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MidReal Story
Boyfriend Material
Scenario:Jisso or now, Dean is a korean girl who who is a trans male. Who now has his blond hair cut short. Dean is ten weeks pregnant with his boyfriend, haewoo baby they are very happy. Dean is 19, and haewoo is 18
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Dean
He is a trans man living in a supportive relationship with his boyfriend, Haewoo. He is happy, loving, and selfconscious. Dean has been in love with Haewoo since high school and is overjoyed to be pregnant with his child. Despite his happiness, he struggles with body image and fears rejection. Dean's journey highlights his journey of selfacceptance, love, and anticipation for fatherhood, all while navigating societal perceptions of identity.
Haewoo
He is Dean's boyfriend and the fathertochild in their upcoming pregnancy. He is caring, supportive, and protective. Haewoo has been in a relationship with Dean since high school and fully supports Dean’s transition and accepts him for who he is. He is equally excited about becoming a father and stands by Dean through every challenge, including societal stigma and selfdoubt, demonstrating his unwavering love and commitment.
Jangsu
He is Haewoo's older brother who plays a significant role as a supportive family member. He is openminded, friendly, and protective. Jangsu was initially skeptical of Dean when they first met but quickly became a close friend and part of their family unit. He welcomes Dean into their family with open arms, showing respect for their budding relationship and embracing Dean’s gender identity with acceptance and affection.
I was Jisso, a korean girl who is now a trans male.
I had my blond hair cut short, and I was 19 years old.
I was happy, I was in love, and I was pregnant.
I was ten weeks pregnant with my boyfriend Haewoo's baby.
Haewoo was an year younger than me, so he was 18 years old.
We were in love since high school, and now we were very happy to be pregnant.
Haewoo's family accepted me as one of them, and they were very nice to me.
His older brother, Jangsu, was very friendly and open-minded; when we met for the first time, he didn't like me because he thought that I wasn't good enough for his little brother, but after talking to me and getting to know me better, he became a very good friend.
I was very happy because I had never been this happy in my life before.
I loved Haewoo from the bottom of my heart, and I was very proud to be his boyfriend.
Haewoo was also very happy because he would become a father soon.
We were both very excited because we would meet our little baby very soon.
But sometimes I got a little bit self-conscious about being pregnant as a trans man.
Would people judge me?
Would they see me as a freak?
I stretch in bed, my hand instinctively moving to my growing belly.
The morning sunlight streams through our small apartment window, casting a warm glow over everything.
I glance at the bedside table and notice a pink sticky note.
Haewoo always leaves before I wake up for his early classes, but he always leaves a note for me.
I reach for it, recognizing his messy handwriting.
"Gay queen purrrr."
I snort with laughter.
It's our inside joke from when we first started dating.
He'd say it whenever I felt insecure about my identity.
I'm folding laundry on our bed when my phone buzzes.
It's a message from Haewoo.
I open it, and it's a photo of the interior of his beat-up Hyundai.
He's hung a small trans flag from the rearview mirror, next to the rainbow sticker he put up last week.
But what catches my attention is the ultrasound pictures taped to the dashboard.
They're from yesterday's appointment, our first glimpse of our tiny bean-sized baby.
My hands shake slightly as I save the photos.
I remember how the technician smiled at us, congratulating us like any other expecting parents.
While folding the last of our shirts, I open my phone's browser to research Pride events in Seoul.
The annual parade is happening next weekend in Itaewon, a popular neighborhood known for its international culture and nightlife.
I remember attending it last year with Haewoo, our first time together.
It was before I found out I was pregnant.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as memories flood back.
We danced under the rainbow flags, surrounded by thousands of others who understood what it meant to be different.
This year will be different.
I touch my belly, which is slightly swollen now.
I wonder how it will feel to walk among those crowds with a baby on the way.
Opening our shared calendar app, I mark the date and add a note about getting pride flags for our apartment.
A notification pops up - Haewoo has already RSVP'd us for the parade's Facebook event.
I smile, knowing that together, we'll proudly step into the future we've chosen.
While folding the last of our clothes, my phone buzzes with a notification.
The question I've held back for months finally spills out through my trembling fingers: "Did me being trans bother you when we first met?"
I set down a half-folded shirt, my heart racing as I watch the typing bubbles appear and disappear.
The laundry basket sits forgotten as memories flood back - my nervous confession in the school library, his gentle smile that day.
Finally, his response appears: "The only thing that bothered me was that u weren't mine."
I stand in front of our bathroom mirror, adjusting the trans flag cape Haewoo draped over my shoulders.
My white t-shirt, hand-painted with rainbow hearts, stretches over my baby bump.
Haewoo appears behind me, already wearing his matching cape.
He steps closer, his fingers deftly pinning the cape at my neck so it doesn't slip.
I hear Jangsu's voice from our living room, "Are you guys ready to leave?"
