Archive of Our Own

" 'If her heart does ache, 

Then let Lyca wake;

If my mother sleep, 

Lyca shall not weep.

'Frowning, frowning night, 

O'er this desert bright

Let thy moon arise, 

While I close my eyes.' "

. . . 

The bathroom felt as though it was the only sanction, dark and cold but also safe from the outside world. The darkness barely made anything visible and Minho cursed at himself for letting his eyes get adjusted to the dimness around him. 

Recently, he simply couldn't stand seeing his body and had begun getting a weird feeling whenever anyone else looked at him. He knew it was partially him being over-reactive, but he couldn't say for sure. 

Minho curled up in the shower, dragging his nails down the sides of his biceps, feeling the muscles underneath his skin tense just to prove that his body was, in fact, his . Not someone else', his —with the muscles he built up and scars he endured. 

He didn't usually get this much body dysmorphia and certainly not this frequently, but things were just going on badly. He couldn't get his voice to go any deeper and the comments by STAY about his voice seeming anywhere close to feminine just crawled under his skin, prodding at the surface from underneath. 

Minho opened his eyes when he heard a knock and felt any and all energy drain from his body to stand up. "Hyung?" The voice from outside came in muffled, barely audible over the shower and the bathroom exhaust. 

"Yeah?" he called back, clearing his throat to get rid of a rasp it had developed. 

"Are the lights out again?" By the little concern in the voice and its particular lilt, he easily made it out as Hyunjin. 

Minho sighed, forcing himself to stand up and lean against the freezing wall, bringing his hand to turn the shower handle. "Yeah," he replied quietly. 

There was a pause outside but something told Minho that the other man still hadn't left from outside the door, maybe it was the sudden tension in the air but he couldn't be bothered to make note of it. 

"Are you okay?" Hyunjin asked, his voice closer as if he was leaning against the door frame. 

"Mhm," Minho hummed back. "I'll come out in a while, Hyunjin-ah. Hyung's fine."

The silence was awful and Minho could still feel the other's presence, just there. "Chan hyung told me to tell you dinner's ready. Come quick." 

Minho took a deep breath and stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and paused where the mirror was supposed to be. He reached his fingers to the lightswitch and hesitantly let it stay there before he turned it on. The moment he did, he felt like breaking down. 

Sure, this was the sight he had been seeing for years, but it wasn't something that he could ever get used to. The two very prominent scars underneath his sternum, standing out even more since it was Winter and he hadn't gotten enough sun. Minho tore his gaze away and forced himself to return to his routine of applying moisturizer and other treatments. 

He detested it, rubbing the body lotion near his pelvis region, anywhere close to that. He quickly threw on his clothes and paused curtly before he could step out of the bathroom. He ruffled his damp hair in front of the mirror and scowled to see that his eyes were still red rimmed from the few tears he had shed, nothing that he couldn't play off as getting shampoo into his eyes. 

Just as he was about to open the door, he snapped his head in the direction of the lighter the lighter he had left on the counter and quickly slipped it into his pocket. He inhaled deeply and turned the knob. Steam escaped the open door as he tossed his used clothes into the laundry basket and stuffed his towel into a lone hanger and made his way out of the hallway and into the living room. 

"Oh hyung, we saved some of the pudding for you," Felix said brightly and Minho let the buzzing underneath his skin calm down. Felix was like that, somehow being the fishing rod that pulled him out of his thoughts—maybe he could ask if he could sleep in the younger’s bed… although it wasn’t like Felix would ever say no.

"You ate my share?" he asked instead, gingerly sitting down in his seat and picking his chopsticks, eyeing the half eaten pudding sitting beside his plate. 

"They only brought four packs," Changbin whined, although he had gone with the members of his dorm to buy the snacks before coming here.

"It's to get Jeongin to learn some manners and share with others," Hyunjin huffed, but his eyes didn't speak the mirth that his voice held. 

"Hey! It's not like that, why share when you can buy more?" Jeongin defended. 

Jisung made a dramatic gasp. "How could you say that, Iyen-ah? Sharing is caring, did you not learn that as a kid? Or is Minho-hyung influencing you now that we aren’t here anymore?"

Jeongin shrugged and the table once again erupted into chaos, accusations thrown around and dramatic sounds escaping their mouths as if it was an everyday thing. It was an everyday thing and typically Minho would be siding with any group to just add to the chaos, but today he just hugged his chest and zoned out staring at the food. 

If his discomfort was tangible, the others eventually quietened down, making Minho look up and give them a reassuring smile. Everything was fine, nothing was wrong, he just had to find his right headspace again. He was alright. 

"Oh, right Minho-ya, manager-nim asked me to inform you that you and Seungmin have solo practice tomorrow for vocals," Chan said, looking up from his phone, seemingly having finished reading the perpetual email. "And—I didn't see you at dance practice."

"Hyung was with me," Jisung said quickly, and Minho shot him a thankful glance that he was sure Chan might've caught. He had been moping in the restroom during dance practice, having realized that the shirt he wore was too loose and would balloon up and expose him and— "We were in the studio."

"It feels like I haven't seen you in so long, Min… "

"Because hyung never comes to the dorm at a normal time," Minho countered. Chan was right, he had been withdrawing from the band more and more recently and barely talked to them unless it was something superficial. 

"Fine, fine, let's restart," Chan smiled, his dimples giving away that the smile was more fond than teasing. "How was your day?"

Sitting in one corner wondering why I was given the body I have and why I can't seem to get anything done with how much my stomach hurts with cramps. Apparently even with testosterone, menstruation cycles occur arbitrarily. Do you have any clue how it feels, Channie hyung? 

Minho rolled his eyes and gave Chan a small smile. "Boring," he said. "Vocal practice and the new choreographer gave me some introductory dance steps, that's all. What about you?"

Chan shrugged. "Me and Binnie finished a collection for the next comeback and with Jisungie's recent song it's for almost two comebacks ahead… "

The topic faded into the background and Minho couldn't stop the way his eyes trailed on Chan's body—chest muscles peeking out from underneath his loose tank top and shoulders broad and just so perfect. He exhaled a shuddered breath and forced himself to start eating. 

His stomach ached, but graciously accepted the food, making him almost feel sick with the sudden wave of satisfaction that came over his starved stomach. He ignored it and continued eating until he felt eyes on him again. 

"Hyung… are you okay?" Seungmin asked from beside him and Minho gave the younger one an automatic smile. 

"Hyung's fine," he said. "Just a bit tired."

—

The gym felt suffocating. His muscles burned and the cramps in his abdomen felt intensified, he knew he shouldn’t be moving around much during this time but he just couldn’t come to terms with sitting around. His legs gave away underneath him the moment he stood up from the leg extension equipment, falling to the carpet and just barely catching himself in time before he hit the ground. 

He pushed himself to sit up on the small stool kept for placing weights so he could regulate his breathing. Just before he could force himself to stand up, the door to the gym opened and he almost jumped out of his skin. 

“Yeah, have you seen hyung’s veins?” 

“That’s all the payoff of the forearm exercises he’s been doing,” Felix said, stepping into the room followed by Hyunjin and Jeongin. They only took a few steps into the room before they caught Minho’s slouched figure taking off his headphones. 

“Hyung!” Jeongin rushed towards him, sitting on the ground beside the stool Minho sat on. “Felix hyung and Hyunjin hyung are having a competition.” 

Minho raised his eyebrows in amusement and glanced at the other two. “Is that so?” 

“Push-ups,” Jeongin supplied. “My money’s on Felix hyung.” 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and pouted. “Look, I’ve done calisthenics for six plus months.” 

“And Yongbok-ah is a black belt,” Minho added cheekily despite feeling his chest ache when he sat straight. 

Hyunjin gave Minho a look that the elder could only read as flustered or offended. “Fine, fine, start,” Jeongin said. “I have vocal practice.” 

Minho winced internally at the mention of vocal practice. It had gone… well, but not in the connotation of ‘well’ he desired. Their vocal coach had asked him to practice his higher notes rather than even try going deeper—she told him to make use of his falsetto and try whistle tones for fun. It was probably way better than all practices, but the comments that she couldn’t stop were of his voice sounding almost in the feminine key. 

Regardless, he forced himself to pay attention to Felix and Hyunjin, who had both gotten onto their knees and were staring at each other as if having a silent conversation. Hyunjin easily got into position and Felix took his shirt off and mimicked Hyunjin’s position, starting the first push-up when Jeongin counted one .

Both of them weren’t completely jacked like Chan and Changbin, but they had considerably enough muscles that they were prominent in shadows—toned or a sleeper build. Jeongin counted in a sing-song manner, adding his own remarks from time to time and Minho blinked when he realized the way Felix’s back muscles were shining in light. 

It made him wonder if he would ever be able to take his shirt off and practice normally. Maybe that wasn’t possible, ever. But he could make up for it by watching his members. Hyunjin grunted sharply at fifty-one and Felix was biting his lower lip. “Aaaand our contestants both seem exhausted,” Jeongin read.

Hyunjin was slowing down and Felix easily kept the pace up until he dropped flat at seventy, followed by Hyunjin who stopped at sixty-eight. “Well, Felix is the winner. Hyunjin owes me ice cream.” 

“That’s not fair though, Hyunjinnie lost on purpose,” Felix pouted, sitting down in front of Minho and Jeongin and looking up at Hyunjin who simply shrugged. “Whatever you say, Lixie.” 

Minho couldn’t help but stare at Felix’s chest, free of scars and flawlessly beautiful that it made his heart clench the slightest. “How many can you do? Hyung?” Hyunjin asked, standing up and walking over to Minho, leaning on him. 

“More than you, if I try, but I have a fucking cramp in my leg,” Minho replied, letting Hyunjin stick to him despite his sweat. No matter what, Hyunjin always smelled nice (despite being practically drenched with sweat), like the rose perfume he seemed to use perpetually and Minho couldn’t help the way he relaxed into the latter’s hold. 

“Leg day?” Felix asked, eyes suddenly doe as he looked up at Minho. 

“Yeah,” Minho nodded, giving the younger one a brief smile. 

