A couple days passed by and time marched on like usual. Michel found himself spending more time with Yuki or locking himself in his room with his sketch pad; it was almost as if he was avoiding Free. After all, if he didn't spend time with Free, he wouldn't have to tell him about what happened, right? He tried to keep himself busy -there was homework to do, errands to run, chores- so that there would be no opportunities for that one awkward silence in which it could all come crashing down.

There was a mission coming up, one which Michel was not pleased about, as he would be playing a key role in it. London's young girls had been disappearing from teen clubs and cafes all over town and there was certainly only one member of the team who could make a convincing decoy.

Thus, the tiny blond found himself dressed in his most androgynous clothes, standing in the middle of the juniors section at a trendy department store, blushing while Chloé held up a short denim skirt.

"This would look awfully cute on you."

The blush spread. "It's not really my style." He muttered, gaze diverted. The tiles of the floor were suddenly very interesting.

"Don't you ever get tired of all the plaid?" Chloé shook his head, hanging the skirt back on the rack.

Michel sighed. He could feel a headache coming on. "I thought that schoolgirl look was in style right now. I've got to look trendy. And I can't look like myself, in case I run into any one I know from school."

"How about that one then?"

The teenager's gaze followed the direction Chloé was pointing, stopping on a black and purple plaid skirt. It looked like it would fall slightly above the knee and was totally unlike anything he would have picked out if he was alone, making it perfect for the mission.

"That would be good…Maybe I could go for that punk-goth look. If we pair it with some black and white stripes…Layer a few things." Chloé nearly laughed at the serious expression on his companion's face. He couldn't help it; Michel looked as if this were the most intense thought he'd given anything all week. "I can borrow a black tee-shirt from Yuki, but there are a few other things we need to get."

A pair of over-the-knee socks, one black and white striped, long sleeved shirt and a changing room later, Chloé found himself face-to-face with a nearly unrecognizable Michel. The boy was swathed in stripes and plaid, the collar of the shirt slipping off and baring a lightly tanned shoulder. The skirt stopped just barely above where the knee socks began and the sleeves of the shirt hung down almost to Michel's fingertips. Dressed like this, it was damn near impossible to tell which gender he was, but the switch to girl would be made fully with the aid of accessories and makeup.

"Do you think we can do something about my hair?" Michel asked, tugging the shirt back up over his shoulder, "It would be far more convincing if it were black or some outlandish color like purple or blue. And I need some shoes." He looked up and Chloé couldn't help thinking sadly that the unnatural paleness of his face and the dark circles beneath his eyes only heightened the illusion of the unhappy goth child he was masquerading as.

"Maybe we can get one of those spray-in hair colors. Your hair is too light for even a temporary dye." He offered Michel a wry smile, "I should know."

The teenager giggled as he ducked back into the fitting room. Chloé had once spent a month with his immaculately groomed hair tinted a sort of rusty brown as the result of a mission. The bottle had claimed the dye would rinse right out, but Chloé's light blond hair had proved otherwise. The color had simply faded and they had all endured weeks of his agitation over the situation. "We could probably pick up a cheap spray somewhere." Michel called through the door, "It is close enough to Halloween that almost any drug store should carry it."

"Good thinking, kid. And while we're there, we can pick up some eyeliner and black nail polish for you." Chloé looked at his watch, "We'll get some shoes, then some lunch, then head down to the pharmacy on the way home."

Michel nodded, forgetting that Chloé couldn't see him through the door of the fitting room. He was stripping off the foreign clothes, eager to be back in his worn and familiar clothing. He felt vulnerable in the skirt; exposed. The draft had been unpleasant, yet somehow exciting, against his bare skin. He imagined how easy it would be for Thomas or any of the other boys at school to paw at him if they ever caught him dressed like that and the thought made his skin crawl.

"Wait until every one else sees you dressed like that." He heard Chloé saying from outside the pressboard door. "I know Ken and I tease you, but I don't think any of us really believed you could make such a convincing girl. Yuki'll probably wet himself."

Michel closed his eyes as Chloé continued to snicker. He didn't care what Yuki thought of him, but as he peeled the striped shirt over his head, he let his mind wander…

He tried to imagine Free's reaction to seeing him in this ridiculous get-up, but all the mental images he kept getting involved one of Free's hands running up his bare thigh, disappearing under the purple and black plaid and the look of surprised pleasure on Free's face when he discovered Michel had absolutely nothing on under the damnable skirt.

At Chloé's knock on the door and questioning if he was nearly done, Michel snapped back to reality, a fierce blush spreading across his face. He wondered vaguely at his own boldness as he quickly pulled his clothes on, attempting to will away the result of the scandalous daydream by thinking of the least arousing things possible.

Chloé gave him a strange look as he emerged, cheeks still pink. This mission was going to be very stressful and awkward if he allowed himself any more little fantasies like that. Fortunately, Yuki was being forced to go undercover as well. Yuki, however, did not have to dress like an over-sexed teen girl. At this point, it seemed Yuki would simply be forced into a dreary black outfit as the male counterpart of Michel's gothic ensemble. It really wouldn't be that big of a change on Yuki's part; most of his tees and sweatshirts were black. All he needed was a pair of pants loaded with straps and zippers and he'd be set.