Haewoo nods, leading me out of the bathroom.
Before we head out the door, he hands me a small gift bag.
Inside, I find a "Proud Trans Dad" pin.
With trembling fingers, I attach it to my shirt, right above my growing belly.
We step into the sunlight, ready to embrace the world as a family.
I weave through the dense parade crowd with Haewoo's hand firmly clasped in mine.
Our matching capes flutter behind us, a symbol of unity and pride.
The summer heat makes my pride shirt cling to my baby bump, but the energy of the celebration keeps me moving forward.
Jangsu walks ahead, clearing a path through the sea of rainbow flags and dancing bodies.
Suddenly, a burst of purple, yellow, white, and black glitter rains down from somewhere above.
The sparkles catch in my short blonde hair and dust my shoulders.
I blink rapidly as some gets in my eyes, temporarily blinding me.
"Hey, are you okay?" Haewoo asks, concern lacing his voice as he gently wipes the glitter from my eyes.
I nod, blinking a few more times until my vision clears, "Yeah, just got a bit dazzled there."
Jangsu turns back with a grin, "Consider it a blessing—glitter is basically the universe's way of saying you're fabulous."
I sit on the edge of our bed, and Haewoo kneels in front of me, his hands gently applying moisturizer to the scars on my chest.
It's a daily ritual we've maintained throughout my pregnancy.
The surgical marks have faded into thin, almost imperceptible silver lines against my skin.
As he massages the lotion into my scars, I let out a contented sigh.
"Thank you," I murmur, grateful for his care.
"You know, I'm really glad I got top surgery before getting pregnant. I don't think I could have handled the chest dysphoria on top of all these changes."
Haewoo pauses his movements, then reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently.
"I've been meaning to tell you," he says softly, "I was saving up for your surgery before you even mentioned it."
I look at him, surprised, "You were?"
"Yeah," he nods, a small smile playing on his lips, "I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed to feel like yourself."
I sit at our kitchen table eating breakfast when Haewoo walks in and takes a seat across from me.
He places his coffee down carefully, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.
"Have you ever considered getting your uterus removed?"
The question catches me mid-bite, and I slowly set my spoon down.
I look down at my growing belly, feeling the life inside me.
I think about the unique journey we're on together, about the miracle of carrying a baby as a trans man.
Without hesitation, I answer him, "No, I've never wanted that."
Haewoo nods, reaching across the table to hold my hand.
"I just want to make sure you're comfortable," he says softly.
I smile back at him, "Carrying our baby feels right. It's not something I ever thought I'd experience, but it feels like it's meant to be."
Haewoo squeezes my hand gently, "You're amazing."
While folding baby clothes in our bedroom, I notice how differently I organize them compared to other expecting parents I've seen online.
Instead of sorting by color like most mothers do, I arrange them practically by size and occasion, the way my own father taught me.
When Haewoo comes home, I explain my system to him.
"I just think it makes more sense to have everything categorized this way," I say, showing him the neatly folded piles.
Haewoo watches as I demonstrate my methodical folding technique.
"I guess it's just natural for me to approach parenting from a father's perspective," I admit, "even though I'm the one carrying the baby."
Haewoo smiles warmly, "And that's what makes you the perfect dad."
While sorting through baby clothes in our nursery, I pick up a soft blue onesie and frown.
Turning to Haewoo, who's assembling the crib, I say, "I don't think I can bring myself to put this in with the rest of the clothes."
Haewoo looks up from his work, curious.
"Why not?"
I hold up the onesie, "It's blue. It's like we're already gendering our baby before they're even born."
Haewoo nods in understanding, "I get it. But we don't know the sex yet."
I sigh, "I know, but it just feels wrong to me. I was forced to wear pink as a kid because people assumed I was a girl. I don't want to do that to our baby."
Haewoo smiles sympathetically, "Okay, what do you suggest?"
I walk over to the pile of clothes and start pulling out onesies in whites, greens, and purples—colors that aren't typically associated with any gender.
"I think we should sort them by color," I explain.
Haewoo pauses his work on the crib and walks over to help me.
"But not just any color," he says with a grin.
"No," I agree, "we need to mix it up. We can't have all the blues together or all the pinks together. That would be too traditional."
Haewoo nods enthusiastically, "I love it. Let's do it." Together, we start arranging the clothes into neat piles based on color.
But then Haewoo stops and says, "Wait, what if we mix it up even more? What if we create a system where no two clothes of the same color are next to each other?"
I look at him in surprise, "That's genius!"
And so, we spend the next hour creating our unique clothing system.
We make sure that every pile has a mix of colors and that no two clothes of the same color are next to each other.
It's a bit unconventional, but it feels right for us.
As we finish up, Haewoo steps back and admires our handiwork.
"I love it," he says proudly.
"Me too," I reply with a smile.
I stand in front of our full-length mirror, lifting my shirt to examine my growing belly.
