When the beat dropped, Jiyong felt himself fade away as Jinah came to the forefront. She was powerful and confident, with lips that were always painted and able to keep up with every word. The self-proclaimed trash queen could never mess up a lip sync and her stage antics made her legendary. Death dropping off the side of a stage never failed to make people nervous, impressed, and excited all at once.

Jinah was everything Jiyong could ever want to be. She was safe. She was his world.

As her lips shut on the last words of CL’s “Hello es,” a final hair flip given, feeling the bobby pins pull at his hairline from the strong movement, Jiyong felt himself come back into consciousness. He panted, feeling the sweat drip down his face as his makeup ran.

“Give it up for our very own, Jinah Dragon!” Mino called as he came up on stage.

Jiyong shuffled off the stage quickly. His knees shook, suddenly feeling weak, as the rush wore off. He leaned against the wall, catching his breath.

“Feeling okay, Jiyong?” Daesung asked, suddenly beside him.

He only had one false eyelash on and Jiyong laughed at the sight. He reached out and pushed Daesung’s shoulder lightly.

“I’m fine. You know how it is. The exhaustion sets in when the adrenaline dies.”

Daesung rubbed his back and went back over to his mirror to finish his makeup. Jiyong hobbled over to his workspace, sat down in his chair, and removed his heels. His feet screamed in relief and he tipped his head back with a grin.

“Eonni, how did you learn to lip sync like that?”

Jiyong opened his eyes to look at the young drag queen standing nearby him. His name was Jinwoo, drag name Bambi, and he’d come from the pageant world, but for some reason, Jinah was his idol. He was always so cute and called Jiyong “eonni” like young drag queens always did. He’d been considering taking him on as a drag daughter, but Jiyong never had time.

“Lots and lots of practice, kiddo,” he said, sitting up slowly.

Jiyong grabbed his makeup kit and began to remove the makeup from his face. Jinwoo remained beside him, still dressed in only half of his drag outfit. He seemed entranced, watching how Jiyong removed the colors.

“Jinwoo, you’re on in fifteen. Hop to it!”

Jinwoo snapped out of it, his face flushing. He mumbled a small, “sorry, eonni” and rushed over to put his makeup on and finish padding. Jiyong smiled and finished removing his fake face. The circles under his eyes were more noticeable without all his concealer and he sighed, rubbing them with his fingers.

“I need to sleep for a week.”

“Maybe you should,” Daesung said, patting his shoulder.

His makeup was done and Jiyong held in his laugh. Daesung did the overdone paint, with dark and over exaggerated eyes, sharp highlighting, and big, bright lips. The classic comedy queen that Jiyong loved. He got up and hugged Daesung, patting his padded with a grin.

“I love you, hyung.”

“Go home, Jiyongie.”

Jiyong nodded. “Okay. Take care of all the baby girls.”

“Of course. That’s my job. I’m the mommy.”

“The greatest mommy,” Jiyong said, rocking Daesung in his embrace.

Daesung giggled. “I have to get dressed. Go home.”

“Good night.”

Daesung went back over to his clothing rack. Jiyong packed up his things into his bag, shouldering it quickly. He left from the backstage, shuffling past the other drag queens going between the stage and the dressing room. Instead of heading for the door, he slid onto a seat at the bar.

“Hi, Ji. What are you having tonight?” Youngbae greeted, wiping down the counter in front of him.

“Make me something fruity.”

“Do you have enough money?”

Jiyong made weepy eyes, fluttering his eyelashes. “Discount?”

Youngbae shook his head. “Yeah. Alright. Give me a sec.”

He went down the bar to prepare the drink and Jiyong watched him, leaning his elbows on the edge. Youngbae was a showboat, flipping his bottles every which way to give a performance as he mixed drinks. Women and men at the bar were eyeing him. He came back with a drink for Jiyong. Jiyong looked at it, appraising the colors, and then sipped it.

“Oh, a on the Beach,” he said with a grin. “This is great. Thank you, my love.”

