Calliope

CW: minor sexual content (softcore)

I fidgeted, compulsively flexing my fingers in my lap. I couldn’t sit still at the best of times, and the anxiety surrounding coming out did not help. I took a breath in, like my therapist had told me, and as I exhaled I let my breath bring the words with them.

“I guess, what I’m trying to say is, I’m bisexual—er—homoflexible.” And it was out of me. My fingers tensed, then relaxed one last time.

“Oh!” Eric mused to himself before responding, “that’s convenient.”

I started fidgeting again, this time taking each fingertip of my left hand and squeezing it between my right thumb and index finger. The pressure on my nail felt nice. “Convenient? Um, Eric, if you thought this meant a threesome then I’m sorry to disappoint but…” I trailed off. Or did he mean ‘convenient’ sarcastically? Like it was a bad excuse, or that I hadn’t really figured my sexuality out and I was using ‘bisexual’ as a sexuality holding cell? I could feel myself getting worked up, and forced myself to breathe slower. This was Eric I was talking about; we wouldn’t still be together if that was how he thought. I was just anxious about coming out.

Eric emphatically shook his head, his shoulder-length brown hair flying outwards. “No, that’s not it. I wasn’t trying to say anything really, it just kinda slipped out. Sorry.” 

I felt a wave of kind-of-relief wash over me, and tried to calm myself down. There was nothing for me to be anxious about, my boyfriend was supportive. “No, I’m sorry for assuming. Just worked up about the… whole thing.”

He idly picked at the lint on that black hoodie he liked so much. It and its five twins. “Well, thanks for telling me, Sarah. It’s a big deal, coming out.”

I nodded. “It’s only fair; if there’s anyone in the world who ought to know that I like girls it should be my partner.”

Eric cracked a smile at that, and leaned back into a more comfortable position on the carpet. “I mean, girls are so pretty. It only makes sense.”

I laughed, releasing some of the residual tension. “Aren’t they, though?”

We shared a moment together, chuckling more from catharsis than humor. Eric sighed, but the calm in his voice sounded somewhat strained. After a pause, he looked away and rubbed his neck with that awkward charm I’d fallen for. “Yeah, I mean honestly, I don’t understand why anyone would want to be a guy… er, I mean, with a guy.” His face flushed a deep red, probably from embarrassment.

I blinked in surprise, then took one of his hands in both of mine. “Hey, Eric,” I spoke softly, but he winced nonetheless, “I like you, okay? I’m not going to leave you just because I also like girls.” I gave his hand a comforting squeeze, which seemed to help him.

“Um…” he started, mumbling quietly, “homoflexible means you mostly like girls, right? Why would you date a cishet guy like—like me?” He stared down at our intertwined hands, looking to be deep in thought.

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit at that. “Truth be told, you’re probably one of the few that I could ever conceive of dating.” And it wasn’t like I hadn’t tried either. But after so many guys who hadn’t gone past the second or third date, I’d come across Eric and something had just… clicked. Had felt right. And later, after I figured out that I mainly liked girls, I just still couldn’t let go of Eric. I dunno if I hit the jackpot with him or what, but loving him felt like the most natural thing in the world. If anything, discovering my love for girls had just helped me cement the fact that I was really, truly, already in love.

Eric smiled, but it was tinged with melancholy and didn’t quite reach his half-lidded eyes. “I get that. I know I haven’t told you much about my exes, but they were so… aggressively straight. Like they, I dunno, they wanted me to be this real manly man in the relationship and I just couldn’t do that, at least not for very long…” He trailed off for a moment, before picking up his trail of thought. “I guess I was relieved when I met you and you didn’t seem to be like that. I guess we know why now, huh?”

He cracked me another grin, this one a bit brighter. I wanted to pat him on the back—wait, no, that wasn’t it. I wanted to—to tousle his hair? No, too patronizing. I wanted to… sit behind him and plait little braids and accessories into his hair? I blinked. Well, I guess I could use the stimulation, but right now that wasn’t appropriate.

Eric coughed. “Oh!” I exclaimed, having forgotten for a moment that we were two parties in conversation. “Sorry, I sorta fell into a trance there, but I totally agree with whatever you said… Unless it was self-disparaging, in which case you’re wrong and I love you,” I added.

A blush spread across his face at that, and I gave into my instincts and reached my hand up to scratch his head. Just a bit. I did that sometimes, when we were cuddled up together on the bed (he was the little spoon, of course). I could always tell it felt nice by the look of utter contentment that would spread across his face, though I wasn’t sure how well Eric would take it outside of that intimate context. The answer seemed to be “extremely well,” judging by how that very same satisfied expression was working itself into the contours of his face.

“Love you too,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. We stayed like that, me indulging my impulses and him, for a moment, letting go of the many, many worries he would otherwise let himself fall into. I was vulnerable to the same feelings from time to time, and in those cases he would be my anchor, always pulling me back to emotional stability. As he had done in this case. God, I loved him.

