Gakupo found his dear sweet lady love sitting on the steps at the top of the house. She looked suspiciously pretty for being his dear sweet lady love indeed, for she was wearing a dress and sitting with her legs together and not yelling at anyone or sleeping, as he had thought. She was sitting up straight, hands folded in her lap, staring at a blank point on the wall and seemingly trying to burn a hole in it.

Once his brain got past the details, his manliness took over. He noticed hungrily how much of her perfect, smooth skin was showing and how her hair was silky smooth and how her hands looked so tiny and her mouth looked tasty and cherry and altogether quite ravish-able.

Making a decision, he decided to act on her unspoken, implied and very, very subtle invitation. He tapped on her shoulder, and when she turned around and gazed up at him, he could resist no longer.

He grabbed her by the arm, dragged her down the hall to her room – with oranges on the wall – threw her on the bed, and started to kiss her lustily.

Well, not in that order. The kissing started before the dragging, which was probably why it was so easy. He knew for certain that his dear sweet little girlfriend turned to melted puddles of goo as soon as he kissed her, thought she was loath to admit it. She was oddly immobile this time, though, even for her. Which isn't to say she didn't move at all. She usually just kept all the action restriced to the mouth section of the fun. And the hands. Her wandering hands…

But no response. Nothing. He almost, almost let her go out of shock, because her tongue wasn't doing anything. At all. Like, seriously, what the hell? She was usually so feisty, and this was so docile. He went cross eyed for a second, and then gaped as openly as he could with his eyes hurting and mouth occupied. She looked terrified. And shocked. And she was blushing! What the hell was that? Rin made others blush, not the other way around.

Then, all of a sudden, he understood.

Oh.

She must be embarrassed because she was wearing a dress and it had this effect on him. The little minx. If you play with fire, you'll get burned. Well, he'll show her. Usually, she'd be unbuttoning his shirt by now, but her coyness had obviously taken over, so he started for her. Then she started to wiggle and squirm, and he was oddly put out. Was she not in the mood to make out? But she'd have hit him if that was the case, so he guessed not.

Then, as he moved his hand across his buttons, his hand brushed past her chest.

He froze.

Wait, what?

It was at that moment the door was literally thrown open, the knob slamming into the wall, and in stormed Len, who flopped down on Rin's favourite chair, saw them, made a spectacular double take and gave quite the unmanly shriek upon seeing them.

Why was he intruding on them, anyways? Wasn't he supposed to be filming something with Kaito, one of those BL things for the fangirls. He felt affronted, suddenly and wished he'd thought to lock the door. Who was Len to interrupt his time with his precious girlfriend! He hoisted himself up on one arm, detaching himself from his girlfriend's mouth.

Once his long, beautiful hair wasn't blocking his vision anymore,he instantly zeroed in on the blood trickling out of Len's nose. The poor, innocent boy. He was staring at them with an odd mix of anger and fascination in his eyes, and Gakupo wished that he'd just go away. He was thirsting to get back to loving his girlfriend.

As his vision cleared, he noticed that the boy looked strange, too. Well, stranger than usual. I mean, shota was one thing, but wearing shorts that short? He'd thought that the boy had some manly pride. Like him. Gakupo was manly, and he'd go back to proving it to his lady if the boy wearing a belly top? What? That's stupid! Why the hell would a boy wear a belly top if it wasn't skin tight! And that bow, that's so girly! He looked exactly like his sister… and…

Oh. Oh god. Oh dear god. He choked back a scream in his throat, and scrambled off the bed, falling to the floor on his back. He stared at the ceiling, eyes glazing over. The lack of chest, noticeable even on his flat girlfriend. The lack of a usual response.

He stared at the ceiling fan going round and round with abject horror, until he lurched up and looked at the figure now sitting in foetal position on the bed, rocking back on forth and staring straight ahead with the same horror as he was. The figure was indeed wearing a dress, and indeed was pretty, but was quite... male.

Len.

The last thing he thought before blacking out was 'Ten bucks someone makes this into a song.'

AN: And that, kids, is how Imitation Black came to be. No joke. I'm serious.

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