Youngbae laughed and shook his head. He walked away and left Jiyong to sip on his drink. Jiyong watched Daesung, Jinwoo, and a few other drag queens perform. The club died down after a little while and Jiyong still sat there, sipping on his watered down, melted drink.

“So, why aren’t you going home?” Youngbae asked, cleaning the counter in front of him again.

There was barely anyone at the bar, so he could give him time. Jiyong stirred his straw with a sigh.

“Woobin and I have been having problems…”

“What kind of problems?” Youngbae asked. “Not physical, I hope.”

“Quite the opposite, actually. We haven’t had in like a month…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” Jiyong sighed and on his straw. “I feel like we’ve been really antagonistic to each other and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe you should break up.”

“Where am I supposed to live then, huh?” Jiyong said.

Youngbae shrugged. “I know you can figure it out.”

Jiyong shook his head. Youngbae took the glass from in front of him and went to go clean it. Jiyong lay his head on the bar, turning to watch the final performance of the night.

Last, but not least was the eldest queen of the club, Heechul. As Lady HeeHee, Heechul had been doing drag for over twenty years. He had been the drag mother of many of the queens in their club and let many fledgling drag queens make their start there. Jiyong cheered for his drag mother, along with many of the other queens who were in the audience. Lady HeeHee was a legend and inspiration to all of them.

“Jiyong, do you have a way home?” Youngbae asked.

“Yeah. I can walk.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Jiyong got off the stool. He picked up his bag again and headed for the door.

The walk home was slow, since Jiyong didn’t hurry. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. He strolled slowly as he let the nicotine fill his veins with each small inhale, the bright end of the stick glowing in the dark.

He reached his apartment and stood at the base of the stairs, finishing his cigarette. He felt an itch under his skin, uncomfortable and irritable. There was a bad feeling building up inside him. He was afraid of going inside and seeing his boyfriend.

Jiyong had been dating Woobin since his first year in college. He was Jiyong’s first long term boyfriend. Well, a long term boyfriend that ended up with the two of them living together. Jiyong thought they’d be together forever. Woobin was one of the only people who understood Jiyong for who he was. At least, that’s what Jiyong had thought. Lately, Woobin had been moody with Jiyong and didn’t seem to be understanding of him at all. It made being at home unenjoyable.

The cigarette no longer emitted even smoke and he threw it on the ground, stomping it out with his worn Converse. He shook his head and hands out before climbing up the stairs. When Jiyong made it to the top of the fourth flight of stairs, he laid eyes on his apartment door. Jiyong walked down the hall, but stopped. His suitcase was sitting outside the door and Jiyong knew he hadn’t put it there.

A cold sweat started down the back of his neck and his hands began to tremble.

“No. What the ?”

Jiyong ran to the door and was about to grab the knob when it turned and swung open, revealing Woobin. His arms were full of Jiyong’s drag supplies, fluffy skirts and jackets sticking out every which way. He stopped as he and Jiyong made eye contact, staring at one another.

“Woobin! What the hell?” he yelled.

“Jiyong…”

Woobin put the clothes down on top of the suitcase, edging Jiyong out of the doorway with ease. Jiyong waited for him to say something.

“Look, I didn’t want you to find out like this, but…”

“Find out what?” Jiyong demanded.

Woobin’s eyebrows creased and he frowned. “I’m done with all this, Jiyong. I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I’m not okay with this whole drag thing. I don’t get it. There’s too much of it in here.”

Jiyong stared at him in disbelief. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was Woobin really who he said he was? He’d never been so uncaring in the history of their relationship.

“What the do you mean?” Jiyong spat.

“I don’t get it! If you just want to be a woman, why don’t you go through with it? I could understand that. I’ll fully support you in that transition, babe, but the whole dressing up as a woman thing is too much.”

“No! That isn’t the point of drag! I don’t want to be a woman. I celebrate women. Jinah makes me feel stronger!”

“See, right there! The fact that you refer to your dress up as a name is too much! It’s weird! What the hell? I don’t get it.”

