Part Two: The Dernière

x

There were days when Toohru didn't like Yuujirou at all, like when he had scattered onion-flavoured crisp-crumbs all over the floor, or when he had 'borrowed' Toohru's highlighters and used-up all of them except the pink one… or when he wouldn't shut up about the latest girl he met that couldn't see her own shoes.

Then there were days like today, when Toohru liked Yuujirou more than he usually did… in fact, liked him more than he could express in words and that was a source of great disconcertment, because he wasn't supposed to.

Of course, he knew that the 'supposed to' was basically somebody's opinion that caught on and the people mindlessly parroted it until they didn't remember where it originated anymore, and didn't care. Toohru knew about this and was not as simple-minded as to subscribe to it. In the end it came down to the fact that he didn't want to feel like that… and couldn't stop.

"Why do we have to do this again…?" Toohru muttered to himself, staring into the mirror. The wig was falling into his face but, apart from it being troublesome, it gave him – or would have given him, had he been a girl – a hint of mystery. It was a good look on him, and he contemplated growing his hair for real in the future: he was getting hit on by guys anyway, so he might as well…

"If I recall it clearly," Yuujirou replied with no small amount of sarcasm, "you were the one who fell over himself to accept this job. It was all 'Shihoudani, why didn't you tell me how awesome being a cross-dresser was', and 'President Arisada, of course I'll dress up as a girl every day when you're paying so nicely'-"

"What can I say?" Toohru sniped back. "Madonna was right. We're living in a material world."

"Are you ready, Princesses?" one of the boys from the handiworks club – Toohru still, after almost a year, couldn't really tell them apart – asked through the door.

"Just a second!" Yuujirou called back, but the door was thrown open anyway.

Mikoto strode- no, Mikoto actually swam through it, giving a smile and a flirty wink to the handicrafts club outside. "What's taking you so long, girls?"

Yuujirou and Toohru stared at him for a moment, and then met each other's eyes.

"This is creepy," Toohru said.

"Uhuh," Yuujirou agreed. "Mikoto's finally discovered his inner female. Pity it's his last jig as a Princess…"

That reminder was all it took to crash Toohru's slowly lifting mood nose-first into the ground.

"I think that's exactly the reason why," Toohru concluded and turned back to the mirror, gave his lashes one last swipe with the mascara and threw the make-up proprieties onto the counter. He wasn't going to have a use for them ever again, and some of Natashou-sempai's underlings would gather it up and store for the next-year Princesses.

Toohru wondered if he would hate the boys. He was sure he would be jealous of them, that he would scoff at their effort and think that 'we could have done so much better'… Maybe it would be better if he took the coward's way and opted out. There were other schools, and his uncle and aunt would be glad to have him back home. Therapy was allegedly helping Sayaka, so he might not hate being there…

He looked at his reflection: there was an attractive young androgynous person looking at him, eyes shuttered and, he knew, not so well hiding his melancholy. The glittery tiara looked great on him, the black and dark-blue velvet dress looked great on him, sadness looked great on him, and he felt like a movie-star. His audience loved him and for this one night he would feel like a real Princess.

Yes, he decided. If Mikoto could do it… Toohru would have to.

"Let's go," he said confidently and preceded his two 'colleagues' out of the room.

Yuujirou stepped up behind him; Mikoto followed, much more interested in himself and ranting on about how awesome the world was than in what was actually going on. Yuujirou peeked sideways at Toohru, who was studiously staring ahead…

…a gloved hand briefly clasped his. When Toohru, stunned, looked to the side, Yuujirou was occupied with dazzling one of the boys that had volunteered as the Princesses' bodyguards. Under the foundation it was impossible to tell, but Toohru was almost certain that…

There was an untapped tiny bit of naivety in Yuujirou, and it came out at the most inopportune times. What the heck had he been blushing for? How could he mercilessly tease Toohru one moment, assault his pencils the next, and in the blink of an eye get all demure and pink-cheeked?

