Gender

"I'll be all right. I swear, everything will be fine. He loves me and it'll be over with within a few minutes and we'll go on to doing our normal, gross-ass relationship stuff." I repeat this over and over, out loud, as if it were a mantra. Sighing heavily, I lean back into the hard, wooden chair. My boyfriend should be coming to see me soon. Heh, luckily he had off today, so I planned a small date for us in my apartment.

Too bad that it could be our last…

No. No, Jean can be an asshole, but he's not that much of an asshole.

I drum my fingers against the cool kitchen table, waiting for and dreading the conversation that'll take place when he comes over. All's quiet in my apartment and it's driving me nuts. Just focus on breathing Eren, it won't be that hard. I'm frustrated, so frustrated that I can't calm the fuck down, that I can't be happy about this at all.

I mean, Jean can't be too repulsed. He is dating and fucking a ma- me, after all.

I almost said a man. It's almost a strange concept, yet kind of familiar to me.

I nearly throw myself out of the chair and duck as I hear someone rapping on the door loudly. Jesus fucking Christ, Jean, I can't stand it when you appear at the worst times. Groaning in both frustration and anticipation, I get up and pad over to the door, wondering why the hell Jean didn't just use his key to get in.

Yeah, I gave him a key to my apartment, fight me.

My hands shake as I reach for the lock, opening the door. There here he is, raising his eyebrows and looking down at me funny.

"Are you okay?"

"Dude, why the fuck didn't you just use your key. You made me get up when I was doing something important." I'm only frustrated because I'm nervous but that's not good. I'm not in a mood to get into a fight over a stupid key, not when there's something important to be discussed.

Jean just rolls his eyes and walks in. He tilts my chin up carefully and places a soft kiss on my lips. It eases the tension slightly, but that lovely feeling is soon replaced with a gut-wrenching dread in the pit of my stomach. This could be the last…

"Seriously, are you okay? You seem a little agitated?"

He's too quick. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Stop worrying so much. I just, uh, tried something new with cooking a-and I'm worried if you could handle it."

His face drops and he squints at me. "Please tell me you didn't dump an entire goddamn thing of hot sauce into it this time."

"One time!" The bottle slipped from my hand and I ended up dropping in a little too much into the dinner that night. I thought it was fine but I forgot Jean's delicate tongue can barely handle plain food, let alone spicy food.

I place my hand over his and just hold him. "Hey, I've got a lot of stuff to tell you so, let's go eat, babe."

"So is that all you wanted to tell me? That you'll be busier with school?" No, Jean. I actually spouted all that out because I was too nervous to tell you the real issue. That I'm not…I'm not what you think I am.

We're lying comfortably on my couch after a nice late lunch. Jean's head is resting on my chest and I'm just idly running my fingers through his soft, honey locks. He's warm, and I feel so right just holding him like this that I never want it to stop.

"Well, okay, that's not the thing that I actually want to tell you. Jean, can we sit up?" My voice is serious and I almost don't recognize it. Jean peers up to me with this amber eyes, looking confused as hell. He sits up first and I'm already regretting my decision to let him go. I sit up as well, keeping close the end of the couch while Jean reclines in the middle. He's watching me carefully and I can tell from the slight tug of his lips that he's starting to get annoyed.

He knows I'm hiding something from him so I might as well just spit it out. I hug my knees to my chest, holding them tight.

"O-Okay, uh, well. Shit, I don't know how to start with this, Jean…" Good job, Eren.

"Just fucking say it."

"I'm not a man. I-I mean, I don't see myself as one…sort of." That was amazingly convoluted and didn't do well to get my point across. I keep my eyes focused on the top of my knees, silently cursing at how dry they've gotten. This is just great.

"What?" Jean stares at me with his brows furrowed. Fuck.

My hands move from my legs to gesture in the air, hoping for some obscure reason that Jean can understand me from my sporadic gestures as I speak.

"I mean, me. I don't identify as a male…completely. Some days I feel fine with being masculine-like but I don't like being called a guy or a man. It just doesn't feel right."

Jean's moved from staring at me to somewhere completely different. His body seems rigid, and he's either trying to mull over what I just said or he's ready to storm out that door. The air is thick with tension and silent save for the ticking of the old clock on my wall. My ears buzz from the sudden silence and I hate it, so I speak more.

"It's like, I don't want to be a woman, not at all. I just think that being called a man is too strong of a word. Most of the time I feel close to being a guy, but other times I just feel like…a person with no gender attached."

Before I know it, my hand is at my mouth and I'm biting my nails. It's a nervous habit that I thought I've stopped, but I'm under so much stress saying this out loud. It's one thing to think it, read about it, and write about it, but it's something else entirely when it's spoken. It feels like the sealing of a contract and that there's no turning back.

