, hands hovering over the drawer of his desk that he was rearranging. His mind swam with answers to her question, but uncertain what exactly she meant.
He took too long to answer, because Taehee’s gentle chuckle broke through the silence and she continued, “Sorry, I can just tell these kinds of things. Mom’s intuition passed onto me. So, what is it? School? Skirts?” she paused, just briefly, before lowering her voice, “Yeonjun?”

Taehyun felt his face heat up instantly, suddenly a little dizzy from all the blood rushing to his cheeks as he scrambled to grab his phone and toggle speakerphone off, as if Yeonjun were in his dorm room and could hear the conversation. (Even if Yeonjun wasn’t, his roommate potentially could.)
As he held his phone to his ear, he heard Taehee’s boisterous laugh, evidently having heard the frantic shuffling.

Taehee had only met Yeonjun once, when they picked out skirts for her wedding. Surely she couldn’t have caught on that fast.
“Hyunnie,” Taehee drawled out teasingly, “I saw how he looked at you. I listen to you talk about him all the time. I just got married, you think I can’t recognize love?”

Taehyun thought he might as well just stuff himself into his desk drawer along with his notebooks and pens with how his blush spread throughout, heating up his neck at the mere word ‘love’.
Even if he himself had come to terms with it, hearing someone else point it out made him feel a little too seen, as if all his emotions and thoughts were displayed on a billboard above his head for everyone and anyone to perceive.
He’d admit his feelings to himself, but he’d rather die than admit them to anyone else.
He was quick to say anything to excuse himself, “It’s not love, Noona! It’s- it’s- well, I don’t know what it is!”

“Hyunnie, do you think about him all the time?” Taehee asked, “Do you wonder what he’s up to, wonder when’s the next time you can see him? Do you find yourself thinking about him over the smallest things? Do you feel happy talking to him, even just thinking about him? Do you worry that you’re being annoying or inconveniencing him because you don’t want him to ignore you or feel negative towards you? Do you-”

“Okay! Okay, I get it!” Taehyun interrupted, spinning around in his swivel chair, hoping that if he spun hard enough, he’d just drill a hole into the earth to sink down into.

Taehee’s howling cackles erupted into his ear and he held his phone away from his face a bit with a roll of his eyes. At this point, Taehyun was sure that Taehee had surpassed their mother in intuition. It was almost scary, how easily she saw through Taehyun.

Once Taehee’s outburst had settled, she prodded, “So what, you don’t know what to do now? Want advice on how to tell him? Oh, Hyunnie, this is so cute! I always dreamt of the day I would get to help you with relationships!”

Taehyun groaned a pathetic, weak noise into the phone as he leaned back in his chair to challenge the ceiling to another staring contest.
“I don’t know, I mean… I think? But like… what if-”

“What if’s never happen, Hyunnie,” Taehee quickly interjected before Taehyun could ramble his concerns. “I mean, they do, but they don’t. Look, even if Yeonjun didn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t be an ass about it.”

“You don’t know that,” Taehyun ran a hand over his face, feeling the heat radiating off his skin.

Taehee scoffed, slightly offended. “Well then, if he’s an ass to you, he’ll get a firm talking to from me and Hwannie.”

Taehyun breathed a laugh. Jihwan, though thoroughly supportive of Taehyun, was not a fighter by any means. Taehyun doubted Jihwan would do much scolding in that scenario, but he would probably still show up and give Yeonjun a disappointed look while Taehee did the talking. As horrifying a situation that would be.
“I think that would be worse, Noona.”

“Sooo, a date, then?” Taehyun could tell Taehee was pacing with the way her voice bounced excitedly. “Want me to help you pick out what to wear?”

Taehyun figured it was pointless to try to make excuses, so he considered Taehee’s offer seriously.
“Let’s try to keep it pretty casual, Noona…”

Taehyun proposed it as a normal hang-out day to Yeonjun. They’d wander around, window shop, grab some food, normal things that they always did. It wasn’t anything big, but Taehyun hoped to… well, he didn’t actually know what he hoped for despite the side glances Taehee kept giving him.
In Taehyun’s perfect, easy world, he would dress up and Yeonjun would just fall for him, or something. Ask him out on the spot, call him pretty, whatever.
Realistically, they’d hang out like normal, and Taehyun would go home and run circles around his brain about what he could do to nudge Yeonjun into… confessing, he supposed?
Taehyun sure as hell wasn’t going to confess, because that would be embarrassing and what if he said no. (Taehee made some sly remark about how logical Taehyun was until it came to Yeonjun. Taehyun promptly ignored her.)

