Chapter 3: Can I Make it up with Some Makeup?

Madoka wanted to go clothes shopping. For some strange reason, all of Dynamis's friends thanked him for "taking one for the team." What was wrong with clothes shopping? It seemed fun enough. Dynamis didn't intend to buy anything, but perhaps a new towel or bathrobe would be nice.

Dynamis had never seen such a selection before. When he lived at Mist Mountain, he needed to make everything himself. His clothes? He'd spend hours at the loom. Food? He grew in his garden. He wanted to draw something? He'd have to spend the day mixing pigments before he could so much as paint a circle.

At the mall, not only could he simply purchase what he needed, but the choice was staggering. Overwhelming. Before, Dynamis didn't even have the choice in what color clothes he wore. He then looked to his left, and saw jeans, shoes, hats, and jackets. In different colors. In different sizes. In styles he had never seen before. Every time he went to the mall, he encountered yet another new fashion trend.

What else would he do? Watch paint dry?

The only company he ever received back at Mist Mountain were the religious clerics who occasionally visited. And they only ever talked about… dare he say, boring things. The stars, their god, his god, and enough religious text to make Dynamis puke.

Dynamis knew that he did not know everything, but it seemed like he had read every religious text under the sun from the Holy Bible to the every. Single. Agma. Text. Known. To. Man.

Too many. There were too many of them.

He vastly preferred Madoka's company over that of a judgmental old man who valued Dynamis's star charts more than Dynamis's words.

Dynamis was so used to elders telling him to shut up. Ever since moving to Japan, no one told him to shut up, and he was still getting used to it.

"Ya following? Green? Ya feeling me? I don't know! Purple, maybe? Ooh, but I like this style. But I don't like the color. Argh!"

Dynamis had no idea what Madoka was talking about, but he enjoyed the patterns in the store, and he enjoyed her company. The colors. The textures of the fabrics as he ran his hand through hanging clothes.

To Dynamis, this was much more fun than anything back at the temple. The department store was too noisy, the lights still too bright for his eyes. The hum of the climate control echoed inside his head, as did the sound of shoes against the bright, white, tiled floor.

Dynamis did not care.

Just for the afternoon, he did not want to think about his problems. His past relationship. His religious obligations.

He didn't want to think about how worthless he felt.

Then, Madoka dragged Dynamis into the makeup store.

Was he 14 when it started? Somewhere between 13 and 15, he presumed. Somewhere then, he had started experimenting with makeup.

Occasionally, the religious men who visited Dynamis brought him gifts from the people. Dynamis knew that he did not deserve such gifts. He knew that he did not deserve the admiration of the followers of Zeus's teachings. He had been taught, however, to not decline a gift. Dynamis feared being slapped across the face for disrespect.

Dynamis received a variety of items, such as food offerings – the only time when he'd eat candy – flowers, candles, perfumes, coins, rugs, religious art, amulets, and the occasional cursed artifact generously donated by a museum. One time, someone had graciously gifted him a chocolate bar. That was about the third time in his entire life he had ever eaten chocolate.

One day, however, someone gifted him makeup, apparently intended for his future wife. Dynamis, at that point, still did not understand why he had no desire to have a wife.

Something in his brain just… lit up.

When his visitors left, Dynamis unpacked the makeup from its giftwrap, sat on his bed, and stared at the package.

At that moment, he wondered why he couldn't be someone's wife.

Not as in, he wanted to be a woman. He couldn't articulate it at the time, but he felt different. He wanted to be like a woman, because women could marry men.

Why couldn't he marry a man?

A deep pit of shame settled in Dynamis's stomach, yet he still could not stop himself as he looked at his reflection inside the small mirror that came with the makeup.

The makeup kit he had been given contained a pencil with soft lead, some pigments, and what he would eventually come to find out was lipstick. Dynamis took the pencil, trying to line his eyes like the glamour models he saw in magazines as a child. Dynamis took blue pigment and copied the look he remembered. He remembered, clear as day, the image of a woman staring at her audience, eyes half-closed, lips red as a pomegranate, and the sky around her eyes. Dynamis took the lipstick and carefully applied it to his lips.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, he liked what he saw for the first time in a while. It felt right.