Jean sighs and reaches into his left pocket for his phone. I-Is he that fucking bored of me? What the fuck, asshole?

"What the hell are you doing? I'm sorry, is my coming out to you that much of a bore?" I'm instantly furious.

Jean puts his hand up as if to stop me. "Shhh, babe," he says calmly, "is there a name for what you're talking about? I want to look it up because I'm not entirely sure what you're saying."

I keep my eyes narrowed at him but he doesn't seem insincere. Him looking it up is a good thing, right? That means he's interested in knowing, right?"

"I-I think it's called demiboy." It's still a new concept to me but it rolls off the tongue so easily, so naturally.

The silence returns as Jean taps on his screen the word that I gave him and scrolls through a few pages. It's like this for a few minutes, a few unbearable minutes. I almost on the verge of crying because I can't tell if this is going badly or not. It was one thing coming out to my parents that I'm dating a guy, although I don't consider myself gay at all. I'm more than that; I don't care who the person is, I just need to be able to get close to them.

My parents were fine with everything I told them and it worked out because I had Jean and we were in love. But this is totally different from that time, because Jean is different from my parents. I'd be fine with their disapproval, but potentially seeing Jean get up and walk out is worse.

"Okay, so, you just see yourself as male but not all the time?" he asks quietly, scratching his head as he reads whatever's on his screen.

I can't help but give him a small smile. "Y-Yeah, that's right. I either feel somewhat like a guy or no gender at all. It's like, being called a man or a guy makes me really uncomfortable. But at the same time, I don't mind it when my parents refer to me as their son."

Jean sits back in the couch, shifting his body slightly to face me, still holding the phone up. "What about boyfriend?" I flinch slightly but Jean catches it.

"It…well, it doesn't sound right." I'm feeling nervous all over again. Tears prickle at the corner of my eyes and I'm so scared to cry in front of him over this. I look away from his face and just focus on the boring beige carpeting. "I'd honestly prefer something more neutral…that is, if you even want to stick around." There, I said it.

"Eren," Jean starts, getting closer to me," you know damn well I wouldn't leave you over this. Especially with all the shit we've been through. I would never treat you like those bastards that gave us shit for being together."

I can't believe the words I'm hearing. He's okay? He's okay with it?

"Sweetheart, come here." I always fucking loved it when he called me that particular pet name. I cautiously let go of my legs and scoot up towards him. He pulls me into a strong embrace, holding me steady in his arms.

"I may not know exactly what this is or how you feel but I want you to know that it doesn't change anything between us." I'm happy. I'm so fucking happy right now. I latch onto him, sitting on his lap and straddling him. My arms are wrapped tight around him as I nuzzle my face against his soft, warm neck, breathing in his scent.

This didn't go so bad. It went so much better than expected because I was so sure I'd have to fight him in some way.

We stay like this for a bit as I start crying. Jean tenses up when I wet his neck with tears but he just holds me closer, rubbing my back soothingly.

"Eren. Eren, look at me." I'm reluctant but I comply, leaving the safety of the crook of his neck. He holds my face in his hands and gently wipes away my tears with his thumbs. "Shh, don't cry. Nothing's changed between us, okay? You are my love, my life, and I'm happy that you told me."

I lean my forehead against his, shaking from the from the happy tears flowing down my cheeks. Jean chuckles breathlessly and kisses the tip of my nose.

"You scared the fuck outta me when you pulled your damn phone out. Like, damn, couldn't you have waited for that?" Jean snorts and I laugh just a bit.

"Sorry, I just needed another explanation of it. I want to try and understand you. But babe, you don't like boyfriend, so…what do you want me to call you?"

Honestly, I haven't thought about this because I didn't think we'd get this far. I look up, thinking back to all the terms I've looked up before. Shit, I'm blanking.

"Datefriend? Lover? Uh, significant other?"

I got it.

"Sweetheart."

Jean gives me a toothy grin. "All right, sweetheart. If that's what you want." I lean down and plant a sloppy kiss on his lips, holding his face still with my own hands.

"I also don't mind the masculine pronouns but…I'll also take the neutral ones, like 'they', if that's all right." Jean pulls me back into an embrace and whispers in my ear once more that he'll do whatever I'm comfortable with.

I feel so light and free. This identity, that I've struggled with for so long, is finally a burden off of my shoulders. Not only have I come to terms with it and feel comfortable, I also have the love of my life telling me it's all right. He told me it doesn't matter and he still loves me and I'm so happy.

I know who I am and I have someone to share that with.