Yao didn't believe in fortune telling, astrology, predictions, or any of the other things that often got people in trouble. Believing in things like that was how hopes were raised, and then crushed.
That being said, he examined himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his thick brown hair, which for once was down. Yao prefered to wear his hear in a ponytail when at all possible. In public, at home, in bed, it didn't matter. When his hair was down, he looked like a girl. His feminine facial features and (it must be said) figure served only to make things worse.
"Today is my last day as a brunette," he said, finally. Francis looked up from the dirty magazine he had been flipping through.
"Not a loss," he said nonchalantly. "And, anyway, what is that American saying? Blondes have more fun?"
"Aiyaa," sighed Yao. He picked up a red comb and ran it through his hair. He winced slightly as he hit a small tangle. "Ivan keeps going to that stupid fortune teller,aru. She told him that he would meet a sexy blonde man." He winced again, this time from the thought and not from the comb. "So I'm going to dye my hair blonde," he added simply.
Francis wiggled his eyebrows. "Maybe she was referring to me?" Yao snorted derisively.
"Stop making humor before someone hears you, fool," he replied testily. Yao highly doubted that Ivan would sleep with Francis. Francis was disgusting. Besides, Yao got the feeling that Francis just said such things to give off a reputation. After all, from outward appearances, Francis was no masochist. Yao smiled a mean little grin to himself, giggling slightly as visual images of Ivan chasing Francis with his trademark bloody spigot filled his head.
Francis appeared in thought, which was more or less of a rare occurence. Then he spoke. "What has happened to him?" Yao was surprised. He turned around to face Francis.
"Happened to who?"
"Feliciano."
Oh. Now that was a question worth considering. Lately, he was so damn happy; not that he had ever been the gloomy sort, but now he was so cheerful it almost frightened Yao. He often sang to himself, and danced through the hallways.
"Oh," said Yao, echoing his thought from before.
"What has Kiku done to him?" asked Francis. Yao arched his eyebrows.
"Kiku?" he asked. That was pretty unlikely. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Kiku didn't have Feliciano's attention most of the time, much less his heart. "Why Kiku?"
"So he's just getting all dolled up for us, then?" Francis suggested. "Merci, mon ami!" he called to the bathroom where Feliciano was, apparently, applying one hell of a getting-ready ritual. As far as Yao could remember, it had never taken him this long to get ready for anything. Yao walked over to the vanity and rooted through it until he found what he had been looking for. He sat down on the white carpet and began to apply the red nail polish.
Feliciano ran into the room. With all the time he had taken, Yao half expected him to come out wearing a dress and makeup. But no, he was wearing a nice-ish black suit with a blue shirt underneath. Blue was not Yao's favorite color, but it seemed to work for him, at least. "Yao! Francis! My adorable friends," he exclaimed. Hmph. Yao was slightly offended. He was not adorable; he was manly. He winced as a drop of toenail polish dropped onto the carpet. Oh well, it wasn't his carpet; someone else would deal with it.
"Can you keep a secret?" he asked, giggling from behind his hand. This got Francis's attention.
"I adore secrets!" cried Francis. Yao rolled his eyes. True, Francis loved secrets, but that didn't mean that it was a good idea to tell them to him. "Tell me, tell me, tell me!" he whined. Why was Francis so concerned? Knowing Feliciano, it was probably something stupid, like, "I ate spaghetti today!" or "When I wear dresses, it makes me feel pretty."
"Tonight is my wedding night," whispered Feliciano. Francis audibly groaned.
"The poor thing is out of his mind, aru," said Yao, as he applied a second layer of polish to his pinkie toe. Feliciano laughed.
"I am. Crazy," he said, for emphasis. He sat down on his big, fluffy canopy bed. Francis glanced at him from the chair he sat in. He had set down his porn; now he really had his attention.
"He might be, at that," muttered Francis. "He looks somehow different," he added.
Feliciano blinked at them both, his eyes widened. "I do?" he asked.
Yao gave Francis a look, raising his eyebrows. "And I think he is up to something," he said, wiggling his toes in an attempt to get them to dry faster.
Feliciano gave them the same blank look he had before. "I am?" he asked.
"Oh, goodness," said Francis. "'I do', 'I am', he talks like a parrot." Indeed, he did. Finally, Yao couldn't stand it anymore.
"What is going on with you, aru?" he exclaimed.
Feliciano shuffled his feet. "I don't know," he mumbled. But then that same smile from before was on his face once again. "Lately, I just feel so pretty, and witty, and gay-" Yao held out a hand to stop him. He blushed, and coughed into his hand.
"Ah, Feliciano, we're both really happy. And, we're very honored you chose to tell us, aru," he muttered. This was so awkward it hurt. "But, um, we already knew that you were gay. I mean, it was kind of obvious." In point of fact, Yao didn't care one way or the other. Hell, if you wanted to subscribe to labels, he himself was gay. He just didn't want to hear the story of how Feliciano had come to that particular realization. Francis, however, was practically sitting on the edge of his seat.
"Details, details!" he exclaimed. "Did you find out his name first or was it a one-night stand? What attracted you to him? How good was he? How b-" Feliciano raised his hand meekly, and Francis stopped.