Jiyong felt like screaming. He felt his fingers curl into fists. How could Woobin do that to him? How could he be like that? He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What kind of ing boyfriend are you?!” Jiyong screamed, throwing his fists into the air.

Woobin just looked at him. He then turned around to go back inside the apartment. Jiyong stomped after him, but he didn’t make it out of the hallway before Woobin had him rushing out. Woobin had piled a lot of Jiyong’s things just near the front door and he’d returned with them, forcing Jiyong back out the front door. He dropped more of his things on the floor, not even bothering to put it on the suitcase at that point.

Jiyong tried to put up a fight, but he couldn’t. The overwhelming emotion that came from Woobin’s shocking declaration was too much for him. He dissolved into a crying mess, crouching outside the doorway. After a few minutes, Woobin stood before him, depositing the last of Jiyong’s things on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Jiyong. But I’m done.”

“You can’t do this to me,” Jiyong wailed up at him.

Woobin looked into his teary eyes, but all Jiyong saw was a glaze. There was no emotion in Woobin’s eyes, no care, no understanding. It was like he had never loved Jiyong at all. He turned around and went inside, shutting the door. Jiyong pushed himself up and tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

He scrambled to pull his keys from his pocket and fit one into the keyhole. None of them worked. Woobin had changed the locks. Jiyong screamed, kicking and hitting the door until his hands hurt.

“Jiyong! Just leave!” Woobin hollered.

A neighbor’s door opened and they peeked out, seeing Jiyong. Feeling ashamed, Jiyong silenced immediately and dropped to his knees. He began to throw all of his things into the suitcase, making sure nothing was damaged. He couldn’t fit everything, a lot of his clothing being very thick or taking up a lot of space due to their size. He shoved more into the duffel bag he’d brought home, trying to fit as much as he could. Both bags were so overstuffed that he couldn’t fully close them, but he didn’t care as long as he didn’t lose anything.

Jiyong stacked his duffel on top of his suitcase and quickly pulled it down the stairs. Just as he went out the front door, a police car pulled up, and he hurried along, trying to look inconspicuous.

He didn’t know where to go or what to do. His free fingers trembled while the others tightened mercilessly around the handle of his suitcase. It hurt, but Jiyong didn’t care. He felt angry. Seeing the nearest trash can, he kicked it as hard as he could, and sent it flying down the street.

Jiyong pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up, making his way down the street slowly. It helped to make his anger dissipate, but all that was left was sorrow. His eyes filled up with tears.

He couldn’t believe Woobin had kicked him out. He knew they hadn’t been getting along, but he hadn’t seen that one coming. Jiyong had nowhere to go. He had no family in the city and no money for a hotel room. It’s not like you could live in a hotel. (Well, one could, but Jiyong didn’t want to.)

His cell began to ring and he pulled it from his pocket, rubbing at his tear stained cheek with a thumb as cigarette smoke floated past his eye. It was Youngbae and Jiyong wondered if his best friend had a sixth sense or something. He answered, but he didn’t say anything, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Jiyong? You there?”

Jiyong exhaled smoke and cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

“How do you know something is wrong?”

“Feeling,” Youngbae said.

Jiyong stopped walking, his suitcase sliding into the back of his leg. He sighed and threw his cigarette down. He ground it out until it was shredded to pieces.

“Woobin kicked me out,” he said, sniffling.

It hurt to say it. He didn’t want to admit that what had happened was reality. Perhaps he would wake up the next morning to discover it was all a dream.

“Oh my gosh, Jiyong. I’m so sorry. Where are you now?”

“Standing on the pavement with a ing suitcase and duffel bag with nowhere to go.”

“Hey, you can stay with me, okay? I know it’s not much, but I have a couch you can sleep on.”

Jiyong inhaled and nodded, trying not to lose it. It was somewhere to go.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Great. I have to go to work in like two hours and I need to sleep a bit, so I can’t come get you. I’m sorry. There’s a key under the front mat and you can let yourself in, okay?”