So, the only feasible option left would be to make Taehyun look as attractive to Yeonjun as possible so that all Taehyun would have to do was say of course Yeonjun, he would love to date officially. There were no other routes he could take. None.

It was the very first time Taehyun would be wearing a skirt with the intention to impress, to look good in it. Not that his previous skirts weren’t meant to look cute on him, but he set out with a goal in mind when he met up with Taehee the morning of what Taehyun refused to call a date.
And, to Taehyun’s surprise, Taehee already had a skirt in mind for him, one that she had apparently been working on for somewhere upwards of several months in her free time.
She was adamant to explain that it was relatively amateur work, there were plenty of things she could touch up if need be, that it wasn’t perfectly made or anything.
Of course, Taehyun barely listened to her quick excuses, in shock and awe that she had hand-crafted a present for him at all.

A labor of love, a gift without any expectations attached. Taehyun cried when Taehee placed it neatly in his hands, all folded up.
In between his choked sobs and snotty sniffles, he babbled his appreciation, something about how he would cherish it, incoherent promises to become confident enough to wear it with as much pride as he had for her.
It took him a little less than an hour to settle his tears enough to actually wear it.

The skirt was ridiculously cute, if a little exhilarating to wear.
It fell above his knees, against his thighs, and the waist of the skirt pulled up just over his belly button. It was the shortest skirt Taehyun had had the opportunity to wear, and he was awed by how well it fit him. Which was to say, it fit absolutely perfectly, tailor-made to his measurements.
With his bare legs on display, Taehyun felt just a touch out of place, unused to the feeling. It made him uneasy, but not necessarily in a bad way. It was different, as everything seemed to be lately, and he was excessively embarrassed, but he liked it. The skirt made him feel cute and attractive.
Paired with the white button-up tucked into the skirt that Taehee supplied, Taehyun felt impossibly pretty.
His satisfaction must have shown in the way he twirled his hips in the mirror, lifted the skirt’s edge just a tad so he could see his own thigh, because Taehee giggled with delight.

“Hyunnie, I would be happy if you let me pick every outfit for you,” she joked, ruffling Taehyun’s hair. “Did you know that you’re smiling from ear to ear right now?”

Taehyun didn’t. He met eyes with himself in the mirror and his stomach flipped, caught between feeling amused and flustered at the sudden awareness of the tug of his muscles pulling his lips into a smile. He tried to bury his grin between his teeth, but the feeling bubbled up from his stomach and his cheeks strained from the contentment in his heart.
A quiet kind of confidence budded in his heart, one that he hung onto hesitance to fully let bloom just yet. Even so, it was warm, comfortable, and at home. Taehyun was certain that with care and tenderness, the feeling would burst into bloom soon enough, watered with love and attention.

“Noona, can I ask just one more favor…?”

Determined though anxious, Taehyun stared at his reflection of a shop window masqueraded as viewing the products inside while he waited - as patiently as his nerves would allow - for Yeonjun.
His reflection distorted slightly in the window, the sun diffracting light and casting shadows wildly.

He watched his outfit, subtly shifting his body in different angles so he could observe the way the skirt hugged his thighs, the way his shirt hung on his shoulders.
That bud in his chest yearned to grow, but he hushed it quickly. With time, he assured it.

Light makeup adorned his face, a new addition to the pile of differences in his life.
It felt just a touch out of place still, like an itch that he could ignore but stayed aware of; eyeliner and gentle blush accentuated the features of his face. He hadn’t worn makeup since he was a child, and he still didn’t feel fully comfortable in it, but he embraced the way it felt uneasy yet exciting.

“Huh? Tyunnie, is that…?” Yeonjun’s voice trailed off and Taehyun caught his face in the window’s reflection behind him.
Taehyun was positive he didn’t need the blush on his cheeks, but he took a deep breath and turned to face Yeonjun with all of his silent, hopeful wishes on his sleeve.
“Woah,” was Yeonjun’s immediate response, followed up very quickly by, “Oh my god, Taehyun. Is there an occasion I missed for you to dress up so pretty? I didn’t dress up, oh my god.”