At twenty-seven weeks, the bump has become more prominent, stretching the fabric of my favorite binder.
Haewoo enters the bedroom, and his eyes widen as he notices me measuring my stomach with a tape measure.
He walks over and wraps his arms around me from behind, his hands joining mine on my belly.
Our baby kicks, making us both laugh.
I pull out my phone and check the pregnancy app, which informs us that our baby is now the size of a cauliflower.
Haewoo chuckles softly, "A cauliflower, huh? That's quite the vegetable to compare our little one to."
I nod, grinning, "Yeah, but it's kind of amazing to think about how much they've grown."
He kisses my cheek and murmurs, "And soon enough, we'll be holding them in our arms."
I sit cross-legged on our couch, scrolling through baby name websites on my phone.
Haewoo sits beside me, studying for his upcoming exams.
The list of traditional Korean names on my screen makes me uncomfortable.
There are so many names that explicitly state the gender of the child.
I clear my throat to get Haewoo's attention, and he looks up from his textbook.
"I'm not sure I want to give our daughter a name that implies she's a girl," I say, showing him the list on my phone.
"What about something neutral, like Taylor?"
Haewoo looks at me thoughtfully for a moment before his eyes light up.
"Tyler," he says with enthusiasm.
I sit up straight, intrigued.
"Tyler?"
I repeat, trying it out.
"Tyler Kim."
Haewoo nods, "Yes, I like it."
I grab my pregnancy journal and write down the name.
"Tyler Tay Kim," I say, looking at the combination of names on paper.
"I like it. It's modern and traditional at the same time."
Haewoo leans over to see what I've written.
He traces the name with his finger, "I like that we're giving our baby my family name. It makes me feel connected to them already."
I smile, "And I like that we chose a gender-neutral first name. It feels right for us. And Tay is a nod to my original choice of Taylor."
Haewoo practices saying the full name aloud, "Tyler Tay Kim."
His voice cracks slightly as he says it.
Haewoo takes a deep breath, "It's just... I never thought I'd get to do this."
I look at him, surprised, "What do you mean?"
He hesitates, then admits, "I always worried that being who I am might mean I'd never have a family like this."
I set my phone down on the kitchen table, scrolling through social media as Haewoo cooks dinner.
Suddenly, he turns to me and asks, "Why do gay people wear binders?"
I'm taken aback by his question and set my phone down.
"Um, gay people don't wear binders," I explain.
"Binders are for trans and non-binary people who want to compress their chest."
Haewoo looks confused, so I continue, "When I was first figuring out my gender identity, I wore a binder because it made me feel more like myself. It helped me see what I would look like without breasts."
I pause, remembering the feeling.
"It's like when you wear a suit and tie, it makes you feel more confident and masculine. Wearing a binder did that for me."
Haewoo nods slowly, understanding starting to dawn on him.
"Oh, I see. So it's not just about hiding your breasts, but about feeling more comfortable in your own skin."
I nod vigorously, "Exactly! And for some people, binding is a way to present themselves in a way that feels more authentic."
Haewoo looks thoughtful for a moment before speaking again.
"I've seen some posts online from gay guys who wear binders. I didn't understand why they were doing it."
I sigh inwardly, realizing that there's still so much education needed around gender identity.
"Well, being gay is about who you're attracted to," I explain patiently.
"But being trans or non-binary is about how you identify yourself. They're two different things." Haewoo nods again, taking it all in.
"I think I'm starting to get it," he says.
"But can you show me some resources? I want to learn more."
I smile at his willingness to learn and pick up my phone again.
"Of course," I say, pulling up some educational websites on gender identity.
As I hand him the phone, I realize that this journey of understanding and acceptance is just beginning for both of us.
I sit quietly at the kitchen table, watching Haewoo fidget with the spatula in his hand.
His face is red, and he's clearly struggling to find the right words.
"I feel stupid for mixing up binders and gay culture," he mumbles, stirring the food in the pan without looking at me.
The vegetables sizzle and crackle in the silence.
I reach for my phone, pulling up some old photos from when we first started dating.
"Look," I say, showing him a picture of us at the mall.
"You supported me even when you didn't fully understand."
Haewoo finally looks up, meeting my eyes.
Relief washes over his face as he takes in the photo.
I sit in our warm bathtub, the water lapping at my swollen belly as Haewoo gently washes my back.
The evening light filters through the bathroom window, casting long shadows across the floor.
Steam rises around us, making the air feel thick and cozy.
I lean against Haewoo's chest, feeling the baby kick and move inside me.
As I shift to get more comfortable, the water sloshes around my belly.
Haewoo reaches for the lavender body wash, his favorite scent since high school.
He massages it into my shoulders, his fingers kneading out all the tension.
I close my eyes, letting out a contented sigh.
As he works his way down my back, I notice the trans flag hanging on our bathroom wall has collected tiny droplets of moisture from the steam.
