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Anthony didn't like himself sometimes. Sometimes, he wanted to change everything about himself, a little. His current fixation was… leg hair.
He’d never shaved his legs. It was a… girly thing, right? He’d thought that… well, he’d thought men were supposed to have leg hair, so when it started crawling up his legs when he was around twelve, it confused him that he found it upsetting. Nobody ever said ‘hey, Anthony, you’re a boy so you can’t shave your legs–’ he just sort of… decided that. It was a prison of his own making, or something. That was kind of how it always was with him.
So, when his girlfriend mentioned his thick leg hair, he always kind of winced. It was always… neutrally. Or, at least, not with any kind of real bite behind it.
“Do you want to shave your legs?”
“What?”
Hanbon was lying upside down on the couch, looking up at him from his spot next to her. She slid off, lying on her back on the floor. “You’ve been weird about it lately. You keep, like, staring at your legs… and then mine… and then yours… and then mine…”
“Um– I don’t… shave my legs.”
“Well, do you want to?”
Yes. “I don’t know. I’ve never done it before.”
“I can show you how,” she offered.
Anthony scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. I’m sure it’s not that different from shaving my face.”
“Mmm.” Hanbon sat up and put a hand on his leg, feeling the hair on it. Anthony pushed down the discomfort in his stomach. “It’s thicker than you’ve ever let your facial hair get. It’ll be harder to shave. Let me help.”
“You just wanna see me naked in the shower,” Anthony accused. It was a poor attempt at deflecting.
She rolled her eyes. “Not everything's about seeing you naked, Anthony. Some people just wanna help you. Let me help you. Indulge me.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“Really?” Bon’s eyes lit up. “Yay. Oh my god. Okay! Okay. Tomorrow afternoon, we are shaving your legs.”
“Why are you so excited? Weirdo.” Anthony refused to meet her eyes.
“Shh, shh. This will be amazing. I’ll be back later.” Hanbon got up and… left. Just– fully left their shared apartment. No indication of where she was going, when she’d be back… Anthony had a weird, hopeful feeling in his chest about all of this, but he replaced it with neutrality before it could get anywhere. This was stupid. After this, his leg hair would grow out again, and he’d never touch it again. Just like always.
But it didn’t stop him from thinking about it. Maybe they could shave his arms, too. Maybe his chest. And maybe Hanbon could teach him how to get a closer shave on his face. He went through phases with it, but– well, he… didn’t like to think about it. But now he was. He was thinking about it, and he was thinking about all the little parts of himself he had issues with, the ones he didn’t let himself think about because they weren’t fixable. The way his body fat was distributed, his jawline, his voice–... if he kept sitting on the couch in silence, he was just going to feel worse about every single inch of his body. He stood. There had to be something to take his mind off this.
-
Anthony was exceedingly comfortable around Hanbon, but something about this made him feel horrifically exposed. He was standing in the shower– it was off– with his legs pressed together, staring at Hanbon as she sorted something in a bag on the counter. His mind was racing with perceptions of himself, the slight reflection in the glass door of their shower–
And then she started stripping.
“Bon, what– what’re you–”
“I’m gonna shave, too. You’re probably a visual learner, right?”
“I don’t– maybe, but– I–”
“Well, I’m not gonna sit outside the shower. That’s boring. I’m helping you. I mean, would you rather have me sit out here and stare at you?”
“Okay. Um. Alright.”
She opened the sliding door, walking in with her bag of things. “Okay, so this–” she pulled out a razor. It was light purple. It was… clearly a woman’s brand, which didn’t make sense to Anthony, because he was a– he cringed mentally– man, with man hair. “Is gonna be the razor you use. It’s the same brand as mine. It’s good for thick hair.”
He shuffled around a little, backing up. The shower was large, but they were still close. Anthony tried not to look down at his own body. “Aren’t women’s razors better for… women’s hair?”
“Not really. I mean, it’s… it doesn’t really matter. So– anyways, I got you honey scented shave oil.”