“Yah, there’s some weird tension with hyungs,” Jeongin muttered, standing up and taking his phone out. “I’ve sent the group chat the results, now watch them call Hyunjin hyung soft.” 

“Where’s my victory kiss?” Felix asked, throwing his head back to see Jeongin. 

The youngest rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “You’re sweaty and gross.” Regardless, he bent down and gave Felix a chaste kiss on his lips before saying goodbye and leaving the gym, pocketing his phone along the way. 

“Hey hyung,” Hyunjin said. 

Minho hummed absentmindedly. 

“Are you alright? You seem out of it,” Felix spoke instead of Hyunjin. 

“I’m fine; my body hurts a lot,” he explained, stretching his neck to make his words seem believable. “Leg days are a pain.” 

When he glanced back at Hyunjin there was a distinct look in his eyes that said that he didn’t believe Minho—not one bit, it was more like I know . Minho quickly wrapped his arms around his abdomen as if Hyunjin would see right through him. 

“You’ve been distant,” Felix said softly. “I’m not saying that what’s going on is something you’re obligated to tell us, but hyung, we’re here. All of us.” 

For some reason that seemed enough for Minho to cry if he wasn’t this resilient—he knew that, but what would they think? If they found out that he wasn’t a guy physically? He knew he was a man, but people never went by what they heard, did they? Visual proof was something that the majority went off of. He closed his eyes and sighed. “I know.” 

“That’s great—” 

“There you are! Minho, I’ve been calling you for the past half an hour,” Chan said, pushing the door open the minute he heard Minho’s voice. 

Minho felt a little annoyance bubble in his stomach at the accusatory tone and sudden change in atmosphere but he didn’t feel as though he had the energy to address it. Instead he calmly looked up at Chan. “I didn’t have anything on schedule. I finished dance practice and vocal training.” 

Chan blinked a couple of times. “That doesn’t give you the right to be irresponsible and leave your phone in the dorm and decide you want to cram yourself in the gym.” 

"It wasn't irresponsible—"

"You just can't disappear!"

Minho knew it wasn’t Chan speaking this time, it was the concern and stress—he could tell by the looks even Hyunjin and Felix gave him that he was right. “Hey, hyung, I’m fine. I was here with another senior for a while before Iyen-ah and these two came.” 

Their leader seemed to have calmed down a little but he still held a tired expression that gave Minho a small wake up call that he wasn’t the only one dealing with shit. He stood up and walked over to Chan. “Want me to stay over in your dorm?" he asked. Chan seemed hesitant, but he nodded, suddenly grabbing Minho’s arm and pulling him out of the gym room. 

The realization that he had left his bag in the gym came to him after he was sitting on Chan’s bed. He hoped it would stay in the gym so he could pick it up the next day. He didn’t want any of the members opening it, it was about the only place where he could store specific medications and sanitary items. 

“Are you alright?” Chan asked, sitting down beside him, shirtless, skin a little red from his shower. 

Minho nodded slowly, letting himself fall flat on Chan’s bed and look up at the elder with soft eyes. The older simply got on top of him and kissed him slowly, gently before he pulled away and slipped under the duvet, getting back into the same position. “I’m sorry about calling you irresponsible,” Chan said quietly once Minho was resting his head on Chan’s bicep. "I… Don't know why it came out. You're the most selfless person I know—and you probably had your reasons—"

“It’s fine,” Minho whispered back, closing his eyes. He could feel Chan kiss his forehead and reach behind him to turn off the lamp. Things were fine—he would be fine and would get over whatever kind of 'dysmorphia' he had found himself in. 

—

Their current arrangement had been Hyunjin’s idea, that they openly be affectionate with each other without following the rules of ‘friendship’. Changbin had later added that having a relationship outside the industry and even in the industry was something that could possibly land a stain on their reputation, so if they could satisfy their needs, why bother not asking for it in the group?

Minho had been skeptical about it from the beginning, most of the members had expressed that they were bisexual or really didn’t care about genders, but Jeongin and Changbin had confidently said they were gay, so they supposed it was a win-win situation for them. He was cautious of them, knowing well that there was a small chance that they would hate him if they ever found out. 

It wasn't like he was embarrassed of representing as a male, but it was just that he felt guilty every time he thought about the fact that the two of them liked him romantically because he was a man. It just didn't sit right with him. 

His gender had never been easy to hide, their manager knew, some superiors knew, and he had just been lucky enough to have the right people find out and not judge him for it. In fact the only things that were repercussions of him transitioning were buying menstruation products and having to hide them and having to deal with his father’s transphobic comments. 

But the group didn’t know, he had never given them a chance to know. His mother and her brother had been supportive enough to help him get chest surgery at an early age. It had been nowhere near legal, but they were able to give enough money as a bribe to have it done, not to mention the doctor had been a close friend of his mother. It was convincing enough to let him get out of binders and let him pursue a career and mostly get away from his father. 

Living with the seven of them had never been a problem in the past years, in fact they simply called his overbearing sense of privacy as ‘he’s shy’ and continued with it, but recently it had been getting more and more difficult. 

Hyunjin had given him his bag back and Minho had sat in the corner of his room overthinking whether or not Hyunjin had opened the zip. The tiny things suddenly felt like they were too much, every high key he used, he felt embarrassment fill him to the brim. 

Minho was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone when Seungmin walked into the living room, heading straight over to Minho and sitting down on his lap and straddling his waist. At first Minho paid him no mind, simply humming and holding the side of the younger’s waist as he continued scrolling through his phone—some things about STAY editing him in various MVs. 

It wasn't until he felt the younger start to nibble on his neck that he bothered to look away from his device. "Is something wrong?" he asked, rubbing soothing circles into Seungmin's waist as he let all his attention fall on the younger man. 

There was a particular look in Seungmin's eyes, something that Minho knew but he didn't want to register. "Are you alright?" he asked carefully, letting his hand pause on the younger's waist and looked up at him with his head tilted to the side. 

"I… uh," Seungmin muttered, nervously scratching his nape and Minho knew what he wanted, but he also was aware he couldn't give the younger what he needed. There was clearly a tent in Seungmin's pants, and Minho blinked carefully. 

"I can't fuck you," he whispered, quickly adding a onto it, knowing well that he couldn't but having no other choice than to say so, "We have practice tomorrow."

"Right… " Seungmin glanced at Minho and slowly bent down to kiss him. "It's understandable." Seungmin pulled away from the kiss and got ready to get up, but Minho held onto his hand, pulling him back to sit on the couch beside him. When Seungmin shot him a confused look, he got up carefully and let his body fall to its knees, looking up at his dongsaeng. 

The younger man cursed and Minho found himself being pulled into another bruising kiss. 

Minho loved all of them dearly, and in his honest opinion he had no problem in just pleasuring them if they came to him. At first when Changbin and Jisung had discreetly suggested that they should also have sex, he had wondered if it meant that they'd ask him to fuck them or vice versa. He knew very well that he'd never be able to let them help him out all the way, but what was wrong with him helping them unwind?

Simply dropping to his knees seemed enough to make the seven of them weak in their legs—and although they were always adamant on returning the favor Minho always turned them down one way or another. 

"God— hyung!" Seungmin groaned, his arm pressed over his mouth but doing little to no job in stifling his sweet sounds. Minho smiled and hollowed his cheeks, gagging the slightest when the younger's cock hit the back of his throat. 

"I'm close," Seungmin writhed the slightest and his grip in Minho's hair tightened as his thighs trembled under Minho's hands. "Cumming—hyung pull off i—"

Minho sucked harder, feeling hot liquid shoot down his throat moments later, and he easily made it his objective to milk the other dry. When he felt that Seungmin was twitching with oversensitiveness, he pulled off, giving the younger a shit-eating grin. 

"Hyung's filthy," Seungmin hoarsed out and pulled Minho up to kiss him again, moaning into the elder's mouth when he tasted himself. When the kiss started to deepen and Minho found himself pulled into Seungmin's lap, he slowly made it his objective to escape. 

"I just remembered I left my exercise bag in the dance studio," he said quickly, getting off Seungmin's lap. 

"Hyung, just ask Jisung hyung to get it," Seungmin suggested, clearly calling Minho back to him, but the older man shook his head. 

"I'm sorry, Seungmin-ah, maybe next time?"

"But hyung you—" Seungmin cut himself off when he noticed Minho was already grabbing the keys. 

Minho wanted it as much as Seungmin, to feel them, to make love to them and them to him, but he couldn't, no matter how much his body was aching for it—longing for it, he couldn't. 

Next time was just as promising as no . 

—

"Maybe he's on the asexual spectrum," he heard Jeongin suggest, already knowing that the younger one was shrugging. 

"But he would've told us—I mean… he does favors for us but when it comes to him he kind of just runs away… should we just bring it up to him? It’s better to get a clear-cut on things like this than guessing,” Seungmin replied. Minho quickly walked past the studio door, slipping into the dance room. 

He had promised he’d help Jisung with choreo today. When his eyes scanned the room for the younger, they zoomed in on Jisung's sleeping figure on the couch. He walked over quietly and crouched down in front of the rapper, unable to stop cooing internally whenever Jisung took in a stuttered breath. 

Minho leaned closer and bumped his nose with Jisung's, causing the former's lashes to flutter slowly. Jisung blinked up at him innocently, and Minho simply kissed the bridge of his nose before backing away. "Yah… you're late, hyung."

Minho, honestly could never get over how varied Jisung's octave range was, right now it was deeper than it regularly was, a low rumble in the back of his throat. "I'm here now, aren't I?" Minho opted to say that instead of apologizing. 

Jisung rolled his eyes before he chuckled, pressing the weight of one hand on Minho's shoulder and getting himself to sit up. He easily leaned ahead and gave Minho a small peck on his lips that lasted just momentarily. "Endorphins," Jisung huffed and pushed himself to stand up. "So, what's today's work?"

Minho found running through the choreography with Jisung alone easy, since there was no one else making weird references or cracking jokes. "Hyung?" Jisung asked. 

Minho looked at him in the mirror, hands on either side of his waist, panting. He raised his eyebrow to signal the younger one to continue talking. 

