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The first sign Ollie missed was the conveniently left open tab on Kimi’s laptop.
Kimi and Ollie were sitting at home on the sofa—the former swiftly tapping away on his laptop’s keyboard—dining on some takeaway.
The couple shared a comfortable silence, only being interrupted by the clicking of keys and sipping of cola, until it was broken by Ollie.
“Hey, Kim,” Ollie started.
Kimi hummed in acknowledgement to the call of his name through the familiar nickname.
“Could I borrow your laptop for a second? I want to do today’s Wordle,” Ollie continued.
Kimi stopped what he was doing, lifting his head from the screen and looking over to meet Ollie’s face. He handed the laptop over to the elder with a quick manoeuvrer, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
Kimi knew that Ollie would ask this. The elder purposely started a new Wordle streak on Kimi’s laptop at the start of their relationship—a clever way to log the days that passed and a shameless excuse to share their personal belongings with each other (not that Kimi minded).
That’s exactly why Kimi had left it there: at the top of the navigator, an open tab peeked out to the right of the new tab Kimi had loaded for Ollie. It previewed ‘how to tell your boyfriend that you’re…’ before being cut off.
Minutes went by, and Kimi had closed his eyes, as if bracing for an impact.
“Pizza!” Ollie exclaimed.
Kimi opened his eyes, again looking over at Ollie, now with one eyebrow raised.
“Today’s word was Pizza. I got it in 4,” Ollie said, handing the laptop back to Kimi.
“Eh, good job, amore,” Kimi spluttered. He took in Ollie’s Wordle stats on the laptop’s bright screen.
The open tab remained there, ignored and untouched.
The second sign Ollie missed was Kimi’s recurring ‘stomach’ cramps.
The worst of them came one time in the middle of the night. Kimi was curled into a ball on his side of the bed—one of his arms was wrapped firmly around his abdomen, and his breathing was uneven.
“Fuck,” Kimi muttered under his breath.
Ollie woke up to the sight after Kimi let out one too many whimpers of pain. He knew that Kimi often had these painful spells, but he’d chalked it up to Kimi’s weak stomach punishing him for consuming whatever he had eaten the day prior.
“Kimi?” Ollie said softly.
Kimi heard him but didn’t move.
“Olls...cramp, really bad,” He managed.
“Hey,” Ollie said. He leaned over, wrapping his fingers around Kimi’s arm.
“Fuck, Kimi, you’re burning up,” Ollie remarked.
Kimi could only whimper in response.
Ollie took initiative and shot up from the couple’s bed, scurrying to the bathroom.
These cramps were the reason Ollie always kept ibuprofen in the bathroom cabinet. He hurriedly broke into a new box and placed a tablet in his palm. This wasn’t the first time, yet Ollie couldn’t help but swallow hard before making his way back to Kimi because he had never seen him be this bad.
Ollie sat beside Kimi, dipping more weight onto his side of the bed, and extended his palm bearing the small orange tablet. Kimi sat up weakly, taking it from Ollie, and swallowing. Kimi then exhaled sharply.
“Ollie...these cramps,” Kimi murmured.
“It’s more than just my stomach, it’s...I–”
“Food poisoning,” Ollie interrupted.
“It’s okay, Kim, just get some rest,” Ollie reassured, “I’ll take care of you.”
Kimi’s eyebrows furrowed, his mouth opened, then closed. The pain had exhausted him to the point of being unable to retort.
Ollie pecked Kimi’s forehead with a kiss, and retreated back to the other side of the bed.
The third sign Ollie missed was Kimi administering testosterone shots to himself.
Kimi was in the bathroom, his shared Spotify playlist with Ollie humming in the background.
Kimi was preparing to inject his scheduled testosterone shot. He normally had the shots done for him by a nurse at his local clinic, but he’d decided to switch to doing the shots himself (for no reason in particular, of course).
He opened a needle and connected it to his syringe, and rubbed the top of his T vial with an alcohol swab. He placed the needle into the vial and pulled, drawing the medication into the syringe.
He discarded the used needle and anchored the syringe with a new one.
It was then that Ollie began to focus on Kimi, the older boy being able to peek at him through the door that was purposely left slightly ajar. Ollie reasoned that it was totally okay to snoop on Kimi getting ready for the day because he was so, so pretty while he was doing it.
Ollie watched as Kimi pinched the muscle of his upper thigh and jabbed the needle into it, pushing the plunger of the syringe and releasing testosterone into his body.
Ollie stumbled back in shock and exited the bedroom that housed the bathroom Kimi was stood in.
Ollie, now in their apartment’s lounge, settled onto the sofa, trying to decipher whatever the hell he’d just seen his boyfriend do.
Was Kimi using? His inner monologue impulsively suggested.
Ollie knew about Kimi’s bi-weekly visits to their local clinic, but he never would have assumed it was for something such as addiction, if Kimi even was addicted.
