((GTOP))
Ji Yong has always loved experimenting with fashion, makeup, and expression, but it isn't until a fateful night with Seunghyun that he begins to explore the full spectrum of who he is. From glittering dresses to quiet moments of vulnerability, Seunghyun supports Ji Yong as he navigates his identity, discovering freedom, desire, and love along the way. Together, they learn that labels don't define them — only the connection they share does.
10.270 words
-GTOP (Ji Yong × Seunghyun) -Gender fluidity / self-discovery -Drag / fashion exploration -Smutt -Emotional vulnerability -Slow-burn relationship
Ji Yong felt like he was doing something illegal.
Which, technically, he wasn't. The box sitting on his bed — or rather, what was inside it: the dress, the wig, the heels — none of it was forbidden.
He had stolen it, though.
But he felt like he was supposed to.
"Do you think I can have this?" he had asked one of the directors after filming.
"The dress?" the man blinked.
Ji Yong nodded, suddenly shy.
"Uh... I guess so? Let me check."
He had made up an excuse when they asked why.
I want to use it for Halloween.
The truth was... different.
Filming for Secret BigBang had ended a week ago.
Ji Yong almost lost his breath when he saw himself in the mirror now.
The dress was golden — glittering, tight, unapologetic. It hugged his body in a way no stage outfit ever had. He hadn't known he could look like this. Hadn't known clothes could make him feel like this.
The heels were another matter. They hurt, slightly too small for him — not made for feet like his. But the discomfort came with something else.
Something sharp. Grounding.
Powerful.
Sexy.
He didn't have a word for it.
Then came the makeup. The lipstick felt strangely nice, smooth and hydrating, the color warming his skin, making his face come alive. And the long hair...
It wasn't the first time he had seen himself with long hair.
But it was the first time the whole image felt right.
Too right.
He had tried to forget this feeling. For a week, he had tried.
But he couldn't forget the look on Seunghyun's face when Ji Yong walked onto set that day.
The shock.
The way his eyes lingered.
The way they traveled.
And Ji Yong—
Ji Yong had felt like he'd been devoured by that gaze.
And, worse,
he wanted it again.
Maybe that was why he had called Seunghyun.
And that was definitely why Ji Yong was pacing all over his apartment — which he absolutely should not have been doing in these heels, but... well.
He was already too deep into this.
Right?
Nope. Absolutely not.
His phone buzzed.
HYUNG :3 Be there in 5.
Ji Yong froze mid-step.
He hadn't meant to scare him. At least, not like this. At the time it had felt simple enough to send:
Hey, could you come to my place?
Sure. Everything okay?
Ji Yong never answered.
Because he didn't trust himself to explain.
Because the truth sounded ridiculous even inside his own head.
Because he wanted to see Seunghyun look at him like that again.
And Ji Yong always got what he wanted.
Seunghyun didn't knock.
He didn't need to. He had a spare key to Ji Yong's apartment. Ji Yong had one to Seunghyun's too — a habit born from years of hotels, late nights, and the unspoken rule that they always had access to each other.
The door clicked open.
"I'm here, Ji Yo—"
His voice stopped.
So did the rest of him.
Seunghyun stood just inside the doorway, hair slightly messy, breathing uneven like he'd taken the stairs too fast. His eyes landed on Ji Yong standing in the corridor frame.
He swallowed.
Not just swallowed — gulped, like the air itself had caught in his throat.
"Oh."
The sound barely existed.
"Hi," Ji Yong whispered.
Seunghyun blinked once, then shut the door behind him without looking away.
"...Hi."
Silence fell between them.
Seunghyun's gaze moved — slow, helpless, taking everything in. The dress. The legs. The hair. The lips.
There it was again.
That look.
Ji Yong's favorite one.
The one he had been craving all week.
"Um..." Seunghyun cleared his throat, failing to sound normal. "Why— what did you need me here for?"
"Huh?"
"You texted me to come over. Didn't say why." A pause. "...Got stuck in the dress or something?" he tried to joke, smiling.
His dimples showed.
Damn him and those stupid dimples.
Ji Yong let out a small, breathy laugh. "Not exactly..."
Seunghyun waited.
Ji Yong didn't know where to look. At him? Away from him? At the floor?
"I— I was just trying it on for like a... photoshoot."
"Photoshoot?"
"Yeah. For..." Ji Yong hesitated. "...Halloween?"
Silence.
Kwon Ji Yong, you are a fucking idiot.
That was the best he had?
Really?
"But Halloween was a month ago."
Mortified.
That was the exact word for what Ji Yong felt right now.
"Ye— yeah, but... we didn't do a Halloween photoshoot or anything," Ji Yong said, laughing nervously.
Seunghyun laughed too. Not mocking. Just... amused.
He set his keys down on the table and shrugged off his jacket, carefully hanging it like he always did — slow, precise, completely at ease.
Completely unbothered.
"Well then," Seunghyun said, rolling up his sleeves as he walked toward the sofa. "Let's get it done with."
Ji Yong blinked. "Sorry?"
Seunghyun sat down, spreading one arm across the backrest, looking at him with calm, expectant eyes.
"You want my opinion, I'm guessing?"
"Your— oh. Yeah. Your opinion! Yeah! Of course."
"Okay then." Seunghyun tilted his head slightly. "How many costumes do I have to judge?"
"Um..." Ji Yong hesitated. "...Not too many?"
"Good."
Silence.
Ji Yong's mind was racing.
It actually worked?
Dayum.
Seunghyun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying him again — slower this time. Less surprised. More deliberate.
Like he was no longer reacting.
Like he was choosing to look.
"Well?" Seunghyun said. "Are you going to pose, or are you just going to stand there staring at me like I'm the one in a dress?"
Ji Yong straightened immediately.
"Oh. Right."
He tried to remember how he had stood earlier. On set. Confident. Effortless. Unbothered.
Instead, he almost lost his balance in the heels.
Seunghyun's hand shot out on instinct, grabbing his wrist to steady him.
The contact lasted maybe two seconds.
Maybe less.
But neither of them moved right away.
"...Careful," Seunghyun muttered.
Ji Yong nodded.
Seunghyun didn't let go immediately.
When he finally did, it wasn't abrupt. His hand slid away like he had only just remembered he was holding Ji Yong at all.
Then he leaned back again.
And looked.
Really looked.
Ji Yong suddenly understood why people said being watched could feel like being undressed. Because that was exactly what this felt like — even though he was covered head to toe.
Seunghyun's gaze moved carefully, not rushed, not embarrassed. Analytical. Thoughtful.
Dangerous.
"Is that the costume from the parody?" he asked.
Ji Yong swallowed. "It is, yeah."
Seunghyun smiled faintly.
"That gold looks good on you," he said. Then, after a beat, "But you're supposed to be scary for Halloween, aren't you?"
Ji Yong tilted his head, one eyebrow lifting. "Says who?"
"Says... everyone?" Seunghyun huffed out a laugh.
Ji Yong took a slow step closer, adjusting the fall of the dress like he had seen models do a hundred times.
"I'm not everyone now, am I?"
Seunghyun's laughter faded.
His eyes didn't.
"...Yeah," he said quietly. "You surely aren't."
Something shifted in the room.
Ji Yong turned slightly, letting the fabric catch the light. The dress shimmered when he moved, liquid gold sliding over his body. He hadn't planned to move like this — but now that Seunghyun was watching, it felt impossible not to.
Every step felt deliberate.
Every pause felt louder.
He brushed his fingers along his own arm, pretending to smooth nonexistent wrinkles, but really just trying to give himself something to do with his hands.
