Author's Note: There are very little Hedwig and the Angry Inch fanfictions and even less that have to do with Yitzhak. I think Yitzhak is gorgeous in every way but especially in the newly on BROADWAY play with Lena Hall! You can envision Yitzhak here in either version but I feel we can see some more love from Yitzhak in the movie so I'm putting this under the movie category. Seriously, I'm in love. I really hope you like it and if you've read it please review so I know because I'm guessing there aren't many people who look for this category just because of the low fic rate. Thank you!

Yitzhak was in their shoddy motel room, brushing all of Hedwig's flamboyant wigs. By now he felt no more sorrow for the microphone incident. Well, not really incident. She just felt threatened I was robbing her spotlight. Stupid. The room already felt gloomy, barely any room for them all to sleep in. Her absurd amount of wigs only added to the cramped feeling. Still, she did look very striking and, as usual, Yitzhak could not look away. At times he was unsure if he wanted to be her or be with her. He stared at the beautiful shine of the blonde hair in his hand. He could try it, he could be just as picturesque as Hedwig and maybe then, she would… I could just –

"Hello!"

– Too late. Yitzhak tore off that wig quickly and shielded his sheepish face. He sighed; Hedwig, as usual, always strutting over into the spotlight. If she had seen that wig on him… Yitzhak tossed the idea, feeling a chill run through him.

Noticing the lack of usually drunken, cheery responses, Hedwig's own tone lowered – her entrance ruined, "where is everybody?"

"Out," Yitzhak responded curtly. He went about brushing that hair, avoiding eye contact with its owner.

"Why are you in such a mood?" Yitzhak ignored her question although it went unnoticed as Hedwig followed immediately. "I was having the most wonderful time with – do you remember that um, that forty five year old divorcee with the hair and the-and the-the mean look?" Yitzhak finally turned to face her; she was drunk or had drunk at least. Being the good husband he was, he sat and listened to her. She didn't pay heed to his lack of answer and went on, "Well, she came up to me after the show and I thought: this lady wants a piece of me. So, I didn't know-you know- I was alone, I had nothing in my hand, I was gonna go for the eyes and she came at me from both sides somehow and she just gave me a fucking hug. She gave me a fucking hug."

Yitzhak could deal with this; little chats, just the two of them. He was grateful for moments when she spoke to him kindly. Hedwig, too, was tired after a long day, she couldn't even laugh properly and it just came out as a little huff of breath from her nose. Yitzhak searched her face, she'd been so clumsy with her drink and she'd gotten a bit of her lipstick smudged.

"Fucking beat that, I also got a few drinks out of it as well which was not…" Yitzhak gently grabbed her chin and had her face him. He'd fix it up for her. "Bad."

She was so beautiful. It wasn't just her makeup or her wigs, it was her. She was already beautiful like a woman, her features were soft and without all the makeup she had this almost innocent like face – If she were still a man she would be a perfect drag queen that Yitzhak would cherish – with it, she was just like those temptresses Yitzhak's mother would warn him about. He dabbed along her upper lip, carefully removing the ruby-red cosmetic she loved so much. He let the napkin fall, raising his other hand to brush her soft skin. Her blue eyes met his, it was barely a caress, he was careful not to over step her boundaries. When no push of disgust came, it encouraged him to keep on. His gaze drifted to her faded lips. He drew in closer and closer, relieved to see her mimicking him. When their lips touched, Yitzhak felt like an easiness slip through him. Their breath mingled, he didn't pull too far back. The smile that stretched his lips was smothered when they dove in for more. He was more confident, cupping her jaw and caressing her face while their mouths molded together.

She certainly seemed to like it which was unreal to believe. She wasn't abusive or cold. She was the source of the warmth sprouting in the pit of Yitzhak's stomach. It was going so well until the familiar beat of drums played from the television.

Fuck, she's watching fucking Tony Gnosis sing our- well… her song. Yitzhak tried to turn her head, she could forget about that little shit if she was with him. But no, she was always so invested in that brat. She pushed him away and Yitzhak felt a gush of fury run through him. He pushed back, throwing her hand off of him. He knocked over something he didn't care to look at.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Why can't we-!" Yitzhak spun around, prepared to actually unleash his feelings on her. She doesn't care. "Why don't you write a new song!?" He kicked one of her Styrofoam heads and rushed out, slamming the door preventing her from ever answering.

She didn't go after him but he didn't go too far. He just kicked the cheap wall of that hallway, unsympathetic to whoever was staying in the room behind that poor wall. Stupid Hedwig… stupid Yitzhak, she wants to keep following him. He slid down the door, looking down at his left hand with regret. The gold band had lost all its shine, just like their relationship. So fucking tired…

He didn't know how long he sat out there, fuming out his emotions until he heard the click of the door and fell back when it was swung open. Hedwig got out of the way before Yitzhak would fall on her heels. He grunted as his head hit the dirty, carpeted floors. He stared up at her in wonder, she on him with that fierce expression that he was never good at reading. Her golden, synthetic hair framed and tumbled around her. She looks like an-

"Get the fuck inside, Yitzhak."

-angel.