The colors blur together, creating a beautiful rainbow effect. Haewoo's hands move to my belly, gently massaging the soap into my skin.
I open my eyes again, watching him work.
His dark hair is damp from the steam, and his eyes are focused intently on what he's doing.
I sit at our kitchen counter eating cereal when Haewoo asks, "Do you still like being called Jisoo?"
The spoon freezes halfway to my mouth.
I stare at the milk swirling in the bowl, memories flooding back.
Teachers calling attendance, family gatherings, official documents - all of them bearing that name.
I set the spoon down, milk dripping onto the counter.
That name feels like an ill-fitting sweater now, something I've outgrown.
My hands grip the edge of the counter tightly.
"No," I say quietly, "not really."
Haewoo nods and wipes away the spilled milk.
"Then what name feels right for you now?" he asks gently, meeting my gaze.
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment.
"Jiho," I reply, my voice steady, "I've been thinking about it for a while."
I watch Haewoo's expression shift as he processes my words.
"Actually," I say, fidgeting with my cereal spoon, "I changed my mind about Jiho. When I met you, I chose Dean instead."
The name feels right on my tongue, carrying the weight of memories and moments we've shared.
Haewoo's eyes widen with recognition - he remembers the day I introduced myself as Dean in the school library, how naturally he accepted it.
He reaches across the table, taking my hand.
"Why didn't you tell me you were considering Jiho?" he asks softly.
I look down at our intertwined fingers, feeling a mix of emotions.
"I guess I was scared it would change things between us," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
Haewoo squeezes my hand reassuringly.
"Nothing could change how I feel about you, Dean," he says, his eyes filled with sincerity.
I sit with Haewoo on our bed, his laptop open in front of us.
He's been searching for information about trans people, wanting to understand more.
The screen shows a list of search results, and he scrolls through them, pausing occasionally to read something that catches his eye.
"Dean," he says, looking at me with curiosity in his eyes.
"What is gender dysphoria?"
His question catches me off guard, and I take a moment to gather my thoughts before answering.
My hands instinctively move to my pregnant belly, feeling the weight of our child growing inside me.
I take a deep breath and begin to explain.
"Gender dysphoria is like wearing clothes that don't fit," I say softly.
"It's when your body doesn't match who you are inside. It's hard to put into words, but it feels like there's a disconnect between your physical form and your true self."
Haewoo listens intently, his expression thoughtful.
"I want to understand," he says gently.
"Can you show me what you mean?"
I nod, reaching for my phone on the bedside table.
I open the photo album and scroll through it until I find pictures from before my transition.
I hand him the phone, watching as he looks through the images.
In those photos, I have long hair and wear feminine clothes that feel suffocating now. "This is what I looked like before," I explain quietly.
"Back then, I didn't know how to express myself or who I truly was. But looking at these pictures now... it feels like they're of someone else."
Haewoo looks up from the phone, his eyes filled with understanding.
"I can see why it would feel that way," he says softly.
"You look so different now."
I nod, taking the phone back from him.
"I cut my hair short because it felt like a part of me that didn't belong," I continue, my voice trembling slightly as I remember those early days of self-discovery.
"And when I started dressing more masculine... it felt right. Like I was finally wearing clothes that fit."
Haewoo reaches out and takes my hand, offering comfort without saying a word.
I sit cross-legged on our bed, scrolling through more old photos on my phone while Haewoo leans against my shoulder.
My thumb hovers over a picture from our first date - me with long black hair, wearing a pink dress I'd borrowed from my sister.
The sight makes my stomach clench.
I quickly try to swipe past it, but Haewoo gently catches my hand.
"You used to be beautiful back then," he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity.
It takes me a moment to respond, my chest tightening.
Before I can say anything, he kisses my temple and adds, "but now you're just gorgeous."
I turn to face him, tears welling up in my eyes.
I lean into his embrace, feeling a sense of belonging that words can't capture.
I sit on our living room couch, my feet propped up on the coffee table.
Haewoo has just come home from his classes and is now sitting on the floor, rubbing my swollen feet.
It feels like heaven as he kneads them gently, easing the tension that comes with being pregnant.
"Do you ever get gender dysphoria during pregnancy?" he asks, his voice soft and curious.
I pause my phone scrolling and look down at my belly, which is slowly growing with our child.
I've been avoiding thinking about this too much, but his question brings it to the forefront of my mind.
I take a deep breath before answering.
"Some days are harder than others," I admit quietly.
"Seeing my body change... it's like watching someone else's body. Sometimes I feel like I'm losing myself in all of this."
Haewoo continues to rub my feet, listening intently as I speak.
"It's weird," I continue, my voice trembling slightly.
"Sometimes I feel so connected to the baby growing inside me, but other times... it feels like I'm trapped in a body that isn't mine."
He looks up at me with concern in his eyes. "Is it because of the morning sickness?" he asks gently.
