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Matthew generally considers himself a pretty masculine guy. Sure, it took a while, but he’s gotten to a point where even a quick glance affirms that he is in a boy group. He’s become comfortable in his body, settled into his bones in a way that was previously unreachable and untouched.
His members–and oh, the reminder that they’re his–don’t know quite why he goes to the gym so religiously, or the hidden meanings behind his smattering of tattoos and their placements, but they’ve been nothing short of supportive and caring, even on his bad days.
So when he wakes up on a Friday morning, his hips sore and stomach hurting, Matthew assumes he might have practiced too hard yesterday or maybe eaten something a few days past expiration.
He doesn’t quite have the motivation to get out of bed right away; the layered quilt and comforter provide a steady warmth, and he doesn’t really feel the need to rip that away. It’s early, a quick glance at the soft light from his clock confirming that it’s not even 7. He knows Ricky is somewhere in the other room, likely still knocked out from their practice the day before. The sun isn’t up, the days growing shorter as winter approaches. Winter means touring, MAMA awards, Gayo Daejeon and Gayo Daejejeon, all coming after non-stop promotions for their most recent comeback.
All of this to say that the entire group is exhausted. Hanbin had negotiated for a later start to their next day, after practice ran until late the previous night.
“Okay, we’ll do one last run through after this break and head back. I’ve already let one of the managers know that tomorrow’s going to start a little later.” Hanbin announced, sliding down the practice room wall. Their tour rehearsal had been fine, arguably really well, but they had to at least get the first half committed to muscle memory. Matthew didn’t have it in him to argue, despite his perfectionist tendencies screaming. Any chance to sleep in was cherished. The other members clearly concurred; Gyuvin wrapping himself around a half-heartedly protesting Ricky, while the others turned into an amorphous lump on the practice room floor.
Matthew winces as he slides down next to Hanbin, his hips hurt and everything is a little sore and he really does just want to take a few more ibuprofen and go to bed. Hanbin, in his leader-but-mostly-Sung-Hanbin tendency, puts Matthew’s head to rest on his shoulder.
“Ah, what are we going to do with you, hm?” Hanbin teases, carding his fingers through Matthew’s hair in a way that is certainly not doing much to keep him awake and practicing.
“Hyung,” Matthew whines, wincing again as he shifts, “I’m just sore, it’s fine. I’ll be okay after I take some pain meds.”
And if Hanbin, as the only one who had known Matthew Before, eyed the way he was rubbing circles into his back, or the way he was clutching at his waist, or even the way he stumbled slightly getting up, then he doesn’t say anything beyond that.
So he sits on his phone for a while, scrolling through Twitter and Plus Chat and TikTok, trying and failing to convince himself that the incessant pain in his abdomen is a coincidence. It’s stupid, it hasn’t happened to him in years, it’s not something he needs to worry about. Matthew repeats this like a mantra, procrastinating getting up until he just absolutely has to.
When he finally does make himself turn over and sit up, his vision goes a little spotty, forcing him to breathe through it before he stands. He pointedly doesn’t look at his sheets or boxers, breathing through another brief spell as he gets up. He hopes, more than anything, that Ricky is still sleeping. Because yes, Ricky knows, of course he knows, they’re roommates and Matthew was so nervous he was nauseous but he knew that whoever he was living with would have to know.
“Ricky, um, so, you know we’re roommates, yeah?”
“Uh, yeah? We’re both in the apartment, I would hope so.”
“I just, I wanted to tell you,” Matthew teared up, making Ricky’s concern skyrocket, “I’m trans. So, like, not that that really affects anything, but like, syringes and stuff, I guess. But you can’t–don’t say anything. Only Hanbin knows and I just–”
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”
Shutting the door as quietly as possible, Matthew takes another deep breath. He doesn’t want to look; he wants to pretend he isn’t hurting and that he was born the right way and he can go about his day like normal.
But instead, here he is. 8AM, halfway folded over his bathroom tile because his stupid body and stupid uterus failed him. He wants to go back to bed and rot the day away, but no, he has to shower, and find underwear, and take more ibuprofen, and a million other things he doesn’t even want to think about because if he had just been born the way he wanted to, if he had just been okay with being a girl, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this.