It was branded so femininely. Everything in Hanbon’s bag of wonders was, and Anthony knew it was probably just because it was what she used, and she probably didn’t think too much about it. Still, it was… nice. For some reason. Anthony was rather tired of the man-scented bullshit, like who wants to smell like tobacco, and– who said a man couldn’t have a lilac-colored razor?
Hanbon reached past Anthony, leaning over him to turn on the water. Her body brushed against his, and it was a familiar warmth to simply be close. He loved her. He kind of always had. She messed with the temperature until she was satisfied, and the shower began.
The first thing Bon said he had to use was a sugar scrub. This was her personal one, not one she’d bought for this. It was vanilla-scented, and she demonstrated using it to exfoliate.
“Do you want to do it, or me?”
“Um–” Anthony really didn’t know. “I, uh… I can do it.” He got some of the sugar scrub onto his finger– Hanbon scolded him immediately, told him to use more– leaned down, and started scrubbing his legs with it. The sheer volume of coarse hair was freaking him out. He tried not to touch it, usually.
“Annthonnyy,” Bon dragged out his name. “You aren’t doing it right.” She shoved his hands off his leg and began vigorously scrubbing. It… honestly hurt a little, but Anthony wasn’t about to complain. Hanbon wasn’t one to shy away from doing things like this– neither was Anthony. Showering together was far from weird for them, and it never really had to be sexual. It felt domestic. Anthony felt cared for.
“Okay. Wash that off, and then we’re gonna trim the thicker parts.”
Oh, yeah. Anthony got an extra step. Because he had thick, coarse, man hair. Hanbon didn’t have to do that. Just Anthony. He was feeling worse again, for whatever reason.
As if Hanbon sensed his displeasure, she didn’t say a word as she started the electric trimmer, keeping it carefully out of the shower’s water. She was quick with it– tactful, didn’t miss any spots. She’d wordlessly direct him to move, contort his body as she got the longest of the hair taken care of. It was… weird, to see his legs like this. She opened the shower door the slightest bit and tossed it away.
“Won’t need that anymore, as long as you keep up with it to some degree.”
“...What–? I, I’m not gonna… make this a regular thing, Bon. I’m just… trying it.”
“Okay. That’s fine. But if you did want to do it again, you can avoid using the trimmer by just keeping up with it.”
“Why would I want to avoid using the trimmer? It’s not– like– bad.”
Hanbon shut her eyes, lips in a slight frown. “Anthony, I’m gonna need you to at least try to process how all of this is making you feel.”
“What– what do you– oh, uh–” Anthony was quickly cut off by Hanbon connecting their lips. It was aggressive and brief, like she was kinda just trying to shut him up. It worked.
“You know it’s okay to be feminine, right?”
“...Obviously. I’m just not a feminine guy.”
“You’re so frustrating.” And at that, she shoved the lilac-colored razor at him. Hers was pink. She lathered shave oil on both of them, not bothering to ask if he wanted to do it this time. It smelled so sweet.
From there, she demonstrated with the razor, explaining things that Anthony kinda-sorta knew, but he listened to her anyway. Anthony soon followed her lead, starting where she did, with his thigh. He clenched his jaw as soon as he saw the patch of… nothing. Blank. Smooth. He ran a hand over it. It was still a little… rough, but it was so much more level. He basked in it for a moment, but he was very quickly falling behind, so he continued, dipping his razor into a cup of water every few passes. The razor was full of hair each time, but he didn’t focus on that. He focused on the growing clear spots on his leg, the freedom it gave him.
“Bon, how do you get the back?”
She laughed at him– he looked a little like he was chasing his own tail. “Um– here, I can, I can do it–”
“Well, I should probably know how to do it myself.”
She smiled at him. “Oh, I thought this was a one-time thing?”
He turned red. “Shut the fuck up.”