It only continued from there.

Dynamis used the pigments to make his face appear softer, his eyes wider. He figured out that by applying white underneath his eyes, he could make them look larger. He discovered how to make his lips appear just a little bit bigger with the right contouring of his lipstick. Dynamis also somehow managed to procure mascara, and he liked the way it made his eyelashes look.

It just felt right.

After several months, more clergy came to visit. Dynamis did not see the harm in wearing makeup that day. It was only makeup, after all. He had only lined his eyes and wore a small amount of pink pigment on his cheeks. That day, all hell broke loose.

As soon as the religious men saw him, their leader – as per usual – stepped in front of the group. As per unusual, however, he pulled Dynamis to the side, leading the teenager to the chamber underneath the temple.

The man yelled at Dynamis, cursed him, told him that this was wrong, so wrong. He took a wet cloth and rubbed Dynamis's face until it turned red from irritation.

"How could you, temple guardian? How could you?" the man said as he kicked down the door to Dynamis's bed chambers, found the kit of makeup, and crushed it beneath his feet.

The man gripped Dynamis's shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. He slapped Dynamis hard across the face, again and again. Dynamis dared not defend himself, or even argue back, or even say a word.

Being slapped across the face – this was far from the worst it had gotten. A bloody nose meant nothing to Dynamis. Elders punished him all the time, but it felt so personal this time.

Makeup was how Dynamis liked to pass his time, how he liked to express himself, how he liked to express his desires. The man told Dynamis that he was spiritually broken, that he should consider his desires an abomination.

When they left, Dynamis just sat on his throne, eyes hollow, unable to process what had just happened.

Every time the same man returned, he always hounded Dynamis about whether he dared again to act like a sodomite. Dynamis did not know that the word meant, but the venom with which the man said those words let Dynamis know that his answer should be a solid, confident "no."

It had just been an innocent mistake, Dynamis tried to convince the man. He only wore the makeup because he did not know it was wrong.

The man stood, watching, eyes sharp as needles, as Dynamis sat on the hard stone floor on his knees, reading scripture that condemned sodomy. The man would smack the back of Dynamis's head whenever his "eyes did not read fast enough."

As Dynamis read about how man should not lie with man, he remembered the times when he'd imagined himself married to one. Dynamis did not know whether he should feel scandalous or sinful for the thin band of charcoal he had used to line his eyes.

An abomination.

Dynamis froze.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't take it. He broke free of Madoka's chokehold, turned around, and left. He could not stand the mere sight, the mere mention, the mere suggestion of eyeshadow. Lipstick. Blush. He did not want to think about how he was sinning just for the sake of making his eyes look larger.

It brought up bad memories.

He was too tempted.

Despite Madoka's pleas to come back, Dynamis did not turn around. His very bones began to shake. He knees trembled. His hands felt numb. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

People stared, and he didn't care.

Dynamis went into the public washroom, locked himself in a stall, and stared blankly at the wall as his ears began ringing.

So, according to Madoka, she had brought Dynamis to the makeup store, Dynamis suddenly left, and now no one knew where he was.

"He looked like he was about to cry! I'm worried! I couldn't find him! I couldn't find him anywhere, ya feel me?"

Ryo deliberated between organizing a search party and just waiting for Dynamis to come back. Dynamis was the peculiar, quiet type. Perhaps he was just overwhelmed by being at a mall.

At least Madoka had reminded Ryo that he still needed to book Dynamis's doctor's appointment for "personal stuff."

"Don't worry, Madoka. I'm pretty sure being at a mall was just freaking him out. He'll be fine, I'm sure. He's never caused any trouble, so I don't foresee any."

"You're not following me!" Madoka objected. "He did NOT look happy. I checked everywhere and asked everyone! He's nowhere in Metal City, and no one's seen him!"

