it's tough being genderless (and yoongi)
title: it's tough being genderless (and yoongi)
fandom: bts
pairing: none (yoongi-centric)
au: lgbtq+ bangtan!au
rating: t
word count: 403
warning: self-harm, lapslock
summary: society's got it all wrong, yoongi thinks. yoongi is yoongi. yoongi is genderless.
a/n: cross-posted to aff, writing tumblr and ao3. this is part of the 'you're so beautiful; don't let anyone tell you otherwise' series. oh my god. not proof read at all. so i wrote this in like half an hour so idk what i was thinking. ps: i can't angst or do anything like that.
society’s got it all wrong, yoongi thinks.
yoongi doesn’t need to be a boy. neither do they need to be a girl. they like to refer to themselves as ‘genderless’; it seems to be less daunting and conforming that way.
it’s yoongi that you see when the sun is high, lazing around their room, playing with the maschine. it’s yoongi that you see when they go out with their friends on a hot summer’s day. it’s yoongi that you see in the morning, wrapped like a burrito in their covers.
it’s suga that you see when the sun sets, spitting rhymes into a mic. it’s suga that you see performing underground with a crowd cheering them on.
“he’s such a weirdo.”
“why does he always act like that? he’s a guy, for crying out loud!”
the whispers wrap themselves around yoongi, trapping them, strangling them. the poisonous leaves of gossip and rumours threaten their existence. they’ve had enough of this.
they’re yoongi.
they’re suga. (occasionally, they’re agust d but that’s rarely.)
they cannot be defined as a male. they cannot be defined as a female. they are they.
although yoongi was assigned male at birth, they don’t agree with that viewpoint. there are certainly more genders than the two common ones. it’s their choice as to what they feel like.
when yoongi wears mix-and-match with the different sexes clothing, they get curious looks.
(“what’s that young man doing? is this the ‘hip’ thing to do these days?”)
but that’s to be expected. yoongi is not confused. yoongi is not strange. yoongi is, most definitely, not crazy.
yoongi is yoongi. yoongi is genderless. why can’t yoongi be yoongi?
(“it’s not right, little boy. you are born a man. you must not wimp out. take the world on like a man.”)
the words still affect them. they try to block it out but it is to no avail. they’re too far gone now. the statements cut through their pale skin, drawing scarlet liquid. it paints itself, using their arms as a canvas, and it drips down onto the white-tiled bathroom floor.
(“but, sir, i am not a boy. i do not classify myself as a boy nor a girl. i am genderless. i am yoongi.”)
the wound stings but it’s nothing compared to the emotional trauma they’ve suffered since coming out.
yoongi is yoongi.
(“when will the pain end?”)
(“show them your battle scars, lad.”)
fandom: bts
pairing: none (yoongi-centric)
au: lgbtq+ bangtan!au
rating: t
word count: 403
warning: self-harm, lapslock
summary: society's got it all wrong, yoongi thinks. yoongi is yoongi. yoongi is genderless.
a/n: cross-posted to aff, writing tumblr and ao3. this is part of the 'you're so beautiful; don't let anyone tell you otherwise' series. oh my god. not proof read at all. so i wrote this in like half an hour so idk what i was thinking. ps: i can't angst or do anything like that.
society’s got it all wrong, yoongi thinks.
yoongi doesn’t need to be a boy. neither do they need to be a girl. they like to refer to themselves as ‘genderless’; it seems to be less daunting and conforming that way.
it’s yoongi that you see when the sun is high, lazing around their room, playing with the maschine. it’s yoongi that you see when they go out with their friends on a hot summer’s day. it’s yoongi that you see in the morning, wrapped like a burrito in their covers.
it’s suga that you see when the sun sets, spitting rhymes into a mic. it’s suga that you see performing underground with a crowd cheering them on.
“he’s such a weirdo.”
“why does he always act like that? he’s a guy, for crying out loud!”
the whispers wrap themselves around yoongi, trapping them, strangling them. the poisonous leaves of gossip and rumours threaten their existence. they’ve had enough of this.
they’re yoongi.
they’re suga. (occasionally, they’re agust d but that’s rarely.)
they cannot be defined as a male. they cannot be defined as a female. they are they.
although yoongi was assigned male at birth, they don’t agree with that viewpoint. there are certainly more genders than the two common ones. it’s their choice as to what they feel like.
when yoongi wears mix-and-match with the different sexes clothing, they get curious looks.
(“what’s that young man doing? is this the ‘hip’ thing to do these days?”)
but that’s to be expected. yoongi is not confused. yoongi is not strange. yoongi is, most definitely, not crazy.
yoongi is yoongi. yoongi is genderless. why can’t yoongi be yoongi?
(“it’s not right, little boy. you are born a man. you must not wimp out. take the world on like a man.”)
the words still affect them. they try to block it out but it is to no avail. they’re too far gone now. the statements cut through their pale skin, drawing scarlet liquid. it paints itself, using their arms as a canvas, and it drips down onto the white-tiled bathroom floor.
(“but, sir, i am not a boy. i do not classify myself as a boy nor a girl. i am genderless. i am yoongi.”)
the wound stings but it’s nothing compared to the emotional trauma they’ve suffered since coming out.
yoongi is yoongi.
(“when will the pain end?”)
(“show them your battle scars, lad.”)