Hanbon obliged, showing him how she did it. She was leaning on the wall, holding her leg up, and Anthony mimicked her. Hm. Not bad.
“You’ll find your own angles. What works for me might not work for you.”
It was all so warm, the awkward clinking of elbows and the laughs, the small conversations and the perfectly hot water. If a time loop were to begin right this second, Anthony would surely be happy enough here to last until he found a way out.
And there was the… whole… leg hair thing, the lack of it. The more of his leg he cleared, the more himself he started to feel and, he– he wondered why. He caught Hanbon grinning at him as he ran his hands over the hairless skin, and he bit his cheek.
Hanbon did his knees and the backs of his ankles. She insisted. He didn't mind. She had finished long before he did–practiced, she’d been doing this much longer than he had. She was careful, gentle, but still quick.
“Okay. How do you feel?”
“...Bald.”
She scoffed. “Bald isn't an emotion.”
“Good, I guess? I don’t know.”
“Okay. Good! Let’s get out of the shower.”
She turned off the water and grabbed a towel for each of them. Anthony started drying himself, but–
“No– no, hold on. Pat dry. At least your legs. Leave them a little wet.”
“Oh. Okay.” So, he did. It took longer, he thought, and he didn't know why it was necessary, but he did it anyway.
“You have pretty legs,” complimented Hanbon.
“Bon– what?” Anthony clenched his fists, trying not to be happy about that.
“Your legs. They’re pretty.”
“I- I don’t–”
“Lotion!” She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a half-empty bottle of cherry almond lotion. She waited for him to get out of the shower and squirted a hefty dose onto his hand, then did the same for herself. He watched her for a second, paying attention to how she applied it, then began applying it himself.
Holy fuck. His skin was so soft. His skin had never been this soft. Was this always an option? Why didn't everyone do this?
“There! You did it!”
“...Wow.”
“Your legs are just like mine now!”
Anthony stared at Hanbon, looked at both their legs, compared–
“No, they aren’t.”
“I mean, they kinda are.”
“You have, like, thighs. And stuff.”
“Okay? You could have thighs.”
“No– No I– huh?”
“Anthony, it’s okay if you’re a girl.”
What. What. “What?”
“You know that, right? It’s fine to be a girl. You can be a girl if you wanna be a girl.”
“Just– just because I shaved my legs once doesn't mean I’m– I’m a girl.”
“That’s true. But I think you’re a girl.”
“Why?” he said, a mix of shocked and exasperated. Anthony wasn't… trans. He couldn't be. That didn't make any sense. He didn’t– other people could be trans, that was fine. He just wasn’t.
“...Call it a hunch. Let me put makeup on you. And a skirt. Just… see if you like it.”
“Bon, this is insane. Was this all a ploy to accuse me of being trans?”
“No. It was an experiment to see if you’d like being feminine. Anthony, everything I used on you was cutesy and feminine-scented. Not that it matters. But if you’re a woman, and you aren't comfortable being a woman, experiencing femininity like that for the first time would feel nice. And it seemed like that felt nice, no?”
“I mean, it– it did, but– wouldn’t I know if I was trans? Wouldn't it be more obvious?”
“You hate your body and everything masculine about it, you go through phases of wanting to be as masculine as possible and then hating yourself for it, you pick the girl character in video games, you always identify with feminine characters, you’ve always jumped at the opportunity to wear a dress for the bit. C’mon, Anthony. Does that not say anything to you?”
“...I guess, I– I don’t know, I try not to think about it.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Let me dress you up.”
“What– wha– no, Bon. No way.”
“C’mon. Please? Just once. If you don’t like it, we’ll never do it again.”
…He’d gotten this far, hadn’t he?
-
He felt worse at first. He insisted that Hanbon put clothes on him that weren’t too feminine– not a skirt, not– not yet– and he liked how it looked, the shorts with his bare legs, then hated himself for liking how it looked, then spent too long looking at himself and couldn’t stop seeing himself as anything but a man playing pretend–
“Anthony.”