"I appreciate the concern, Madoka. I'll look into it. Get some rest for now, though," Ryo suggested.

He tried to crack a smile at the frazzled young woman.

"You better," Madoka huffed.

She swirled around, then left his office. Ryo was sure she would have slammed the door if it weren't for the fact that it was an automatic.

Ryo sat, and he thought.

"Director," Hikaru said, speaking for the first time since Madoka had arrived, "I have a bad feeling about this."

Ryo sighed, realizing that Hikaru was, perhaps, right like she always was. The man fiddled with his glasses as he contemplated his course of action.

Ryo then made the mistake of looking out his window, only to see a tornado rise into the clouds.

It appeared that he had another mess to fix. Ryo groaned internally.

"Chris!"

Chris looked over his shoulder and saw a familiar ginger mechanic.

"Oh, hey Madoka, what's up?" he asked as he collected his Orion from the training floor. He was a bit sweaty, a bit frazzled – a little embarrassing, for sure, but not nearly as bad as when they had fought Nemesis.

Madoka was huffing and puffing. She slumped over, hands on her knees as her back rose and fell. Chris gave Madoka a moment to catch her breath.

"Something's," Madoka began, before wheezing once more, "wrong. Can't," huff, "find," huff, "Dynamis anywhere."

Chris froze in place, asking Madoka to elaborate.

"I dunno, I was just with Dynamis at the mall, and I took him around, and we went shopping, and for some reason Dynamis just… walked away! He walked away soon as we entered the makeup section! I don't know what happened, Kyoya's made another mess so Ryo's preoccupied. I'm worried, you follow? I'm trying to find him, you know what I mean!"

At this point, King and Aguma had overheard the conversation and approached Chris and Madoka. Chris, King, and Aguma all stared at each other. This didn't feel right. It just didn't feel right. Chris had been worried about Dynamis all week, but Dynamis was not engaging with any of them. When he had heard that Madoka was dragging Dynamis to the mall, he honestly felt relieved.

For the past week, Dynamis had not left his apartment at all.

Chris was fairly certain that he had barely even left his bedroom.

Every time they knocked at Dynamis's door, Dynamis would answer, but then reassured them that he was fine before promptly closing the door.

Whenever they saw Dynamis, he had bags underneath his red eyes, as if he had spent the entire day crying. He hair was a tangled mess. They tried dropping off groceries, but Chris wasn't sure if Dynamis was even eating. His cheeks looked too drawn in. He had stopped wearing his normal robes, instead wearing the same baggy t-shirt every time they saw him.

Today, Chris was about to call a counselor – he'd pay for it himself if it'd help his friend – before Madoka intervened with retail therapy. But now, Dynamis was gone. Literally disappeared.

Chris really should have called the counselor.

"Wait," King said, suddenly. King was dumb, but he had the occasional bright idea. "You said you checked the toilets, right?"

And then they realized that the only stone left unturned was the mall's men's restroom – it was called a restroom, not a toilet; calling it a toilet is fucking weird, although Chris admitted that being American clouded his judgement in that regard.

Aguma had to carry Dynamis back. They had found Dynamis's robes peaking from underneath the restroom stall. There, they somehow managed to convince Dynamis to open the door, but as he came out, Chris quickly realized that Dynamis was in no state to walk back.

Dynamis hadn't been crying. He had been frozen. When Aguma set Dynamis on the stiff WBBA couch, he still did not move. When Chris offered Dynamis a glass of water, he did not move. Even when Madoka, against Chris's discretion, smacked Dynamis's cheek, he did not move.

Dynamis did not appear to be entirely there. His eyes were hollow, blank, dissociated. All he could do was play with his fingerless gloves.

They decided to take shifts watching over Dynamis, until he was finally ready to tell them what was wrong.

About an hour later, Kyoya stormed into the room, grumbling about how Ryo had ruined his fun. At the moment, Chris was with Dynamis.

Kyoya approached the pair, his icy blue eyes fixing upon a spaced-out Dynamis.