Seunghyun didn't interrupt.
Didn't joke.
Didn't look away.
His posture had changed without Ji Yong noticing — leaning forward again, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped like he was trying very hard to stay still.
But his eyes followed everything.
Tracked everything.
Ji Yong turned back toward him. "Well? You're very quiet for someone who came here to judge."
Seunghyun exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh.
"I am judging."
"That so?" Ji Yong challenged.
"Yes."
Another pause.
Then, more honest than anything he had said so far:
"I just didn't expect to have this much to think about."
Ji Yong felt heat climb up his neck.
"That sounds like a you problem."
"Probably is."
Their eyes met again.
This time neither of them pretended it was casual.
Ji Yong shifted his weight — the heels forcing him to balance, to hold himself straighter, taller. Seunghyun's gaze dropped to the movement, then came back up slower.
Ji Yong noticed.
And for some reason, that made him want to move again.
To see if Seunghyun would keep watching.
He did.
Of course he did.
The silence wasn't empty anymore. It was full. Thick with something neither of them was naming.
Finally, Seunghyun spoke, voice lower than before.
"If your goal is to make people rethink their sexuality, you can go with that," he said, gesturing vaguely toward Ji Yong. "But since we're talking Halloween style, I would suggest to—"
"Rethink their sexuality?"
Seunghyun's breath caught.
His mouth closed.
Then opened.
Then closed again.
His eyes squeezed shut for a second, like if he paused hard enough he might rewind the last five seconds and choose better words.
But when he opened them, Ji Yong was still there. Still standing in front of him. Still looking at him like that.
Ji Yong's heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was almost convinced Seunghyun could hear it echoing through the apartment.
"I— I meant that—" Seunghyun cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in absolutely nothing. "Well, didn't you see people on Twitter when we uploaded the parody?"
He let out a short, nervous laugh.
"I think half of our fanboys are just in there for you," he added, attempting a joke.
Seunghyun joked a lot when he was nervous.
Ji Yong knew that.
Had known it for years.
The bad puns. The over-explanations. The way he'd start talking just to fill space when he didn't want to say what he was actually thinking.
Ji Yong took another step closer.
Not enough to be obvious.
Enough that Seunghyun noticed.
"And the other half?" Ji Yong asked softly.
Seunghyun looked up.
Their eyes met again — and this time neither of them laughed.
"The other half," Seunghyun said slowly, "are probably confused."
Ji Yong hummed. "Confused can be good."
Seunghyun's lips twitched. "That depends on who you ask."
Ji Yong shifted his weight again, the heel of his shoe clicking against the floor. He pretended to adjust the strap, glancing down — but really, he was buying himself a second.
Because suddenly this didn't feel like teasing anymore.
It felt like standing on the edge of something.
When he looked back up, Seunghyun was still watching him.
Not scanning.
Not analyzing.
Just watching.
Ji Yong's voice came out quieter than he meant it to.
"And you?" he asked. "Which half are you in?"
Seunghyun didn't answer right away.
His jaw flexed, like he was choosing his words very, very carefully.
"...I haven't decided yet."
That should have sounded light.
Neutral.
But it didn't.
And Ji Yong realized, with a sharp little thrill somewhere under his ribs—
Seunghyun wasn't joking anymore either.
Ji Yong had known he liked boys for a while now.
And, more importantly, he had known he liked Seunghyun for years.
It hadn't been loud. Not some dramatic realization, not a moment he could point to and say there, that's when everything changed. It had been quieter than that. Slower. The kind of feeling that settles in your chest and refuses to leave, even when you pretend not to notice it.
Seunghyun had never really given him anything to work with, though. No signs. No moments that could be twisted into hope. Just the same steady presence he gave everyone else — warm, teasing, dependable. Safe.
So Ji Yong had chosen to do the only thing he could.
He ignored it.
Folded the feeling up neatly. Put it somewhere in the back of his mind. Labeled it inconvenient. Got on with his life.
It hadn't been until Secret BigBang that something shifted.
Because that day — standing there in ridiculous heels and a glittering dress, expecting Seunghyun to laugh, to clap him on the shoulder, to treat it like a joke the way everyone else did —
Seunghyun hadn't laughed.
He had looked.
And Ji Yong had caught it.
That tiny pause. That flicker of something like surprise... followed by something else.
Something that had made Ji Yong think, very suddenly:
...Huh.
I like this.
And maybe—
Maybe Seunghyun did too.
But that day had ended quickly.
Nothing came from it.
Schedules didn't care about moments like that.
The days kept passing — interviews, recordings, late nights at the studio, early mornings with too much coffee and not enough sleep. Whatever had flickered between them on set was buried under work, laughter, and the familiar rhythm they'd always had.
If it meant something, neither of them said so.
And Ji Yong told himself not to think about it.
Then came one of the interviews.
The stylist had handed him a skirt.
Ji Yong had tried to act annoyed. He really had. Complained loudly. Asked why it was necessary. Muttered about dignity and concepts and how people were going to tease him.
He put it on anyway.
And the moment he stood up, something in him settled.
The fabric moved differently. Lighter. Easier. When he walked, it followed instead of restricting. When he sat, when he shifted, when he stood again — it didn't feel like a costume.
It felt like... him.
Ji Yong had caught his reflection and, without thinking, spun once.
Just to see it move.
During the interview he found himself doing it again. Twirling absentmindedly when the cameras weren't focused. Letting himself laugh, dance in place when music played between takes, ignoring the amused comments from the staff.
He giggled.
Actually giggled.
And people complimented him — loudly, playfully, telling him it suited him, that he wore it too naturally, that he looked good.
But that wasn't the part that stayed with him.
The important thing—
was that look again.
Ji Yong hadn't even been trying when he noticed it. He'd just turned, mid-spin, still smiling...
...and Seunghyun was watching him.
Not laughing with the others.
Not teasing.
Just watching.
Like he was seeing something he hadn't expected to see.
And didn't quite know what to do with.
Ji Yong hadn't been able to forget that look then.
He definitely couldn't ignore it now.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Almost a year passed.
And somewhere along the way, Ji Yong stopped thinking about experimenting and simply... did it.
Shirts grew longer, softer, sometimes close enough to dresses that the difference felt technical. Floral patterns started slipping into his wardrobe. Colors people liked to label as for girls found their way into his closet without apology. Silk. Sheer fabrics. Jewelry that moved when he did.
At first, the rest of the group reacted exactly how you'd expect — loud teasing, exaggerated shock, the occasional, "Are you stealing from a stylist again?"
But they got used to it.
Because, really, it wasn't that surprising. Ji Yong had always hovered on the edge of that world anyway. He'd been going to drag bars for years, long before he ever tried wearing anything himself. If anything, this felt less like a change and more like him finally stepping fully into a space he already loved.
It was only a matter of time.
And tonight was one of those nights again.
The last week had been suffocating — schedules, expectations, too many opinions, not enough space to breathe. He needed noise. Needed color. Needed somewhere he could exist without being watched like a product.
He pushed open the door of one of his favorite drag bar, immediately swallowed by bass, laughter, and neon light.
Home.
Ji Yong made his way to the counter, leaning against it like muscle memory. The bartender spotted him instantly.
"Hey, Ji. Want something?" he asked with a smirk, already reaching for a glass.
Ji Yong sighed, the tension in his shoulders loosening almost on command. Yeah. This was going to be a good night.
"Yeah. Something that burns," he said. "But not too much yet. Let's do a warm-up."
The bartender clicked his tongue as he started pouring. "Got you. You here to see the girls perform?"
Ji Yong noded "Needed a break from seriousness."