Talk about mixed signals.

x

Toohru had completely forgotten that it was not only the Princesses' last performance but also, in a way, Arisada's farewell party, so he wasn't quite prepared for what happened next.

Akira, though he was the de facto leader of the Student Council, didn't enjoy the scene quite so much, so he let Arisada do his thing and electrify the crowd with the not at all disguised intention of taking away their last money.

"…all three Princesses – tonight especially beautiful! – will dance with you! Everyone, please buy your ticket that allows you an undisturbed minute of your Princess' time-"

Mikoto's elation abated all of sudden.

"N-no…"he stammered, and then started yelling as if he didn't realise that the only ones who heard him over Arisada's monologue hammering on their ears from the speakers were Yuujirou, Toohru, and their 'bodyguards', and he wasn't accomplishing anything but making himself look stupid. "I'm a man! A man! I can't dance with another man! I-"

"Mikoto," Yuujirou said.

Toohru lifted his eyes to the ceiling – and by proxy to heaven – mentally asking his long-dead parents to grant him their protection for tonight, because he was going to need it.

Mikoto's voice, predictably, rose to a higher pitch and newer depths of desperation. He was becoming loud enough to actually drown out the ex-President of the Student Council, and Toohru's bland smiling and waving (he was physically incapable of making himself look more enthusiastic about this messed-up activity) couldn't make up for it. They were becoming a spectacle (which, granted, they were supposed to be, but not quite this way), and the crowd's attention was gradually shifting to them.

Toohru was ready to very un-lady-likely punch Mikoto out, when Yuujirou moved.

He stepped behind Mikoto, untied the neat ribbon on the lacing of Mikoto's poisonously violet corset, and pulled.

Then there was silence… at least so it seemed to Toohru, in the sudden absence of Mikoto's yelling. Arisada went on speaking, but the source of the greatest noise stood leaning slightly backwards, grappling at his own chest and gasping for air.

"There," Yuujirou said with icy calm and let go of the ribbons, allowing the little drama-queen to take a much needed lungful of air.

"B-but…" Mikoto tried to protest; however Yuujirou's warning tug on the laces convinced him not to finish the statement.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Toohru said, awed.

"Yeah," Yuujirou replied, and slid back into his flashlit spot in between Toohru and Mikoto. A quick check ascertained that Mikoto's corset had been retied.

"It's going to be Waltz, right?" Toohru queried, hoping against hope, because he was the first to admit that he had no dancing skills to speak of, and Waltz was the height of his ability. "The steps are the same for the woman, just in reverse, right?"

Yuujirou, a little wide-eyed and obviously recounting what he knew about ballroom dancing, nodded. Mikoto stared forwards, frozen.

"Don't worry, guys," a new voice said, and Akira joined them on the stage, followed by Mitaka, both in tuxedos. Akira smiled, but this time even the so-dubbed 'Buddha's smile' failed to induce some tranquility into Toohru's rollercoaster life. "You're going to dance with members of the Student Council first, so you've got time to get the hang of it."

Toohru reflexively checked on Arisada, just to be sure that the ex-President hadn't died in the past few seconds and possessed poor Akira. It didn't seem to be so, which robbed Toohru of the only plausible explanation he could find for the statement his (supposed) friend had just delivered.

"You mean we've got a whole song to learn the steps?" Yuujirou asked in a tone that unthawed Mikoto and made him cringe away.

Akira smiled on, as if he had not noticed the hounds of hell were being given his scent.

"I will find a way to make you regret this, Aki-"

The rest of Yuujirou's threat was made unintelligible when the first tones of the music roared from the speakers, and Akira bowed to Toohru, asking him to dance with an extended hand.

Toohru took the hand, and for the time being suspended thoughts of revenge, because he had to focus entirely on learning to dance like a bloody Princess within the next three minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Yuujirou being swept up by Arisada, and Mikoto undoubtedly shared the same fate.

The floor spun and Toohru felt dizzy for a moment, before his brain mapped the locations of his extremities and he found he could move on his own will. It helped that Akira was an amazing dancer.