“Huh?” He broke eye contact with himself in the mirror. He instantly relaxed his shoulders once his eyes were on Hanbon, and not himself. The simple sight of her was beyond comforting.
“C’mere. I’m ready to do your makeup.”
He took a deep breath. He turned again, facing the mirror, and when he quickly took a glance, he saw himself, kinda, but– but not himself. And if (s)he kept looking, kept staring, kept picking it apart– she’d be gone again.
And she was.
Hanbon sat him down on the bed and rolled over her little rolling cart with all sorts of things Anthony barely knew the purpose of. She introduced each one to him, told him what it did, asked him if he wanted to use it– she pulled up Pinterest photos, asked him what he liked, and– and Anthony was so staggered by looking at these pictures as something (s)he could look like. It was kind of the same lens he’d always wanted to look at pictures of pretty girls through, or, maybe the one she always had, but didn’t let himself.
“Okay. Okay, I think I know what we’re gonna do.” She tapped around on her phone a little, going over the photos Anthony had awkwardly pointed out. “Okay. Sit still.”
Anthony suddenly realized how shaky he was. Like, really shaky, and he didn’t realize how nervous he was, either, and this was all too much, maybe, and he should probably just quit while he was ahead– and Hanbon grabbed both of his hands in hers. And she was smiling so softly.
She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t really need to. The very first thing she did was get an extremely close shave on every inch of his face. She was so quick, he barely had time to think about it. Then, she simply started wiping, and brushing, and generally applying, and Anthony felt… normal. He focused on the sensations, followed her directions, and it was… peaceful. He always thought it looked boring. He’d watch makeup videos with Hanbon sometimes, and it just looked… grueling. Like it took forever. Anthony– well, he didn’t think he wanted to sit through it. This, though– this felt so easy. Second-nature. Like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.
“Here–” Hanbon leaned forward, getting closer– “let me–” she started doing something that was cold, and Anthony flinched back, and she put a hand on the back of his head, holding him still. She wasn’t focused on him, not his eyes or anything like that, but on what she was doing. It gave him pure, unfiltered access to staring at her. He’d always found her beautiful, even if he wasn’t always good at wording it.
He didn’t like letting himself think it, but he was jealous, too. Anthony really did make an effort not to wallow in that kind of thing– but it was hard. It was more the freedom than anything– Hanbon was able to present like that, able to be feminine without anyone… caring.
Hanbon was the most beautiful woman that Anthony had ever seen, he thought– he was so lucky that she chose him.
“Oh, this is going great,” Hanbon murmured. “Anthony, I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think I have a career in cosmetology.”
“Yeah, Bon, that’s what would alarm me here.”
“Well, yeah. You guys need me in Bunch of Friends. Wouldn’t be the same without me.” She idly put finishing touches on, scolding Anthony when he moved too much.
“Alright. Are you done?”
“I… think so!”
And Anthony was nervous again. She could clearly see it in his expression, because she didn’t hand him the mirror quite yet. She started messing with his hair, gently brushing it with her fingers in a way that Anthony was rather certain would make zero difference. And then he sort of realized that it was probably to comfort him. “It’s okay if you’re scared.”
“I’m– not scared, there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s just… makeup.”
“But it’s not.”
“I mean, it is–”
“Anthony. You don’t have to look at everything so… analytically. Like, okay, maybe it’s just makeup. But it clearly is doing something to your head. So, let yourself feel something about it.”
He paused, really tried to make himself think about it, how all the powders and creams felt on his face, how the lack of stubble felt, and–
He didn’t… want to let himself think about the fact that it made him feel feminine. Without even seeing himself, he felt like maybe he– maybe she could be a girl. And part of it was definitely Hanbon, because never in her life had she felt more sure of her sexuality than when she could kind of make herself feel like Hanbon’s girlfriend, because– well– yes, it felt incredibly natural to think of herself in this position, with her girlfriend doing her makeup. It felt so cliche and fun and–
Oh, the mirror. While she was thinking about all this, Hanbon had held the mirror up, and–
…Anthony didn’t know. Anything. It felt like. Her– his–? mind was kind of melting, as she saw the sight in front of him. Because on one hand– her features were so much softer, a little bit of eyeliner, her lips were a tad more pigmented and– man, Anthony had forgotten that Hanbon had done a bit of shaping to her eyebrows. This was… surreal.