The drink slid across the counter. Ji Yong took a sip.
Good.
It burned just enough on the way down — not painful, just present. Like a small voice reminding him he was alive.
"Have fun then, king. Glad to see you back," the bartender said. "The rest coming today?"
Ji Yong shook his head. "Don't think so. I'm alone."
"For now," the bartender laughed.
Ji Yong snorted. "Funny tonight, aren't we?"
"You love it. Oh— someone's calling me. See you around, Ji Yong."
Ji Yong lifted his glass in acknowledgment, already smiling as he turned away.
The music, the lights, the hum of conversation, couples leaning into each other, performers getting ready near the stage — it wrapped around him like something warm. Familiar. Easy.
He grabbed a seat close to the stage, crossing one leg over the other, letting himself sink into the atmosphere.
For the first time all week, he wasn't thinking about expectations.
Just about enjoying the show.
The lights dimmed slightly.
The crowd cheered.
And Ji Yong—
felt someone step into the empty seat beside him.
He barely paid attention at first, expecting the usual — someone trying to flirt, maybe asking if the seat was taken, maybe already preparing a compliment. That happened here sometimes.
He turned, already half-ready to smile politely—
And froze.
"...Hyung?"
Seunghyun looked right back at him.
Ji Yong stilled completely. "What— what are you doing here?"
Almost without thinking, Ji Yong pressed his hands down against his skirt, smoothing the fabric over his thighs. He hadn't even realized he was doing it until he felt Seunghyun's gaze follow the movement.
Tonight he'd chosen something simple but sharp: a short black skirt, red tights, a white shirt tucked in just enough to look careless, and a red leather jacket.
Under Seunghyun's eyes, he suddenly felt very aware of every single detail.
The way Seunghyun looked at him wasn't casual.
It lingered.
Focused.
Like a predator studying something it hadn't decided whether to chase yet.
The thought sent a warm, unsettling feeling curling low in Ji Yong's stomach.
"You've been avoiding us the whole week," Seunghyun said. "I thought since today we had a free day, I could go to your place to talk. I was worried."
Ji Yong bit his lip.
He hadn't meant to avoid anyone. But stress had wrapped around him so tightly he hadn't known how to deal with it except by disappearing for a bit.
"But then I saw you come in here," Seunghyun continued, a small breath of laughter leaving him, "and I figured you were just stressed. You always come here to breathe."
Ji Yong smiled, shoulders easing.
"Yeah... I'm sorry I got you worried. I'm not mad at any of you. It was just—" he gestured vaguely, searching for the right word. "A lot. The album shootings, meetings... it got to be too much."
Seunghyun nodded. "It's fine. Don't worry. I get it."
He glanced toward the bar, then back at Ji Yong.
"Since I'm already here, might as well get a drink, hm?"
Ji Yong laughed. "Careful. Wouldn't want you making out with a stranger."
"I can control myself perfectly, thank you very much," Seunghyun shot back, fake offense written all over his face as he stood up and headed toward the counter.
Ji Yong watched him go.
A year.
It had been a year of noticing things he hadn't allowed himself to notice before.
Seunghyun might not be as completely straight as he pretended to be.
He got ridiculously touchy when he drank.
And his lips were way softer than they looked.
Because, yes—Seunghyun had kissed him before.
Not just him, technically. Almost everyone in the group had been ambushed by Seunghyun's drunken affection at least once.
And every single time, the next morning, Seunghyun claimed he remembered absolutely nothing.
Ji Yong wasn't sure if that made it better...
Or worse.
He took another sip of his drink, eyes drifting back to where Seunghyun was waiting at the bar, broad shoulders easy to pick out even in the crowd.
Whatever tonight was going to be—
It definitely wasn't going to be quiet.
Seunghyun came back balancing two drinks, carefully making his way through the crowd before dropping back into the seat beside Ji Yong.
"One for you," he said, sliding the glass over.
"I didn't ask for another."
"You looked like you were about to finish that one," Seunghyun shrugged. "I'm being thoughtful. Don't question it."
Ji Yong laughed. "That's suspicious. You're never this nice without a reason."
"Wow," Seunghyun deadpanned. "I'm hurt."
They fell into easy conversation after that — little comments about the people around them, Seunghyun quietly judging someone's very questionable dance moves, Ji Yong pointing out regulars he recognized. It was light. Familiar. The kind of playful back-and-forth they'd always had.
Then the lights shifted.
The music swelled louder.
The show started.
A drag queen stepped onto the stage in a burst of glitter and color, the spotlight catching every movement of her dress as she sang. The crowd erupted, cheering, clapping along to the beat.
Ji Yong smiled without even realizing it.
He loved this.
The drama, the confidence, the way the performers owned every inch of space like the world had no choice but to look at them. Golds, reds, purples — fabrics that shimmered, heels that demanded attention, makeup sharp enough to cut through the light.
It felt freeing just to watch.
He didn't notice Seunghyun watching him instead.
It wasn't until halfway through the performance that Seunghyun finally spoke.
"That would look good on you."
Ji Yong turned. "What?"
Seunghyun nodded toward the stage. One of the queens was performing in a tight golden dress, the fabric catching the light with every step.
It looked... familiar.
Ji Yong snorted. "It wouldn't. You're just used to seeing me in something similar."
Seunghyun's brows furrowed slightly. He wasn't drunk — not really. His glass was still half full, his voice steady.
"It's not similar," he said. "Just the color. Which, I will never get tired of saying, gold looks really good on you."
He took a sip from his drink.
"That dress is shorter," he added, almost like he was thinking out loud. "Your thigh tattoos would be visible like that."
Ji Yong raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. "Why would you want them showing, huh?"
Seunghyun answered without hesitation.
"Because they're sexy."
The word hit harder than Ji Yong expected.
For a second, it felt like all the air had been knocked out of him.
Ji Yong's eyes widened, caught somewhere between shock and something else he didn't dare name.
Seunghyun, apparently oblivious to the effect he'd just caused, finished the rest of his drink in one long swallow.
"Ah," he exhaled, setting the empty glass down. "I'm going to get another one."
And just like that, he stood and walked back toward the bar.
Leaving Ji Yong sitting there, heart racing far too fast for someone who was just watching a show.
What did he even mean by that...?
Seunghyun came back a few minutes later with another drink in hand, looking far more relaxed than before. Not drunk — Ji Yong knew the difference — but definitely tipsy. His shoulders had loosened, his steps a little less careful as he dropped back into the seat beside him.
"You missed the best part," Ji Yong teased.
"I doubt that," Seunghyun replied, leaning closer so he could speak over the music still playing between sets. Ji Yong caught the faint smell of alcohol on his breath. "I saw plenty."
He gestured lazily toward the stage as the next number started — another queen, another explosion of color and confidence.
"The dresses are insane," Seunghyun went on. "And the songs. I didn't expect it to be this... theatrical."
"That's the point," Ji Yong smiled. "It's supposed to be extra."
Seunghyun hummed, eyes following the performer — but not for long. They kept drifting back to Ji Yong instead.
And then, absentmindedly, Seunghyun's hand landed on Ji Yong's knee.
Ji Yong stilled.
His skirt rode a little higher when he sat, which meant Seunghyun's palm rested not on fabric, but on the red tights stretched over his skin. Even through the material, Ji Yong could feel the warmth of it. The weight.
The size difference.
Seunghyun's hands had always been big. Bigger than his. Ji Yong knew that — had seen it a thousand times — but feeling it like this was something else entirely.
He'd imagined those hands before. Wrapping around him. Holding. Pulling him closer. Claiming—
"Aw... did it end already?"