"I can try to make him jealous, if you want," Akira whispered, leaning close to Toohru's ear.

"Him and everyone else in the room," Toohru muttered under his breath, while his eyes disobediently strayed to the back of Yuujirou's head. He quickly turned away, met Akira's eyes and replied in his best aloof voice: "I have no idea whatsoever what you're talking about, but it sounds like a risk to your health, so I don't recommend it."

"As you wish," Akira replied with a slight shrug. He continued whirling with Toohru across the dance-floor and smiling, though this time there was a hint of disappointment and, perhaps, sadness in his expression.

x

"I think I'm going to murder someone… I'd appreciate it if you stopped me," Yuujirou said when there was finally silence and they could understand each other's words. Mikoto was lying on his back in the centre of the floor, surrounded by trampled confetti, his wig and the skirts of his dress, trying to catch his breath.

Toohru was sitting on the edge of the stage; sweat was dripping from his bangs into his eyes and he used a stolen tablecloth to wipe his face off the smeared make-up. He wasn't certain if he could feel his legs, much less be able stop Yuujirou from going homicidal on someone.

"Water…" he wheezed.

Akira materialised next to him, carrying two glasses of juice; he gave one to Toohru, the other to Yuujirou, who took it, considered it, and poured it over Akira's head.

Toohru almost choked in the middle of a swallow at the wounded expression Akira gave his friend.

"Are we done here?" Yuujirou asked glacially.

Akira exhibited trace amounts of self-preservation: he nodded and made himself scarce.

Yuujirou started coughing, and Toohru regretfully passed him the last third of his juice. He was doubly glad not to have it poured over his head, and didn't care in the least when, upon emptying it, Yuujirou simply threw the glass away, where it shattered and added to the mess.

"Let's go…" Yuujirou said, and helped Toohru down from the stage.

Toohru swayed once he was standing on his feet, but somehow, hanging onto each other, the two of them managed to move toward the exit.

"Mikoto?" Toohru asked.

Yuujirou shrugged. They were close enough to each other to feel the wave of swelter coming from underneath one another's skin, as if they both had high fever; their dresses were soaked through with perspiration, and both of them carried their shoes in their free hands. The hoped they wouldn't cut their soles open on the debris, but were willing to take the risk rather than put the heels back on. Toohru figured that if a prince appeared then, or a knight… or even a random peasant that would offer to carry him back to the dorm, he might just do the fairy-tale thing and offer his hand in marriage.

Arisada, Akira and Mitaka together were worse than any warlock, any evil queen and any dragon ever described in any story.

"I'll sleep here," Mikoto informed them on no uncertain terms, not even bothering to lift his head from the floor or look over to them.

Toohru sympathised. Just as Mikoto got teased more, he also got requested more often.

"Night, then," Toohru and Yuujirou replied in their thought-reading unison – which apparently didn't disappear even when they were dead tired – and trudged on.

The cool night air hit them like a hammer to the head.

"It's too damn far…" Yuujirou mused, steadfastly putting one foot in front of the other.

"We could have had Akira help us," Toohru replied, without the slightest hint of accusation which, under the circumstances, was a surefire way of measuring the extent of his affection for his friend.

"We'll make it," Yuujirou said, and then it was settled.

It took them ten times as long as usually, and they slipped often and possibly saved each other's life when they had almost taken a tumble down the stairs and broken their necks. In the end, they did – just like Yuujirou had said – make it.

They didn't bother with the formalities and simply fell through the door of the P-room, leaving the shoes where they landed and crashing onto Toohru's bed. Toohru got carried away contemplating that Yuujirou, in fact, was the saviour who in the end took him to the dorm, and whether that counted… because right then he was willing to sign his soul away to his friend-

Yuujirou untied Toohru's corset and, released from the torture, his ribs ached something awful. Toohru let out a pained gasp and stared forwards into the darkness – lights-out had been weaved for the night, but neither of them had bothered switching on the light, because then they would have to get up and switch it off again – waiting for his body to get used to the freedom.