Taehyun had never liked the idea of being perceived as a girl, but he definitely felt like a teenage girl with how his heart raced and blood rushed to his neck at the compliment.
Yeonjun wore a jean maxi skirt and a cropped baseball tee; Taehyun wouldn’t, by any means, call it dressed down, but Taehyun was still aware of how much he stood out next to Yeonjun.
“No occasion, just felt like it,” Taehyun mumbled sheepishly, wringing his hands together.
Taehyun’s shyness must have translated in his expression or body language, because Yeonjun moved to pat Taehyun’s shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s pretty, seriously. I’ve never seen that skirt before, it’s really cute,” Yeonjun took a step back to take in Taehyun’s outfit again, making Taehyun melt in embarrassment.

“Noona made it. I’m gonna cry if I think about it, so don’t bring it up,” Taehyun half-joked with a snort, turning his body a little so Yeonjun could get a full view of the outfit.

Yeonjun laughed, his body swaying back with the force of his laughter, and he quickly tried to stay on the sidewalk. “It suits you really well, Tyun. I mean that,” it sounded like he did, too, “Wait, is that…? Are you wearing makeup?”

Taehyun’s immediate instinct was to hide his face, and he turned his head to the side to try to shield himself from Yeonjun’s view before he remembered that he wore it for Yeonjun.
“Just… experimenting,” Taehyun nervously explained, biting the inside of his cheek to quell his nerves when Yeonjun took a step closer to examine.

An expression Taehyun couldn’t quite identify crossed Yeonjun’s face; a panicked pit pulled his gut at what Taehyun perceived as a not-quite-positive reaction, but before he could spiral, Yeonjun prodded his shoulder.
“As long as you’re comfortable,” he said with a gentle smile, “It looks great on you, for the record. Obviously.”
Taehyun ran a hand through his own bangs sheepishly at the compliment.

Yeonjun began to lead Taehyun along the shopping center, stopping in front of windows to browse. Taehyun followed along, caught up in his own thoughts.
It wasn’t like he fully expected Yeonjun to confess to him on the spot or anything, but Taehyun still wondered whether or not his outfit did anything for Yeonjun. He was the same Yeonjun as he always was, there wasn’t some movie-esque slow motion moment where the male lead’s breath is stolen and he stumbles on his words, unsure what to say in the face of the female lead’s beauty.
Not that Taehyun wanted that.

The rest of the day went by like normal without much mention of Taehyun’s outfit afterwards.
For all the anxiety and effort he put into it, Taehyun somehow found himself feeling something akin to disappointment about that. Not at Yeonjun by any means, but perhaps he had actually hoped to pull a bigger reaction out of Yeonjun.
Perhaps he had secretly hoped he looked nice enough for Yeonjun to confess. Which felt ridiculous now, because all Taehyun had done was wear a little makeup and put on a skirt, he rationalized.
Buuuut… what if he was so put-off by Taehyun’s sudden decision to wear makeup that he no longer wanted to be Taehyun’s friend, let alone anything more?

A voice suspiciously sounding like his sister’s rang in his head, saying something like “Even if Yeonjun didn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t be an ass about it.”
It was right, Taehyun knew that logically.
But his worry wasn’t exactly that Yeonjun would be mean to him, it was more that he didn’t want Yeonjun to consider him a waste of time. Somewhere in his brain, he was sure that Yeonjun wouldn’t think that, but it was buried with the need to prove otherwise.

As if to compensate for a lingering feeling of dissatisfaction, Taehyun instead pushed the other direction into appealing. Anything Yeonjun suggested, Taehyun would nod eagerly and basically drag Yeonjun along like he didn’t want to do anything else in the world.
“Should we grab some food?” Taehyun nodded, holding his belly like he was starved.
“Wanna check out this shop?” Taehyun sped ahead of Yeonjun to hold open the door for him.
“Let’s sit down and take a break for a sec.” Taehyun sat restlessly on a bench, wondering if he should ask Yeonjun if he wanted a massage.

Yeonjun could definitely tell the shift in attitude from Taehyun as the day went on, but if he had anything to say about it, he withheld it.
Some rational part of Taehyun’s brain cringed at his clear desperation, this strange people-pleasing version of him that was alien to him. He was sure he’d be kicking his feet and agonizing over his behavior on call with Taehee in a matter of hours.

When the afternoon turned into evening and street lights illuminated the sidewalks they wandered, Taehyun’s energy began to take the hit of being drained, having put on an act for so long.
They rested on a bench in a quiet park, overlooking a lake. The cool breeze off the water cooled Taehyun down, doused his mind in clarity, bringing his anxieties back all over again.
Had he acted too strangely? Was Yeonjun even more put-off?