Ji Yong blinked, pulled sharply out of his thoughts.
The stage lights were dimming. The queens were already heading backstage, waving as the audience applauded.
"Looks like it," Ji Yong said, voice just slightly off from normal.
Seunghyun groaned, slumping back dramatically. "I was having fun. Do they come back later? Like a second show or something?"
Ji Yong giggled. Yeah. Definitely tipsy.
"Nope. Just one show. That's why it's special — you either see it or you don't."
Seunghyun pouted, staring mournfully at the now-empty stage like he'd just been personally wronged.
Ji Yong shook his head, amused.
Then Seunghyun spoke again.
"What if you go up?"
Ji Yong turned. "Huh?"
"You're wearing a skirt," Seunghyun said matter-of-factly. "And you sing. Could work."
Ji Yong laughed. "I'm not going up there, hyung."
Seunghyun looked at him for a long second.
"And if we go home?" he asked, voice softer now, less teasing. "Will you perform for me then?"
The question hung there — not loud, not demanding.
Just close.
Very, very close.
"What...?"
Seunghyun took another sip of his drink, eyes still on Ji Yong like he was trying to solve something complicated.
"Well, since you don't want to perform here," he said, shrugging slightly, "what about my house? Or yours. I don't care."
"Hyung, you're drunk."
"M' not."
"You are."
"God, you are so difficult."
"Difficult?" Ji Yong echoed, half incredulous, half amused.
Seunghyun exhaled, running a hand through his hair like he was frustrated with himself.
"I just—" He stopped. Tried again. "You look really good, Ji Yong. Like... really, really good."
His gaze dropped away, focusing somewhere on the table instead.
"It confuses me."
Silence settled between them.
The music was still playing. People were still talking, laughing, glasses clinking — but Ji Yong couldn't hear any of it. It all blurred into background noise behind the way his name had sounded coming out of Seunghyun's mouth.
"I'm sorry, Ji. I—" Seunghyun shook his head. "Forget I said anything. You're right. I'm drunk."
He finished the rest of his drink in one swallow and stood up.
"See you tomorrow."
"Wait!"
Ji Yong stood too, the chair scraping lightly behind him as he reached out and grabbed Seunghyun's wrist.
"You can't just leave like that," he said, breath catching slightly. "Let me at least take you home."
Seunghyun didn't look up. He stared at the floor, like he was arguing with himself.
Ji Yong hesitated, then added, softer—
"...Or come to my place?"
Seunghyun's eyes lifted.
They met Ji Yong's.
And he nodded.
Small. A little shy.
But there.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The ride back was quieter than Ji Yong expected.
Not uncomfortable. Just... full.
Seunghyun leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the city lights pass by the window like he was too busy thinking to talk. Every now and then he'd glance at Ji Yong, then quickly look away again, as if he hadn't meant to.
By the time they reached the apartment, neither of them had said much.
Inside, the familiar calm of Ji Yong's place wrapped around them. The faint smell of candles, music still paused from earlier, jackets tossed over chairs like always.
Seunghyun toed off his shoes near the entrance, but stumbled halfway through the motion.
"Whoa—"
Ji Yong caught him automatically, hands coming up to steady his shoulders.
"I told you you were drunk," Ji Yong muttered.
"M'not drunk," Seunghyun insisted again, even as he leaned into Ji Yong for balance.
Ji Yong snorted and helped him shrug out of his jacket, hanging it up before guiding him further inside.
Seunghyun was smiling.
Not his usual teasing grin. Something softer. Slower.
He looked at Ji Yong like he'd just remembered something nice.
Then, almost immediately, he turned his head away — like he wasn't sure he was allowed to keep looking.
Ji Yong pretended not to notice.
"Sit," he said, gently pushing Seunghyun down onto the couch.
Seunghyun obeyed without protest, watching Ji Yong move around the kitchen like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
Ji Yong grabbed a glass of water, came back, and sat beside him.
"Drink this."
Seunghyun took it, fingers brushing Ji Yong's. "Thanks... pretty face," he mumbled before taking a sip.
Ji Yong felt heat rush straight to his ears.
He stood up a little too quickly. "I—I'm going to grab you a pajama so you can—"
His words cut off when he felt fingers wrap around his wrist.
"Don't leave me alone, pretty girl..."
Ji Yong blinked.
Alcohol was weird. A person could seem completely fine one moment and then suddenly become like this.
He tried, half-heartedly, to pull his hand free — but Seunghyun was looking up at him with wide, unfocused eyes, like a lost puppy who genuinely didn't understand why he'd even try to go.
And... if Ji Yong was being honest with himself...
The idea of being called pretty girl didn't feel so bad.
He placed his other hand over Seunghyun's, grounding, reassuring.
"I'm just going to grab you some clothes, hyung," Ji Yong said gently. "I'll be back. I promise."
Seunghyun studied him for a moment, like he was weighing whether to believe that.
Finally, he let go.
"...'Kay," he murmured. "But come back soon, pretty girl. I already miss you."
Ji Yong came back a minute later with a loose T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants draped over his arm.
Seunghyun hadn't moved much. He was still sitting on the couch, glass of water half-finished in his hand, eyes a little unfocused but calmer now. He looked up the moment Ji Yong stepped back into the room.
"Took you long enough," he murmured.
"It was thirty seconds," Ji Yong replied, unable to stop the small smile tugging at his lips. "Come on. Let's get you changed before you fall asleep like this."
Seunghyun made a soft noise of agreement and let Ji Yong help him stand. There was nothing dramatic about it — just Ji Yong tugging the jacket off completely, guiding his arms through the sleeves of the T-shirt, making sure he didn't trip over himself.
It felt strangely... domestic.
Quiet.
Seunghyun watched him the whole time.
Not in that intense way from earlier at the bar, but softer. Slower. Like he was trying to focus on something that kept blurring.
When Ji Yong finished adjusting the collar, Seunghyun suddenly lifted a hand.
His fingers brushed Ji Yong's cheek.
Ji Yong froze.
Seunghyun squinted slightly, studying his face with drunk, unfocused concentration.
"...You look like my friend Ji Yong," he said.
Ji Yong let out a nervous breath. "That's because I am Ji Yong."
Seunghyun smiled faintly, like he hadn't even heard him.
"That's hot," he added, completely serious. "What was your name again... pretty girl?"
Ji Yong hesitated.
The answer should have been simple.
Instead, something else slipped out.
"...Ji-raim."
The name hung there, unfamiliar and yet not.
Seunghyun repeated it immediately, like it made perfect sense.
"Ji-raim," he mumbled, nodding to himself as if committing it to memory. "Pretty."
Ji Yong's heart did something strange in his chest.
He didn't correct him.
Didn't want to.
Seunghyun's hand dropped back to his side, the effort of staying awake clearly losing the battle now. Ji Yong guided him back down onto the couch, pulling a blanket over him.
Seunghyun was already drifting, eyes barely open.
"Ji-raim..." he murmured again, voice slurring into sleep. "Stay..."
And then he was out.
Just like that.
Ji Yong stood there for a long moment, staring at him, listening to the slow, even rhythm of his breathing.
Then he turned off the lights, leaving only the soft glow from the hallway, and retreated to his bedroom.
Alone now, the quiet felt louder.
He peeled off his clothes slowly, mechanically, changing into something comfortable before sitting down on the edge of his bed.
Ji-raim.
Why that name?
Why did it feel so good to hear it?
Why had he liked — no, loved — every second of that strange, blurry moment?
Ji Yong lay back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.
And the worst part was—
He wanted it to happen again.
The next morning, Seunghyun didn't remember anything.