"How are you so pretty?" Jisung muttered, almost whining. Usually Minho would simply smile and play it off but something about the words struck his core awfully. He shrugged and bit down on his lips—ever since joining the k-industry, words such as 'beautiful' or 'pretty' were easily used for either gender. 

So Minho didn't know why those words made his skin feel like it stuck to his bones. "Thanks," he mumbled and stretched lightly, careful not to completely stretch and let his shirt ride up. 

Jisung gave him a thumbs up. "Can we talk, though?"

Minho blinked, before reluctantly nodding, watching Jisung sit down on the same spot he stood, looking up at Minho expectantly. Minho sighed and sat down in front of him, "yeah?"

"Can I ask you something… which is a bit uhm… " Jisung fumbled with his fingers, looking up at Minho thoughtfully. "Straightforward."

"No one's straight, Sungie," Minho tried easing the suddenly lapsing tension in the room. 

Jisung smiled but looked down at his lap. "Are you not comfortable around us?"

The question was something that had been the subject to many of Minho's late night scenarios of how he'd answer such an inquiry—but something about being asked that in real life made him freeze. "That's not true?" He faced Jisung. 

"But hyung keeps avoiding us," Jisung said softly. 

Minho shrugged. "I don't, I've been spending some time reconciling, maybe."

"Maybe?" Jisung raised his brows. "Hyung, I know that you probably don't want to talk about it, but is there a reason you don't want to have sex with us?"

Of course, out of everyone, Jisung was the one that could get straight to the point without being rude. Hyunjin, Felix and Chan would try to extend it out and explain it in euphemisms, while Jeongin and Seungmin would be a little direct—Changbin would unnecessarily complicate the situation. 

"... That's not true?" Minho frowned. 

Don't get him wrong, if he was given a chance where he didn't have to hide himself and was more comfortable, he'd beg to be laid by them. But that wasn't the case, was it? 

"But hyung… I asked you to do me a favor, and you did it, is it not only fair that I do something back for you?" Jisung asked. "If I say it straightforwardly, if I asked you for a sexual favor, and you complied. Now wasn't it my turn to take care of you?"

Minho bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s not like that… I like taking care of you guys—I don’t really want anything in return for that…” his voice trailed off. It was a blatant lie, he wanted them—sexually, romantically, in any way they were willing to give themselves; he was living with objectively the hottest men, and sure his libido was always begging for him to find sweet relief. 

“That’s not how it should be, though, or is there something you are uncomfortable about?” Jisung asked, more softly. “Because if there is, we’ll stop making any type of advances if you don’t like it.” 

There was genuine concern behind Jisung’s words, and it seemed as though the younger wanted a clear yes or no. “It’s not that I don’t like it—I, uh,” Minho blinked profusely, unable to think of what he wanted to say. There was no way he was going to let himself drop a sudden bomb on Jisung that he was trans, but he also didn’t want to let go of the arrangement they had. 

He wanted to take care of the younger members, and if he said yes , it would mean they wouldn’t come to him. Minho slumped a little, feeling the burns on his thighs start to itch as if they too were getting affected by the tension in the room. He took a stuttered breath. Yes or no. It was as easy as that. 

But regardless, Minho shook his head. “I’ll talk to you later, I have to meet with the second choreographer.” 

“But hyung—” 

“Later, Jisung,” Minho said curtly, pushing himself to stand up and walk towards the exit. 

He was sure he heard the younger mumble something, but he didn’t catch the exact words. And once again, guilt began enveloping him in a painstaking manner. Sorry. 

—

He pressed the metal of the lighter to his skin and bit back a wince, internally hissing when the sudden pain made all the hair on his body stand and skin tingle. Minho tossed the lighter away on the carpet and stared at the angry red marks, promising discomfort for almost a week on his thighs. 

He picked the lighter and pocketed it, grabbing his towel and used-clothes off the bathroom railing, throwing water on his face before he opened the door. He tossed them into their respective places and walked into his room—to get to his closet and keep the lighter away—

“Hyung.” 

He glanced at the bed to see Hyunjin glancing up at him along with Felix, who appeared half-asleep already. “You’re here?” Minho asked, beelineing towards the bed. 

“I sent a message to the group chat,” Hyunjin huffed and Felix laughed lightly. 

“Hyung only checks it when it’s Channie,” Felix teased. “He doesn’t care about us.” 

“Yah…” Minho tried, glancing around the room discreetly to see where he could deposit the lighter, but the pinned glance he felt on his back told him to stop. 

He turned to the bed again and saw the two of them making grabby hands. To no avail, he couldn’t resist them. He simply walked to the small place behind Hyunjin and tapped his ass to make him scoot to the middle before he got underneath the blankets. The moment Minho did, he felt the younger man wrap his lanky figure around him. 

Usually Minho would push him off, but he couldn’t help but lean into the touch, exhaling a sharp breath and automatically closing his eyes. Felix easily climbed over Hyunjin and squeezed in between them, and Minho found himself unable to stop the small giggle that left his lips. The bed was in no way made for more than two people, but considering that Hyunjin was just lanky and Felix was as good as a lithe doll, they fit easily. 

The touch was so grounding that Minho wondered what had made him relapse in the first place. Yeah, his body dysmorphia was getting worse, and he had narrowly missed his pill-intake a couple of days in the past week, but the warmth of these two made him almost forget it. He didn’t realize he was pulling them closer until Felix mentioned it. 

“What’s wrong, hyung?” 

Minho opened his eyes, finding that the both of them were looking at him in concern. “Nothing,” he lied, automatically, shaking his hand and throwing his arm over the both of them. “Really, nothing.” 

“You barely talk to us,” Hyunjin murmured, gently squeezing Minho’s hand before he intertwined their fingers. “If you’re not doing alright, you just have to tell us, Chan hyung can ask the management to slow down the work.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” Minho bit the tip of his tongue from letting other words slip out. Just tired . He had given that excuse so many times that he knew they wouldn’t believe him in any case. 

“Hyung…” 

Minho sighed and pulled away from the two of them. “I haven’t been sleeping properly,” he mumbled. “Guess that’s why.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. Something just felt wrong with him, like a pressure under his skin that no matter how much he tried to get rid of remained, prodding and probing. 

Dysmorphia usually didn’t hit him so harshly, it would come and go from time to time, but it wouldn’t persist. However, this time it felt like it was continuous. He blinked drearily when he realized that the shirt he had worn was loose. It wasn’t like he wanted to leave the two of them hanging either, but…

It really shouldn’t be a thing that would happen. The chances of his shirt riding up were low if not none. “Sungie told us you avoided him,” Felix said and Minho’s brows rose. “He feels bad about making you uncomfortable.” 

“It wasn’t his fault… I was busy,” Minho brushed it off. 

“Busy with what? Zoning out and scaring us when you became almost unresponsive,” Hyunjin said sharply. 

“Sorry,” Minho apologized, letting his head rest against Felix’s chest. 

“Just tell us what’s wrong, let us help you,” Felix said, his hand hesitantly resting on the arch of Minho’s back. “We won’t judge you in any case hyung, we love you.” 

But you will. Minho thought and closed his eyes. He wasn’t okay and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be okay and telling them and their reactions could only make the situation worse. Plus, he didn’t want them to think any less of him than his current position. Sure, they were a bunch of queer men who probably didn’t know where weird ended and normal started, but that didn’t change the fact that his situation was abnormal —not weird, not normal, but in between or in a completely separate league. 

“You’ll hate me,” Minho whispered. 

“We won’t,” Felix stressed. 

But Minho simply shook his breath, taking a hesitant breath, “Can we stay like this? I don’t want to talk.” 

He could already imagine Felix and Hyunjin pursing their lips and exchanging glances. But what he didn’t account for was feeling soft lips press against his forehead. “Of course,” Felix said softly. “Anytime you’re ready, we’re here.” 

Hyunjin kissed the inside of his wrist and brought Minho’s hand close to his chest. “Please, whenever you’re ready, talk to us.” 

Minho woke up to see only Felix on the bed, Hyunjin had presumably left the room and he only realized belatedly that his shirt had indeed, ridden up. He wasn’t in the same place as yesterday, he was a little more to the side and—

Panic flooded his veins like gold, heavy, heavy , and unable to be removed. He glanced at Felix and the younger’s chest was rising and falling steadily—one hand holding Minho’s, and he seemed in deep sleep. Minho sat up and felt the shirt cascade down his body along with his motions—it felt so wrong, so uneasy. He felt like crying, digging a hole and never coming out of it. 

As if his elevated anxiety levels were permeating in the room he heard Felix shift a little and turned around to see the younger sitting up, rubbing his eyes groggily. “Hm… hyung? Is something wrong?” Felix asked, already situating himself closer to Minho, clinging onto one of Minho’s hands.

“N-Nothing,” but his voice cracked pathetically when he tried to respond, and Felix seemed more awake and alert at Minho’s reaction. 

“Was it a bad dream? Did you hurt yourself because of something on the bed—” Felix looked around on the bed, searching for the non existent object, but to no avail, couldn’t find it. “Please talk to me, you look like you're about to throw up—” 

Minho couldn’t take it anymore. He just couldn’t. There were a multitude of thoughts that just refused to leave his brain. “I don’t know. I—fuck, I don’t know Yongbokie,” Minho whispered, eyes feeling hot and foggy as he tried to face Felix. But the sympathetic look on the younger’s face only made him want to crumble, curl into himself. 

“God—I I’m so sorry,” he hoarsed, his voice cracking again and out of the corner of his eye he could see Felix also start to panic. Minho wondered if he’d alert the other members, or if they would come and mock him—

Before his thoughts could spiral further, he found himself being pulled to lay on the bed, more specifically on Felix’s chest, his head burrowed in the crook of the younger’s shoulder and body almost feeling as if it was being cradled. 

“Shh,” Felix whispered, running his hand down Minho’s back. “You’re okay, I’ve got you hyungie.” 

The softness made Minho crumble even further, he sniffled and tried to keep his wet noises to himself but they still somehow escaped. “I’m so, so sorry, Yongbok—”

“No, no,” the younger man said gently. “Take your time. Take as much as you need. I’m not going anywhere and I’m not going to let you leave this room until I know you’re alright.” 