“I get the feeling you’re overthinking right now,” Yeonjun broke their silence, glancing at Taehyun sideways and nudging his ribs playfully. “I wanna know what’s on your mind, so tell me.”
Less of a suggestion and more of a firm invitation, like Yeonjun was standing at the door to let Taehyun in; all Taehyun had to do was knock.

Matters of Yeonjun and Taehyun’s feelings were much harder for him to explain than his complex feelings about wearing skirts and his gender expression. Still, he tried.
“I tried really hard to impress you,” Taehyun admittedly easier than he had expected. He expected to feel embarrassed about the underlying insinuation to that, but - either by the lake’s brisk air or by Yeonjun’s naturally calming aura - he felt at ease, even despite his endless fountain of concerns.

“And I just…” Taehyun gazed out at the dark water, lights from buildings on the other side of the lake reflecting on the waves. “I don’t want you to think…”
Taehyun wasn’t sure how to end that sentence. He could, in a multitude of ways, but none of them felt like what he really wanted to say.

“I don’t,” came Yeonjun’s reply, unfettered by Taehyun’s contemplative, hesitant pace. “I never have, Taehyun.”
It sounded so genuine, so tender, that Taehyun believed him immediately. Yeonjun’s leg shook, his knee restlessly bouncing as he spoke despite his composed voice.
“You’re the direct kind, aren’t you? You don’t like uncertainty and vagueness,” Yeonjun teased lightly, bumping Taehyun’s shoulder softly with his own, “Want me to be direct with you?”

“It feels demeaning,” Taehyun pouted.
He did like when people were straightforward with him, but his logical brain winced when spoon-fed. He wanted to figure out his problems on his own, but when it came to Yeonjun, it felt like he never would, always tripping over himself in the process.

Yeonjun snorted, patting Taehyun’s back encouragingly.
“I’m not demeaning you, silly. I just want you to know how I feel without any shadow of a doubt.”

The wording sent shockwaves through Taehyun’s chest, a dance between instantly getting his hopes up and trying desperately to keep those expectations in check.
He wrung his hands, throat heavy and thick, head slightly light from the blood pumping his racing, spinning heart.
“Okay,” was the only word he managed.

Yeonjun sat back on the bench, the wood creaking under his weight as he shifted it. His face disappeared from Taehyun’s periphery, and Taehyun wondered if he preferred it that way.
“When I was a kid,” Yeonjun began, words carrying along the repetitive cadence of the swaying water spread before them, “I wanted to be a girl, but not for the reason you might think.”

Taehyun stayed still, as still as he could muster, tension so high that he felt like the world would implode if he moved. He soaked in Yeonjun’s words, hung on every sentence.
Yeonjun’s voice was soft, subdued, a different kind of tone than Taehyun had ever heard him speak in. It was thin and fragile, confidence dissipating and replaced with an emotion Taehyun was much, much more familiar with.

“I was like, eight when I realized something was… off,” Yeonjun’s voice sounded dry, a bit strained, and all Taehyun could do was listen. “Boys start thinking about girls at that age, or like, they’re expected to. I thought my best friend was cute. He thought our girl classmate was cute. You get the idea.”
Taehyun held his breath, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe out of respect.
“And I thought that, maybe if I was a girl, he’d think I was cute, too. Or that it wouldn’t be so strange for me to like him. When I was in middle school, I experimented a bit, in private. Trying on dresses and makeup, you know.”

Taehyun wanted to face Yeonjun, but he worried that one of them would break if he did.
Yeonjun’s voice was so taut, like he was squeezing every word out. Taehyun wanted to assure him that he didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, but he knew Yeonjun too well; if Yeonjun didn’t want to, he wouldn’t be speaking.
He wanted Taehyun to listen, so Taehyun did.

“I think you of all people can guess my reaction, because I think it was somewhat similar to you,” Yeonjun cleared his throat, an attempt at putting a bit more lightness into the conversation. “It wasn’t that I necessarily minded it, but it didn’t… feel like me. It wouldn’t feel like me for a long time. I’m sure you know this, but your perception of yourself is really strange, isn’t it? It’s like, you look so different once you’re more sure of yourself and understand yourself more, even if you’re wearing the same clothes. You start seeing a version of yourself that’s unfamiliar while also feeling like you’ve known him your whole life, wondering where he’s been, why you had to go through so much just to find him.”

