Most days, Jimin is happy. He wakes up with a smile on his face, and happy thoughts on his mind. He can put on a dress and line his eyes with makeup. He can look in the mirror and smile at what he sees, bite his lip and flip his hair, enjoying how his face looks reflected back at him. He can appreciate all his soft curves and walk outside fully confident in himself. He’s happy with who he is, what he’s labeled as, with how others label him.

Except when he’s not. On those days, his mind is a hazy, dark mess, thoughts and questions barreling through his mind, crashing together and making him curl in on himself. On those days, where nothing fits right, where he feels sick even catching a glimpse of himself in a reflective surface. On those days, where he can feel his s heavy on his chest, as if mocking him, the weight of a secret he’s not even sure he knows or understands.

On days like today.

Jimin bites his lip as he runs a hand down his front, tugging at his oversized shirt, stopping at the edge of the boxers he’d stolen from Hoseok. He looks alright, he thinks, pushing his shirt up a  bit higher, revealing his smooth, slightly defined stomach.  If he pushes it up just the right way, you can’t see the curve of his waist at all, s hidden by the wrinkled fabric, giving the illusion of a very much male body. His thighs strain against the legs of the boxers, strong from years of dance, but instead of girly, he could imagine them as a guys legs, just like Hoseok’s own muscled thighs. He can almost imagine he really is a guy, not just in his heart, but in a way that rest of the world would see him as a guy as well.

What it would be like to be flat chested, to walk around in a tank top that lay nicely against his torso, showed off strong arms that made people drool the way Jimin drools over Hoseok. God how he wished he had his boyfriend’s body, to be lean and built in a way that doesn’t curve out and in and out again... to be able to walk down a street and have people saying, “hello sir” or “what’s up man” without a second thought.

He’d woken up with a nauseating feeling in his stomach from the moment he cast a glance at his chest, grabbing one of Hoseok’s shirts and tugging it on as quickly as possible. It’s been one of the worse days for his... whatever this is called, this feeling of complete hatred for his body. He’d stared at his closet full of skirts and dresses, all soft pastels that clash heavily with his current mood, before slamming the closet door shut and stowing away into the bathroom, where he curled up in a ball and cried for longer than he could keep track. His body wracked with shivers, as if rejecting the very body he lived in, trying to force it off of him somehow, to somehow get it to change and morph into what Jimin wants. Now, standing here, the tear tracks washed away, one hand on his stomach, pushing his shirt up, he wonders what this is.

He’s been like this as long as he can remember, waking up some days in the right body, and others trapped inside a fleshy prison. He’s always kept mum about it though; it’s a passing phase, he always tells himself, it’s pointless to tell people. Why come out about something he barely understands, ask other people to understand as well, all for those few days he feels strange? When six out of seven days, he can be content with himself, content as herself, why bring to light that seventh day, why cause trouble and confusion for everyone else? It would be selfish, Jimin reasoned.

But it’s that seventh day today, and in the moment it’s such a struggle. Every nerve ending is screaming at him that he’s wrong, that he looks wrong, that he was born wrong, and it rolls through his stomach like sick. He wishes he could just curl up and sleep until the feeling goes away, as it always does, but he’s an (for the most part) adult, with adult responsibilities, and he can’t just shove those aside because of some messed up feelings. He has to push them aside, think of what’s important, and in a couple hours, put on a goddamn dress and go to work like a normal human being. He has to—  

“Jimin?” Hoseok’s voice calls out, and Jimin spins around, body tensing up in horror. His hands clutch at the sink counter, knuckles turning white from how hard he grips it. He must look a sight, skin ashen and eyes wide with fear, clad in nothing but Hoseok’s giant t-shirt and boxers.

Hoseok tilts his head to the side and steps into the bathroom carefully, noticing how tense Jimin is.

“Sunshine, is something wrong?”

Jimin can’t handle this right now, secrets are what they are for a reason, this one more so than anything else.

“Hobi, please get out.”

“I... alright, I’ll— are those my boxers?” Jimin blushes and turns away, avoiding the almost teasing smile on Hoseok’s lips. It’s not what he thinks.

“Yeah, I umm, I just wanted to... try them...”

“Why?” And maybe it’s the honest confusion in Hoseok’s voice, maybe it’s the soft, non-judgemental gaze he’s got on Jimin, that has Jimin breaking down, words slipping past his lips before he can stop them.

“I’m not... there’s something wrong about me Hobi... I tried to push it down, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out, it’s not important, really, please just go—”

“No, Minnie, if there’s something wrong, you know you can tell me, please don’t push me away— sweetie you’re crying, it’s obviously important, I don’t want to push you but I can’t stand seeing you so upset, baby girl—”

JImin tensed up and curled his hands into fists.

“Please... Hobi... don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what? Baby girl? I thought... you told me like that nickname... I’m sorry, I won’t use it anymore, if I ever made you uncomfortable...”