Or at least, that's what Ji Yong thought.
He'd woken up sprawled across the couch, groaning about his neck hurting, asking for coffee, acting exactly the same as always. No mention of Ji-raim. No mention of holding his wrist. No strange confessions or sleepy murmurs.
Ji Yong hadn't brought it up either.
Some things felt too fragile to touch.
So the days kept moving.
Weeks passed without that night being mentioned again.
And then a month.
Then two.
In that time, Ji Yong hadn't stopped experimenting. If anything, he leaned into it more — eyeliner showing up more often than not, gloss catching the light when he smiled, bangs growing longer, softer. His clothes blurred the lines even further: silhouettes that flowed, fabrics that clung, pieces that people would label without understanding them.
He stopped caring about the labels.
The most important thing, though?
Somewhere in between all of that...
He and Seunghyun had become something.
It hadn't happened with a grand confession or a dramatic turning point. It started with a makeout — silly, impulsive, and a little drunk after a long night. Ji Yong had gone home convinced Seunghyun wouldn't even remember it the next day.
But he did.
He remembered everything.
And instead of pretending it hadn't happened, Seunghyun had shown up at Ji Yong's door the next evening, awkward and serious in a way Ji Yong had rarely seen.
He'd confessed.
Feelings. Real ones. Messy ones. Confusing ones, but undeniable.
Ji Yong had felt like he was floating.
After that, the days blurred together in the best way — stolen moments between schedules, sneaking away from staff before concerts just to share a quick kiss and dissolve into quiet laughter, shoulders bumping together in hallways, fingers brushing for half a second longer than necessary.
Nothing public.
Nothing official.
But theirs.
And sometimes, when Seunghyun looked at him a certain way — soft, fond, a little overwhelmed —
Ji Yong wondered if he really didn't remember that night at all.
Or if he just hadn't said anything.
-------------------------------------------------------
Ji Yong came home later than he expected — way later.
It was his birthday, and his mother had insisted on having dinner with him. He didn't mind. He'd probably celebrate properly with Seunghyun and the others another day anyway.
But the moment he opened the door, his steps froze.
Lights. Or... to be more specific, candles.
They were arranged along the corridor, a soft, golden glow leading straight to his bedroom.
Ji Yong's legs wobbled with excitement. His heart skipped.
This has to be Seunghyun's doing.
Oh god. Seunghyun is here?
For how long has he been here?
He kicked off his shoes, barely bothering to untie them, and padded silently along the candlelit path. His mind raced. Blue trousers, white shirt — no jacket. The suit was formal but relaxed now that the jacket was off, sleeves rolled slightly, giving him that effortless, slightly reckless charm that Ji Yong had always found impossible to ignore.
At the door to his bedroom, Ji Yong's hand hovered over the handle. He knocked softly.
"Hyung?" His voice was a whisper, almost drowned out by the quiet crackle of candle flames.
Silence answered.
Ji Yong's chest tightened, anticipation knotting with nerves. He could feel it in his toes, in his stomach. He's here. He has to be.
He took a deep breath and slowly turned the handle.
The room beyond was bathed in flickering light, the curtains drawn, the world outside dim and distant.
And there, in the center of the room, standing with a small, mischievous grin, was Seunghyun.
His hands were stuffed casually in his pockets, but his eyes... his eyes were fixed entirely on Ji Yong.
"Happy birthday," Seunghyun said softly, his voice low, just a little rough at the edges.
Ji Yong's eyes immediately roamed over him — He looked... good. No, very good. The kind of good that made your chest skip and your thoughts melt into mush.
Ji Yong let out a breathless laugh. "What are you doing here?"
Seunghyun stepped closer, the candlelight catching on his face. His hands came up to rest on Ji Yong's hips, steady, grounding, impossible to ignore.
Ji Yong felt himself melting under the touch. Big hands. Warm. Solid. Fuck.
"I wanted to celebrate your birthday," Seunghyun murmured, leaning in just slightly. "That's what good boyfriends do, right?"
Boyfriends.
Ji Yong bit his lip. He hadn't heard that word from Seunghyun very often. But each time... each time it made his chest flutter, made his stomach twist in ways he didn't even have words for.
"I told you I'd celebrate tomorrow with—" Ji Yong started, breath uneven.
"Yeah, yeah, with me and the rest of the group," Seunghyun cut in softly, pressing a thumb gently against Ji Yong's hip. "But... I wanted to give you your present."
Then, before Ji Yong could even process, Seunghyun leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "And... enjoy being alone with you for a bit."
Ji Yong giggled, heart hammering. "You got me a present?"
"Of course, baby. Want to open it?"
Ji Yong nodded eagerly, trying not to tremble as Seunghyun guided him toward the bed. He sat down carefully, the box balanced in his lap, and Seunghyun settled right behind him, hands still warm on his hips.
"Go on... open it," Seunghyun whispered, voice a soft rumble in Ji Yong's ear.
Ji Yong's fingers shook slightly as he lifted the lid, his mind buzzing, anticipation tangling with the warmth still radiating from Seunghyun behind him.
Ji Yong lifted the lid—and froze.
Inside was a dress.
Not just any dress. A black, elegant piece, sleek and tailored, hugging the shape perfectly, with intricate gold details tracing across one side. The design formed a golden dragon, twisting up from the hem to mid-torso, scales shimmering subtly in the candlelight.
Ji Yong's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Nothing came out.
He turned slowly to look at Seunghyun, and found him smirking, leaning closer, hands still resting lightly on his hips.
"Don't you like it?" Seunghyun asked softly, tugging him gently into a tighter hug. "It's custom-made. I commissioned an artist to design the dragon just for you. Every detail."
Ji Yong swallowed hard, words failing him. "Hyung... this—um..."
Seunghyun tilted his head, studying him, eyes sharp but gentle. "If you don't like it, it's fine. I just... I thought you'd like it. Or that... Ji-raim would?"
Ji Yong's heart skipped. His mouth fell open again. "You... you remember that?!"
Seunghyun chuckled, a little sheepish, fingers brushing lightly along Ji Yong's side. "How could I forget?"
Ji Yong felt something hot and heavy swell in his chest. Words didn't exist for this kind of feeling, this rush of affection, pride, and something deeper, something aching.
"I... I love it," he finally breathed, voice small, almost trembling.
Seunghyun's smirk softened into a real, fond smile. "Good. Then it's perfect."
Ji Yong carefully lifted the dress from the box, running his fingers over the smooth fabric, the golden dragon glinting in the candlelight.
He slipped into it slowly, feeling it hug his body in all the right places. The black silk felt cool against his skin, the golden dragon like it had been made for him — because, technically, it had been.
He knelt in front of the small mirror by his dresser and reached for a familiar red lipstick. It had been months — maybe even a year — since he'd worn it. He hesitated for a heartbeat, then applied it, the familiar burn and shine making him feel... alive. Powerful.
When he finally stepped back, he stared at himself, almost dazed.
It felt right. Amazing. Sexy. Like every part of him had finally caught up with the way he felt inside.
And then, warmth wrapped around him from behind.
Seunghyun's arms came up, sliding around Ji Yong's waist, pulling him flush against his chest. Ji Yong could feel the steady beat of Seunghyun's heart, the heat of his body pressing against his own.
Seunghyun rested his head lightly on Ji Yong's shoulder, just close enough that his breath tickled the skin. He smiled faintly, eyes glinting in the mirror's reflection.
"You look amazing, baby," he murmured. "You comfortable with it?"
Ji Yong nodded, still staring at the mirror, almost unable to speak. The dress didn't feel tight. It didn't suffocate. It just... fit. Perfectly.