Taehyun was beginning to become familiar with that feeling, having felt it multiple times in the past half year.

“Well, blah blah blah, my highschool angst isn’t that interesting,” Yeonjun joked with a half-hearted snort laced in melancholy that made Taehyun’s heart hurt.
He didn’t dare bring it up if Yeonjun wasn’t detailing it himself, but his tone of voice made it clear there were so many more unspoken words behind the light-hearted deflection.
“But I learned more and more about myself, came to terms with what I felt was right for me, even if it meant others would have… opinions about it. It isn’t easy all the time, but my mother is supportive of me, and you treat me like… well, like I’m the coolest person ever. And that does things to my self esteem. Really good things.”

Taehyun did think Yeonjun was the coolest person ever, to be fair.
Less of his idol on a pedestal nowadays and more just the extremely outgoing and charismatic loser that Taehyun was unwittingly infatuated with.

Yeonjun cleared his throat again, raising his voice a couple octaves so they caught on the gentle wind skating off the lake in a mellow melody, raising the atmosphere a bit.
“My point is, I really care about you, Taehyun. I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to be anyone but yourself around me.”

Something in Taehyun’s heart swirled. Partial embarrassment that Yeonjun could tell he had been acting unordinary and was indirectly calling him out on it, but partially, and most importantly, something warm and comforting, like a hot soup settling an uneasy stomach.

“I know how hard it is to feel like you have to hide yourself away for any reason, but especially when that reason doesn’t make any logical sense. And you’re a logical guy,” Yeonjun chuckled, patting Taehyun’s knee, “You think a million thoughts over the simplest subjects. You analyze conversation pieces in mere seconds - you’re doing it right now, I bet.”

Taehyun closed his eyes to keep them from shifting across the water in deep contemplation, earning him a cheerful cackle and a gentle slap to his back.

“Honestly Tyun, I think you’re the coolest person that I know. And you can hold that opinion of mine in high regard,” Yeonjun’s hand rested on Taehyun’s back before sliding over to comb through the short hair along Taehyun’s neck, ”I love that you’re such a logical person, that you prefer to be direct and that you panic when there are uncertainties. I love that you indulge me even if you find it annoying, and I love that you make me a better person. I love all of that about you and more.”

Shit, Taehyun could feel familiar saltiness tickle the corners of his eyes from behind his eyelids. He wondered if he could keep them at bay if he kept his eyes closed.

A clear pause broke Yeonjun’s soothing words, and his fingers tangled in the strands of Taehyun’s hair; Taehyun could easily sense nervousness, even without seeing the telltale signs of it himself.
Yeonjun’s voice dipped again, hiding behind the symphony of cicadas and washing of waves and bluster of breezes as he said softly, “Because I really, really love… you. In general.”

Taehyun’s eyes opened slowly, begrudgingly, as if he would suddenly see his dorm’s ceiling and his roommate would be calling him to have breakfast.
Serendipitously, he was met with a murky lake, a crisp draft, and Yeonjun’s placid hands pleasantly petting the ends of his hair down.

And,
Taehyun cried.
(For the second time that day.)

Taehyun came to the late realization that he was quite the emotional person in the face of genuine and honest comfort.

For a moment, Taehyun fretted that Yeonjun would take his tears as a negative reaction to the confession of his lifetime, and he turned to Yeonjun to immediately try to push some kind of words out to explain his state, but Yeonjun just stayed stroking the ends of his hair into the back of his neck, a faint smile on his face.
He understood, Taehyun was certain.

His tears came from a place of gratitude, mixed in with devastating relief, like he had just faced his greatest fear in life. Maybe he had.

It was strange, Taehyun had never been given a reason to believe he’d never find a romantic partner in his life. But somehow, he never pictured himself with anyone, never felt like anyone would truly find him interesting enough to become romantically involved in him.
Taehyun himself had never really imagined him becoming lovesick over someone, because he was Taehyun; He was logical, held himself back when he met strangers, treaded carefully at all times despite his natural urge to learn and understand.
He wasn’t even sure if he really understood the aspects Yeonjun saw in him, even when explained to him.

“Ugh,” Taehyun whimpered through his sniffling, “My eye makeup is running. How the hell do you wear this stuff?”