I nod slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirl inside me.
"It's not just that," I explain, my voice barely above a whisper.
"It's seeing how different I look now. My stomach is getting bigger... it feels like everything is changing except for me."
Haewoo moves closer and takes my hand in his, offering silent support as I open up about these vulnerable feelings.
"I know it's hard," he says softly, "but you're still you. And no matter what changes happen, you're still the person I love."
His words touch something deep within me, and tears well up in my eyes again.
I squeeze his hand, grateful for his unwavering support.
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice choked with emotion.
He smiles gently, brushing a tear from my cheek.
I lie in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling as Tyler sleeps in the clear bassinet beside me.
The nurses keep coming in and asking if I want to hold her, but each time I shake my head.
Haewoo sits next to me, gently stroking my hand, but I can barely look at him.
He picks up Tyler and brings her close, suggesting I try skin-to-skin contact, but I turn away.
The guilt is suffocating as I hear him softly singing to our daughter.
I should feel something - anything - but there's just this hollow emptiness where joy should be.
I sit in the nursery's rocking chair, watching Haewoo change Tyler's diaper on the changing table.
The afternoon sunlight streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room.
Haewoo's tiny fingers move deftly, securing the new diaper in place.
I watch him, feeling disconnected from the scene before me.
Tyler starts to cry, and Haewoo instinctively picks her up, cradling her in his arms.
He sways gently, whispering soothing words into her ear until she quiets down.
I feel a tightness in my chest as I watch him comfort our daughter so naturally.
When he finishes changing her, he looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to hold her.
But I grip the armrests of the rocking chair tightly and whisper, "I don't feel attached to her."
Haewoo's eyes widen in surprise, and he asks if I want him to hold her for a bit longer.
I nod, feeling a mix of relief and guilt as he takes Tyler downstairs to play with her.
The sound of their laughter echoes up from the living room, filling the apartment with warmth.
I sit alone in our bedroom, my phone in my hands as I scroll through photos of happy parents with their newborns.
Each picture feels like a stab to my heart, a reminder of what I should be feeling but don't.
My hands shake as I scroll through the images, tears welling up in my eyes.
I hear Tyler's cry echo from downstairs, followed by Haewoo's gentle shushing sounds as he tries to soothe her.
I curl up tighter on our bed, wrapping myself in the comforter as if it could shield me from the pain I feel inside.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I whisper to myself, "I'm supposed to love her instantly."
But all I feel is the weight of expectation crushing me.
I sit at our desktop computer, the glow of the screen illuminating my face in the dark room.
Tyler sleeps in her crib, and Haewoo rests in our bedroom, exhausted from the day's events.
My fingers hover over the keyboard before I type the words into the search bar: "postpartum depression trans man."
The results make my breath catch in my throat.
Stories of other trans fathers who felt detached from their children after birth fill the screen.
I click through medical articles and forum posts, my hands shaking as I read about symptoms that mirror my own.
When Tyler starts crying in the next room, I freeze, listening to Haewoo's footsteps as he goes to comfort her instead of me.
I pace outside the nursery door, listening to Haewoo's soft coos as he changes Tyler's diaper inside.
My hands clench and unclench at my sides as I gather the courage to step inside.
When Haewoo finishes changing her, I take a deep breath and whisper, "I want to try holding her."
He looks at me with surprise but nods, gently lifting Tyler into his arms.
He guides my hands into position, showing me how to cradle her head and support her body.
As he places her in my arms, my entire body tenses.
Tyler's tiny fingers grasp my thumb, and her warmth seeps through my shirt.
Instead of pulling away like before, I stay still, watching as she turns her face toward my chest and settles against me.
For the first time, I feel a flicker of connection.
I sit in the rocking chair, holding Tyler while Haewoo naps in our bedroom.
Her tiny body feels warm against my chest as she sleeps peacefully.
Looking down at her face, I trace her features with my finger - her button nose, rosebud lips, and delicate eyelashes.
The realization hits me suddenly: these perfect details came from my body.
My hands begin to shake as I remember the months of morning sickness, the kicks, the labor pains.
"I did this," I whisper, my voice trembling.
"I grew you from nothing."
I sink deeper into the warm bathwater, letting it soothe my tired muscles.
Haewoo has already put Tyler to bed, and I'm finally alone.
The bathroom light casts a soft glow over the room, and I close my eyes, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the sides of the tub.
Suddenly, I feel Haewoo's presence behind me.
He kneels down next to the tub, his hand trailing through the water until it finds my flat stomach.
I open my eyes and watch as he gently places his palm on my belly, his fingers tracing the silvery lines of my surgical scars.
My chest is still sore from the surgery, but I can see that the scars have already started to heal.
They're no longer angry red lines but silvery reminders of what I've been through. My belly is flat again, back to its pre-pregnancy shape.