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Sung Hanbin was not stupid. He was not oblivious, and he was not unable to put together the dots that something was wrong with Matthew. The little missteps in practice, the wincing and blank eyes before blinking back, Hanbin knew exactly what was going on. It’s a consequence of knowing someone for so long, being almost more in tune with them than they are with themselves. Or maybe it’s just a Hanbin-and-Matthew thing, the way they exist in self-sacrifices and caretaking.
So in the morning, when Matthew texts him that he won’t be making it to any of the day’s schedules, Hanbin isn’t surprised. If anything, he’s glad that he doesn’t have to strong-arm Matthew into resting. Although it is concerning that he’s hurting enough that he won’t even try to pretend he’s okay.
So Hanbin devises a plan. He’s a little worried about overstepping, but he knows Matthew, he knows that some company would do more good than anything else. He messages Gunwook a short grocery list and tells him to go pick everything up before spending the rest of the day with Matthew. The only response he gets is a quick ???, immediately followed by ok.
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Gunwook is confused. If Matthew wanted to see him, Matthew would be the one to message, not Hanbin. He’s a little alarmed; he knows Matthew in and out, maybe not in the way Hanbin does, but enough to say that this is weird.
But he keys open the door to Matthew and Ricky’s dorm anyway. As he takes off his sneakers, he takes in the sheer silence of the apartment. Ricky is asleep, or more likely already left to go see Gyuvin. Matthew would normally be making some sort of sound, almost always having music playing or something in the background.
Gunwook takes all of this in as he walks towards Matthew’s bedroom, opening the door with a slight creak to see a bundle of blankets and plushies stacked on the bed.
“Hyung?” He says in no more than a whisper. There’s a certain delicateness to the quiet, something that it holds. The bundle shifts, revealing Matthew sporting an impressive bedhead and a hoodie that Gunwook is fairly certain belongs to Jiwoong. He grunts, blinking his eyes up at Gunwook. “Hi, Matthew-hyung, I brought snacks? Hanbin-hyung told me to come over.”
Matthew processes that for a second. Hanbin told Gunwook to see him, based on a glance at the bag he’s holding, Hanbin even told him what to buy. He’s a little embarrassed, but he feels so warm. To be known is to be loved, and Matthew is nothing if not known by his members.
“Okay, Gunwook-ah, but I’m not getting out of bed.”
“I know, I know, don’t worry.” And as he scoots over, Gunwook crawls in next to him. His body heat eases the all-over ache, warming Matthew to his core. “Hyung, do you want your chocolate?”
“Mmm, no. Just stay like this. You help.”
“Ah, hyung, I wish you had messaged me before. You know I would’ve come over sooner,” Matthew hums at that, debating what to say, how to explain this to someone who can’t inherently understand.
“Gunwook-ah…” He pauses, Gunwook’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his hip, “It’s, well, you know- I, um…” And the last part comes out quiet, as if a whole lifetime hasn’t taught him otherwise, “I just got my period.”
“Oh. Oh, hyung, still. I always want to help you, I always love you. Call or message me next time, yeah?” Matthew does his best to push back any tears because it’s one thing to come out, but a whole other thing to fully entrust someone with what it means. The reassurance that Gunwook still loves the real-life practical side of it, not just the scared confession that came after the confession-confession, heals something in him. Gunwook just coos at him and slowly wipes off the stray tears, massaging away his aches as he slowly drifts off again.
They stay like that for a while, not counting the time beyond the gentle shift of the sun. Matthew still hurts, whimpers into Gunwook’s shoulder at the stabbing pains, but it’s not as cripplingly lonely. They’ll stay like that until tomorrow, when the pain recedes enough for Matthew to have to give in and go back to his life outside this room. Gunwook and Hanbin will be a little overprotective, fuss over him more than necessary, but it will be appreciated. His members will watch over him until he’s okay, and maybe after that too, but it will be warm and comfortable in a way only they know how to make it.