"Um," he said, "I don't know what you two are talking about." He tucked his hair behind his ears. "I may be using the word incorrectly, of course. Isn't 'gay' the English word for 'felice'?" he asked, his face somewhat red. Yao wasn't fluent in Italian, which he suspected the word 'felice' was, but he was vaugely familiar with the Spanish phrase 'Feliz Navidad', 'Merry Christmas,' etcetera, etcetera, so given the context he assumed it meant happy.
"No," he said quickly. "Gay means..." Okay, now this was awkward. Francis leapt up, clutching his filthy magazine.
"Flip to page 13," he instructed Feliciano. Before Yao could tell him to stop, Feliciano had already done so. His mouth dropped open a little.
"Please close that," he said, turning his head away. Francis set the magazine on a nearby end table. "Why on Earth did you show me that?" he cried.
Francis shrugged. "That's what gay means," he said.
Feliciano paled. "I think I meant 'happy'..." he said. Francis shrugged again.
"Perhaps...although personally, I think you are a little of both." He snickered to himself, and Feliciano blushed even more.
"I don't think I would ever do what those people in that magazine were doing," he said. Good. Yao didn't know what it was, and he really didn't want to, either. Francis was getting out of control.
"Are you still happy?" asked Yao. To his utter shock, Feliciano was back to giggling and skipping around the room like a fool.
"Yes!" he exclaimed.
"Why?" Yao was outraged. What could possibly make him so happy that he could repress the filth inside of one of Francis's magazines?
"Because," he said, and Yao could swear he was squealing by this point. "I'm loved!" Francis snapped his fingers, like he was finally understanding.
"Oh!" he said. "That's fabulous! Who is he?" But Feliciano just smiled, not saying anything. Yao knew exactly who it was.
"You know that guy from the dance? German guy, about 'this' high?" He held his hand to the top of Feliciano's vanity. "The one he got into trouble with, aru?" Francis's eyes lit with recognition.
"So that's who. Well, now you have to tell us, little Felicia. Was it any good at all? I've always heard that those west-side boys are good in bed, but they're so filthy that even I wouldn't sleep with them. Also, I'm not sure if he counts, since he's a second generation immigrant and all. But, yeah. Have you seen him naked?" Francis could be so inconsiderate. Feliciano's face was completely red now, though he was still giggling, and he opened his mouth to answer.
"I haven't-ahh!" His mid-sentence scream was shocking to both of them.
"Aiyah! What happened, aru?" He rushed to Feliciano's side. Blood ran down his face. What the hell?
"Relax," said Francis. "Lean forward, don't lean backwards. You'll choke if you do that," he said. Wow. Francis was useful? But Yao still didn't know what had happened. Where had the blood come from? Francis dug around in his pocket until he found a moist towelette. "Just lean forward, I can clean your face."
"What on Earth?" mumbled Feliciano. "I don't understand," he said.
"Don't worry at all," said Francis. "Of course, once I get your face cleaned up, I'm going to make fun of you until you die, but it's not a big deal. When I was your age, I used to get nosebeleeds all the time."
Oh.
Well, wasn't that beautiful? Yao shook his head.
Once Francis had cleaned up Feliciano's face, he led him to the mirror. "Good as new," proclaimed Francis. He laughed. "By the way, this tells me far more than words, little Feli," he added.
"What?" Then he caught sight of his reflection. "Wow! I look much better than I felt. Yay, I feel pretty again!"
Suddenly, the door opened with a bang. Yao turned his head. It was Kiku, and he looked like a mess. His clothes were torn, his hair was completely messed up, he was covered in dirt, and worst of all, he had a large gash running down the side of his face.
"What happened?" Feliciano cried. "You have to get washed up right now!" Kiku shook his head.
"I have to tell you, Feliciano. At the fight-" Feliciano shook his head vehemently.
"There was not a fight. You're wrong," he said firmly. His tone was stricter than Yao had ever heard it.
"There was," said Kiku. "Nobody meant for it to happen," he said, coughing slightly. All of the color drained from Feliciano's face.
"Tell me," whispered Feliciano. His tone was grave. Yao frowned; he wanted to leave, but he wanted desperately to know what had happened. It didn't seem to matter. Thankfully, Feliciano had forgotten he was there for the moment.
"It's bad," said Kiku numbly.
"How bad?"
"You see," he began, but then he clammed up. Kiku was always like that. When bad things happened, he would shut up.
Feliciano sighed. "If you say it fast, it will be easier." Kiku nodded.
"There-was-a-fight." Feliciano nodded. "And-Toni." He nodded again. "And-somehow-a-knife-and-Toni-and-someone-" Feliciano grabbed Kiku's arms, roughly.
"What happened to Ludwig?" he asked. Kiku's face darkened. Feliciano shook him by the shoulders. "What happened? Is he alright?"
"He killed your brother," he said, leaving Feliciano's bedroom and slamming the door behind him. When Yao saw Feliciano begin to kneel to the Virgin Mary, he snuck out as well. Before he left, his eyes fell on his red nail polish stain. It looked a little sick, now. He hoped no one would notice.