"You're okay?" Yuujirou asked, worried. His voice was hoarse and Toohru passed him his emergency bottle of mineral water once he felt he could move without risking his skeleton falling apart.

"If you still want to kill someone, I'm volunteering as the victim," Toohru muttered.

Yuujirou glared at him; granted, it wasn't funny even – or especially – in their present situation. Toohru was in pain, though, and he didn't have the energy necessary to censor himself. Roughly, he grabbed Yuujirou's shoulder, turned him away from himself and untied Yuujirou's corset, gritting his teeth when Yuujirou couldn't bite his moan back either.

"Mikoto's going to suffer," Toohru whispered. He sincerely wished he had the strength to go back to the gym and at least loosen Mikoto's lacing, but it was simply impossible. Perhaps Akira would think of it – maybe, hopefully…

"We have to get up," Yuujirou said.

Toohru stared at him, incomprehensive, and then decided to ignore the statement and pull off his dress, ideally without tearing it apart. He mostly managed, too.

"We have to wash this crap off…" Yuujirou attempted to clarify, though the coarseness of the language gave away how out of it he was.

Toohru checked the clock: it was almost three a.m. "Who cares, Yuu…?" he mumbled, lying down onto one side of his bed, purposefully leaving as much free space as possible, because he couldn't imagine forcing Yuujirou to climb up the ladder. "'s the last night 'nyway. Just sleep."

More exhausted than he had ever been in his life, in pain and ready to drop off, Toohru saw an angel in his room. The apparition was blonde and gold-eyed, and it glittered where starlight hit the droplets of perspiration on its skin… Once he, half-dreaming, realised what he was seeing, Toohru was quite sure that a sweaty Shihoudani Yuujirou in black lace was the single sexiest thing he would encounter in his life.

Unfortunately, two seconds later he was asleep.

x

There was sunlight.

Apart from sunlight, which Toohru identified easily without opening his eyes, he also became aware of the smell of unwashed bodies and the general stickiness of himself.

He tried to move and found it to be a mistake, whereupon he felt the need to inquire, just in case: "Am I dead?"

"No," Yuujirou replied, scant couple of inches from his ear, "but if you're feeling like I'm feeling, then you wish you were."

"If I ever wear a corset again, someone will have to pay me with my weight in gold," Toohru said bitterly, trying to reach his bottle of water. It wasn't where he usually left it, but a moment later Yuujirou put it straight into his hand.

Perhaps fifteen minutes of intermittent sniping and funereal humour later, they sat up and inched away from each other to what they deemed a relatively safe distance.

"Shower?" Toohru asked.

"Yeah."

Dressed in lacy black lingerie and mercifully all-covering bathrobes, they braved the hallways. There was the odd student here and there, but it seemed to be still early enough that they didn't have to deal with the obligatory lines of devotees begging for their blessing.

"You think Mikoto's survived un-crippled?" Toohru asked, locking the bathroom door.

"The Student Council would have taken care of him," Yuujirou said, stoically unfastening the suspender belt.

Toohru figured that the physical hurt took out all the melancholia of their last cross-dressing occasion. Free of all the frivolous undergarments, he stepped under the showerhead and let the stream of water rejuvenate him.

"Hey, Toohru," Yuujirou spoke up after a while of undisturbed hiss of the showers, "we're leaving in a few hours and you still haven't told me what's the cause of the permanent raincloud over your head."

Toohru sighed. He had, in the wake of last night's torment, entirely forgotten that he had not yet dealt with this matter. Why couldn't Yuujirou have forgotten too?

"You promised," Yuujirou reminded him unnecessarily.

Toohru was perfectly aware of that, and he didn't even regret it very much, because he couldn't imagine having endured yesterday plus his best friend's constant pestering. On the other hand, he had not expected to have this conversation in the buff and it made him more than a little uncomfortable.

Damn Yuujirou for being a live lie-detector!

"It's stupid," Toohru said.

"Alright," Yuujirou replied.

"What?"

Toohru threw a look over his shoulder; Yuujirou met his incredulity with unshakable equanimity: "We've established it's stupid. You still haven't told me what the problem was."