Michel followed Chloé to the register, the clothes bunched up in his arms. He made a face at the sight of the cashier, a willowy, dark haired woman with bright eyes who couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from Chloé, and plunked the pile of clothes on the counter.

She started to fold them, still making doe-eyes at Chloé, who simply smiled and shifted all his weight to one hip, leaning against the counter. "Are these clothes for your daughter?" She chirped, inclining her head in Michel's direction, "They're a very different style than what she's wearing."

The youth in question frowned, piping up with an answer before Chloé could even open his mouth. "They're for my cousin for her birthday. Father isn't very fashionable, so his…friend here" -he coughed slightly, raising his eyebrows suggestively on the word friend- "offered to help me out." He said casually, easily ignoring the embarrassed, menacing glare that he knew Chloé had fixed on him.

"Oh, you poor dear!" How swiftly the woman's tone had changed, "I hope your cousin likes them." She rang up the purchases and slid them neatly into a bag. Chloé was still glaring as he passed his credit card to her, but she didn't seem to notice.

Michel took the bag, smiling as sweetly as he knew how. "Thank you, ma'am."

"What the hell was that for, kid?" Chloé demanded as they left the store. "I could have got her number."

"Call it payback for the Yuki comment. And you're forcing me into that embarrassing skirt! Did you expect me to wear it willingly?" He blushed, "I am a boy. Boys do not wear skirts."

"You wear that nice little kilt plenty. It shouldn't be that big of a change."

"It's completely different and you know it!" He glanced up at Chloé, only to find the man smiling down at him. He blushed a little when he realized Chloé had been teasing, then smiled, knowing that there were no hard feelings over the cashier. "Shoes next?"

"Ja." Chloé grinned, leading the boy down the street in the direction of one of his favorite shoe stores.

-----

Yuki had mixed feelings about Sundays. On one hand, they were the only day on which the shop was regularly closed. On the other, they meant that there was school again the following day and he had to get the homework he put off finished or Aya would harp on him.

Currently, he was engaged in said homework.

He groaned in frustration, chucking a pen across his desk, only slightly satisfied when it left a mark on the wall. This damn poem made no sense! How was he supposed to write a critique on it when he had no clue what it was about?

"Yuki?"

His head jerked up at the sound of Michel's voice and he twisted around in the chair, turning to find the younger boy peeking into his room. "How was the shopping trip?"

Michel took that as an invitation and padded softly into the room, flopping on Yuki's bed. Over the past couple days, the two boys had grown closer to one another as they spent time doing homework or chores together. The little blond was happy that Yuki finally seemed to be opening up to him, while at the same time not making any demands of him. "You're lucky you don't have to dress like a girl for this." He rolled over on his side, plucking a fuzz ball off Yuki's spare afghan, "Wait until you see what Chloé's making me wear."

"That bad, huh?" Yuki rose, stretching and casting a dark glance at his homework. He shuffled over to the bed, scratching his stomach through his sweatshirt, and settled down next to Michel. "You look tired."

"I am. Shopping with Chloé is positively exhausting." A fond smile played across his face as he looked over at the dark-haired boy. "How's the homework going?"

"Sucks." The American stared up at the ceiling, "I hate Shakespeare and I hate sonnets."

"That bad?" Michel teased, poking at Yuki's ribs. That earned him an eye roll and he giggled, snuggling close to Yuki. "I'm glad we're friends now. It means a lot to me."

"Yeah; yeah…" Yuki grumbled, "Don't get all mushy on me." He may have been frowning, but he didn't push Michel away. "Us poor little orphans need to stick together, after all."

"Oh Yuki…" Michel sighed, "Don't let them get to you."

"Just like you don't, right?" The older teen's scowl made Michel recoil slightly. Yuki felt a wash of guilt when the little blond turned on his other side, facing the wall. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean that."

"It's different." He whispered, "T'isn't the same because they don't hurt you."

Yuki wondered absently when he would get used to Michel's accent. There was something soft and soothing about it, some lilting quality which made it seem to role off his tongue. KR's accent was different; more refined. Chloé and Free's were another story all together. The German accent was nasal and kind of difficult for him to understand at times, but Yuki was used to it at this point. The same with Aya and Ken. It was unusual and exotic, but nothing he hadn't gotten used to with time. For some reason, the singsong quality of Michel's voice was still foreign to him and he couldn't figure out why.

"Michel…I'm sorry." Yuki frowned to himself, "But, God, you need to stop hurting yourself over it. It's not worth it. And we're all worried about you. No one knows what to do."

Yuki was startled to suddenly find himself with an armful of sobbing blond. Michel buried his face in Yuki's chest, clinging to him and weeping softly. He patted his back awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Michel's sniffles and sobs were muffled and Yuki could feel a damp spot spreading on his shirt, caused by the tears pouring from the younger boy's eyes.