"What, lion got your tongue?" Kyoya grumbled.

"Kyoya, this is not the time," Chris sighed in frustration, chopping his forearm through the air for emphasis.

"For what? I'm pissed! Fucking pissed, I'd say! I was just about to win against Ginga, too!" Kyoya, with a huff, spun around on his heel, deposited himself onto the couch next to Chris, and crossed his arms in typical Kyoya fashion.

"Fucking killjoy," Kyoya grumbled. He punched the couch cushion.

"Kyoya, I am asking you politely to please leave," Chris told him, trying to be calm yet firm.

"Why? Cause someone needs their beauty sleep? Oh, I'm sorry, let me sing a fucking lullaby to the loser spaced out on the couch right now! What's wrong with you, man?" Kyoya reached over, waving his hand in front of Dynamis's face.

"Kyoya, I need you to leave," Chris repeated as he caught Kyoya's hand. Dynamis flinched.

"Oh please, you can't tell me what to do," Kyoya grumbled. He started ranting again, yelling at the wall about how unfair it was that he couldn't just get in a decent bey battle.

Dynamis tensed. He dug his nails so hard into his palms that he was drawing blood, while Chris tried his best to stop him. All the while, Kyoya kept going off, seemingly unaware of the other legendary blader's predicament, and in the meantime, Chris kept telling Kyoya to just. Leave. And. Complain. To. Someone. Else.

Usually, Chris did not mind Kyoya's constant complaints. It made Kyoya, well, Kyoya.

Today was different, though.

Today just was not the time.

Finally, Chris decided that it was best to just remove Dynamis from the room if Kyoya was unwilling to go.

"What?" Kyoya scoffed, probably attempting get in one last biting remark, "What are you, some weak blader who can't take a couple of hits?" Before Chris could react, Kyoya flicked the back of Dynamis's head as Chris was helping him up.

That set something off inside of Dynamis.

Dynamis's eyes widened. He clutched the back of his head. He shrieked at the top of his lungs. He fell to his knees, back hunched, and while Chris was trying to get Dynamis to not topple over, Dynamis puked. Legit puked.

As Dynamis was retching, a silence fell between the three of them.

Kyoya stared. He just fucking stared.

More silence. And then Chris went off.

"ALL YOU CAN DO IS FUCKING STARE?" Chris glared at Kyoya, wide-eyed, face twitching, fists formed and ready to punch this motherfucker.

"How was I supposed to know!" Kyoya exclaimed.

"SAY SORRY."

Kyoya didn't say anything.

"TELL. DYNAMIS. THAT. YOU. ARE. SORRY."

Nothing.

"THEN FUCKING LEAVE. FOR THE LAST GODDAMN TIME, FUCKING LEAVE."

Kyoya slank away, then.

Okay, so, he might have fucked up. Just a little bit.

Okay, so, he might have fucked up a lot.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

Madoka nearly blew him away as she yelled at him, and to hell, did he deserve it.

Kyoya felt bad. Like, really, really, really bad.

So, maybe going around being an asshole has its consequences. Kyoya never thought that now, he'd be unable to look Chris in the eyes.

This was the third time someone was yelling at him today, and he knew that at least this time, he fucking deserved it.

"WE FOUND DYNAMIS SPACED OUT IN THE WASHROOM, UNABLE TO SO MUCH AS WALK HOME, HE HAD BEEN FROZEN ON THE COUCH FOR AN HOUR, AND YOU CAME IN, FOR SOME REASON DID SOMETHING TO SET HIM OFF, HE VOMITED ON THE FLOOR, AND NOW HE WILL NOT COME OUT OF HIS ROOM."

Kyoya felt the building shake along its support beams.

"HOW COULD YOU BE LIKE THIS? IS YOUR NATURAL REACTION TO SOMEONE'S SUFFERING TO JUST MESS WITH THEM WHILE THEY'RE SPACED OUT ON THE COUCH? I HOPE YOU FEEL BAD, MISTER. I HOPE THAT YOU FEEL REALLY, REALLY, REALLY BAD."