Yeonjun’s laugh echoed through the park and skipped across the water of the lake, leaving ripples of memories in Taehyun’s mind, recorded for eternity, probably.
“I usually don’t cry in it. If you really wanna keep wearing it, we should find some that doesn’t run,” he teased while using the sleeves of his jacket to wipe Taehyun’s tears and snot.

Taehyun let Yeonjun sully his jacket sleeve as he pondered the proposition.
Truth be told, he wasn’t especially fond of the makeup, but he also loved the reaction Yeonjun had to it. He’d worn it to impress Yeonjun and it had worked, and knowing that Yeonjun liked it on him made him less uncomfortable in it.
“I don’t mind wearing it sometimes…” Taehyun mumbled, “For you.”

The smallest of silence, and Taehyun caught the way Yeonjun’s hands paused and the tips of his ears grew a bit more red under the streetlights’ spotlight. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly even as he grinned.
“Hey, Tyun. Here’s something I always wondered growing up as a kid: Do you think boys should be allowed to kiss other boys?”

Taehyun’s gut bubbled and popped little starbursts and blooming flowers and he laughed, leaning back against the dimly lamp-lit park bench with his makeup running down his face and his nose wet and snotty, pulling Yeonjun toward him as he did.
“Laws be damned, I think this boy,” he nodded at Yeonjun, “should definitely be allowed to kiss this boy.”

“It’s like, a little illegal,” Yeonjun snorted, bittersweet words underlying his wonderful laughter.

“It’s okay,” Taehyun leaned in, letting Yeonjun meet him halfway, “I won’t snitch.”

(When Taehyun sheepishly updated his sister the next morning on his new relationship, Taehee was squealing and screeching into the phone. Eventually, Jihwan joined in the conversation, having checked in to make sure Taehee’s screaming was indeed out of joy.

“Oh my god, I should tailor your wedding dresses when you get married,” Taehee chirped, clapping her hands together. “I’ve always dreamed of that. I promise I’ll get better at sewing so I can make you beautiful dresses.”

Taehyun, horrified, ran his hands through his hair as he absently spun his desk chair. “Noona, we got together not even 24 hours ago!”
He wouldn’t admit that he had, briefly, considered what a married life with Yeonjun would be like after Yeonjun had wiped his tears and walked him home holding his hand tightly. Call him a romantic.

“Be prepared for anything, Hyunnie!” she cheerfully noted. “Hwannie and I agreed to get married months prior and yet he still sprung the proposal on me and took me by surprise!”

“I was going to get you in on it Taehyun,” Jihwan noted, a smile evident in his voice, “Just didn’t have time to. I could give you pointers, if you need.”
Taehee laughed along with him, gentle slaps on the back reverberating through the phone receiver.

Taehyun rolled his eyes even though he knew his family couldn’t see it.
“I’m not going to propose to him!” and then mumbled very quickly, “Even if I thought about it.”

“I thought about it like a week into our relationship,” Jihwan supplied. “But taking it slow was definitely a good idea. I definitely couldn’t pull off such a theatrical proposal within a few days.”

“I liked to imagine how you’d propose,” Taehee hummed, the sound of a firm kiss accentuating her words, “I wonder how Yeonjunnie would propose.”

Taehyun scoffed, absently clicking a mechanical pencil, “I think you guys are my standard. If it’s not as dramatic as you always say it was, I wouldn’t accept it.”

Taehee howled in laughter on the other end along with Jihwan.
“That’s my boy!”)

+1

Yeonjun had such an effect on Taehyun, he found.
Yeonjun had always had an effect on Taehyun, but Taehyun realized it much more intimately once he was, well, intimate with Yeonjun.

Yeonjun was quick to catch onto Taehyun’s affinity for being called pretty and cute.
For a long time, Taehyun would face the compliments with bashfulness, dipping his red face away and unsure what to say to them.
But the thing about Yeonjun was that he made it his mission to bring Taehyun’s self esteem up. Turns out, when you consistently hear compliments that make you feel good enough times, you start to believe them, Taehyun found.

Confidence was certainly a look on Taehyun, he found, as well.
When he began accepting Yeonjun’s compliments and calling himself pretty, he found that his reflection had changed in his eyes, as Yeonjun had predicted, but not in such a negative way as it had when he was a child.
He found a version of himself that felt so at home, someone he was sure was always there with a blanket thrown over him, now set free. He found a version of himself that he had always wanted to be, finally achieved and happy.