It's hard to believe that just a few months ago, I was carrying our daughter inside me.
Haewoo's hand moves in slow circles on my stomach, and I feel a sense of calm wash over me.
Without warning, he leans forward and presses his lips to my belly.
I watch in surprise as he whispers something against my skin.
"Thank you for carrying our daughter," he says, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water.
I sit on the couch, Tyler sleeping in my arms while Haewoo folds laundry on the floor.
I watch his face as he concentrates on matching the socks, his brow furrowed in a cute expression.
I look down at Tyler's peaceful face, her tiny nose slightly upturned and her eyebrows arched like mine.
And then it hits me: her nose is shaped just like Haewoo's, but her eyebrows are identical to mine.
She's a perfect blend of us both.
I touch her tiny hand, remembering the night she was conceived - how Haewoo and I made love, creating this miracle together.
"You know," I say, breaking the silence.
Haewoo looks up from folding, his eyes soft as he takes in the sight of us.
"I didn't make this baby by myself."
Haewoo chuckles softly, setting the socks aside.
"No, you didn't," he replies, his voice filled with warmth.
"But you did the hard part, and I couldn't be more grateful."
I lean back on our couch, exhausted from a day of taking care of Tyler.
Haewoo is sitting next to me, watching TV.
I try to ignore the discomfort in my feet, but Haewoo notices.
Without saying a word, he gets up and sits cross-legged on the floor in front of me.
Then, he gently lifts my feet into his lap.
His thumbs press into the arches of my feet, working out the tension from hours of walking and standing.
The pressure is gentle at first, but as he digs deeper, I feel the knots in my muscles begin to release.
It feels like a thousand tiny sparks are igniting under my skin as he massages my feet.
I close my eyes and let out a soft sigh of relief.
It's been a while since I've had a massage like this.
The last time was when I was pregnant with Tyler and Haewoo would rub my feet every night to help with the swelling. The sensation is almost too good to bear, and I feel myself melting into the couch as Haewoo continues to work his magic.
He presses harder on a particularly sore spot, and I wince slightly.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, concern etched on his face.
"No," I whisper, "it feels like home."
I sit on the couch with Tyler in my arms while Haewoo changes the TV channel.
Suddenly, he mutes the show and turns to look at me.
"What are we going to do if Tyler doesn't identify with her gender when she grows up?"
The question catches me off guard, and I look down at our sleeping daughter.
I remember when I first realized I was trans - the confusion, the fear, and the journey of self-discovery.
I run my fingers through Tyler's soft hair, feeling a sense of love and protectiveness wash over me.
"We'll love her no matter what," I tell Haewoo.
"Just like your family loved me for who I am."
Haewoo nods, and in that moment, I know we're ready for whatever the future holds.
I sit at our kitchen table feeding Tyler her bottle when Haewoo's phone buzzes.
He checks the message and bursts out laughing.
"What is it?"
I ask, curious.
He turns his screen to show me a photo from Jangsu.
It's a photo of a pink and blue marbled cake decorated with rainbow sprinkles.
Written in wobbly frosting letters is "You all gay and stuff love ya queen."
Tyler squirms in my arms as I lean forward to see better.
The cake's messy writing and uneven decorations are a clear indication that Jangsu tried his hand at baking again.
I stare at the screen, still holding Tyler with one arm, as Jangsu's follow-up text appears.
"To the gay goddess dean," it reads, accompanied by a burst of glitter emojis.
I snort with laughter, and Tyler stirs in my arms, her tiny hands grasping at my shirt.
Haewoo peers over my shoulder to read the message, his chest pressed warm against my back.
He chuckles and presses a kiss to my temple.
"My goddess," he whispers teasingly in my ear.
I elbow him playfully while typing out a response with one hand, careful not to jostle Tyler awake.
"Tell Jangsu he's still banned from the kitchen," I reply, grinning as I hit send.
I cradle Tyler in one arm while my phone buzzes again.
Jangsu's response appears, accompanied by multiple sparkle emojis: "bitch I'm unbanable from the kitchen."
I snort, and Tyler stirs against my chest once more.
I scroll up to see Haewoo's previous message warning his brother about kitchen disasters.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard as I remember Jangsu's last attempt at cooking - burned cookies that set off our smoke alarm and made Tyler cry.
I type out a reminder about that incident, adding a crying laughing emoji at the end.
Haewoo laughs softly, reading over my shoulder.
"Remember when he tried to make that soufflé and it collapsed like a sad pancake?" he asks, shaking his head.
I chuckle, nodding, "I think Tyler cried less than Jangsu did that day."
I sit at our kitchen counter feeding Tyler her bottle while Haewoo chops vegetables for dinner.
The rhythmic sound of his knife hitting the cutting board fills the room.
"Speaking of kitchen disasters," he says, glancing up at me, "Jangsu tried making pizza last night."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued.
"How did that go?"