Madoka kept going, and going, and going. Karma is a bitch, after all.

Kyoya couldn't take this anymore. His head hurt. He already felt terrible. He already knew that he had messed up bigtime.

"I'm sorry, okay!"

Silence.

Then, Madoka took a deep breath. This was the calmest she had been within the last fifteen minutes. She took another breath, then another. Her red face returned to its normal complexion. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. She sighed and sat down on the sofa, looking away from the Leone blader. "Kyoya, it's not me you have to say sorry to."

"Why do I have to say sorry to him, anyway? He won't even talk to anyone!"

Madoka gave him that look, and that sent a chill up and down and around Kyoya's spine.

"You will apologize to him."

.

"Yes ma'am," was all Kyoya could say. Cold sweat poured down his face. That day, no matter how grumpy he was, he had learned to truly fear Madoka.

Kyoya had not trained, or battled, or even launched Leone, for an entire week. This entire past week, he had been tormented with the prospect of figuring out how on earth he would apologize to Dynamis for making him puke. And freaking him out so much that he hadn't left his apartment for an entire week. And also for that one time he tried to egg Dynamis into battle by ripping his star chart into two. Oh, and he had also made the habit of making fun of Dynamis's robe. And let's not forget the time he caused permanent, irreparable damage Dynamis's temple.

Okay, now that he was thinking about it, Dynamis really did bear the brunt of Kyoya's torment because… well… he never said anything about it. Kyoya had never stopped to consider that even compared to how he liked to kick around everyone else, he was kind of an asshole to Dynamis. And he was an asshole because Dynamis never objected.

Kyoya sat in his house, crudely drawn cards splayed around him on the floor. To his left, sat a deluxe gift basket of tea. To his right, a teddy-bear stared at Kyoya with its beady eyes. Kyoya, honestly, had no idea how to say sorry to someone.

Kyoya meekly stared at his latest attempt at a handmade card. On it, he had written, "Sorry I made you vomit." Kyoya groaned, threw the card to the ground, and watched it but flutter gently to the floor.

He couldn't take it anymore. He needed help, and he was willing to stoop pretty low to get it.

About three bags of lollipops later, Tithi and Yu had finally decided that it was worth their time to help Kyoya – Yo-yo – out. Oh, that was also part of the deal. They could call Kyoya Yo-yo for a week straight, and Kyoya wasn't allowed to snap at them.

Every time he did, he owed them another bag of candy. At this rate, Kyoya was going to go broke.

"So, Yo-yo," Yu said, smile highlighting that nerve-gratingly cheerful face of his, "why do you need our help, anyway? Why does the big bad lion need our help?"

Kyoya would have rebuffed Yu somehow, but two things: one, the prospect of finding a way to apologize to Dynamis was already exhausting him, and two, he did not want to owe Yu and Tithi even more candy.

Come on. You can do it. Just fess up to what you did, and get it over with.

And Kyoya did.

And Yu and Tithi proceeded to roll over in laughter.

"Quit it! I told you, I need your help!"

Yu and Tithi kept laughing for a bit, but thank god, they eventually settled down.

"My gosh, I'm so happy to help ya out, Yo-yo!" Tithi said, cheeks flushed red. He scratched his cheek with his index finger, then chuckled.

"Ya, ya, whatever." Kyoya rolled his eyes, but nevertheless, he further explained his predicament.

Cue more annoying laughter.

"Awww! Yo-yo is so soft now! You care about us after all, huh? Huh?"

Kyoya was humiliated. Absolutely, positively, humiliated.

"I just feel bad, okay-"

Finally, though, Tithi managed to spare Kyoya some dignity as he piped up and exclaimed, "Don't worry, Yo-yo! We're on it! We'll find out what Dynamis likes, we'll report to you, and if you want, we can even help you set it up!"

"Yeah, yeah," Kyoya huffed, but just the tips of his ears were turning red.

"So, Tithi, you remember how to pick locks, right?" Yu asked as the two set off.