Minho could feel another rush of tears hit him. He whimpered and clung to Felix’s smaller form, belatedly realizing that he weighed more and was probably crushing the young. He tried to get up, but Felix held onto him tightly, an arm secure around his waist and the other around his shoulders, playing with the hair on his neck—he could feel Felix's heart thumping fast, but almost nothing compared to his own erratic one that was grappling for blood and air. 

"You're alright," Felix whispered, kissing the crown of Minho's head. "Just let it out, you've been so strong recently, haven't you, hyung?"

Minho swallowed. "—'m not strong."

Felix gave a noncommittal hum as if he didn't want to argue with Minho, but kept on stroking his hyung's back carefully. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

He had, but it wasn't the best sleep. It was more of the blink-and-sleep kind of slumber—in between losing consciousness and having it intact. "I slept," he whispered back. 

The younger hummed again, one hand letting go of Minho and grabbing his phone. "It's still six," he said. "You can sleep till the afternoon, all we have is dance practice in the evening."

"Yongbok I said I—" 

"I'm aware," Felix interjected. "It's just that I'm telling you that you can let go. You don't have to keep yourself so tense." He gently massaged Minho's trapezium and shoulders. He kissed away a few tears that escaped Minho's eyes and turned their position so Minho was facing him. 

"There you are." Felix smiled after a few minutes of silence. "Could you tell me what's wrong?"

Minho hesitated. Out of everyone in the group, Felix was the only one whom he felt that he could share some things given that the younger had mentioned prior that he really didn't care about the gender he represented and something about being androgynous or non binary. 

But still. 

"Wait a second," Felix whispered, bending down and kissing Minho's temple before he got off the bed and closed the door, locking it. "I don't want to pressure you into telling me, but honestly if you aren't going to talk to anyone and whatever you're holding on so tightly to is harming you, I don't think I have a choice, hyung."

Minho swallowed, burying his face into Felix's lap once the younger returned. 

"Something is wrong and it's bothering you, that's apparent, but if you don't tell us, how do we know if we're making it worse?" Felix asked, raking his fingers through Minho's hair. 

Minho closed his eyes, shuddering. "If you had someone close to you that kept a secret that made their whole identity change, what would you do?"

"I would first see or hear what the 'secret' is, then I would compare it to the relevancies, and whether having that secret really did or didn't bother me," Felix muttered. "Basically, if it's that big of a secret, there has to be a reason."

Minho opened his eyes, feeling tears prick at the corners again. "Can I tell you something? Wh—which could possibly make you hate me—actually you might be disgusted—"

"I would never—"

"I'm trans," Minho blurted, in a sharp whisper, almost echoing in the confines of the room. He could feel the tears start to stream down his face again and the sense of heaviness in his chest and impending doom was too much he couldn't—it was like he was at the beach, walking further into the waters until the waves had him captive.

Why had he said it? Why had he ruined the strenuous work he had put to protect the secret? 

"Oh," Felix said, his hands stilling in Minho's hair. "Hyung—"

Minho couldn't stop the sudden compulsion he got to just blurt out more and more information he had caged inside for years, just to himself. "I had top surgery done."

He expected Felix to get up and leave him alone, tell the other members about this and probably have him kicked out of the group. But the younger man's fingers resumed their threading, softer than it had been before. 

"It must've been hard," Felix finally muttered after what felt like an eternity. "Being alone with all this knowledge and fear of disclosing it."

Minho swallowed, pushing himself to sit up, uncaring that there were still tears running down his face as he stared at Felix, bewildered. "You're… You're not angry?"

Felix blinked. "Why would I be angry?"

"I—I don't know… " Minho suddenly felt shameful for thinking so lowly of Felix. "I just thought… you would think it's disgusting that I don't have what's required to be a guy—"

"Hey," Felix interrupted, pushing his finger against Minho's lips, effectively shutting him up. "You are my hyung, no matter what. What body parts you have is not something that's going to ever put me off or anyone of us, for that matter. We like you for you, hyung—do you know the poems Hyunjin-ah has written about your puffy morning face? And your rough yet gentle personality?"

"What you have by nature is not something anyone can control, sure, but you are allowed to choose who you want to be," Felix said, smiling at Minho, the finger tracing his lips to the faint stubble on his jaw. "And… it must've been tiring thinking down on yourself like this."

Minho felt his brain feel as though it was cotton. It didn't make sense. Why wasn’t Felix angry? Why did it feel so light to just spill his guts out? Minho felt his lower lip tremble as he tried to contain himself from going into a full blown meltdown, but Felix seemed to read him effectively this time. 

The younger pulled them into a sleeping position and let Minho bury his face into his chest as he wrapped himself tightly around the elder. “You’re alright,” he whispered, kissing Minho’s forehead. 

Minho laughed wetly at the absurdity of contradiction of how the situation actually played out and how he expected it to play out. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “That you have to see… see me like this.” 

Felix tucked a few hair strands behind his ear, and in lieu of an answer, just held Minho even closer. “You’re perfect. In all ways. And obviously, I want to ask why you kept this from us, but I know you’ll tell us when you’re ready.” 

Minho tensed in fear. “A—Are you going to tell the others?” 

There was a short pause and Felix took one arm away, using it to raise Minho’s chin so they were eye-to-eye. “No, not if you aren’t comfortable with it, but it would be a good decision to tell at least a few of them. Maybe you could hold off for a while, but hyung… you have to eventually.” 

“I know…” 

“But for the time-being, just try to sleep, I know you haven’t slept even a bit, hyungie,” Felix huffed. 

Minho sniffled one last time before nodding and burying his face back into Felix’s chest, trying to steady his breathing to the rhythm of Felix’s heart—which was still beating fast, but it was expected. He felt the younger kiss his forehead again and intertwine their legs, holding him as close as humanly possible. 

Minho lost all restraint and just let his body go lax, let his eyes shed tears that he hadn’t in months if not years with the comfort of another person. It didn’t even occur to him that he was so tired despite just waking up. 

Minho drifted awake with his head on Felix’s lap and a hushed conversation. He tried to tune into it, but his head throbbed too much for him to make sense of the first words. But he could slowly start comprehending what they were saying. 

"He seems to have been crying," a voice said, by the slight husky voice, it was Jeongin. 

"Hyung was," Felix said, his fingers playing with Minho's fringes. 

"Why?" Seungmin asked. "Was it because of what Hyunjin hyung told us?"

Minho's heart lodged in his throat. Had Hyunjin told them? Or maybe they meant something else but what if Hyunjin had told them? Then what? He shifted a little, curling further into the younger. “Where is Hyunjinnie?” Felix whispered, his fingers pausing. 

“He uh… he said he had to talk to Chan hyung about Minho hyung,” Jeongin whispered back, his weight dipping on the bed near Minho’s folded legs. “I just wish… hyung would tell me what’s wrong.” 

Minho wanted to, but he just couldn’t. If Hyunjin told Chan about the scars, then he was surely going to be intervened, and if he lied, there was a high chance they’d have their manager check him. And if they got their manager involved, the chances of them exposing Minho to the group was high. 

“I think Minho hyung just needs time,” Felix mumbled. “Just a little time till he can talk to us all about what exactly is bothering him.” 

“Did he talk to you?” Seungmin asked.

Felix’s fingers paused again before he presumably nodded. “I… I think it’s best if he discloses it, though.” 

Minho felt Jeongin’s weight further dip in front of him till Felix’s thigh also shifted a little to accommodate his weight. The younger’s breath fanned on the bridge of Minho’s nose, before he felt a tender kiss be placed to his brows, and then to his lips. “I hope you feel better,” Jeongin whispered. 

“Me too,” Seungmin muttered.

Minho wondered whether it was possible to shed an inhumane amount of tears in one day or spend the entire day just crying, because the way they were touching him—so delicately and speaking so softly made his conscience hurt. Was he thinking too low of them? But they wouldn’t react well to his information, would they?

—

“Minho-ya?” Chan poked his head into the hallway that led to the vending machines. Minho looked up, from the drink he was focused on puncturing a hole into with the straw. His schedule had thankfully not let him see Chan in the past few days, but time must’ve caught up to him. 

“Mhm?" he hummed, bringing the straw to his lips. “Yeah?” 

Chan gave him a smile. “Can we talk?” 

Minho had seen this man since the beginning of his career, and Chan had offered him many smiles. This one, Minho was easily able to recognize that it wasn’t a genuine one, it seemed like a troubled expression, confusion and questioning. There was no mirth in his eyes, nor did his dimple deepen. 

“I’m sorry, hyung, I’m busy,” Minho lied. 

Chan’s smile fell and he gave Minho an almost forlorn look. “Please?" he asked. “We can come to your dorm if you prefer, but I need to talk to you—all of us.” 

Minho felt his hand tremble and he swallowed carefully, trying to come up with some kind of excuse, but before he could open his mouth, he saw Changbin walking into the hallway past Chan. “There you are Lino!" he shouted, rushing over to them. “Can you come to our dorm?”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Hyung, please?” Changbin pleaded. 

Minho sucked in a breath, careful not to squeeze the juicebox too hard. He knew what was coming, it was the inevitable confrontation. And he didn’t want it. As if a coincidence, his phone rang, lighting up with his mother’s contact. “Sorry, gotta take this,” he mumbled, walking past them. 

He accepted the call and waited for his mother’s usual comforting voice, but rather than the sweet voice akin to his, he heard a rougher one. A taunting and disgusting one. “If it isn’t my baby girl.”

Minho's eyes widened and he slipped into one of the empty studio rooms. “What are you doing?" he asked. 

“ Is that a way you greet your father, you little shit?” 

Minho rolled his eyes. “Tell me one thing that you did that was ‘fatherly’. Where is eomma?”

“She’s ill. I’ve been told to look after her cats. And obviously, I love that woman, even if she gave birth to a little bitch like you. Oh right, did your little group find out?”

There was something in his father’s voice that made him want to throw up all together and dig at his skin. He stayed quiet, knowing that it was better to cut the call than make it worse for himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. 