When Taehyun moved in with Yeonjun at 25, he brought along the skirts Taehee had gifted him and the skirts he had bought himself.
Wearing skirts became a common occurrence for him, as did occasionally wearing a dash of makeup, because it made him feel pretty, especially when Yeonjun fawned over it.
Yeonjun’s influence expanded his accessories into rings, necklaces, and earrings as well. Yeonjun would even eagerly paint his nails on occasion.

It was a learning curve.
Yeonjun was so incredibly kind and thoughtful of Taehyun, and Taehyun often had to fight with his overactive mind to not overthink every little thing.
But, he also found that being in love meant a lot of learning. Learning about Yeonjun, about how to navigate disagreements and personal preferences, and about himself. Learning how to live together, how to not be afraid to step on toes and trust that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they did.

When Taehyun had seen romance films as a kid, he’d seen relationships through a clear, unblemished lens. Two people slotting into each other smoothly without friction, people created for each other by the cosmos above.
Taehyun learned that love was much more than that. He didn’t like tiptoeing around someone he loved; Yeonjun was correct in saying that he was a direct person, disliking vagueness. Yes, neither of them wanted to hurt the other, but Taehyun couldn’t stand feeling like Yeonjun might walk on eggshells with him for the sake of not causing a stir.
So, comfortable concessions were made where they were needed, adjustments out of love were offered; they found ways to adapt to each other well without sacrificing their own convenience.
Rather than slotting into each other’s lives without friction, they molded themselves around each other.

Taehyun found a confidence in that, as well.
He knew, as a fact, that Yeonjun loved him and was always willing to accommodate where he could and compromise where he couldn’t.
Taehyun wasn’t afraid to acclimate to Yeonjun’s preferences in the slightest in whatever way he felt adequate, and Yeonjun felt the same.

While Taehyun never liked heavy makeup on himself, he wore dustings of makeup for Yeonjun, because Yeonjun thought they looked pretty on him and Taehyun liked when Yeonjun called him pretty. (It wasn’t very hard to get Yeonjun to call him pretty, but that was besides the point.)
Yeonjun was an easy person to find comfortable living spaces in. He listened intently to words that even Taehyun couldn’t remember speaking, gladly gave Taehyun what he asked for, and was direct about the things he wanted as well, like using “hyung” as a pet name, or kissing him on the cheek at random intervals of the day as a surprise.

Likewise, Taehyun felt pretty content in testing the waters with things unfamiliar to him.
Which is why he stood in their shared bedroom, carefully observing his body in the mirror and the long, subtly sheer fabric adorning it.
The white dress hung loosely against his thighs, layers of the cloth forming a pattern as it cascaded down his torso.

It was the first time he’d ever worn a dress, and he found that it felt much like a skirt, but also somehow so different with his bare shoulders on display and strong thighs juxtaposed to the delicate fiber.
The dress didn’t twirl around his body nearly as much as a skirt would; his skin was the star of the outfit this time, just barely visible through the thin lace.

Taehyun met his own eyes in the mirror, took in his thick eyebrows, his square face, his sharp jaw.
He looked pretty. Very pretty.

More than that, he actually felt sexy, a new sensation that he’d never anticipated a piece of clothing to make him feel.
It boosted his confidence, and he posed in the mirror, checking himself from all angles.
His long legs accentuated the short dress, and pleased little blossoms bloomed in his heart when he struck a pose that slipped a bit more skin.

He’d worn skirts on the shorter side before, but something about the dress was a bit more scandalous. Maybe it was just the translucent material it was made out of, or maybe it was the way the front of the dress dipped in a v-shape down his chest.
It felt just a tad obscene, the amount of skin he was baring, but the knowledge that Yeonjun would definitely love it excited him and in turn, he felt excited to wear the dress if only to see Yeonjun’s reaction to it.

“Tyunnie, I’m home,” as if on cue, a voice called from the living room, punctuated by the clatter of Yeonjun’s purse as he dropped it on the kitchen table.

Taehyun’s heart picked up and he panicked momentarily, trying to decide what he wanted to do: should he go out and greet Yeonjun as he was? Should he wait for Yeonjun to find him in the bedroom? Or maybe he should call out to him, entice him toward the room.
He wondered if he should strike a pose, or just stand as he was. Maybe he should just sit on the bed, or maybe even kneel on the floor.
Would it be more arousing to let the dress ride up his thighs a little, or would he leave any extra slips of skin to Yeonjun’s imagination?