Dynamis had spent only the heavens knew how long languishing in his embarrassment. That, of course, made him more embarrassed. He had no idea what had come over him. Why did he do that? Why did he freeze like that?

Dynamis shifted his position in bed. The only things he had eaten today were pickled olives. It was the only thing he could eat without feeling sick. He was hungry, but he could not eat. He tried to drink, but every time he got up, the room span.

At times like these, he just wanted to die.

He heard a click. He didn't care. He simply curled himself into a tighter ball.

"Dy-nam-is! Dynamis! Ya here? I know Tsubasa told us to stop picking locks, but we're here on important business, you know?"

"Dynamis? Hey, um, we just wanted to ask you something, you know?"

Dynamis whimpered in bed. He, very slowly, forced himself to sit up. Today, he could not bear to part with Rago's robes. When Rago left, he had left Dynamis two things: his robes, and the t-shirt Dynamis liked to wear as the two cuddled in bed.

Biting his inner cheek, Dynamis did his best to push aside a memory of him and Rago lying on Dynamis's meager bed. Dynamis remembered how he'd have to stretch like a cat just so that his feet could intertangle with Rago's, which dangled off the small reed mat. Dynamis remembered how, for once, he did not feel cold underneath his thin, worn blanket, as he snuggled into Rago's built chest. He remembered how Rago felt, and he remembered how Rago smelled. To push himself onward, Dynamis hugged Rago's robe, trying to sniff the scent of sandalwood which had since long been washed away.

Dynamis would sell his soul for a bottle of the stuff.

He tried to stop himself from thinking about the sound water made as it hit marble, all while one hand held his own and the other traced its way along his stomach. When it thundered, and Dynamis felt frightened, Rago would hold him and tell him that everything would be okay.

"Yo, Dynamis-"

Dynamis's eyelids felt as heavy as stones as he looked, sad-eyed, at Yu and Tithi. He felt his t-shirt hunch pathetically off his frail shoulders. Blankets and pillows surrounded him. In a modern bed, it seemed so easy to just sleep the day away. It felt better to sleep, to forget.

"Dynamis, you don't look okay."

Dynamis let out a choked sob.

"Did Yo-yo make you feel that bad? Don't worry, he tries to make people feel bad all the time. Don't take it personally, though! He's just like that, you know?"

"Ya, like what Yu said! Yo-yo's just mean to everyone!"

Dynamis could not say a thing.

He felt so bad. He had care for Tithi and Yu, he really did. They were sweet children. They cared. They cared about the sick, felt sorry with the sad, and even though the two could be a little rambunctious, he knew they meant no ill harm.

Nothing. Nothing was willing to leave his mouth. Dynamis felt light-headed again, so he sunk back beneath the covers.

"Oh, I know what'll make you happy!"

Yu pulled out of his pocket a – phone? – and he and Tithi settled on Dynamis's bed.

"Gee, your bed's so uncomfortable, how do you sleep on this thing?" Yu remarked.

Yu and Tithi sat on either side of Dynamis, playing what appeared to be a "mobile game," as Tsubasa described it. The man seemed annoyed at that, and Dynamis had wondered whether he had done anything wrong.

In the dark room, Dynamis lied in between Tithi and Yu. Even as he refused to get up, or even part with Rago's robe, they did not question him. They just played their game, laughing as strange, unfamiliar sounds emanated from their screens. Dynamis looked at how the shifting blue lights blared and waned along their faces.

"Dynamis, why is it so hot in here?" Yu asked.

Dynamis shrugged meekly.

"Oh well, it's not worse than when I was all alone, you know? Sometimes it got really cold, and sometimes it got really hot."

At that, Dynamis could not help but embrace Tithi. "It does get really cold sometimes. And sometimes it is really hot."

"On Mist Mountain, you mean?" Tithi asked. In his moment of distraction, he lost the game. He groaned as Yu cheered.

"Gee, how do you always beat me?"

Dynamis weakly nodded to answer Tithi's question.