“Yeah, Youngbae. I can get there by myself,” Jiyong said.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“If you need anything, just call,” Youngbae added.

“I will.”

Jiyong hung up and slid his phone back into his jeans pocket. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. He had to figure out how to get to Youngbae’s apartment.

The only answer was the bus and the nearest bus stop was at least two blocks. Jiyong took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and began his journey.

It was hard lugging a suitcase and duffel bag down the uneven pavement. Jiyong was thankful his suitcase had wheels. If it hadn’t, he never would have made it. He plopped down onto the seat and panted, tipping his head back. His eye cracked open to check out which buses would be arriving soon.

The bus he needed to get to Youngbae’s house wouldn’t arrive for forty-five more minutes. He sighed and made himself comfortable, stretching out his legs. His fingers pulled out his wallet and opened it up to check his cash. There were only a couple of random small coins, not nearly enough to get him on the bus.

“!” Jiyong yelled, kicking the side of the bus stop.

He covered his face with his hands, trying not to break down. He didn’t need to have a mental break down at a bus stop.

He didn’t know how long he sat with his face in his hands, but he heard someone walk up. He decided to pretend he wasn’t there, although if they touched his things, he would not hesitate to fight.

“Excuse me. You got a light?”

Jiyong was startled by the deep voice. It wasn’t rough or gravelly like he often encountered, but it sounded smooth, like velvet. He looked up at the source of the voice. The owner of said voice was drop dead gorgeous and Jiyong felt like the air was knocked out of his lithe body.

Said man standing beside him was tall and slim, with pecs that looked like they were ready to burst out of his shirt. He was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, a nice watch on his wrist, and his black hair was coifed so his forehead was showing. Jiyong wondered what someone as nicely dressed as that man was doing in his neighborhood. It wasn’t like Jiyong lived somewhere rich and comfortable. It was pretty scummy.

“Excuse me?” Jiyong said.

“I asked if you had a light. Sorry to bother.”

Jiyong shook his head and drew his lighter out of his pocket. The man took it, his hands calloused and Jiyong wondered what it was he did for a living. Lighting his cigarette, the man offered back the lighter easily.

“How did you know I had one?” Jiyong asked.

“I noticed the pack sticking out of your pocket,” the man said with a soft chuckle, blowing smoke from between his lips.

Even though Jiyong had just been broken up with by his long term boyfriend and was heartbroken, he couldn’t help finding the man standing beside him to be attractive. There was something about the way he stood and how the smoke filtered from his mouth. Even though Jiyong had been smoking a long time and had been surrounded by smokers, he had never encountered a man who had turned him on by merely smoking in front of him.

Jiyong put his lighter away and settled back, not sure how to respond. The man casually smoked beside him. A bus pulled up, but neither moved. Jiyong sighed audibly, realizing he still had no cash and there was no way for him to get on the bus. He considered calling Youngbae to ask for a ride. He knew he’d have to sit most of the night, but he didn’t have a choice.

“Where are you headed with all those things?” the man asked.

Jiyong looked up at him, wondering why he was trying to talk to him. He glanced over at his bag and realized some of his women’s clothes were sticking out. Feeling nervous, he turned to adjust them, attempting to get the bag closed.

Something inside Jiyong told him he should talk. His therapist had always recommended talking about how he felt instead of keeping it inside. That way he wouldn’t blow up like he usually did.

“To be quite honest, sir, I don’t really know where I’m heading. I got broken up with and kicked out of my apartment.”

“Wow. That’s pretty harsh. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah, well…” Jiyong blew out a breath. “Life really likes to kick some people around no matter how hard they try.”

The man spat his cigarette out and ground it out. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m sure you know nothing about that.”

Jiyong hadn’t meant for that to come out, but it did. He bit his lip and tipped his head down in shame.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m having a day.”

“So, you lash out at others. It’s not that uncommon. I’m not offended,” the man said.

Jiyong stared up at him in surprise. He’d never met someone who would take being yelled at so well. His eyebrows furled and the man chuckled.

