NOSTALGIA. － p.sh + k.hj

- 10

by his sixteenth birthday hongjoong owned two skirts, a chiffon shirt and a lilac dress he kept hidden at the bottom of his wardrobe, beneath his old backpacks and discarded jackets that no longer fit him. all four were gifted to him in secret by seonghwa who's grin would illuminate the galaxy whenever hongjoong wore them, the shorter radiating a happiness of his own.

the boy would tuck an outfit into his rucksack before leaving the house and then change once arriving at seonghwa's place. at first, that was all they did, the older merely satisfied with offering hongjoong a safe home in which he could wear whatever he liked, and then they began to go out for an hour or two, usually to the public garden or to the quaint pastry shop nearby. the first time had been terrifying, for hongjoong felt as though all eyes were on him and he feared what others thought, but seonghwa walked with his hand in his, unafraid and smiling, and that was enough to give the brunet all the courage he needed to face the world as he was.

perhaps he'd gotten far too used to the idea that not many people even cared about what he wore or who he held hands with, and that had made him let his guard down.

he'd pondered upon it for a long time, so much so that his head hurt everyday and his thoughts drifted to the concept more often than not. when he'd decided to come out to his family, he settled on first telling his mother.

it was with a quivering bottom lip and tears pooling in his eyes that he began to speak, the woman patting his back as she sat abreast him at the kitchen table.

"i've noticed that something has been bothering you," she murmured when he continued to struggle to bring himself to talk, "you can tell me anything, joong."

"i'm － i'm gay."

a silence.

"and i like crossdressing."

he couldn't meet his mother's stare. unlike the touch of seonghwa, that of the woman felt weighted and frigid, tense.

"what's that?"

he swept his tongue over his bottom lip, blinking whatever tears he had away, because the burden on his shoulders had somewhat lifted and he felt oddly better, even if still shaken.

"it means i like to wear clothes of the opposite sex."

his mother's hand pulled away, the place were it was once set, growing colder.

"i see," her forearms pressed onto the table, her hands clutching one another as she fiddled with the ring on her left, fourth finger, "for how long have you been thinking this way?"

hongjoong wasn't certain of how the reveal was going, for she remained deadpan and her voice remained chilled.

"i realised i like guys from the start, but i discovered crossdressing a year ago."

a frown. a sigh.

"did you tell anyone else?"

he gulped, gaze averting.

"only seonghwa."

she nodded, seemingly in relief at the reply.

"it's better that way. i don't think you should tell anyone else about it. they'll think you're a freak, joong."

the mere words drew the boy back, chopped away at his hard gained liberty in an instant, for he knew he was a freak. he knew it. of course others also did. it was impossible for them to not know.

"but －" he still found himself wanting to speak up.

"is there really no chance of you being with a girl?"

his posture minimally sagged, his irises dripping with bafflement and hurt.

"no."

"alright," her thin lips pulled into a tight smile, but to hongjoong it burned like acid and smelt of ashes, "let's keep this a secret, okay?"

a secret. everything would be so much easier if he kept it as such.

"but i don't want to."

his words were clearly unpleasant to hear, for the smile was instantaneously washed away, replaced by a near-menacing scowl.

"if you've been keeping it hidden for so long, you can keep on doing it."

"i don't want to hide who i am though."

a pause.

"hongjoong, people will judge you. they'll think you're a pervert. listen to me and keep it a secret. i'll discuss it with your father."

when night came and yells ensued at the shutting of the front door, hongjoong knew his family would never see him in the same light again. he allowed some tears to be drunken up by his cold pillow, staying awake until the sun began to rise, but even then its warmth went unfelt,
because there wasn't you.

》》》

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