Chapter Text
Seonghwa nervously chewed on his cuticles as he stared at the handle of the door to Hongjoong’s room. He feels like something is different about himself, and he is starting to recognize what it is, and it terrifies him. The feeling sits heavy in his chest, like something pressing inward. Hongjoong is one of the only people in the world he would trust with his life, so he feels at least slightly comfortable talking to the younger man about something that terrifies him.
He knocks on the door before realizing what he is doing, just like when you go cliff jumping, and you jump without counting down, so you end up jumping. The sound feels too loud in the quiet hallway. Seonghwa pauses for a moment, breath caught in his throat and heartbeat jackhammering out of his chest. For a split second, he considers pretending it was an accident. That he knocked on the wrong door, that he can walk away and come back another night when his thoughts are quieter and his hands are not shaking this badly. His fingers curl into the sleeves of his hoodie, nails biting into fabric instead of skin, grounding him just enough to stay where he is. Before he can turn around, the door opens to the warm, familiar smile of his boyfriend.
“Seonghwa, what are you doing here this late at night?” Hongjoong asks, face tinged with slight worry. “Is everything alright?”
Seonghwa steps into the familiar room, bathed in the orange light of his desk lamp. Hongjoong was between Mingi and Seonghwa in terms of cleanliness; his bed was made, but there were stray bits of trash scattered across countertops and a piece of clothing thrown over a chair or on the floor.
“Yes, but also no,” Seonghwa says, throwing himself on the leader’s bed and starting to pick at his cuticles again.
Hongjoong sits next to him and holds Seonghwa’s hand, a way of reassurance and to also stop him from picking his fingers raw. “Whatever it is, just know that I am here for you and will never judge you.”
Seonghwa closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again, looking at the ceiling because he doesn’t want to look at his boyfriend when he says something that may ruin the relationship that is so deep and special. The ceiling feels too far away, too bright. Seonghwa takes a deep breath. The words sit heavy on his tongue, and he rearranges them silently in his head, wondering which version will hurt the least. Every option feels like stepping onto unstable ground. Now is as good a time as any, so he may as well get it over with.
“I don’t feel fully like a man, and the idea of being a woman feels comforting. But, in some way, I don’t feel like either.” Seonghwa says with difficulty, like she’s tearing her own tongue out of her mouth to admit what she just did.
The room feels unbearably quiet once the words are out. The fan hums somewhere behind them. Seonghwa is painfully aware of every second that passes, of the space between his heartbeat and the next. Tears well up in his eyes and panic rises in her chest, tight and sharp.
She expects Hongjoong to drop her hand like it was on fire, call her disgusting, or any adverse reaction. The space between them feels fragile, stretched thin. But Hongjoong’s face softens, and his thumb rubs comforting circles on the back of her hand. The motion is small and repetitive, but she clings to it anyway, focusing on it like proof that she is still here, that she hasn’t ruined everything.
“That’s ok, Hwa. Look at me.” Hongjoong says, taking Seonghwa’s face in his hands and turning her head so that they maintain eye contact. Hongjoong looks at Seonghwa like she is a celestial being made of the cosmos and she wishes that she could take a picture of how Hongjoong was looking at her. “It sounds like you may be nonbinary at the very least, and that’s ok. Anything is okay as long as you feel happy.”
Hongjoong’s answer makes her calm down, at least a little. She takes a few moments to process her boyfriend’s acceptance of her, letting it sink in slowly. Relief settles in her chest, tentative and fragile, like it might disappear if she moves too quickly. She almost lets herself believe that this is enough. Almost.
“But aren’t you gay? Aren’t you only attracted to men? What does that mean for us?” Seonghwa asks, tears welling up along her waterline that threaten to break and fall down her cheeks.
Hongjoong remains firm and doesn’t even flinch, as if he could read his lover’s mind. “My love, I’m not caught up in labels. I don’t care what I am, because who else I am attracted to doesn’t matter. I love you, whichever way you come. I care about you and your happiness. I would support you if you wanted to leave and become a private person to transition, I would support you if you're going to stay in the public eye and do that, or even stay closeted. I don’t give a fuck as long as you continue being your happiest you. If that means presenting as a woman here, I’ll go clothes shopping with you and kill anyone who doesn't support you. If that means calling you noona and referring to you in other ways, I will do it.”
Seonghwa is left speechless. She listens without interrupting, afraid that if she speaks the moment might crack. Each sentence lands slowly, sinking in piece by piece. This is the first time that she has allowed herself to start imagining herself as other than a man. The idea of presenting oneself and starting to live as a nonbinary person sounds appealing and comfortable and that is something that makes her stomach twist. She presses her forehead briefly into Hongjoong’s shoulder, not quite hugging him yet, just existing there.
“Joong, would you start referring to me as a woman or non-man when we are in private, like this? I’m just not ready for everyone else to know.” Seonghwa asks, looking back into Hongjoong’s eyes. “But also, I do want you to refer to me as a man sometimes, but right now, just keep it mixed up.”
Hongjoong nods and scoots up on the bed a bit more, opening his arms so Seonghwa can find himself at home within them. They spend a silent moment arranging themselves, the way they always do, their head on the younger man’s chest, absentmindedly playing with the drawstring of Hongjoong’s sweatpants.
The adrenaline of the conversation fades slowly, leaving behind a soft, exhausted calm. Her body feels heavy in a good way, like she has finally put something down after carrying it for too long.
“Does that mean you want me to refer to you formally while we are alone, even if it is just for now?” Hongjoong asks absentmindedly, fingers playing with and smoothing Seonghwa’s hair, now bleached white and cascading like a waterfall down their face.
Seonghwa silently nods, feeling a bit bad. She wants her boyfriend to refer to her as if they were friends who weren’t close, but right now, he’s the only person she feels comfortable enough to explore this with.
“You don’t mind? I can imagine if it feels insulting.” they say, looking up and meeting the soft and caring expression of their boyfriend.
Hongjoong cups her face again. “Love, you trusted me enough to share this with me. I would never feel insulted.” He says, pausing for a moment to admire her face. “Have I ever told you how pretty you are, Noona?”
A warm and excited feeling burns in her chest, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She sheepishly shakes her head and buries her face in Hongjoong’s chest, earning a slight chuckle from the man under her. Hongjoong just chuckles at her reaction, taking another few minutes of silence with the fan acting as their background music.
“I’ve always wanted to make women’s clothing.” Hongjoong says, breaking the silence. “I mean, you were my muse before this but now everything I design is going to be for you.”
Seonghwa feels a blooming of warmth in her chest. Despite her low self esteem, being someone’s muse, and her boyfriend’s especially, made her feel prized. She decides to ignore the feeling of guilt to squirm her way up to his cheek to plant a kiss on it as thanks.
“I don’t deserve you.” Seonghwa sighs, leaning her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder and interlacing their fingers.
He can feel the frown on Hongjoong’s face. But he spares Seonghwa and just pushes back, pulling her closer.
“You deserve me, the moon, the star, and so so much more.” he says, using his free hand to reassuringly pet the top of Seonghwa’s head. “And I will do my best to give it to you.”
They spend the rest of the night in comfortable silence binge watching shows that their friends have recommended to them.
At some point, Seonghwa thinks about the door again. About how terrifying it felt to stand on the other side of it, heart pounding, convinced that everything she loved could disappear with one knock. Lying here now, tucked safely against Hongjoong’s chest, it feels almost unreal. Nothing broke. Nothing shattered. The fear is still there, quiet but present, written into her skin like everything else she is learning about herself. But for the first time, it feels survivable.
Eventually, they fall asleep in each other’s arms with the lights on.