Well, technically that was true, but there was the little matter of Toohru being naked at the moment and he felt especially vulnerable. Yuujirou liked teasing people, and Toohru's problem was especially tease-worthy… not to mention that the first time he put it in words would be in the shower, washing his hair and – damn it, getting shampoo into his eyes. He gritted his teeth at the stinking, took a deep, moist breath and announced: "I'm in love."

"Hmmm…" Yuujirou said. "Alright."

This was beginning to get creepy. Toohru washed the rest of the bubbles out of his hair and practically dove for his towel, checking if his friend wasn't dying of asphyxiation as he tried to keep his laughter in.

Yuujirou spied him looking and gave him a flat stare.

Toohru shrugged and defended himself: "I said it's stupid."

"I'm not arguing, but I still haven't heard anything that would convince me to agree with you," Yuujirou replied, showing less excitement than he would while commenting on weather. Business-like, he turned off the water and stepped out of the stall shrouded in a cloud of vapour.

"Are you being funny?" Toohru asked. With his pants on he for a moment enjoyed not being a Princess anymore, but then he remembered that next year he would want to eat, and food meant money, and money meant work that was probably going to be much worse than cross-dressing, not at all enjoyable and would pay much less.

"You're not laughing, so that would be a no," Yuujirou replied calmly. "Toohru."

Toohru guessed his friend was being considerate – after all, Yuujirou understood that some things ought to be left alone and probably thought that he would compromise the trust they had if he used the confession against Toohru.

Toohru liked to think he wasn't that fragile, but perhaps the mere fact that his predicament affected him so much that others noticed and worried disproved that. He pulled on his t-shirt and found Yuujirou watching him, waiting for a response.

"What…?"

"Tell me."

"No," Toohru said stubbornly and shook his head to give himself more emphasis.

"So tell them," Yuujirou suggested, picking up countless bottles of hair products.

"No point," Toohru replied, and found himself, absurdly, smiling. "The person already told me loud and clear how they feel about me. I don't have a chance."

Yuujirou shrugged, unlocked the door and gallantly held it open for Toohru. "Alright. That's sad, but still not stupid."

"It's stupid that I keep moping about it even though I know there's nothing I can do about it!" Toohru grumbled, and Yuujirou apparently agreed with him, because he didn't argue. One could count on Yuujirou to argue whenever there was an opportunity, although, for some reason, his arguments with Toohru tended to be quiet and reasonable as opposed to his rows with just about everybody else… except when they were angry at each other. Then they didn't argue at all, just avoided the issue until it stopped being an issue.

Toohru liked to think he just brought out the better part of his friend.

x

Yuujirou pinched somebody's pen and scrawled a phone number on the back of Toohru's hand. "There," he concluded, critically checking his work. It was readable, and that was the point. "You can call me and whine when you get lonely, Toohruko-chan."

Toohru stripped the statement of all the defensive mocking in his head and had to laugh. Weren't they being ridiculous? How could he deal with this for the next two years? Or five years, if he counted college into it? They would grow closer and closer and see further and further into each other's heart, and in the end they would part and leave for the opposite sides of the country.

Toohru knew it was temporary, and already now, far from any true end, he felt like his heart was breaking. Perhaps it would be best if he stayed away and treasured this year as one of the most precious memories, up there with the faded image of his parents. He could hear the bus getting closer; it would arrive any moment now, and he would be alone again… and who knew what awaited him at his uncle's?

"Toohru…" Yuujirou said in a tone Toohru rarely heard before. "You will come back next year, right?"

Toohru closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

It was a promise, and he kept his promises, like a man should. He would get a huge storage of superglue and keep on putting his heart together every time it shattered under the blows of kindness, Toohru mused as Yuujirou helped him get his luggage on board without being asked to, and he would buy dozens of pencils and keep on doodling until he got it right and drew a picture that captured that fleeting moment of utter devotion he was overcome with when the bus-door closed and the engine roared to life and Yuujirou lifted his hand to wave.