Jimin grips the counter tighter, hating himself even more because Hoseok sounds so sincere, so guilty, for something that isn’t his fault. Jimin’s heart hurts, hatred swelling in himself because Hoseok hasn’t done anything wrong, it’s all Jimin, it’s all because Jimin can’t make up his goddamn mind.

“No, Hoseok it’s not... I just don’t want to be called.. A girl...” Jimin’s voice trails off, shaking; this is the closest he’s ever gotten to confessing out loud, to coming to terms with himself, and he really isn’t sure what to say.

Hoseok blinks, then puffs out his cheeks in thought. He doesn’t look disgusted, just thoughtful. Hope bubbles up in Jimin, just a little— maybe he can at least get out of this without Hoseok hating him. Maybe.

“So... you’re a guy?”

Of course Hoseok would be quick to get it. Of course caring, loving, Hoseok would do his best to understand in an instant, no matter how confusing the situation, if it means helping Jimin. Except... except it’s not so simple, is it? Because Jimin isn’t just a guy, that’s the whole point. He loves being a girl, most days. He loves dresses and makeup and s and being pretty... but not always. Not right now.

Jimin shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “No, I mean, yes, I am right now, but not... other days, I’m a girl, I swear, but some days I just... don’t want to be... not want, I-I can’t be, I feel wrong as a girl and I just...” Jimin curses, fists coming up to angrily brush away his tears. How is he supposed to explain something to Hoseok he couldn’t even explain to himself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Hoseok whispers, pulling Jimin’s hands away from his eyes and taking them into his own. “Don’t cry Minnie, it’s alright. Take your time.”

Jimin breathes slowly, willing himself to calm. “I’m, I’m not trans Hobi,” Jimin bites his lip, “at least, I don’t think.”

“Then...” Hoseok pushes, gently urging Jimin to continue.

“I’m a boy... at least I want to be... right now. Some days I wake up and I just can’t get comfortable in this body, I wish I was flat like you,” Jimin blushes slightly, “wish I was packed like you... but not everyday. I like being a girl too, but... not always.” Jimin sighs, frustrated. “I’m sorry, I’m not making any sense. Ignore this, please.”

“No, no, Jimin, it’s okay.” Hoseok pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “So should I call you... they... or...?”

Jimin shakes his head again, pulling in a shaky breath. “No, I’m not... I’m not neither, and I’m not both, not exactly... I mean, I guess I am, but not... at the same time.” Jimin’s hands twitch in Hoseok’s grip, wishing he could pull at his hair as he always does in stressful situations. But then, Hoseok knew that, it’s probably why he’s keeping Jimin’s hands in such a  firm grip in the first place.

“Alright so... he, then. For today at least. Is that alright?”

Jimin lets out a sob and throws himself at Hoseok, burying his head in his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Why.” Jimin chokes out. “Why are you being so kind? I’m... I’m being so stupid... and I don’t even understand myself... how can you make it so simple...? How can you still like someone so... not normal? There’s something wrong with me and yet you’re still here...”

Hoseok shushed Jimin and rubbed his back comfortingly.

“Jimin, baby, sweetheart, there is nothing wrong with you. How can I dislike you for just being yourself? No matter what gender you are, it doesn’t matter, you’re still my Jimin. My beautiful, talented, sweet baby boy.”

Jimin sobs harder, tears of happiness dripping down his face and soaking Hoseok’s shirt, though if the elder cares, he says nothing. It feels like a weight has been lifted off Jimin’s shoulders, making him feel so much lighter. He knows he still has a long way to go, but with Hoseok beside him, he thinks he can do anything, be anything. It’s a calming feeling.

“Thank you Hobi.” He whispers, voice muffled by the shirt, but clear enough for Hoseok to hear. “Thank you.”

“I love you sunshine.” Hoseok says, kissing Jimin’s forehead softly. Jimin snuggles in close, turning his head up so he can catch Hoseok’s lips with his own. “And I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

“Thank you Hobi,” He says once more, “I love you too.”

“I’m calling into work sick today,” Hoseok says decidedly, “and you are too.”

“What, why?” Jimin can’t say he minds, he really isn’t up for going to work today, but he can’t quite figure out Hoseok’s reason behind it.

“We’re going shopping.” Hoseok tells him. “To find some perfect clothes to fit the perfect guy. I love seeing you in my clothes, don’t get me wrong, but I think it’s time you finally got some clothes that are more your style, don’t you think?”

Jimin blushes hard. “Hobi....” You don’t have to do all this. Jimin doesn’t say it out loud, but Hoseok seems to get it anyway.

“I want to do this Minnie. Your happiness is always most important, and this is the least I can do.” Hoseok pulled back, giving Jimin an encouraging smile. “Now come on, we’ve got to get ready. We’ve got shopping to do.”

Jimin smiled softly and let himself be dragged into their room, where Hoseok immediately set to finding clothes that would fit Jimin for the time being. Jimin watched, his heart aching, this time not in pain, but happiness.

Thank you Hobi.

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