“Hey,” Eric croaked, as though testing out an unfamiliar voice box, “can I ask you a question?” I nodded quietly, meaning for him to continue. “What do you see in me? I mean, I’m not much of a boy. Or a friend. I feel like if you want a guy you could totally find someone better, if you want a girl then I just…” His voice got quieter, and there was a trembling at the bottom of it, as though he were on the verge of tears. “I just can’t compete,” he finished sadly.

“Eric,” I began, and he winced again. “What did I say about self-disparagement? I love you. I love girls. I don’t see why one being true means the other can’t be.”

He grimaced. “What, besides the obvious?”

I tilted my head to one side, a bit concerned. “What obvious?”

“I mean, girls are… girls can be so soft, and cute, and lovely and I mean not all girls have to be like that but I can’t be like that and—” A choked sob emerged from within the lump of Eric’s hoodie as he shrunk within its myriad folds. I pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Who says you aren’t soft?” I accused. “Who says you aren’t cute? Because, from where I’m sitting, you are absolutely both those things.” He whimpered a little, and my heart fluttered at the small sound.

“You… you really mean it?” Eric muttered, almost too quiet to hear.

“I mean it,” I responded firmly. “You’re all of those things, and more. You’re demure, and gentle, and the fact that I love girls is probably part of why I love you.”

Eric sat up a bit straighter. “You mean that? Like, I’m an honorary girl?”

“Er, well,” I began, and withdrew my hands to fidget nervously. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re obviously a guy—” His face visibly fell at that, and with a spike of panic I realized I might have said something wrong. “—um, unless you have something you need to tell me. I mean…” I trailed off. Was that what this was? Did Eric-- no, did my… significant other… have a confession of their own?

“I’m…” They just sat there, staring off and away, though I could see the tears forming in their eyes. “No, you’re right. I’m obviously a guy—”

“No. That’s—”

“Even if I can seem cute sometimes, I—”

“That is not what I meant—”

“I just wish…” They started sobbing. Something sparked inside of me, and I took decisive action, putting my hands around their face and tilting it up so I could see the expression on there, one of pain and regret.

“Look at me,” I began, not that they could do much else. “Darling, I’ve already stated that I find you cute and soft and attractive. Everything that I could want in a girl, I have in you.”

“But I’m not…” they said through squished-up lips. God, they were cute. Seeing how their eyes started tearing up again, and knowing what they were about to say would send them into another spiral of sobbing, I decided to take a gamble.

“But maybe you can be.”

Their eyes grew wide. Their breath hitched. “But didn’t you just say that I was obviously—” Their (her?) sentence got cut off as I pulled her in for a deep, aggressive kiss. Seeing her reaction made me more certain about my hunch. Feeling her melt into my touch was a bonus. God, she really got me going sometimes.

“I said that without thinking, to protect some vestigial bit of masculine identity you might have had. But thinking about it just a bit,” I growled as I gently pushed her onto her back, slipping one hand underneath her baggy hoodie, “I’m not sure you ever had any to begin with.”

She let out a quiet whimper, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards. Her hands laced themselves around my neck, pulling me in closer.

“Your gentleness, your hair, the fact that you wince every time I call you… by that name,” I went, listing off the small things that should’ve ticked me off long ago. “The cute little noises you make whenever I do this.” As if to prove my point, she let out a little eep as I brushed my hand against her chest. “It all makes sense now, doesn’t it,” I whisper in her ear, “why I’m attracted to girls. After all, I’m attracted to you.”

That set her off. She pulled me in with the ferocity of a woman who had for ages not known who she was, and drew me into another lengthy kiss. She felt like a new lover, but familiar at the same time. Eager to explore this new potentiality, but still finding comfort and regularity where it had always lain. When we finally broke apart, we each took a moment to catch our breath. 

She spoke first. “I can… no, I want to be a girl for you.” 

I cocked an eyebrow. “Only for me?”

Her eyes darted away momentarily. “Maybe a little for me, too, I guess.”

We laughed as I helped her up. I took my girlfriend’s hand, leading her to the bed for a more suitable continuation. My girlfriend. The phrase was so new, yet it felt so natural, like it was always meant to be there. For me to say and her to be. My girlfriend.

“Hey, um… can you call me by another name, maybe?” My girlfriend spoke tentatively, tugging on my arm to slow down a bit as we approached my room.

I blinked and paused, turning around. “Of course! I didn’t expect you to have one ready.”

She blushed. “Um… maybe I’d kind of been hoping that I would be turned into a girl and prepared one, just in case?” She rubbed her neck with her free hand.

“That’s convenient,” I noted.

“Yeah.” Her blush deepened, and she suddenly grew very interested in her socks. “Yeah, it is.”

“Well,” I asked, “what’s my girlfriend’s name?”

“Grace,” she mumbled. 

I smiled. “Grace.” I tasted the name on my lips, finding it as sweet as the girl it belonged to. “Grace,” I repeated. I’d be saying it many more times that night.