But on the other hand– not only was this kind of wrong, right, because it had to be– but Anthony was still… himself, under it all. She knew that once she took the makeup off, the girly clothes, once her leg hair grew back– she wouldn’t be herself again. She’d be himself, the kind of scruffy boy with weird facial hair, and– he still sort of was, when he looked too close, remembered what he was trying to build off of.
But it was frankly impossible to ignore how correct it felt. How easy it was to look in the mirror and let himself– herself– be herself. How nice it felt, to see her reflection, and see something that was more… real. Because maybe Anthony hadn’t really felt like himself, perhaps ever. It was very quickly becoming clear to her why she hadn’t.
“...I think I’m a woman.”
Hanbon exhaled with what seemed like relief.
“Wha– don’t– c’mon, it wasn’t that obvious, was it?”
Hanbon shrugged. “To me it was. But I also live with you and watched you get sadder and sadder every time your stubble grew out.”
Anthony made a displeased sound and… what the fuck was she supposed to do now?
Hanbon had an answer for everything, apparently. “Here, okay, so– give me your phone.”
Anthony obliged, for some reason.
“Do you wanna go in person or do a virtual appointment? You’ll need bloodwork eventually, and they might be able to do it there, so–”
“Bon. Holy fuck. Slow down. I’m not– I can’t–”
“You will be so thankful in a few months that I didn’t let you wait.”
“What if– I could be wrong, or, or, I could not like it–”
“They’ll tell you everything that’ll happen to your body in the appointment. And then you can decide. And if you try it, and you, for some unforeseen reason, don’t like it, guess what, Ant? You stop it. And you can go back to being a boy.”
Oh, wow, the sound of that was unsettling. Okay. Sure.
He answered all the little questions with Hanbon– estrogen please, in-person, sure, you can call me and say you’re Planned Parenthood, and–
At first, Anthony felt kind of dejected. The only appointments available were– over a month out, but Hanbon quickly went to the filters and selected a few more of the centers, and–
Two days. Anthony could be seen in two days. She couldn’t breathe, a little. This was… terribly surreal. Hanbon clicked on the earliest time without even consulting Anthony, and then– patient information. … Preferred name. That was on there.
“...Anything?” Hanbon asked.
“I mean– is it crazy if I just… stay Anthony?”
“No. You can be whoever you want.”
She continued, even though she wasn’t prompted to. “‘Cause, I mean, there’s my entire… brand. Not that that’d stop me. But like– my name doesn’t feel like it’s part of my gender. It’s just me.”
“Yeah. That’s fine. I’ll just put Anthony.”
Insurance, contact information, whatever, whatever–
“Are you ready?”
Anthony took the phone from Hanbon and hovered her finger over the button. “I think so.”
“Okay. Press it.”
“I’m scared.”
Hanbon rolled her eyes, grabbed the phone, and pressed the button. “There. Now–” she cut herself off, capturing Anthony in a sudden kiss. Hanbon pushed her onto the bed, where she awkwardly fell onto her back, disconnecting their lips.
“I want to kiss my girlfriend a little. If that’s okay?”
Girlfriend. It was the first time she heard it out loud. Anthony looked up at Hanbon as she leaned her legs against Anthony’s, hanging off the edge of the bed. “Yeah– that’s– yeah. That’s… yeah.”
“Well, aren’t you eloquent?” And without another word, Hanbon’s body was on top of hers, and everything finally seemed to fall into place. Anthony was a woman. And for some reason, that made a lot of things make sense.