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Jimin arrives at Yoongi’s place expecting to be able to leave immediately. He’s only got an hour before he’s due back on campus for class and the older girl had demanded she take him to lunch in celebration of Jimin coming out on top in his dance class. Jimin had tried to argue that he should really be treating her to lunch since she’s finally finished the verse she’s been stumped on for weeks, but the girl had been adamant that it be her treat.
However, when Jimin arrives at Yoongi’s flat and lets himself in, the blonde girl is nowhere to be seen.
“Yoongi?” he calls, and there’s a muffled grunt from the other room. She comes around the corner a moment later, still in the oversized sweater and ratty boxers she calls pajamas. “I thought you said to pick you up at eleven?” Jimin looks to the clock on the wall; it’s half past.
“I did,” the girl says nonchalantly, “but there’s something I wanted to do first,” Yoongi points to the couch with one narrow finger. “Sit,” she says.
“But-”
“Jimin, please?”
And well, if Jimin isn’t a sucker for the blonde’s signature pout. He sighs, but raises his hands in surrender and retreats to the couch nonetheless. When he sinks into the dark leather, he’s angled in a way that he can’t see anything past the kitchen without straining to turn so he resigns himself to fumble boredly with his phone while Yoongi fusses in the other room.
It’s only been a few minutes when hands suddenly close around his eyes, fingers calloused from spinning pencils and dials alike on long nights spent in the studio.
“Do you remember,” Yoongi begins with a certain tremor to her voice, “when I talked to you a few months ago about gender?”
Jimin nods, not quite following where this conversation is headed, hoping Yoongi will explain.
“Well,” Yoongi says, and the hands disappear as she begins to walk around the sofa. She appears in jimin’s line of sight a moment later and rather than say anything more, she blandly gestures to herself.
Yoongi doesn’t look much different than she has in the past few months, as the days she wore makeup became scarcer and scarcer still until she only wore mascara when they went out together. Her chest is flattened and further hidden beneath a button up and cardigan, the frame more squared and masculine; jeans looser around her ass and thighs. Her short blonde hair isn’t pinned back with a barrette, but hidden flat beneath a snapback that accentuates the sharp curve of her jawline. It’s not a huge shift in her regular attire, but she looks happier. In a way, she looks realer.
“Could I-” she stops, and Jimin knows what’s coming- after all, they had talked about this- but let’s her finish in her own time. “Could I be your boyfriend now?”
And just like that, Jimin is off the couch and pulling Yoongi into a kiss, “You always were.”
The shift is sudden and some people don’t understand, either out of ignorance or blatant disrespect, but things are alright, mostly.
Their relationship doesn’t change much. Jimin is still Jimin and Yoongi is still Yoongi and they’re still as in love with one another as they were before. Jimin’s just started telling people he’s got a boyfriend back home instead of a girl, and Yoongi purges his closet and begins to steal Jimin’s clothes more often.
Yoongi spends half his paychecks on hormone replacement injections and sometimes the side effects leave him with days where he wakes up wishing he could claw his skin off. Jimin is there to ground him though; to hold him and remind him how handsome he is and that it doesn’t matter if he’s got a dick or not.
But his voice gets deeper, his body hair thicker, and his self-esteem higher and when a barista calls him sir without being corrected a year later, he nearly cries. Jimin just squeezes his hand as the older tears up and that day, Jimin pays as celebration. They go out to dinner with their friends that night and there are cheers all around when Jimin proudly retells the event, Yoongi blushing beside him the entire time.
Sure, some days are difficult, but things get easier and neither boy can really say they regret a thing.