I’m really sad that Mell ended up not coming over last night afterall. Part of me is worried that maybe he’s getting tired of me and all my depression and dysphoria bullshit, but I’m trying to remind myself that he just wanted to see an old friend he hadn’t seen in a while. That’s fine, right? It should be. I’m still worried though.

I don’t have much time to ruminate on that this morning though because I have a dance class that I’m about to run late for. I throw on my dance clothes and put my ballet   shoes in my bag with my water bottle, then run out the door. I say a quick goodbye to Lola, who hums in reply from a counter stool as she turns the pages of her book. I think she’s still upset with me, because she’s barely been responding to me recently. 

Everyone turns and looks at me when I walk through the doors of the studio. Practice hasn’t started yet, thankfully, but for some reason Miss Catherine still looks pissed at me. Jess inhales sharply as she turns to look at me. “What did you do to your hair?” She asks, incredulous.

I look in the mirror, completely having forgotten that I dyed my hair bright blue in the rush to get over here. “I dyed it,” I say simply, trying to remain calm. I don’t do well with everyone’s attention on me like this.

“Dye it back,” Miss Catherine snaps, “This is unprofessional. You didn’t even put your hair back with gel today. What is going on with you?”

“I don’t want to dye it back,” I say stiffly, straightening up, “I like it like this. There’s no specific rule that dancers can’t dye their hair, is there?”

Miss Catherine crosses her arms and gives me a sour look. “There is, in this company. If you don’t dye it back I’ll have someone else take your spot as Jessica’s partner.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” I hear Jess mutter.

A pang of anger and betrayal surges through me. Jess and I aren’t close but I thought we had a pretty decent professional relationship, at least. I guess not though. I haven’t even put my stuff down or changed into my ballet shoes yet and at this point I don’t even want to. It feels like a betrayal to myself to continue with this anyway. There’s a lot of complicated feelings revolving around ballet right now but the simplest of those feelings happens to be “this isn’t what feels right for me”.

“You know what,” I say, fighting the urge to yell, “Fuck you, Jess.” 

Jess wrinkles her nose and puts a hand on her hip. “You’re too gay for that,” She spits back.

“Fuck off,” I clarify as some of the other men snicker at Jess’s comeback.

“Watch your mouth in my studio, Lane,” Miss Catherine warns.

I turn to look at her. “You can fuck off too,” I snap, “In fact, fuck all of this. Go ahead and find my replacement. I quit.”

I feel like I’m going to throw up after saying that but I let it linger in the air for a moment before murmurs erupt from my fellow dancers. I’ve been at the studio longer than anyone else here. Jess has been here the second longest. Everyone else who started with me ended up elsewhere or quit at some point along the way.

“Get out,” Miss Catherine points to the door. 

I wheel around and storm out, holding up a middle finger as I do so. As I leave I hear her say to one of the other men, “You can partner with Jessica for now since you’ve already been learning Lane’s part in his absence.”

The urge to correct her on my identity is great but it’s not my problem anymore. I’ve quit the one constant in my life. I dread telling my parents about this, but I’m going to have to do so sooner or later. Sooner is probably better.

I call while I’m walking home. Eomma’s phone rings a couple times before she picks up. “Annyeong,” she greets me cheerfully in our native language as she answers. I can hear the television on in the background. “We haven’t spoken in a while, are you doing okay?”

We haven’t talked since Lola and I visited when I came out to them.

“Annyeong, Eomma,” I say hesitantly, “Do you have time to talk?” I figure having the conversation completely in Korean could possibly be more comfortable, and maybe she won’t be as upset if I’m not making her work as hard to understand the conversation.

“What’s wrong?” Eomma asks. The television noises stop. 

I hesitate before answering. “Um… I quit ballet today.”

There’s a gasp and then I hear Eomma telling Appa what I just said as well in a hushed tone. I swallow nervously. “Hold on a minute,” Eomma says and there’s rustling as the phone is put down on the other end. I can hear my parents talking in the background.