Another bus rolled up and Jiyong looked up at it. His eyes looked to the screen with the bus numbers. The next bus was the one he needed, but he still didn’t have any money.

“Which bus are you taking?”

“I’m supposed to take the next one, but…” Jiyong said.

“But?”

“Turns out I don’t have any cash and my card is useless at the moment.”

The man nodded. Jiyong heard him fumbling about and he looked over to see he’d drawn out his wallet. He drew out a couple of bills and held them out to Jiyong.

“Thanks for the light.”

Jiyong stared at him in disbelief. The man’s look didn’t waver as he held the money out, resolute to stand there until Jiyong accepted them. Jiyong took the bills and looked at them, then back up at the man.

“I…”

“Sometimes the world can be kind too. Don’t worry about it. I hope you get where you need to go.”

Before Jiyong could respond, his bus pulled up. He shot up and struggled to the door with his bags, glancing back at the man who still stood in the bus stop. Just as Jiyong pulled his bags onto the bus, the duffel smacked into the side of the door and one of his heels fell out. Jiyong watched it fall in slow motion.

They were his favorite pair. Pink glitter pumps that made him sky high and made Jinah the queen that she was. He’d had them nearly his entire drag career and even though they didn’t actually fit him, he still wore them as often as he could.

The single shoe landed on the concrete just as the door to the bus shut. Jiyong had no time to retrieve it and, even though he felt like crying, he paid his bus fare and sat down in one of the empty seats, gathering his bags close to him. He finally zipped the duffel shut, needing just the small amount of space from the missing heel to finally do so.

With a silent inhale, Jiyong pressed his face into his bag and let himself silently cry, feeling as if he’d lost one of the most important things in his life while simultaneously being granted a gift to get him out of a terrible situation. He didn’t know which to focus on.

Jiyong almost slept past his stop, but he managed to awaken when he heard the name be announced. He pressed the red button to signal he wanted to get off and stood up, hoisting his duffel bag onto his shoulder. Wheeling his suitcase, he stood at the back doors of the bus and waited for it to stop. When it did, he climbed off with his things.

Jiyong began his slow stroll down the road, pulling his suitcase along best he could. Its wheels would catch on the uneven pavement and every time he came to anything that wasn’t remotely smooth. His eyes just rolled as he tugged it hard, more forceful each time he had to do it.

Finally, Jiyong came upon Youngbae’s apartment complex and he praised the moon and stars that there was an elevator in the building. He pressed the button and waited patiently, looking down at his uneven bitten nails. The elevator’s soft ding went off and the doors slid open, soft elevator music coming out. Jiyong always wondered how Youngbae could afford to live in such a decent apartment complex, but he wasn’t complaining.

When the elevator stopped at the third floor, Jiyong got out and made his way down the hall. As he neared his destination, he felt his exhaustion sink in and he wondered if his eye bags had become darker in the last few seconds. He stooped down to get the extra key from beneath Youngbae’s welcome mat and he mentally told himself to inform Youngbae that he should hide his key elsewhere. He was the only person in the hall with a doormat and so everyone would know to look there.

Jiyong unlocked the front door and pushed it open. He pulled his things inside and shut the door, then kicked off his shoes. Youngbae had only left the entryway light on and Jiyong stumbled ahead in search of a light switch. His fingers found it just as he smacked into another doorway. A soft hiss fell from his lips and the light switched on.

Youngbae wasn’t home, just as he said he’d be. Jiyong checked his phone for the time. It was just after one in the morning. Knowing Youngbae, Jiyong wouldn’t actually get to speak to him until the early afternoon the next day. His best friend worked an evening and night job, so he spent the morning and part of the afternoon asleep more often than not. He took a moment to text him that he had made it safely before returning for his bags.

Jiyong pushed them into the living room and collapsed onto Youngbae’s soft leather couch. He let out an audible sigh before his eyelids drooped shut. Emotionally drained, Jiyong’s exhaustion set in and he fell asleep in mere seconds, not even bothering to get a blanket or pillow.