"I'm glad..." Seunghyun purred, his voice low and warm, before leaning in to kiss the side of Ji Yong's neck.
Ji Yong's head shot back instinctively, creating just enough space for Seunghyun to deepen the kiss, nibbling and teasing along the sensitive skin.
Seunghyun's hands tightened slightly on his waist, pulling him even closer, and Ji Yong leaned into the pressure, letting the feeling wash over him — powerful, thrilling, and somehow... utterly perfect.
Seunghyun's lips found his neck again, but this time slower didn't last. The kisses grew warmer, more insistent, lingering just a second too long, then another, like he was testing how far Ji Yong would let him go.
Ji Yong's breath caught.
"Hyung..." he whispered, though it came out more like an exhale than a word.
Seunghyun hummed against his skin in response, the sound low, pleased, and that was enough to undo him.
Ji Yong turned abruptly, fingers curling into the front of Seunghyun's shirt as he pulled him in. Their mouths met in a rush — not careful, not hesitant like before, but searching. It felt like trying to say everything they hadn't managed to put into words for months.
Seunghyun answered just as fiercely, one hand coming up to cradle Ji Yong's jaw while the other stayed firm at his waist, grounding him there. The kiss deepened, unsteady at first, then finding its rhythm — warm breath, shared space, the faint taste of wine and something sweeter that was just... him.
Ji Yong barely registered moving until his back met the cool surface of the mirror with a soft thud.
The contrast between the cold glass behind him and the warmth in front of him made Ji Yong shiver.
When they finally parted, it wasn't far — just enough to breathe. Their foreheads rested together, breaths uneven, mingling in the narrow space between them.
Seunghyun let out a quiet laugh, the kind that came when he was overwhelmed and didn't know what to do with it.
"You're..." he started, then stopped, thumb brushing absently over the fabric at Ji Yong's side, over the golden dragon. "You're going to ruin me like this."
Ji Yong felt heat rush to his face, but he didn't look away this time.
"Good," he murmured, voice softer, steadier than he felt.
Seunghyun didn't pull away.
He watched Ji Yong's face instead — the way his lashes fluttered, the way his breath had gone shallow — and something slow and knowing curved at the corner of his mouth.
"Look at you..." he murmured.
Ji Yong's eyes slipped closed without meaning to when Seunghyun brushed a strand of hair back from his cheek.
"So pretty," Seunghyun continued, voice dropping, rough with warmth. "My pretty girl."
Ji Yong's fingers twitched against his chest. That word — again. It sent a strange, electric feeling down his spine, pooling somewhere deep and unfamiliar. He didn't understand it. Didn't want to.
Seunghyun noticed. Of course he noticed.
A small smirk appeared.
"You like that, Ji?" he teased quietly. "Like being called pretty? ...My pretty girl?"
Ji Yong let out a soft, helpless sound before he could stop himself, the reaction embarrassing and honest all at once. His grip tightened in Seunghyun's shirt as if to anchor himself.
He did like it.
Too much.
And that realization made heat rush to his face.
"Shut up," Ji Yong muttered, but there was no bite to it.
His hand slid down instead, catching Seunghyun by the belt and tugging him closer in a sudden, defiant pull — like he needed to prove he wasn't the only one affected.
The movement made Seunghyun's eyebrows lift, amused.
"Oh?" he hummed. "That's new."
Ji Yong refused to open his eyes, stubborn, flustered. "You talk too much."
Seunghyun's smirk softened into something fonder, less teasing, as he let himself be pulled in, their foreheads touching again.
"And you," he said quietly, "pretend you don't like hearing it."
His thumb traced a slow line along Ji Yong's jaw, no rush, no pressure — just there.
Ji Yong didn't argue this time.
Seunghyun's hands moved slowly over Ji Yong's thighs, warm and heavy, not rushing — just feeling, mapping, his palms squeezed the flesh, then smoothed them again, like he couldn't decide whether to hold or admire.
Ji Yong's breathing faltered.
Those hands... they always felt bigger when they were on him. Grounding. Overwhelming. His fingers curled against the mirror behind him as he tried to steady himself, but Seunghyun only drew closer, chest flush to his back.
"You look too damn good in that," Seunghyun murmured near his ear. "Would be a shame to take it off now..."
His lips brushed Ji Yong's neck again, slower this time, deliberate — the kind of kiss that lingered just long enough to make Ji Yong's eyes fall shut as he leaned into it without thinking.
Seunghyun knew exactly how to undo him. Always had.
One of Seunghyun's hands slipped away, and Ji Yong cracked his eyes open, glancing back through his lashes. He watched Seunghyun for a second as his hand worked his belt off.
"Need help, hyung?" Ji Yong whispered.
Seunghyun looked up, catching his gaze in the mirror, amused.
"You're watching?" he teased. "What a perv."
Ji Yong huffed a quiet laugh. "Says the one who started it."
"That's not proper language for a princess to use," Seunghyun replied, mock-scolding, though the fondness in his voice ruined the act completely.
Ji Yong rolled his eyes, but he was smiling — soft, breathless, unable to hide it.
Seunghyun leaned in again, pressing a kiss just behind his ear, his voice dropping to something quieter.
"What do you think princess? Shall we keep it on then?."
Ji Yong nodded.
Seunghyun didn't waste another second. He crashed his lips against Jiyong's, swallowing the smaller man's gasp. It wasn't gentle — it was hungry, desperate, the kind of kiss that stole the air from Jiyong's lungs and left his knees unsteady.
Jiyong melted into him, fingers tangling in Seunghyun's hair, holding him there, needing him closer.
He could feel Seunghyun's hardness pressing against his hip through the layers of fabric.
Jiyong braced his hands against the wall, breath uneven. In the mirror he caught sight of himself — flushed cheeks, blown pupils, lips already swollen from the kiss — and the image only fed the heat coiling low in his stomach.
Behind him came the unmistakable sound of a zipper lowering.
It sounded loud in the quiet room. His heart pounded.
"Shh," Seunghyun murmured, sensing the tension. His hand slid down Jiyong's spine through the dress, tracing the curve of his ass, before glancing toward the small handbag resting nearby. He reached over, unzipped it, and searched briefly until he found what he wanted. Lube.
"Remember to tell me if it gets too much, princess. Can you do that?"
Jiyong bit his lip and nodded quickly.
Seunghyun lifted the dress slightly, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Jiyong's underwear and dragging them down just enough to free him. The cool air hit his heated skin, pulling a gasp from him.
Before he could gather himself, Seunghyun flipped open the cap, slicking his fingers with the lube, warming it for only a moment before pressing them against Jiyong's entrance.
"So pretty," he murmured. "So perfect for me."
He worked carefully — not slow, not teasing, but focused, intent. It lacked his usual patience, yet Jiyong didn't protest. He needed the closeness, the friction, the grounding weight of Seunghyun there with him.
"Imagine," Seunghyun's voice dropped, rough at the edges, "if you had a pussy... God- I'd never let you go untouched. Every chance I got."
Jiyong let out a soft, helpless sound, hips shifting back before he could stop himself. Seunghyun knew — he always knew — exactly how to undo him, how words alone could make his thoughts blur.
The idea, the intimacy of it, wrapped around him like heat.
Seunghyun let out a low chuckle. "So impatient," he whispered.
He withdrew his fingers, guiding Jiyong into position, one hand firm on his hip to steady him.
"Relax for me, princess."
Jiyong took a deep breath, trying to force his muscles to unclench as Seunghyun pushed forward. The burn was intense — sharp, familiar — and it knocked the air from his lungs. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow to muffle the sound that threatened to escape. It was overwhelming, the stretch of it, the angle, the way Seunghyun filled him so completely, leaving no space for anything else.