They were like that for a while, with Tithi shifting in Dynamis's arms, Yu beating Tithi in the game time and time again, and Dynamis just lying there, thinking of Rago. Dynamis did not have the heart to turn away the company, not knowing that surrounding himself with others could make him feel better. He did not know that he didn't have to feel less sad to deserve the companionship of others.

"Why are you so sad?" Tithi asked just as he lost for the seventh time in a row.

"You… you wouldn't understand," Dynamis mumbled.

"Come on! We're mature, aren't we, Tithi?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! I agree!"

"It's personal."

"What to you mean it's personal, hm?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh yeah? Why's that, huh?"

"It's… a secret."

"Oh yeah? Well, if it's personal, Tithi, how about we tell Dynamis a secret? That way, he'll feel more comfortable sharing his secret with us!"

"Yeah! Yeah! How about… how about we tell Dynamis about that time you and I snuck into Tsubasa's office! That's a secret, we'd get in big trouble for that if Tsubasa ever found out!"

Yu burst into hysterics. "You should've been there! We found his baby pictures! Who knew that Tsubasa was so cuuuuuuuuuute as a kid, huh?"

"Yeah! Yeah! He was so short. And now he's so tall! Dynamis, do you think I'll ever get as tall as you or Tsubasa?"

"Oh, remember all the parking tickets we found in his drawer?"

"Yeah, I remember that, too! And I think my favorite baby picture is when Tsubasa's mom dressed him up as a pumpkin for Halloween!"

Tithi and Yu began laughing again. Tithi broke free of Dynamis's embrace as he and Yu kicked their legs over the bed's edge in amusement. When they finally settled down, Yu said, between laughs, "See? It's not so bad, is it? And everyone's got embarrassing secrets!"

"Yeah! Yeah! Doesn't it make you feel better that everyone has embarrassing old pictures?"

"It… it's not like that," Dynamis tried to explain as tentatively as possible.

"Come on, Tsubasa's mom dressed him up as a pumpkin! That's so embarrassing!"

"Yeah! Yeah!"

"I bet nothing in the world is more embarrassing than your mom dressing you up as a pumpkin! He even had a bowl cut!"

"So, Dynamis," Tithi began, "we do have a question. If you're not willing to tell us why you're so sad."

"Yeah, yeah." Yu nodded firmly. "Dynamis, we have to know."

Yu and Tithi said in unison, "What do you like to do?"

Dynamis thought for a bit. "Um, I, I read star charts and the like. And I read ancient texts. And I pray. And I look at the Will of the Heavens. I used- I used do those things."

"No, no. We know you do those things. But those things are boring!" Yu interjected. "What do you like doing? You gotta have some hobbies, right?"

Dynamis felt like a deer who'd realized it had been spotted by a hunter.

"Yeah, what do you like to do? And beyblading doesn't count!"

Dynamis never enjoyed beyblading in the first place. He only did the sport out of obligation.

"Like, some people like painting! Shopping! Madoka likes those adult coloring books… hm… oh, oh, I know, that's another embarrassing photo we found in Tsubasa's drawer! Remember, Tithi? We found him at an anime convention!"

"Yeah! Yeah! Everyone has hobbies!"

"And Gingie likes burgers, Agumoo collects seashells, Hikaru's really into those horoscope things! Oh, and we found out that Yo-yo's into scented candles! He'd kill us if he found out we told you, right?"

Tithi and Yu giggled amongst themselves again.

"Yeah! Yeah! He'd be sooooo mad!"

Dynamis still did not say a word.

Yu, being a child, was once again distracted by something. Tithi crawled over Dynamis, towards Yu, so that they could watch something on Yu's device. Dynamis looked on, disinterested at first, but he felt himself sucked in, as if Yu's device were a black hole for his attention.

They watched a video of someone decorating a cake, short clips of people dancing strangely to strange songs, long analyses of modern entertainment that Dynamis did not understand, a movie explaining the size of stars, and another explaining the formation of a black hole. Then, something magical happened.