Ollie quickly shut down all of his thoughts related to the matter, because he knew better than to make up assumptions about the younger boy. It wouldn’t be fair to him.
Kimi would tell him whatever was actually going on when he was ready, surely.
The fourth sign Ollie missed was the tape that wrapped tightly around Kimi’s chest.
Kimi and Ollie were settling into bed, and what had started off as an innocent peck quickly spiralled into something messier.
The couple lay on their sides, Ollie cupping Kimi's face with one hand, tasting the younger boy's lips and savouring their flavour.
Ollie deepened his kisses, becoming needy, and Kimi's own desperation followed closely behind.
Kimi and Ollie were practically swallowing each other's mouths whole—teeth crashed together, tongues intertwined—only breaking apart to gasp for air.
The next time they broke apart, Ollie observed the way Kimi's chest heaved.
Kimi's breathing was heavy, less controlled than Ollie's—as if his chest were constrained, needing to put more effort into the action than the elder.
This response only made Ollie hungrier. He shifted from his side, sitting tall above Kimi, and straddling his hips.
Ollie pushed his hand on Kimi's chest, crashing into his lips, and smashing Kimi into the wooden headboard of their bed.
The action elicited a gasp from Kimi which vibrated through Ollie's mouth.
Ollie pressed harder onto Kimi’s chest. Kimi winced, curling his fingers around Ollie's wrist and pulling his hand down to his waist—but not before Ollie had felt a noticeable dip in Kimi's sternum.
A hole? Was Kimi hurt? Ollie suddenly thought.
Ollie immediately pulled himself off of Kimi, all the pleasure in his expression melting into concern, and shifted back onto his side, once again lying next to Kimi.
"Shit, are you okay?" Ollie exasperated.
"Yeah, good, so good," Kimi breathed.
Ollie smiled warmly and turned to lay flat on his back. He held Kimi's hand in his own, an affectionate gesture signalling apology.
After steadying his breathing, Kimi sat up and opened his mouth to explain.
"Ollie, I have to tell–" Kimi began before cutting himself off.
Ollie's eyes were closed, his being laced with sleep.
Fuck.
Kimi flopped back down onto his back and groaned.
The first sign Ollie caught was when Kimi came out to him directly.
Kimi was curled on his side on the couple’s bed wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt that was so loose on his figure he definitely must have nabbed it from Ollie’s drawer.
Ollie was tucked into Kimi, placing soft kisses to the younger boy’s exposed bits of skin. He travelled—with deliberate, paced movements—from the nape of his neck to the jut of his collarbone, and then to his upper arm.
Before Ollie could make his way down any further, Kimi let out a sigh and turned to sit himself up. Ollie noted the way Kimi’s shoulders hunched, how he fidgeted with the fingers in his lap—and he was pretty sure he could see his eyes, now glossed with unwept tears, shining in the bedroom’s dim light.
As Ollie sat up, about to question, Kimi spoke.
“I need to tell you something, Ollie,” Kimi murmured.
“I’m trans,” Kimi started, “transgender.”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you sooner, I swear, I just…” Kimi sniffled.
Ollie then placed his hand on Kimi’s thigh and squeezed as if to say I hear you, and I see you.
Kimi embraced the touch like a lifeline and dried the tears threatening to spill with his forearm.
Kimi reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it off in a graceful swoop, revealing the tape that caressed his chest. Ollie bit his lower lip because, fuck, he was beautiful.
Ollie shifted toward Kimi, wrapping his arms around him, taking his boy into a hug. He buried his face into the crook of Kimi’s neck and breathed him in.
“You’re so perfect,” Ollie muffled onto Kimi’s skin.
Ollie lifted his head from Kimi and brushed their lips together.
Kimi grabbed Ollie’s waist and pushed himself down on the bed, pulling Ollie on top of him. His mind went blank of worry, leaving only room for Ollie
Kimi’s mouth pressed hard against Ollie’s, and his fingers curled against the hem of Ollie’s shirt in an attempt to tug it off of him.
“Off,” Kimi breathed as he broke them apart.
Ollie hastily obliged, yanking the shirt off his body and discarding it somewhere he couldn’t care to know.
Ollie traced his eyes down Kimi’s torso: his chest, then his stomach, and then fixed them onto the sliver of v-line that poked out of Kimi’s boxers.
Ollie curled his fingers around the waistband of the fabric and whipped his gaze back up to Kimi’s eyes.
“Can I?” Ollie whispered.
“Please, yes,” Kimi pleaded.
Ollie slung the boxers off of Kimi’s frame and took in the sight of Kimi’s elongated clit.
“T-dick,” Kimi muttered.
“Fuck, Kim, you’re so beautiful,” Ollie breathed.
Kimi was his boy, his beloved. Nothing would change that for Ollie.