Seunghyun stilled once he was fully inside him, chest rising and falling hard against Jiyong's back. He leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to Jiyong's shoulder blade.
"You okay?" he whispered, voice soft — achingly gentle compared to the firm way his hands held Jiyong in place.
Jiyong nodded, breathing ragged. "Yeah. Move... please move."
Seunghyun didn't need to be told twice.
He began with a slow rhythm, pulling back almost entirely before rolling his hips forward again. Each movement dragged another broken sound from Jiyong's lips as Seunghyun kept murmuring to him, guiding him through it. The quiet room filled with the unmistakable sound of their wet bodies coliding, far louder than either of them expected.
"Look at you," Seunghyun muttered, watching Jiyong's expression through the mirror. "Such a pretty girl"
Jiyong followed his gaze. Their reflection only made everything feel more intense. The dress still clung to him, black fabric and gold detailing framing his body instead of revealing it, yet under Seunghyun's eyes it felt like he was completely exposed. The way Seunghyun's body moved behind him was impossible to ignore.
"Taking it so well... so pretty like this."
Seunghyun's hand slid around, closing around Jiyong's member. Jiyong jolted, hips reacting before he could stop them.
"Seunghyun..." he choked, eyes squeezing shut as sensation stacked on sensation. It was too much — the heat, the pressure, the adrenaline rushing through him. Seunghyun's hand moved in time with his thrusts, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
The tension in Jiyong's stomach tightened, coiling unbearably.
"I'm gonna..." he whimpered under his breath.
Seunghyun growled, pace faltering just slightly.
His forehead pressed between Jiyong's shoulders as he tried to steady himself, breath hot and uneven against the back of Jiyong's neck. One of his hands slid up, curling against Jiyong's ribs, holding him there — not trapping, just anchoring, like he needed to make sure Jiyong stayed with him through it while the other kept stroking him sloopy.
"Look at you..." he murmured, voice rough, almost disbelieving. "So pretty. My fucking... pretty girl."
The words sent a sharp shiver straight through Jiyong's body.
He didn't understand why they hit like that. Why hearing it — from him — made something unravel inside his chest, something deeper than want. It wasn't just desire. It was recognition. Like Seunghyun was seeing a part of him Jiyong himself had only barely dared to touch.
"Perfect face," he whispered, almost against Jiyong's ear now. "Perfect body. All for me."
Jiyong's breath broke.
The tension that had been winding tighter and tighter finally snapped, rushing through him all at once. He gasped Seunghyun's name, the sound half-lost as he came undone, body trembling, knees threatening to give out while Seunghyun held him upright.
"Yeah... that's it," Seunghyun breathed, voice shaking now too. "Stay with me— fuck"
The rhythm lost whatever control it had left, turning uneven, desperate, until Seunghyun followed with a strangled exhale against Jiyong's shoulder, grip tightening almost painfully as he reached his own release.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Just breathing.
Just the sound of their hearts trying to slow down.
Seunghyun didn't pull away. He rested there instead, arms wrapped around Jiyong's waist, face hidden against his neck like he needed the closeness as much as the air.
Jiyong swallowed, still dazed, fingers weakly clutching at Seunghyun's sleeve.
Seunghyun lifted his head after a moment, studying his face — and then, as if the intensity had to be broken somehow, a familiar teasing glint appeared in his eyes.
"...We didn't ruin the dress, did we?" he asked.
Jiyong let out a breathless laugh, the sound soft and shaky. "I... don't think so."
"Good," Seunghyun said, satisfied. His hand smoothed absentmindedly over Jiyong's side, as if already committing the feeling to memory. "I want you to wear it more."
That made Jiyong shiver.
Not from embarrassment. Not even from desire.
From the thought of it — wearing things like this again, moving like this, being seen like this. The idea settled somewhere deep in his chest, warm and a little frightening, but right.
Seunghyun shifted, carefully pulling away. They both hissed quietly at the sudden change, the loss of warmth, of contact.
"I'll go prepare a bath for you, hm?" Seunghyun murmured, voice softer now. He pressed a lingering kiss to Jiyong's cheek, grounding, affectionate — and then he was gone, disappearing into the bathroom with the quiet sound of running water following soon after.
Jiyong stayed where he was.
Still catching his breath.
Still trying to come back to himself.
He looked up at the mirror.
His hair was a mess, lipstick smudged, cheeks flushed — the dress still clinging to him, the golden dragon catching the low light of the candles behind him. He barely recognized the person staring back.
But he didn't look away.
Slowly, Jiyong raised a hand, touching his own reflection, fingertips hovering over the image like he was afraid it might vanish if he pressed too hard.
"...Ji-raim," he whispered to himself, testing the name again.
It didn't feel like pretending.
From the bathroom, Seunghyun called, "Don't fall asleep standing there. You're getting in before the water gets cold."
Jiyong smiled — small, real — and finally turned away from the mirror to follow him.
--------------------------------------------------
Weeks after that.
Ji Yong was curled up against Seunghyun's chest, half-draped over him like a blanket he had no intention of moving from. The afternoon light filtered lazily through the curtains, and Seunghyun, entirely too focused for someone who claimed he was "just relaxing," was carefully sectioning strands of Ji Yong's hair.
He had become fascinated with it ever since Ji Yong started letting it grow out. Now it brushed past his jaw, soft and uneven in that in-between stage — long enough to play with, not long enough to behave.
Seunghyun twisted another small braid between his fingers.
"Hyung," Ji Yong groaned without opening his eyes, "you're going to make knots in it."
"Hey," Seunghyun protested, mock offended. "I'm very good at this. I would never knot it. Besides, I have to take advantage while I can before you cut it again."
Silence settled, easy and familiar.
Seunghyun reached for another section — but Ji Yong spoke before he could start.
"What if... I don't cut it this time?"
Seunghyun paused. "Hm?"
Ji Yong pushed himself up, turning to face him. Seunghyun's hands stilled mid-motion, braid forgotten as he took in Ji Yong's expression — not dramatic, not playful.
Serious.
Ji Yong bit his lip. "I may be... thinking about leaving it long. For a while."
Seunghyun's brows lifted, and then he smiled, warm and immediate. "Fantastic Baby Long or—?"
Ji Yong smacked his arm.
They both laughed.
"Sorry, sorry!" Seunghyun raised his hands in surrender. "I just don't understand the sudden seriousness. You've always had extravagant looks. Long hair is not—"
"I don't think I'm a boy."
The words came out fast.
Too fast.
Like if Ji Yong hadn't said them right then, they would've stayed stuck in his throat forever.
Silence crashed down between them.
Seunghyun's eyes widened — not in rejection, not in confusion, just... surprise. Processing.
Ji Yong felt it immediately. The weight of what he'd said. The way the room suddenly felt too small.
He stood abruptly, heart racing. "I— I need—"
And before Seunghyun could say anything, Ji Yong bolted toward the bathroom, shutting himself inside.
He braced his hands against the sink, staring down, breathing too fast.
Why did he say it like that? Why didn't he think? Why didn't he explain it better?
Seunghyun didn't rush after him.
He stood up slowly instead, giving Jiyong a moment — because if there was one thing he had learned about him, it was that pushing too fast only made him retreat further.
He walked to the door and knocked lightly.
"Ji?" he called, voice calm. Not questioning. Not panicked.
Silence.
Then, quieter, "I'm not coming in. Just... making sure you didn't try to escape through the window or something dramatic."
A small, strangled sound came from inside. Not quite a laugh, but close.