"Tithi, Tithi, we have to see this!"

Yu and Tithi started showing Dynamis video instructions of how to apply makeup. Tutorial after tutorial they watched, and Dynamis was entranced. Yu somehow knew to keep clicking on makeup video after makeup video.

The colors with which people painted their eyes. The shades and shapes of available lipsticks. The intricate art people drew around their waterlines. They all looked so happy. Dynamis wanted to do that. He wanted to color his eyelids with hues of indigo and pink. He wanted to draw stars and hearts and flowers all over his face. He wanted to do his hair into braids and adorn them with lilies.

When Yu tapped on a video of a man applying makeup, Dynamis started crying. It started off small, just a stifled sob. But then tears came, and the snot came, and his eyes were red.

"Dynamis?" Tithi said at last, "what's wrong? A-are you hurt? What's wrong?"

"M-men can put on makeup, j-just like that?" Dynamis stammered pathetically.

"What, duh? Why wouldn't they be able to?" Yu replied as he puckered out his lower lip in a pout.

It was a revelation.

Dynamis was in disbelief.

Boys were allowed to like makeup. He was allowed to like makeup.

Fireworks went off inside his head. Dynamis wiped his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, awkwardly rotating his arm in the air so that his face could reach the short sleeve.

"Yo, Tithi, what's up with him?"

"I… I don't know."

.

"I like putting makeup on."

.

It came out so fast. Almost… easily. It came out too easily.

Kyoya didn't know that much about makeup. He would have asked Madoka for help, but he was still too embarrassed. Madoka had given him a well-deserved earful, and he still could not face her again.

Every time he saw her in the room, he still felt the steam come off her.

The Leone blader at on his living room floor, hands twisting in strange motions as he tried to wrap the awkwardly shaped package, his forearms covered in glitter and double-sided tape.

Dynamis seemed to like purple, maybe? Kyoya didn't know. Did he like glitter? What design did he like the most? Whatever, like it mattered. He'd done a piss-poor job of wrapping. The bow slouched off the side of ripped wrapping paper. This was Kyoya's fifth attempt, and he had just about used the entire roll of paper. His failures laid crumbled up in the corner.

This would have to do.

To hopefully make it just a little bit better, Kyoya tied his handmade card to the present.

"Hey Dynamis," it was spelled out in handwriting worse than a biochemist's, "I'm really sorry for making you so stressed, that you puked. Like, really sorry. There's not much I can do to make it up to you, but… I hope you like it."

He better like it. Why the hell was makeup so expensive, anyway? This small kit had cost Kyoya an arm and a leg!

Kyoya sighed as he placed the finishing touch: if Dynamis didn't like it, maybe he'd at least like the Sephora giftcard.

He was going to do this. He was actually going to fucking do this. With all his courage, Kyoya took a deep breath, picked up the gift as he rose to his feet, and began the long and "arduous" walk to the WBBA apartment complex where Dynamis lived.

When Kyoya arrived, he couldn't face Dynamis.

He admitted it; he was a coward in this situation.

Kyoya knocked on the door, left the package, and ran. From behind the corner, he waited for about five minutes. Kyoya groaned, ran back to the door, and gave the thing another series of loud, firm knocks. He retreated back to his corner, and at least this time, Dynamis opened the door. Before closing it once more, the recipient picked the gift from the floor.

Dynamis looked awful.

Even from where Kyoya was standing, he saw how red Dynamis's eyes were. He saw how tired he looked. The man looked absolutely, positively, defeated.

Had Kyoya really fucked up that badly? It couldn't have been, right?

No, that wasn't it.

Kyoya didn't think that he'd be the one storming in, interrupting everyone's training, not to battle, but to demand an explanation.

"Chris, Dynamis is depressed. Like, we're talking clinical depression."

"I know."

"What do mean, 'I know?'"

"Ask him yourself. It's not my place to tell."

Kyoya knew that he was taking the coward's way out, but he couldn't. Somehow, he knew that right now, it was not his place to ask.