His silence must’ve egged the latter on. “I guess not. You’re still behind that little pathetic inhibition? You know I would’ve loved you so much if you would’ve just been my little girl.”

Minho gritted his teeth. “You know nothing about me.” 

There was a pause on the other end. “You know… bitch… your mother has contacts of the people you call ‘so precious’ how easy do you think it will be for me to just send them a message?”

Minho pulled the phone away from his ear, unable to continue listening to the wretched tone and declined the call. He took a sharp breath in and shuddered, he had to tell them before something happened that would make his decision inevitable. 

—

His dilemma lasted up to four days until he could no longer avoid it. It seemed like Chan had had enough of him avoiding everyone and probably going into a behavior that was minorly catatonic. “You’re coming, whether you like it or not,” Chan had said when he entered the dance room. 

Minho resisted a bit, but let the older man pull him out of the room. It wasn’t really worth it anymore, fighting for anything. “You keep running away, it won’t work anymore.” Chan had a tight grip on his hand that Minho was tempted to break free off, but it would only worsen the situation. 

The ride to the 3racha + Hyunjin dorm was quiet, and Minho didn’t dare utter any word. Things had been getting better ever since he spoke to Felix, but the words of his father kept replaying in his head. What if… what if… ?

“Minho-ya?” 

Minho glanced to his side to find that the car door was open, and Chan was holding out his hand for Minho to take. It felt enervating taking the elder’s hand and stepping out of the car and Minho swallowed thickly. “...hyung?” 

“Yeah?” Chan glanced at him, his features were much softer after he had one arm wrapped securely around Minho’s waist, knowing the dancer would stay there, wouldn’t run again. 

“Can we… go by the stairs?” Minho asked nervously. The elevator ride would feel like an impending doom clock set to a countdown.

Chan’s fingers tensed and he took a short breath before he nodded. “Okay.” 

The walk up the stairs was as quiet as the car, nothing said, only a little shortness of breath at the end. Chan walked him to his dorm, and Minho halfly expected all the other members to be there, crowding him, but was surprised to see that the dorm was empty. 

“Where’s everyone?” Minho asked, stepping inside and taking his shoes off. 

Chan hesitated. “I sent them out—or they went to your dorm, I’m not sure.” 

Minho swallowed again, sucking in a deep breath and reminding himself that whatever Chan would ask, he would answer it without getting emotional. Without being bothered or troubled by it. “Do you want tea?” Chan asked. “Or coffee, or water.” 

A small pause settled in between them and Minho sighed. “Tea’s fine.” 

Their path bifurcated and Minho went to sit on the couch and Chan walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t long before the scent of herbal tea began to wisp around the room. Maybe it was chamomile, or butterflypea, he couldn't really tell. Minho looked up at Chan as he placed the teacup in Minho’s hands and sat down on the couch beside him. 

The silence in between them seemed almost painstaking before Chan broke it. “What is going on with you?” 

The urge to say nothing lay on the tip of his tongue and Minho literally bit back his words. “It’s uh… not necessarily… uhm—” he rambled, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them. Usually, he never—practically never stammered, stuttered, or rambled in front of them unless he was flustered. But right now his leg was bobbing and his hands felt clammy with anxiety.

He swallowed and looked at his feet. “Sorry,” he croaked. 

Chan sighed, sitting cross-legged on the couch and staring at Minho’s side profile. “Are you…” the elder hesitated. “Hurting?” 

Minho knew that Chan said things in many ways like he smiled. The words the older had uttered weren’t a question, they were more over stating a fact and Minho knew that it was bad enough that Chan knew about that, and wondered how he’d react if Minho revealed more things. 

But somehow he felt frustration prick at his insides, probably tangible in between them. “What do you want me to reply to that?” Minho sighed, placing his teacup on the table and running a hand down his face. 

Chan was silent, and he shifted closer to Minho, resting his hand on Minho’s knee. "I just want to help you, Minho-ya.” 

I hate my body, and I’m scared that you will too. Do you know how wrong it feels in this body? How frustrating is it to make people just accept you?

“Minho-ya.” 

Minho peeled his hands away from his face. “...Mh?” 

“Can I see?” 

The initial shock of the whole situation made Minho almost apathetic to this. He was sure the burn marks on his thighs and torso would be prominent since it was still the first days, and he knew that Chan would react in two ways: disgusted or overprotective. Of which the second one seemed more plausible. But showing Chan his scars would make him also reveal other things. 

Regardless, he knew he couldn’t keep it in forever, it was impossible. If he did he was sure that he would just end himself with this secret instead of ever saying it out loud. “Okay,” he exhaled. 

Chan gave him a comforting smile and got up to close the blinds before he turned on some dim light and sat down beside Minho in the same spot. “Come here,” he said softly and reached his hands to lock on the hem of Minho’s sweatshirt. Minho tensed, holding his breath and Chan let go. 

“I don’t want to force this,” he said softly. “You look as if you’re going to throw up, I… I want to see how bad it is but if it’s at the expense of making you so uncomfortable, I don’t want to. Could you just tell me what’s wrong?” 

Minho was used to force. Used to being pushed, shouted at, hit, but he hated softness or kindness—Chan was scolding him in some manner, but it was so respectful and not in any way accusing made him slump. He clambered onto Chan’s lap and straddled his waist, burying his face in the crook of the latter’s neck, inhaling Chan’s faded cologne. 

“You can see…. But please don’t be angry,” he whispered. 

“Aegi, I’d never—” 

“Don’t make statements prior,” Minho cut him off. 

Chan’s hands stilled and finally moved to hold the hem of Minho’s sweatshirt. Minho pulled away from his safe place and raised his hands, and just like that he felt the sweatshirt be pulled off, tossed somewhere on the couch or the ground, he didn’t pay any attention to that, instead was hellbent on seeing Chan’s reaction. 

The elder’s mouth was ajar, and his eyes were slightly wider. “Minho…” he began, staring at the scars at the bottom of his sternum, almost ignoring the lighter burns. “This… oh my god.” 

Before Minho could say anything, he felt himself be pulled into a tight embrace by Chan, who wrapped his hands tightly around Minho’s bare back. The feeling of hands against his skin made Minho lean in even more, completely pliant. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—about this. Is that why you never… shit,” Chan rambled. 

Minho had expected every reaction other than this. Chan was breathing slowly, as if trying to process everything. “And the burn marks?" he asked. 

Minho hesitated. “I uh… sometimes I–I don’t know, the body just feels wrong and I need to do something to take myself away from that.” 

Chan exhaled sharply. “Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“And have everyone hate me?” Minho replied almost instantly, feeling his vision turn blurry. “Chan hyung… I like you all too much to want to disrupt anything and I knew I couldn’t hide it forever but I…” 

“ Hate ?” Chan asked, repeating his word, sounding more or less incredulous. “Why the fuck would we ever hate you? Minho-ya, we’ve literally had you puke on us when you came too drunk and we still were enamored by you. Or even when you drooled while you slept for a few months.” 

“Do you know how we find the trivial things about you fascinating? Like the way you blink a couple times when you’re retaliating or thinking or just trying to piss us off. Or the way you dance and run the stage like it’s your circus. Do you really think we would hate you?” Chan sounded hurt, hurt by what Minho said about himself. “Did you know that Hyunjin-ah came back to the dorm crying while he told us what he saw?”

Minho exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry.” 

“No. Please don’t apologize,” Chan whispered sharply. “Have you told anyone else?”

“That I’m trans? Yeah, to Yongbok.” 

“What about the others?” Chan pulled away from the hug, although his hands still remained on Minho’s waist. Minho felt a lump form in his throat when he noticed Chan had unshed tears in his eyes. 

The younger man shook his head. “I wanted to… but I can’t.” 

“Why—” 

“Jeongin and Changbin are gay,” Minho interjected. “They’re… they are only attracted to men—” 

“You are a man,” Chan said. “And do you know how Changbin told me he liked you?” 

“When we were high on caffeine pills in the studio, he confessed that he loved the way you teased him, or the way you smiled and went into so many minutiae details that are nowhere near what you look like or your body,” Chan said. “Yen-ah said he liked you because you were always there to shove away any of those pricks that tried to bully him while he was a trainee. Or how you sacrificed your sleep to train him in dance.”

“They said they’re gay, sure, but the reasons they fell for you were never your body or your looks, it was what you did, do you really think anything is going to change that?” Chan asked, looking at Minho. 

“I—I don’t know hyung, it’s just.” 

“I know you’re scared and you were so brave to tell me and Felix, but I want you to know that whatever you do, we’ll never look at you any differently.” Chan glanced at the scars again and locked eyes with Minho before moving close and gently kissing each one of them. 

Just then, the sound of the front door opening made Minho flinch hard. “Chan hyung?" he heard Hyunjin’s voice. 

Chan pulled away from Minho and sighed. “Living room, Hyunjin.” 

“We’re going to Felix’s—” Hyunjin paused the moment he entered the living room. Blinking at Minho, who was burying his face in the crook of Chan’s neck. “Yeah,” Chan said, and Minho felt the inclination to pinch him. 

“Hyunjin-ah,” Chan called out and Minho swallowed the uneasiness growing in his throat. “Could you tell Minho-ya what you told me when we put him to sleep on his bed in April?” 

Minho felt a weight dip beside them and a soft inhale. “Imagine relaying your admittance,” Hyunjin laughed softly and Minho glanced at him. “Don’t worry, it’s not a little cheesy, it’s a lot.”

“I think you had overworked yourself and had come back to the shared dorm and passed out on the couch,” Hyunjin said, smiling a bit as he remembered. “When me and Chan hyung tried to put you on the bed, you clung to the two of us and refused to let go until we were crammed in Changbin hyung’s lower bunk. And I think the moment I felt you burying your head in my chest was when I realized. Shit. I love him,” Hyunjin laughed a bit, “It was cheesy, but I blurted it out. And believe it or not, made you my muse for a few songs.” 

Chan rubbed his waist. “There’s always something other than physical, Minho-ya.” 

“You know the funny thing is that you never really let go of me until the next morning,” Hyunjin sighed. “And all I had thought was: this is the man whom I want to literally protect even if I’m a bunch of twigs.” 