Good.
Seunghyun leaned his shoulder against the wall beside the door.
"You don't have to explain it right now," he continued. "Or ever. I just—" he exhaled, choosing his words carefully, "—I want you to know that you didn't say something wrong."
The lock clicked.
The door opened just a little, enough for Jiyong to peek out. His expression was mortified, eyes avoiding Seunghyun completely.
"I didn't mean to just blurt it out," Jiyong muttered. "It sounded... stupid."
"It didn't."
Jiyong finally looked at him, uncertain. "You didn't even react."
Seunghyun gave a small shrug. "I was reacting. You just ran away before I could finish."
That earned him an embarrassed huff.
Seunghyun's gaze softened. "Ji... you've been figuring yourself out for a while now. The clothes, the hair, the way you light up when you feel like yourself. This isn't exactly coming out of nowhere."
Jiyong stared at him, surprised again — but not in a bad way this time.
"I don't have all the right words," Seunghyun admitted. "And I might mess them up sometimes. But whatever you are, whoever you are..." He reached out, stopping just short of touching him, giving Jiyong the choice to close the distance. "...I'm here for that person. Not some version I expect you to be."
Jiyong hesitated only a second before stepping forward.
"...What if I don't figure it out?" he asked quietly. "What if it changes? What if I don't fit into anything properly?"
Seunghyun smiled, a little crooked.
"Then we'll be confused together."
Jiyong let out a real laugh at that, the tension finally cracking.
Seunghyun didn't say anything else — he just opened his arms, and Jiyong stepped into them without hesitation. The hug was immediate, warm, familiar. Seunghyun's chin rested lightly on top of his head while Jiyong held onto the back of his shirt, grounding himself there.
After a moment, Seunghyun spoke, tone teasing but soft around the edges.
"So... should I call you my girlfriend now then?"
Jiyong pulled back just enough to look up at him, blinking. "I don't know... I mean— I do feel like a boy, sometimes. But— ugh."
He groaned in frustration and hid his face back in Seunghyun's chest.
Seunghyun chuckled quietly, one hand coming up to stroke through his hair, smoothing it down again and again. "It's okay. Take your time."
Jiyong breathed him in. He smelled like laundry detergent, coffee, and something that was just Seunghyun — steady, familiar. Home. Safe. Calm.
"I just... I feel sometimes like a girl," Jiyong admitted into the fabric of his shirt. "And sometimes like a boy. Does that make sense?"
Seunghyun hummed, like he was considering it seriously, not questioning it.
"We'll make it make sense," he said simply.
Jiyong tilted his head slightly. "We?"
"Yeah," Seunghyun replied, tightening the hug for a second. "You don't have to figure it out alone. I'm already involved, remember? I bought the dragon dress. That's commitment."
Jiyong snorted a laugh against him.
"Also," Seunghyun added, glancing down, "selfishly, I like you in all your versions. So I'm not exactly complaining."
Jiyong shook his head, but he was smiling now — the kind that came easier, without overthinking.
"...Okay," he said again.
And this time, it sounded a little more certain.
Seunghyun took it seriously.
The next morning, Ji Yong woke up to the faint sound of typing.
He shuffled out of the bedroom, still half-asleep, hair a mess, only to find Seunghyun already awake and sitting at his computer. He was leaning forward in concentration, glasses perched low on his nose, eyes scanning the screen like he was studying for an exam.
Ji Yong blinked.
...Okay. The glasses were unfair. They made him look at least ten times hotter.
"What are you doing, hyung?"
Seunghyun nearly jumped out of the chair.
He grabbed his chest dramatically. "Geez— I didn't hear you, baby. You almost gave me a heart attack."
Ji Yong laughed, the sound still soft with sleep, and walked over to hug him from behind the chair. He rested his chin on top of Seunghyun's head, peering at the screen.
"What's all this?"
"Research," Seunghyun answered simply.
Ji Yong's eyes moved across the open tabs.
gender identities non-binarism gender dysphoria ... and the one currently open:
"Gender fluid?" Ji Yong read aloud.
Seunghyun nodded, still scrolling. "I'm still reading, but... it sounds quite fitting for you, baby."
Ji Yong went very still.
"You... you stayed up doing this?"
Seunghyun shrugged like it was nothing. "Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd at least try to understand what you're feeling instead of just standing there like an idiot."
Ji Yong felt something warm press into his chest — not overwhelming, not dramatic. Just... steady.
"You don't have to study me like I'm a test," he muttered.
Seunghyun finally turned in the chair to look at him. "I'm not studying you. I'm learning. Big difference."
Ji Yong huffed. "You sound like a documentary narrator."
Seunghyun pushed his glasses up his nose. "In today's episode, we observe Ji Yong in his natural habitat—"
Ji Yong smacked his shoulder.
They both laughed, but Seunghyun reached out and caught Ji Yong's hand before he could pull away, thumb brushing over his knuckles.
"Hey," he said more quietly. "If this word fits, we can use it. If it doesn't, we throw it away. We're not forcing anything, okay?"
Ji Yong looked at the screen again. At the word. At the explanations.
At the fact Seunghyun had opened twenty tabs just to try to meet him halfway.
"...Can we read it together?" Ji Yong asked.
Seunghyun smiled. "Yeah. Come here."
Ji Yong slid onto his lap, both of them squinting at the monitor like it was the most important thing in the world — not because they needed an answer right away.
But because they were figuring it out side by side.
Ji Yong leaned back slightly against Seunghyun's chest, eyes fixed on the screen.
At first, he read like he always did — quickly, skimming, half-expecting the words to feel distant. Clinical. Like something written about other people. Not him.
But then he slowed.
Genderfluid people may experience shifts in gender over time...
Ji Yong's fingers twitched against the desk.
He kept reading.
These changes can be subtle or noticeable, emotional or physical. Some days may feel more aligned with masculinity, others with femininity, or somewhere in between...
A strange feeling settled in his stomach. Not anxiety. Not excitement.
Recognition.
He didn't even notice he'd stopped breathing until Seunghyun's hand rubbed lightly along his arm.
"Hey," Seunghyun murmured. "You okay?"
Ji Yong nodded, eyes still glued to the screen.
"Yeah. Just... wait."
He read the next paragraph more carefully, like he was afraid of missing something important.
For many, the experience is less about becoming someone new and more about allowing all parts of themselves to exist.
Ji Yong swallowed.
That.
That was it.
It didn't feel like changing. It didn't feel like losing who he was. It felt like every confusing moment — the comfort of a suit, the rightness of a dress, the way some days he wanted to be seen one way and other days another — was suddenly allowed to sit in the same space.
Not contradictions.
Just... him.
His voice came out quieter than he expected.
"It's not that I stop being Ji Yong."
Seunghyun didn't interrupt.
Ji Yong glanced back at him, eyes a little wide, like he'd just discovered something fragile and important.
"It's like... I'm all of it. And it moves. Some days it's louder one way, some days another, but it's always been there."
Seunghyun studied his face, then gave a small nod.
"Sounds like you just found a word that lets you breathe easier."
Ji Yong let out a soft laugh. "Yeah. That's exactly what it feels like."
He looked back at the article, rereading the title like he needed to see it again to believe it.
Not a label trapping him.
A description that opened a door.
Ji Yong leaned back fully into Seunghyun this time, letting his weight rest there.
"...I think this might be me."
Seunghyun pressed a kiss into his hair without hesitation.
"Okay," he said simply. "Then we start there."
And for the first time since the question had formed in his mind, Ji Yong didn't feel like he was searching anymore.
a/n: comment and like if you want more!!