When Jiyong awoke, the apartment was still dark, but he was covered in a soft blanket. He glanced around, spotting faint light falling through the window in the other room. There was no clock nearby to tell him the exact time, but Jiyong betted it was morning. He thought about getting up, but decided against it, curling up with the blanket.

The blanket meant Youngbae had come home and Jiyong thought about his best friend and how kind he was to care for him in a time of need. Jiyong spotted his luggage nearby, which confirmed that the night before hadn’t been a horrible nightmare. He sighed and shut his eyes, feeling tears b at the edges. He wasn’t ready to face his emotions about that just yet.

He tried to fall asleep again, but couldn’t. His mind raced, wondering what exactly had been the final straw for Woobin. Jiyong had been doing drag almost their whole relationship, so he just didn’t understand.

Not wanting to think about it, Jiyong forced himself off the couch. He gently placed his luggage on the floor and opened it up, sifting through all the things packed inside. He had no idea what Woobin had even given him, but he knew it wasn’t all of his things. Jiyong would have to go back for them eventually. He managed to find some normal clothes among his drag ones.

He slipped into Youngbae’s restroom and took a shower, singing quietly to himself as he washed. He borrowed Youngbae’s various soaps and shampoos, washing himself down, as if he needed to be cleansed. If only he could wash his emotions off too.

Jiyong got out and dried off, pulling on a pair of cutoff shorts and a loose sleeveless tee. As he exited the bathroom, he caught sight of Youngbae coming out of his room in his boxers. They stopped and looked at one another.

“Hey,” Youngbae greeted.

“Hey.”

Youngbae went to him and hugged him gently. “I gotta pee and then I’ll make us some lunch.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Jiyong made himself comfortable on the couch while Youngbae used the bathroom and then proceeded to the kitchen. He flipped through television channels until his best friend summoned him to the kitchen. On the table sat two plates of kimchi fried rice with pork belly and an egg, Youngbae’s comfort food specialty. Jiyong managed a small smile and sat down next to his best friend.

“How ‘ya feelin’?” Youngbae asked.

Jiyong popped his egg yolk and began to mix his rice. “I’m okay, I think.”

“I always had a feeling that Woobin was a jerk.”

“You couldn’t mention that in the seven years I was dating him?”

“Well, I’m not your mom. Besides, you never listen to me when I don’t like people,” Youngbae said, shoveling rice into his mouth.

“That’s because you dislike people for stupid reasons.”

“See?” Youngbae chuckled with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry he did that to you, especially since you barely told me about it. I wish I’d known.”

“It’s nothing. It’s not like I thought he would dump me and kick me out of the house that very night.”

Youngbae kept eating without a word. Jiyong sighed and ate, trying not to let his mood dampen once again. He didn’t want to spend all his time crying. (Though, he thought curling up on the couch and watching a sad movie might be the only thing he was doing that day.) Youngbae got up to put his dish in the sink. Jiyong slipped more food into his mouth when suddenly Youngbae’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“I love you, Ji,” he said.

Jiyong sniffled. He hated when his best friend would be sentimental because he was completely weak and if he thought he wasn’t going to cry, he was wrong, because his best friend broke him. His body quivered and tears rolled down his cheeks, but Youngbae’s arms remained warm and tight around him.

“It’ll be okay. You can stay here until you get back on your feet. I’ll take care of you. I know you can do it.”

Youngbae always knew what words Jiyong needed to hear and he quietly thanked the heavens for his best friend.

“Let’s go watch a movie. How about Ghost?” Youngbae suggested.

“Oh my god, you idiot. Obviously we have to watch The Birdcage. Stupid,” Jiyong managed out with a weak laugh, his nose running but a smile on his face.

Youngbae laughed. “Good thing I own both on DVD, huh?”

“Just shut up.”

They both laughed and Youngbae trailed into the living room, setting up the DVD player. Jiyong finished eating his rice and went to join him, curling up in the blanket. As they watched movies, leaned against one another, Jiyong was thankful that there was someone in the world that was there for him.