Minho sniffled, pulling away from Chan and leaned to Hyunjin, who automatically helped him straddle onto his lap. He glanced at the scars and gave Minho a soft smile. “Nothing will change. You’re still mine.” 

When they heard Chan clear his throat, Hyunjin giggled. “Ours.” 

“None of you are angry?” 

Hyunjin and Chan exchanged glances. “No? I mean… I understand all the times you rejected any sexual act. And like, I—I understand . To be honest… all of this, for some reason I was anticipating something like this." Hyunjin let his hand touch Minho's and slowly make its way to intertwine their fingers. 

Minho chewed on his bottom lip, slumping in Hyunjin's hold. "Really, Minho-ya, hyung. The reason we like you isn't as superficial as you think."

"Superficial?" Chan repeated the word. "Please. I bet you could ask Seungminnie why he likes you and he'd say two words but then flop next to Changbin-ah and Felixie and go on to say how much he loves you."

Minho swallowed, pulling his face away from the crook of Hyunjin's neck and sniffling softly. "Yah," Chan chided, bringing his thumb to wipe away his tears. 

"Do you plan on telling anyone else?" Hyunjin asked. 

Minho pursed his lips. "I don't know… telling them would mean… other things too."

Hyunjin's eyes briefly flashed towards the burn marks and he sighed. "It's alright."

Chan smiled at Minho again. "Yah, our baby boy looks pretty even when he cries."

Somehow that made him sniffle again. 

—

Courage wasn't the right word to describe how he felt. Chan and Hyunjin and Felix had frowned at him when he said that he wouldn't tell the members about himself soon. They had told him that the longer the secret was spurred, the harder it would be to keep it. 

He came back to his dorm somewhere past midnight, with sweat still sticking his hair to his forehead from yet again pushing himself to get the choreography right. When he walked towards his room, he was surprised to see Seungmin on his bed, quietly dozing off in the most awkward position possible. 

He walked inside the room quietly and headed towards the bathroom after grabbing a clean pair of clothes. He wiped the sweat off with a damp washcloth and used a little deodorant in turn of taking a bath before slipping clean clothes on and stepping out. 

Seungmin was still dozing, his legs hanging off the bed as he let out quiet breaths. Minho simply turned the small LED night lamp and turned off the main lights, slipping into the bed beside Seungmin and making an attempt to fix his position. 

When he had Seungmin laying more comfortably, he let himself bury his face into Seungmin's chest, closing his eyes. 

"Ah, welcome back, hyung," Minho heard a soft groan and a rumble from within Seungmin's chest. "You're late."

Minho shrugged. "Had to get the choreo right, Seungmin-ah."

Seungmin hummed quietly, then brought his hand to wrap around Minho's waist. "Are you… it's best I get to the point. Dating someone?"

Minho's brows scrunched. "No?"

Seungmin frowned into his hair. "I meant… like dating a girl by any chance."

"Why would I? I agreed I wouldn't date outside the company or even the group. Plus I have you guys—"

"I found a pack of tampons in the bathroom." 

Minho stilled, his breath almost getting stuck in his throat. Seungmin hadn't wavered much when he had said those words like most people. "Ah… uhm." Minho couldn't think—couldn't find something to counter the latter with. 

"So?" Seungmin asked, but his voice was lighter. "I'm sorry if this is all direct but I need to relay my thoughts in a straightforward manner."

"Seungmin-ah, I'm not—"

"Did you lie that you're bisexual since you thought we'd not be happy or something if you rejected our proposition?" Seungmin asked, interrupting him. 

Minho pulled away, and shook his head. "That is not the case. I am bisexual, there's no doubt in that—"

"Then how come you never really let us love you?" Seungmin asked, a blatant—almost accusing look in his eyes. "You shower us with everything you have but always reject us trying to reciprocate, do you… not like us? And then the tampons too… is it for your girlfriend?"

Minho could feel his stomach start to sink with nervousness. "No, no, it's not and I don't reject your advances—"

"Every time we get even the slightest intimate you back out, like you're scared or I just don't know. Hyung it hurts, and I don't think it's just about you being 'busy' or 'not ready' anymore. It's more than that and you aren't giving any clear reason." Seungmin's lips were pursed tightly and he almost looked equally as distressed as Minho. 

Minho bit on his lower lip. "It's… complicated."

"What you're doing is ," Seungmin agreed, his voice wavering. 

Minho honestly wondered how many tears he'd be shedding just because of this concept. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. "They're mine."

The silence that followed was oddly tangible. Seungmin's sharp inhale was also as good as a hand raising itself. "You mean… the sanitary product that women use for their periods… belongs to you ?"

Minho chewed on his lower lip before he nodded. 

"But… how—I… it doesn't make sense," Seungmin began but momentarily it seemed like it clicked to him, he stared at Minho in an almost incredulous manner. "Hyung… are you trans?"

Minho could already feel a foreboding lump in his throat. He didn't want to say it out loud, hell, hated those words—but he couldn't deny the truth. He simply locked eyes with Seungmin and nodded slowly. 

The younger was quick to break out into a panicked frenzy. "Is that why… oh my god."

Minho held his breath as Seungmin seemingly collected himself. The younger one suddenly embraced Minho tightly. "Fuck. Shit. I'm so sorry, hyung, for accusing you… I—I didn't know it was… oh my god."

Minho blinked in surprise that Seungmin was actually holding him like this. He brought his free hand to pat down on the younger's back. "I'm so sorry, Seungmin-ah, that hyung can't really give you what you want."

Seungmin shook his head. "I don't care. Hyung is hyung whether anything changes or not."

Minho held back tears this time. "But still… I'm sorry."

Seungmin shook his head. "It's not your fault."

Minho chewed on his bottom lip and let himself relax. "Can we just sleep?" he asked. 

Seungmin nodded, his hands tightening their hold on Minho, almost protectively. 

—

Their choreographer was always a moody person. Sometimes, they were in a good mood and they'd let things pass by, but today they had wrung out the last bit from everyone. Jeongin and Seungmin especially, since the two were late to the dance room to begin with.

Minho wished he could have interjected in some way or another to stop the younger members from being scolded by their choreographer but he simply could not intervene. And instead, he ended up offering them some extra practice. 

The thing is, ever since Seungmin found out about him being trans, he didn’t particularly treat Minho differently, but there was a shift in his attitude, as if he was more protective—even if it was just the slightest. 

“Like that?” Jeongin asked, and Minho nodded, moving his posture the slightest so Jeongin could mimic him. “Keep your stance more open, or you can fall.” 

The younger man listened to him, and within a few more practices, had the choreography practically perfected. Which ended in the three of them lying on the ground panting after the rough sessions. “Thank you so much,” Jeongin muttered, lying on Seungmin’s lap.

Minho rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Yen-ah, hyung’s been your guys’ private dance instructor since day one.” 

Seungmin sat up, cracking his back. “True.”

Jeongin frowned a little. “Also, hyung. Why do you not look in the mirror anymore?” 

Minho shrugged, his hands already resuming their fiddling. “I don’t look at the mirror anymore?" he repeated the younger’s question. 

“You keep looking away. Hyung’s dance is fine and all that, but he refuses to look at the mirror which makes it look like he isn’t confident.” Jeongin sat up, looking down at Minho. 

“I am confident, aren’t I?” Minho teased, resting his feet on Jeongin’s thigh, his head on Seungmin’s lap. 

Jeongin frowned further, looking past him and exchanging glances with Seungmin. “Something’s up with you, hyung. These days—you’re not the same. I mean I know I don’t expect you to be smiling 24/7 but it’s just that… there’s something else that’s happening that you aren’t telling us—or me.” 

“It’s nothing important—”

“It is important, it’s you —Minho hyung, who I’m talking to for god’s sake.” Jeongin said exasperatedly, his hands playing with the cuffs of Minho’s jeans on which Hyunjin had drawn stars. 

“Love you too, Yen-ah.” 

“You’re not going to leave this conversation just like that, hyung, you ditched Jisung hyung too,” Jeongin muttered. 

"Innie, stop," Seungmin murmured, his hand pinching the younger's nape. "Seriously, if hyung wants to, he'll tell."

"Seems like hyung already told you then," Jeongin huffed, crossing his arms against his chest and staring at Minho. The elder looked away from him. He might as well tell the younger one but he could feel something summer under his skin. Jeongin was gay , and what if he simply couldn't accept Minho?

Minho took a shuddered breath, eyes trained to the ground. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, defeated. 

"The truth? Why you keep rejecting sexual advances, won't let us cuddle close with you—"

"There's a reason for that and it's personal," Seungmin interjected, his eyes on both of them. 

"It's not fair Seungmin hyung knows, and I can assume Chan hyung and all the hyungs already know." Jeongin muttered, before he sighed and bowed his head in apology. "Sorry."

Minho tried smiling. "It's fine."

"But hyung—I just care about you and it scares me why you're acting like this," Jeongin whispered. 

"Hypothetically, if someone you knew were trans, what would you think?" Minho asked, internally letting out a defeated sigh.

Jeongin blinked. "Then I'd most likely not mention it? Like they're trans, they are trans. That's who they want to be and I'll respect them by using correct pronouns."

Minho licked his lower lip. “Will you connect the dots or do you need me to say it out loud?”

There was a short pause—the one you sometimes heard before a foreshadowed gunshot. But instead of a gunshot it was Jeongin’s hand finding its way into Minho’s to interlace their fingers and squeeze. 

“You don't have to walk on eggshells around me,” Jeongin said softly, completely disregarding Minho's prior statement in favor of focusing his attention onto the linoleum. “You'll continue being my hyung no matter what.”

Minho closed his eyes and exhaled sharply as he thought over and over again about Jeongin's words. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

“No, I should thank you for trusting me with this information, it's not easy to tell anyone.”

Minho nodded quietly before starting to pick himself up. “There's still someone remaining. I need to tell him.”

“Then go,” Seungmin hummed, giving Minho a small smile. 

Changbin was in the gym in the midst of changing the weights of his dumbbell when Minho found him. It took a few moments of just blankly staring at the other man before he had the gall to approach him. 