I’m anxious as I wait for my mother to get back on the phone. “Is this because of what we talked about?” Appa’s voice is the next voice I hear as the phone is picked back up. He sounds mad. “Your gender?”

“I just wasn’t happy anymore,” I say anxiously, “That’s part of it, though…”

There’s a long sigh from the other end. “If you’re not going to continue ballet, Eomma and I will not be helping with rent anymore.”

My stomach drops. “Appa–”

“You’re an adult.” Appa cuts me off. “If you’re not doing this, you’ll have to find a different job.”

I sigh, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear as I unlock the door to the apartment. “I don’t really have any other skills, though,” I complain. I open the door and trudge into the apartment. “Nobody will hire me.” Lola looks up at me with both eyebrows raised, not expecting me home so soon. 

“You’ll have to figure that out,” my father says with a tone of finality to it. “I have to go and your mother is making dinner. We’ll talk soon.”

I mumble a goodbye and hang up the phone.

“What was that?” Lola asks this like she’s obligated to instead of actually wanting to know, “Why are you home so fast? Were you speaking to your parents?” It’s the most she’s said to me since she got home from Grace’s place.

“Yeah,” I sigh, exhausted. My heart feels light where I expected it’d feel heavy, despite my conversation with my parents. It’s a very confusing feeling since I’m not happy about the rent thing. “I quit ballet and they are not happy about it.” I toss my bag haphazardly into my room and then regret that decision, deciding to put it back properly. I come back out to the living room a second later.

Lola looks at me in stunned silence.

“What?” I ask, taking a seat next to her at the counter. I don’t know what she’s thinking and it’s freaking me out.

Lola looks like she’s trying to choose her words carefully before speaking. “How do you feel now that you’ve quit?” She finally asks. 

I take a second to think about the answer to this. “I initially felt like I’d made a mistake but now… Now I’m feeling a sense of relief. Dance was my entire life for so long and I loved it but I also felt so out of place for all these years. I didn’t know how to continue living a double life, pretending I was a man at ballet while knowing that’s not who I really am,” I ramble, shrugging, “It was tearing me apart inside.” 

Lola nods. “That’s how I felt, too.” She gives me a soft smile and slides off the barstool. “I gotta get to work.”

“Oh, uh, Lola?” I say apprehensively, turning to look at her, “My parents aren’t helping with rent anymore now.”

Lola makes a disgruntled noise. “We’ll figure it out,” is all she says. “I’ll pay the next installment of rent or two. Figure out a job in the meantime.”

“Okay,” I say gratefully, “Thanks.”

Lola nods and heads out the door.

My phone starts ringing. I answer in Korean without even looking at who’s calling, just automatically hoping it’ll be my mother or father calling to tell me they changed their mind. “Annyeong,” I say in a hopeful voice.

“Um…” Mell says from the other end, sounding confused. “Hi?”

“Oh, hey,” I say with a sheepish laugh, “Sorry.”

Mell chuckles. “It’s okay. That means, uh, hello, right?” He starts rambling. “I know you’re Korean so I was going to try to learn to eventually impress your parents and didn’t get very far at all but I–”

“Mell,” I interrupt him, “It’s fine. You’re correct and you don’t have to do that.” 

“Well, I wanted to invite you to my next fight,” Mell says apprehensively. “I haven’t been winning any fights recently so it’s okay if you don’t come but I would love to have you there for support. I know I ask all the time and you always say no, but it’d mean a lot to me.”

I bite my lip. I have not been supportive recently like I should be, but I don’t know. “Let me think about it,” I say hesitantly, “I’ll probably be there.”

“Okay,” Mell sounds unconvinced. “Well, hopefully I’ll see you tonight then.”

“See you tonight,” I say, and the two of us say goodbye before hanging up.

I guess I’m going out tonight.