Haewoo shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips.
"He put the dough on top of the toppings in the pan."
I blink, confused.
"Wait, what?"
He nods, gesturing with his knife.
"He put the cheese and sauce underneath and then placed the dough on top. So when it baked, the cheese and sauce melted under the dough."
"Oh no," I say, laughing softly.
Haewoo chuckles, continuing to chop the vegetables.
"And when he flipped it over to get it out of the pan, all the toppings fell out everywhere."
I burst into laughter, unable to contain it.
Tyler looks up at me, startled, and stops drinking from her bottle to stare at me with wide eyes.
I watch Haewoo stir the vegetables in the pan, the sizzle of them hitting the hot oil filling the room.
"He had to order Pizza Hut for his date," he continues, "and when the delivery guy came, he recognized Jangsu from high school."
I snort with laughter again, and Tyler looks at me, confused.
Haewoo smiles, shaking his head.
"The delivery guy remembered Jangsu's reputation for burning food. So Jangsu tried explaining that he was trying to make an upside-down pizza."
I laugh again, imagining Jangsu's face as he tried to explain his failed attempt at cooking.
Haewoo chuckles, putting down his knife to stir the vegetables again.
"The delivery guy laughed so hard he almost dropped the pizza."
I wipe tears from my eyes, laughing so hard I can barely breathe.
Haewoo finishes stirring and turns off the stove.
He walks over to me and reaches for the spoon in my hand.
Tyler stirs in my arms, reaching out for him.
Haewoo smiles, bending down to kiss her forehead.
"Hey baby girl," he whispers, and she giggles in response.
I hand him the spoon, and he takes it from my hand.
I sit at our kitchen table feeding Tyler her mashed carrots when Haewoo's phone buzzes.
He looks down at the screen and reads the message, his eyes widening in surprise.
He looks up at me, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face.
"Jangsu just sent me a text," he says, showing me his phone.
The message reads: "I think I have a crush on a guy but I'm straight so it's fine."
I stare at the screen, my mind racing.
The spoon slips from my hand and falls to the floor with a clatter.
Tyler bangs her hands on the high chair tray, sending orange carrot specks flying everywhere.
Haewoo looks at me, concerned.
"Are you okay?"
I nod, picking up the spoon and putting it back on the table.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, trying to compose myself.
I take a deep breath and turn back to Haewoo.
"So... Jangsu has a crush on a guy?"
Haewoo nods, still looking confused.
"Yeah, apparently. He says he's straight though."
I sigh, shaking my head.
"I think your brother might be in denial."
Haewoo looks at me, surprised.
"What do you mean?"
I shrug, picking up the spoon again and continuing to feed Tyler.
"I've seen the way he looks at guys sometimes," I say casually.
Haewoo raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Like how?"
I smile wryly, remembering all the times Jangsu has stared at male baristas or admired guys at the gym.
"Well, for starters, he always stares at the barista when we go to Starbucks," I say with a chuckle.
Haewoo laughs softly, nodding in agreement.
"Yeah, he does that."
"And have you ever noticed how he always talks about his 'friend' from the gym?" I ask with a knowing look.
Haewoo's eyes widen in realization as he puts two and two together.
"Oh wow," he says softly.
"I had no idea."
I nod sympathetically, feeling for him as he processes this new information about his brother.
"It's okay," I say gently.
"People come out in their own time. Just be supportive and let him know that you love him no matter what."
Haewoo nods slowly, taking out his phone again to respond to Jangsu's text. He types something out and then deletes it before typing again and deleting it once more.
He finally settles on a message, his fingers hovering over the send button.
"Should I just tell him that it's okay to be confused and that we're here for him?" Haewoo asks, looking at me for reassurance.
I nod, giving him a gentle smile. "Yeah, that's perfect. Just let him know he's not alone."
I sit on our bed feeding Tyler her bottle when my phone lights up with Jangsu's video call request.
I shift Tyler to one arm and reach for my phone with the other, answering the call.
Jangsu's face appears on the screen, his eyes looking more serious than I've ever seen them before.
He fidgets with his collar, avoiding eye contact.
"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Hey," I reply, trying to keep my tone light.
"Everything okay?"
He takes a deep breath before blurting out the words that change everything.
"I think I'm gay."
The silence that follows is deafening, punctuated only by the sound of Tyler sucking on her bottle.
I watch as Jangsu's face contorts into a mix of fear and uncertainty.
"I don't know how to tell Haewoo," he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.
My free hand tightens its grip on the phone, my heart pounding in my chest.
"I don't know what to do."
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down before speaking.
"Jangsu, it's okay. You're not alone in this."
He looks up at me, his eyes filled with tears.
"But what if Haewoo doesn't understand? What if he hates me for it?" "He won't hate you," I say firmly, trying to reassure him.
"He loves you no matter what. And besides, you're not alone. I'm here for you too."