“Hi,” he breathed. 

Changbin blinked as he frowned at Minho. “Hi… what are you up to?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Changbin chuckled softly as he played with the screw on one side. “You know what I mean. What do you want from me, hyung? I'm not getting you more pudding, if that's what you're wondering in case your little pockets left you.”

Minho pouted. “Don't call Seungminne and Yen-ah pockets.”

Changbin hummed distantly as he moved away to drag a bench over for Minho to sit on from where the bench press machine lay. “Alright,” he said, finally picking up the weight with one hand, his forearms bulging heavily. “What is it?”

“Would you be angry if I told you something?”

“Even if I was angry, you'd toss me into the air fryer until you thought I'm more tolerable,” Changbin groaned as he crouched near the bench by Minho and rested his elbow on the foam. “Why, what's going on?”

“You're the only one who doesn't think something is wrong with me,” Minho whispered. “What if I tell you something is .”

Changbin sighed heavily and dropped the weight. “Can I be honest about something? Which you might be upset about?”

Minho licked his lower lip. “What is it?”

Changbin wiped the sweat from his face as he pursed his lips together into a thin line, observing Minho's face. “I know,” he said slowly. “About you being trans.”

Minho felt himself go standstill as he digested the information slow and surely. He knew. Changbin knew. He knew. Heknewheknewheknewheknew. “You…”

“Let me continue,” the younger man said softly. “You might not like this part.”

Minho opened and closed his mouth, jaw clenching and unclenching as he waited for Changbin to continue. “Three years back, a year after debut, I called your home number to see if your mother could tell me something which you'd want for you birthday, but instead of her getting my voicemail, I got a text from… uh… “

Changbin shifted uncomfortably until he sat down on his haunches. “Your appa… he spoke formally with me in the beginning, then he started talking weirdly. Out of nowhere he began saying daughter , and asked me if I wanted to know a secret.”

Changbin's eyes lowered till they were fixated on the floor. “I had been desperate. Your birthday was in three days, we had schedules on the days preceding, so I'd said yes. And I… I don't know Minho hyung—he sent pictures of you , and I was instantly alarmed, obviously. I blocked him after the third picture—I always wondered if that was the reason you never engaged—”

Minho threw his arms around Changbin before the younger could finish talking. “Sorry.”

Changbin pulled away from the hug and stared at Minho incredulously. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sorry for not coming clean about it. I should’ve mentioned it to you earlier, but I thought it would be better if you told me yourself.”

“What did you do… after you found out?” 

“Well, I did tell you earlier, didn’t I? Your birthday was in three days. I guess I just swallowed past it. It wasn’t like it really affected the way I saw you anyways, y’know?” Changbin traced a thin scar of Minho’s hand from when he’d accidentally touched the hot pan while cooking with Seungmin. 

“And you weren’t angry?”

Changbin smiled at that, slowly lifting his head to meet Minho’s eyes. “You’re who you are. I don’t care if we never have sex, if I never see you naked. I’m glad that I get to have you love me.”

Minho pressed his lips together tightly before exhaling from his nose. “Bastard,” he whispered.

“ Lovesick bastard,” Changbin corrected him sweetly. “C’mon hyung, I know this is a big deal for you, but I hope you know I’ve accepted you long ago. And never once have I hated you for who you are.”

Minho sniffled but laughed when Changbin crouched down so his head was in Minho’s lap. “Although, one day I’d love to ravish you.”

“You’re such a service top,” Minho huffed, his heart beats slowly receding into its regular rhythm. “I’m glad… that I have you all.”

“And not that bastard of a father, if the Purge was legal, I’m sorry but that man would be the first to go,” Changbin scoffed. “Asshole.”

Minho smiled, unrestrained. “Thank you, Changbin-ah.”

“I love you, hyungie,” Changbin whispered. “Never forget that.”

—

“I don’t know how to talk to him, hyung,” Minho mumbled, sitting in the studio upside down on the couch behind Chan's workspace. The elder was multitasking through a multitude of tasks—reading emails, checking if his composition matched the 3/4th beat, and he’d told Minho to talk how much he wanted. 

Minho had beaten around in the silence for a while, messing around with the guitar, trying to remember what Jisung and Seungmin had taught him not long back. Then he’d gone to play some simple Mary Had A Little Lamb tune on the piano which Jeongin had begrudgingly taught the group the previous year. 

And then he’d moped on the couches until Chan was done with at least checking if his composition was done right. “I don’t know Min,” Chan mumbled, clicking save , then closing his Gmail tab, and finally turning to face Minho. “It’s Jisung we’re talking about, he’ll take this in stride.”

“But… I don’t know, I think he’ll do his usual thing where he’s okay with it until he isn’t.”

“Minho-ya,” Chan said, tilting his head to the side with an expression that could only be read as fond . Minho tried his best not to cave in and pout. “Come here?”

Minho scrunched his nose as he made his way to Chan so he was standing in front of the latter. “Yeah?”

“My god,” Chan sighed in exasperation as he wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist and brought him to sit on one thigh. “You’re too tense about the entire thing, y’know? How did all of us come to terms with it?”

“You all were… okay with it,” Minho mumbled. 

“And, last time I checked, Jisungie was your soulmate. If anything, he’ll simply kiss you silly and say that this was something stupid.”

Minho sighed, easing some tension in his jaw as Chan pinched his forearm. “It’ll be okay,” the elder promised. “You need to relax, first off, and just… be yourself, yeah?”

Chan knocked their foreheads together and let their noses bump. “Alright,” he whispered. “I’ll come with you?”

“Okay.”

When Minho knocked on the door to Jisung’s room and opened it, the younger man glared at him the moment he entered. Due to his therapy appointment ending early, the management had excused Jisung for the evening, letting him go back to the dorms. 

“What is it?” 

Minho raised his brows as he approached the bed—it was pushed to the side of the room, allowing the evening light from outside to pour onto the foot of the bed. Jisung had organized his work desk in the other corner right next to his closet, and at the wall adjacent to that was a heap of instruments and makeshift recording equipment. 

“Can I not be here?” Minho asked as he sat down next to Jisung. 

Jisung stared at him before averting his eyes to his phone, thumbing the homescreen mindlessly. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Not after you spent the entire last weeks coddling all of the other members and only acknowledged me when I did something that was an inconvenience.”

Minho bit his bottom lip as he folded his socked feet on the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sure hyung,” Jisung said, turning his phone face down. “Sorry always cuts it for you, doesn’t it?” 

Minho’s brows pinched together. “What are you talking about?”

“The last time we spoke properly together was months ago,” Jisung whispered sharply. “And the last time we spoke for more than fifteen minutes was when we were fucking arguing.”

“Jisung—”

“That was an asshole move of you, hyung,” Jisung snapped. “And… you’ve apparently told everyone about something and have left me out of it—do you know how that feels? It feels like I’ve fucked up completely. I’ve lost you. You haven’t checked your messages and neither has the group chats.”

“I can explain,” Minho whispered. “Just… breathe, Jisung-ah.”

Jisung seemed irritated, no, he looked like Minho was still lying to him and it broke Minho’s heart. “I wish you’d trust me again, hyung-ah. It feels so hard to think right now. At least, tell me what I’ve done wrong… I’ll fix it. I don’t want to lose you.”

Minho dug his fingernails into his palms and forced himself to regulate his own breathing as he stared at Jisung. “It’s not your fault,” he said, voice matter-of-fact. “None of this is. It’s on me, really, for being a coward.”

“But—”

Minho took Jisung’s hand in his own and shook his head. “Can I talk?”

Jisung clamped his mouth shut and nodded, his shoulders falling from their tense states as Minho gave him a small smile. “So,” he began. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

“But, I… uhm,” Minho licked his lips. “I’m trans.”

Jisung’s hand tensed and Minho held his breath. “I… I’ve been slowly coming clean to the others about it as well, and each time, it took a huge chunk of my energy and I’m so sorry for neglecting you.”

“I… I didn’t know how to just… say it outright to you. Chan hyung found out about it because Hyunjin just happened to see , Changbin-ah apparently already knew because of my father… Felix was the first one I confided in and the rest were just dominos—”

“Bastard,” Jisung whispered, launching himself at Minho. “I thought I had done something to make you hate me.”

Minho blinked in surprise as he breathed out a laugh. “No, no, no, you could never.”

“And neither could you,” Jisung whispered into his neck as he lay on top of Minho’s body. “Never—and, just so you know, I don’t give two flying fucks about who you identify as. You could be a worm for all I care and I’d still be head over heels for you. But , as long as you don’t lose your personality.”

Minho wrapped his arms around Jisung’s waist. “Okay.”

“Just okay? I think I deserve more than that bi-syllable,” Jisung huffed, kissing Minho’s jaw. “Don’t you think, Linoring?” 

Minho laughed, his body losing tension as if he was slowly taking out off jenga pieces from a tower. “How would I be sassy if I was a worm, Jisung-ah?”

“Shut up,” Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes. “It makes sense.”

“You make it make sense,” Minho whispered. “I think I must’ve been a saint in my past life to have all of you in my life.”

“Nuh-uh.” Jisung shook his head. “You just had to be Lee Minho. Maybe some prince.”

Minho ignored the way his eyes grew watery as he held Minho close to his chest. “And you were what? My humble servant?”

“Nope,” Jisung grumbled. “I was the man that history addicts called ‘one of his highness’ sworn brothers.”

Minho couldn't help but deflate at that with a soft sigh. “Whatever you wish, Jisungie.”

“Lino?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’m always here for you, yeah? Always.”

Minho squeezed the smaller man tightly.

—

“Minho?” 

Minho halted in his place and glanced at the doorway to see Chan gesturing for him to come closer. He had been in the midst of a dance session with Hyunjin, who wanted Minho’s advice on a certain move he had been struggling on for a while. In Minho’s opinion, the younger man had already perfected it to some degree and was just finding excuses to spend more time with him. 

Minho didn’t mind it—not anymore, at least.