“Tyunnie?” Yeonjun called again, then a bit more quietly to himself, just loud enough for Taehyun to hear down the hallway, “Maybe he isn’t home yet.”

Taehyun crept over to the bedroom door, poking just his head out of it, hoping to still keep the surprise.
“Hyung,” he signaled playfully, drawing Yeonjun’s attention to the hallway with the cheeky honorific. Before Yeonjun could round the corner, Taehyun slipped back into the bedroom and quickly clambered onto the bed.
He sat at the edge of the bed, legs crossed and lounged back, propped up by his hands. He bit his lip in anticipation, trying to hide the growing smirk on his face as he heard footsteps outside the door.
When the door creaked open, Taehyun got the pleasure of watching Yeonjun’s eyes search the room, landing on Taehyun, and blow into dinner plates, his jaw dropping, and a deep red paint his cheeks, ears, and neck.

“Welcome home, Jjunnie,” Taehyun purred, swinging his leg a little.

“What’s the occasion…?” Yeonjun made his way towards the bed, peeling off his heavy jacket and leaving it crumpled on the floor. “I hope I’m not forgetting anything.”

Taehyun snorted, hands reaching for Yeonjun when he approached the bed and stood over Taehyun. “No occasion, just experimenting. What do you think?”
Once in range, Taehyun’s hands tugged on Yeonjun’s button-up shirt, fidgeting with the buttons.

“Of what, you or the dress?” Yeonjun taunted, hands playing against the lace at Taehyun’s neck.
His thumb slid across plush skin along Taehyun’s Adam’s apple, pressing ever-so-gently into the bulge until Taehyun swallowed before Yeonjun’s hands journeyed further down.

“The dress,” Taehyun replied pleasantly, lifting his chin so Yeonjun could trace his fingertips along the ridge of his clavicle.
He danced along every dip and crevice of the bone, stopping only at the middle.

Yeonjun’s fingers drifted towards the breast of the dress, dipping just under the fabric to tease at the soft skin underneath.
“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful, Taehyun. It should be illegal to look this beautiful.”

Ecstasy and euphoria danced in Taehyun’s belly, adrenaline rushing south quickly at the praise.
The feathery, sensual touches almost took a backseat compared to the satisfaction Taehyun got just from words of affection. Taehyun could probably reach a climax on just those sweet words.
“It’s not illegal to wear skirts, Jjunnie,” he reminded with a smug grin.

“Jury’s still out about dresses, then,” Yeonjun murmured with a breath of a laugh as he joked. “But hey, if you’re gonna get arrested, at least you look gorgeous. Better to be dressed for arrest than dressed to impress in this day and age.”

Taehyun laughed, giggles boiling up from his belly as Yeonjun leaned closer to smooth his hand firmly over Taehyun’s chest with a fond grin.
A knee found its way between Taehyun’s legs as Yeonjun descended onto the mattress of the bed and loomed over Taehyun.

Yeonjun’s voice was barely above a whisper, pushing into Taehyun’s skin more and more the closer he got. A mischief lie under his words, and Taehyun welcomed it happily and fully.
“Oh but, you know what the best part of a dress is, don’t you, Tyunnie?”

Taehyun could guess the answer, but he still prodded, eager to hear the words out of Yeonjun, “No, what is it?”

Yeonjun smirked, a hand Taehyun hadn’t been paying attention to finding its way slipping under the dress’s skirt and resting high up on his thigh.
“Taking it off of you.”

Anything Taehyun could possibly say was swallowed by Yeonjun’s tongue.
Taehyun silently agreed, the only thing better than wearing skirts and dresses was letting the one he loved whisk them off and make him feel like the prettiest person in the world, even without them.
Two bodies moving with each other, loving each other even without any cloth between them. It was beautiful, in some romantically poetic way.

“You make me feel so pretty,” Taehyun whispered, kissing his love into Yeonjun’s cheeks and nose and lips.

“I’ll make you feel just as pretty as you are,” Yeonjun promised, melting into the kisses, melting into Taehyun until they were one.

Taehyun giggled, the sound muffled against kisses and short breaths.
“I must be pretty pretty, then.”

“Oh, you’re pretty-pretty,” Yeonjun insisted, nipping at lips and skin.

Whatever Taehyun had planned on saying in reply got washed out between skin and tongues and fingers and moans.
He did, in fact, feel pretty pretty.