He nods slowly, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of Tyler's breathing.
I smile softly at him through the screen, remembering the day I came out to Haewoo and how scared I was.
"I'll be here for you every step of the way," I promise him.
"Just let me know what you need from me."
Jangsu nods again, his eyes still filled with tears but a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Can you help me tell him?" he asks, his voice trembling slightly.
"Of course," I reply gently, "we'll do it together when you're ready."
He exhales deeply, relief washing over his features.
"Thank you," he whispers again, his voice filled with gratitude.
I watch as he ends the call, my mind racing with thoughts of what's to come.
I look down at Tyler, who's now fast asleep in my arms, her bottle still clutched tightly in her hand.
I gently remove the bottle from her grasp and place it on the nightstand before laying her down in her crib.
As I walk back to our bed, I hear Haewoo's phone buzz in the kitchen.
I make my way downstairs, curious about who could be texting him so late.
When I enter the kitchen, Haewoo is sitting at our table, his phone in hand and a look of surprise on his face.
He looks up at me and smiles, showing me the text from Jangsu.
It reads: "I'm gay 🌈"
Haewoo's eyes light up as he reads the message again, his fingers already typing out a response.
"I'm so proud of him," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. "Me too," I reply softly, watching as he types furiously on his phone.
After a few seconds, Haewoo looks up at me with a smile on his face.
"I told him we'd take him to his first Pride parade next year," he says excitedly.
"And that we'd get him a rainbow flag for his room."
I smile back at him, feeling a sense of pride and love for this little family we've built together.
"That's amazing," I say softly, walking over to give him a hug.
As I wrap my arms around him, Haewoo's phone rings loudly in the silence of our kitchen.
He looks down at the screen and smiles again, answering the call and putting it on speakerphone.
Jangsu's voice fills the room, his words coming out in between sobs of relief and happiness.
"Thank you for understanding," he says through tears. "Of course," Haewoo replies softly, his voice filled with love and acceptance.
"You're my brother. I'll always support you."
I listen as Jangsu talks about how scared he was to tell us, how he thought we would hate him for being gay.
But Haewoo reassures him that we love him no matter what, that nothing will ever change that.
As they talk, I can't help but feel grateful for this moment of raw honesty and vulnerability between them.
Jangsu finishes his third plate of Haewoo's kimchi fried rice and leans back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face.
He lifts his shirt and pats his rounded stomach dramatically, making a show of how full he is.
"I'm pregnant with a food baby," he declares, mimicking the poses I made when I was pregnant with Tyler.
Haewoo almost chokes on his water, but I catch the playful glint in Jangsu's eyes.
Tyler, who's sitting in my lap at the dining table, reaches out her chubby little hands towards her uncle's exposed belly.
"Uncle Jangsu has a baby too?" she babbles, giggling.
Jangsu laughs, pulling his shirt back down. "Not quite, little one, but maybe one day you'll have a cousin."
Haewoo grins, raising an eyebrow at his brother. "Is there something else you want to tell us?"
Jangsu fidgets with his chopsticks, avoiding eye contact.
He glances at his phone, which vibrates on the table next to him, a smile tugging at his lips as he reads the notification.
"Jangsu, are you on a date with your phone?" he asks, teasing.
Jangsu blushes, finally looking up.
"Maybe," he admits sheepishly.
Haewoo's eyes widen in surprise.
"Really? Who is it?"
Jangsu hesitates, then reaches for his phone again.
"I've been talking to someone. His name is Yi. He's from Japan."
He scrolls through his phone and shows us a picture of Yi's profile.
Yi has soft features and gentle eyes, his hair dyed a deep purple color that matches his lip ring.
He's 17 years old, just like Jangsu.
"He looks cute," I comment, noticing the way Jangsu's hands tremble slightly as he holds the phone.
"Yeah," Jangsu says softly, his voice filled with affection.
"We met on this app for anime fans. We started talking about our favorite shows and just clicked."
Haewoo leans forward, intrigued.
"So, what's he like?"
Jangsu smiles again, this time more genuinely.
"He's really into art and music. We stay up late talking about everything from Attack on Titan to K-pop. He's funny and kind... and he likes me for who I am." Tyler starts babbling excitedly in my lap, trying to get Jangsu's attention.
He laughs and tickles her chin gently before continuing.
"We video call each other almost every night. It feels like we've known each other forever."
Haewoo nods thoughtfully, but I notice a flicker of concern in his eyes.
"That sounds great," he says slowly, "but isn't he a bit young?"
Jangsu shrugs defensively.
"Age is just a number. And besides, we're not that far apart."
I watch as Haewoo exchanges a glance with me, both of us thinking the same thing but not wanting to ruin Jangsu's excitement.
"Okay," Haewoo says finally, "but just be careful, okay? You don't know much about him yet."
Jangsu nods reluctantly, but I can tell he's already smitten.