“What is it, hyung?” he asked, jogging over to where Chan stood with his arms crossed and a tense expression. Behind them, Hyunjin went over to pause the upbeat music, drowning them in the echoing silence of the studio.

“Do you recognize this number?” the elder asked, holding his phone out in front for Minho to take. 

Minho scrunched his nose as he took the elder’s phone in his hands and read the digits slowly. This was a number that Minho wouldn’t dare forget. “Why are you asking?” He glanced up at Chan in question, his grip tightening on the phone case. 

Chan’s jaw clicked. “Is that your father?”

Minho poked his tongue at the inside of his cheek and glanced down at the number once again before he met Chan’s eyes. “Yes.” 

“I’m going to kill this bastard,” Chan whispered. 

Minho’s brows furrowed and he gripped Chan’s bicep. “What happened?”

“First we thought it was some sasaeng,” Chan began, his knuckles white from where they gripped on the door. 

“A sasaeng?” Hyunjin asked quietly. “What’s going on?”

“He sent messages to Seungmin-ah’s phone,” Chan mumbled. “ Horrendous comments about you .” Chan’s eyes met Minho’s. “Seungmin showed it to Changbin and then the both of them came to me. We didn’t text back but a message stuck out to us. It was the one where this person claimed to be your father.”

Minho let go of Chan’s arm and ran a hand down his face, slowly shaking his head. “He never had the guts to go far. I thought his jurisdiction ended at sending me those things.”

“What?” Hyunjin asked, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re still taking this guy’s bullshit?” 

“Well,” Minho leaned against the doorway and glanced in between them. “Someone’s got to entertain him, better me. At least he didn’t open his mouth during our debut days.”

“Minho-ya,” Chan began seriously. “You’ve been taking his shit all this time?”

“It’s fine,” Minho brushed it off. “Really. I ignore whatever he spews anyways. I just never wanted him to reach you guys, but I guess I was wrong.”

“That’s not the fucking point,” Hyunjin seethed. “It’s that you’ve been entertaining this jackass for all this time. And for what? For him to degrade you all the time?”

“Is that why you thought we would hate you if you came out to us?” Chan asked quietly and Minho couldn’t help but shrug. 

“It’s fine ,” he mumbled. “Seriously—just block him from all your phones. Mine is off anyways.”

“No, it’s not fine ,” Hyunijn huffed. “If he’s like this now, how was he when you lived under the same roof?”

“Hyunjin’s right, Minho-ya, this is serious ,” Chan whispered, grasping Minho’s hand, which was ready to brush him off again. 

Minho stared at Chan’s grip and then at Hyunjin before he sighed. “Let me guess what he said? Some pretty transphobic comments about how what I’m doing is sinful? How you guys accepting me or the company even employing me is a vice mistake? Maybe how I slept my way through to get here? Yeah, I’m used to that, it’s nothing new. Just block him and move on.”

“That is not nothing ,” Hyunjin said, scandalized. “Chan hyung, is that what he texted?”

Chan stared at Minho, but the younger man refused to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s what he texted.”

Just then, Chan turned back as he heard a faint call of his name, which grew louder until Felix approached him with a thud against his back. “Hyung, some unknown number was texting Jisungie’s phone and he’s freaking out.”

Chan eyed Minho before nodding towards Felix, moving out of the way. When Felix caught onto Minho’s stature, he froze. “O-oh, hyung, hi.”

Minho tried to smile at him, he really did, but all that he could do was acknowledge the younger man with a nod. “Minho-ya,” Chan sighed in exasperation. “You can sue him, y’know? For defamation or harassment?”

“He’s my father, Chan hyung,” Minho said sharply. 

Chan’s eyes narrowed. “That’s no father. Not if he can’t accept you for who you are and live with it.”

“I can't do that to him—despite everything, he is the reason everything was possible.”

Hyunjin slowly wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist and pressed his forehead into Minho’s shoulder. “Breathe, you’ll drive yourself into a panic attack. How about we let Chan hyung handle this with the management?”

“Hyung, you can’t,” Minho whispered, shaking his head. “My parents love each other. I can’t do that to them. My eomma would be heartbroken.”

“Does she know what her husband is doing to their child?” Chan asked, voice grim. 

Minho’s jaw went slack. “She… she knows he doesn’t approve, but I don’t think she knows this part.” 

“Stop protecting him,” Hyunjin whispered, squeezing Minho with his lanky figure. “You’ve endured enough. If this shows you eomma who he really is, she will take your side.”

“I don’t want her to,” Minho mumbled, feeling his eyes burn. His mother had already gone behind his father’s back too many times. And each time, his father forgave her because he loved her. Minho could take whatever that man spewed as long as it meant his mother was happy.

“Hey, relax, we’ll sort this out,” Felix said, shaking his head. “We’ll block the number for now, then can we talk about this more clearly? Your past is still fuzzy in my head. And everything you’re saying is overlapping.”

Minho swallowed hard. “Don’t sue him for now, please.”

Chan’s jaw tensed again as he searched Minho’s eyes. “Okay,” he whispered. “For now.”

Minho slumped in Hyunjin’s hold once Chan walked away with Felix. 

Shit . 

“You mean to say, your mother supported you throughout?” Jeongin asked quietly, crossing his arms against his chest. “And your father was against it, but because it was your mother’s doing, he forgave her but not you?”

“It’s complicated,” Minho mumbled. “I made their lives complicated enough as it is. They both really like each other, and have stuck together long enough. My father… he just wanted a daughter, I guess, so he could raise a mini version of my mother. I tried hard to fit into that little box, but it was simply too much.”

Seungmin squeezed his hand as he continued. “I came out to my mother and she was a little angry in the beginning, trying to process the entire load of information I’d dumped on her. She came to terms with it and when I turned fourteen she took me to one of her doctor friends to get testosterone pills and all that.”

“She did this all behind your father’s back?” Jisung asked quietly. 

Minho scrunched his nose. “He didn’t realize it until it was too late. I guess when I finally got the courage to cut my hair completely short, he had some revelation that I wasn’t fitting into his category of ‘daughter’ or whatever was happening.” 

“Plus, I was into dance from a young age, so some parts never really developed to full extremities, and at around seventeen—”

“Before you joined JYPent?”

“Yeah. My mother lied to the doctor with the help of her friend about my age and I got the surgery done,” Minho mumbled, scratching his neck. “I guess after this they argued for months, but eventually my father’s love for my mother outweighed his hatred towards her for supporting me. Ever since then I’ve barely been home, but he still manages to somehow find me in my hometown.”

There was an awkward silence in the living room which Changbin decided to break. “Has he ever… physically hurt you?”

Minho tensed. “As much as regular parents do.”

“Minho—”

“He didn’t abuse me—”

“Minho-ya,” Chan said gently, crouching in front of Minho. “This is abuse . It’s completely conditional love. I… I don’t know how you’ve been living with it for so long, but you’re an adult now, you can sue him for still—”

Minho bit his lower lip and shook his head. “I can’t do that to my mother.”

“What will you do when she finds out herself and hurts because she couldn’t protect you?” Seungmin asked, his voice monotonous. 

Minho blinked, feeling tears streaming down his face. “I don’t know. I don’t want to face this now in any case.”

“Then when will you come to terms with the fact you’ve lived through abuse?” Changbin asked. 

“It’s not abuse ,” Minho said, exasperated. “No, seriously, I’m fine .”

“But you’re not,” Hyunjin said sadly. “How about this? You don’t have to report him for defamation, but you have to promise us to not entertain him anymore. If he goes and spews bullshit on the internet, there’s a high chance your fans will shut him down or the company itself will sue him for defamation.”

“Hyunjin’s right,” Felix chimed in. “Extract yourself away from that situation. If you don’t want to go at this legally, the best you can do is completely ignore him. We’ll block this number as well.”

“But,” Jisung said, his voice cracking a little from being quiet this entire time. “If I get anymore messages of that fucker degrading you, I will not hesitate to report it.”

“Jisung—”

“No, I don’t care if you’ll hate me for it, hyung,” Jisung scoffed. “I care about you and you’re who’s important to me. I don’t care if you want to protect that asshole, but I want to protect you . So, if this happens again, I’m not going to hesitate.”

Minho winced, as he ducked his head down into his lap, his breath hitching when Hyunjin’s hand ran down his back in comforting patterns. “We’re here for you,” Chan mumbled, resting his head on Minho’s lap. “Always.”

“Yah!” Changbin huffed, walking over so he could join Chan. “For all I care, like Jisung said, we also have our priorities, hyung-ah.”

Minho felt a soft whimper leave his lips at that—they couldn’t possibly be this sweet, could they? Felix squeezed himself onto Seungmin’s lap so he could hug Minho’s arm from the side while Jisung squeezed his way into the small space between Hyunjin and the couch handle, dragging Jeongin into his and Hyunjin’s laps. “Thanks,” Minho whispered. 

“Can I punch you?” Seungmin scoffed. “If you thank us for expressing basic human tendencies I’ll shuck hyung into the air fryer.”

Minho laughed wetly. “I don’t care. Thank you.”

The group silenced over before Felix squeezed Minho’s bicep again. “We’re okay, hyung. I can speak for everyone when I say this. We love you for who you are. Not for whom you’re perceived as. I know you hate cheesy lines, but I love you.”

Minho smiled dopily as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

Thank you . 

Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.

“Hyung-ah?” Felix asked as they lay on the heap and piles of blankets and pillows on the ground, staring at the bare ceiling in the living room. “Do you remember when I told the group I was pretty gender fluid?”

“Yeah?” Minho glanced at Felix 

“It was pretty scary,” Felix mumbled, then turned his head on the pillow to face Minho. “I’m glad even you were brave enough to tell us about all of this.”

Minho kissed the younger man’s forehead. “Thank you, Lix-ah.”

Felix smiled as he looked up at Minho in the dim light cast by the blue light emitted from one of the charging sockets. “Good night, hyungie.”

Minho sighed through his nose as he closed his eyes. “Good night.”

... 

" They look upon his eyes,

Filled with deep surprise;

And wondering behold

A spirit armed in gold.

On his head a crown, 

On his shoulder down

Flowed his golden hair.

Gone was all their care. "