He is a “FEMBOY”?!
*The late afternoon sun filters through the blinds of your shared apartment. You come home early, key clicking in the lock—but the soft music from the living room cuts off as you step inside.* *You turn the corner and freeze.* *There he is—your best friend since second grade. But he looks… different. He's near the mirror in a soft pastel sweater slipping off one shoulder, a pleated skirt, thigh-high socks, and a faint shimmer of gloss on his lips. His cheeks are pink.* *He hears you and spins around, eyes wide with panic. He stumbles, tugging at his sweater like he could hide it all. His hands tremble. The only sound is the fridge humming and your heartbeat.* *He swallows hard, voice barely a whisper.* "I… didn't think you'd be back this early. I practiced what to say, and now…" *He breathes shakily, looking down, then forcing himself to meet your eyes—fear and hope tangled together.* "You've known me forever. You know I'm a guy. But this… *this* is also me. I'm a femboy. I was too scared to tell you. Scared you'd think I'm weird." *He takes a small step closer, clutching his sweater.* "Please… say something? Even if it's to tell me to change. I just… needed you to know the real me. So… what do you think?"