"It's okay." He offered lamely, still patting the other boy's trembling shoulders, "We'll all help you."

"Yuuuuki…" The name poured out of Michel's mouth in a little wailing cry, "Yuki, what am I gonna…" The sentence was broken up by a sniffle, "What am I gonna dooooo?"

"Hey, calm down!" Yuki hugged him gently, still unsure what the hell he was doing, but determined to try. "What are you going to do about what?"

"I'm gaaaaay!" The wailing increased in volume and Michel clung to Yuki desperately, as if afraid he would disappear somehow.

It was on the tip of Yuki's tongue to say "well, that's really no surprise" but he bit back the comment and hugged Michel tighter. "I told you already, that's not a big deal. You're still my friend. Besides, do you think it's really such a bad thing? I mean, we do live with some pretty attractive guys…"

Michel hiccupped against his chest. His shoulders were still shaking and Yuki wasn't sure, but he might have been laughing at that. He petted the unruly blond curls, trying to draw Michel's face away from his chest. "Come on…It's really not that bad." He said reassuringly, "No one here's going to care. Look who we live with. Does any one here seem all that straight to you?"

This earned him a sniffley giggle. Michel sighed, looking up at Yuki, tears still rolling down his face. "Good point." He paused for a moment, contemplative. "Even you?"

Yuki blushed lightly and Michel's eyes widened. "Really? You too?" He questioned, disbelieving. Yuki never struck him as the type. If anything, Yuki seemed positively asexual. This was very new and very interesting.

"Well…" Yuki wished he had kept his mouth shut, "There's this boy…I see him around downtown sometimes. Usually in that little park at the end of the block. He's got so much hair and I want to touch it." He rambled, "He's really pretty, almost like a girl."

"Have you ever talked to him?" The tears had stopped; Michel was simply curious at this point. "Maybe he likes you too!" He offered helpfully.

"I don't know him, Michel. He doesn't go to our school. I just see him when I wander around sometimes. I don't even have any idea what his name is." He sighed, "But what about you? Is there some one you've got in mind?" Yuki had his suspicions, of course. A while ago, he had caught Michel kissing Free in the living room.

The smaller boy blushed brightly, burying his face in Yuki's shirt again. "Is it bad that I daydream about Free?" He whispered, voice muffled.

"Bad? No way!" Yuki took a deep breath, figuring there was only one good way to reassure Michel. "When I first met him, I had the biggest crush on Aya, of all people." He blushed softly as the Irish boy settled back in the curve of his side, snuggling close once more. "You and Free have known each other a long time. I don't think it's weird or anything."

"He's so much older than me though. And I don't think he thinks of me that way anyway. We're just…friends. Or, like, brothers or something. I don't think he'll ever see me as anything more." He sighed, resting his head on Yuki's shoulder.

"Well, you won't know until you try." Yuki put an arm around him, cuddling him close in an uncharacteristic display of affection. "But hey…We're both young still. Neither of us should be worrying about this."

"I suppose." Michel yawned, "Don't tell any one, okay? I don't want them to think I'm being silly."

"I won't tell if you don't tell." Yuki offered him half a smile.

Michel nodded, then fell silent for a moment, staring at their socked feet. "Have you ever kissed any one, Yuki?" He asked curiously, "Really kissed, I mean."

The boy in question blushed and shook his head, looking embarrassed. He had been getting more comfortable with Michel, but this was going into awkward territories. If the blond was hoping for advice, he certainly wasn't going to get any.

"I kissed Free once." Michel admitted, blushing softly, "But I don't think it really counts. He didn't kiss me back and I never bothered trying again. But it didn't seem bad…Or wrong. It was like…" He struggled to explain, knowing Yuki might not get it, "Like…home."

"Home?" Yuki blinked, slightly confused. What was that supposed to mean? Home was a place, not a person. Home was here, or wherever else Krypton made them live.

"He makes me feel safe and protected. Welcome. Like I don't have to be afraid."

"But you won't tell him about this." Yuki's hand rested lightly over Michel's stomach, knowing full well that it was still a mess of fading scabs beneath the fabric of his shirt, "Or about Thomas either."

"I can't tell him about those things!" A sort of pouty frown crossed the blond's face, "I don't want to ruin anything we have now. I don't want him to be disappointed in me, Yuki. He thought I stopped doing it…He'll be disappointed if he knows I'm still doing it. As for Thomas…I can take care of myself. I don't need help."

"Yeah, you handle things real well." Yuki scoffed, not bothering to disguise the sarcasm in his voice, "That's why you're covered in scars, isn't it?"

Beside him, Michel stiffened. "That's not funny." His voice was soft and held a hint of hurt.

"I'm sorry!" The older boy heaved a sigh, twisting on his side and pulling Michel close to keep him from running off. "I'm not any good at this kind of…comfort…thing, okay?" The blond nodded and he wondered vaguely how many times Michel might have come to him, upset and lonely, and he'd been too self-absorbed or awkward to help him out. He was getting better; really he was. He was trying to listen to the other teen and offer him advice without biting his head off, but it was a hard habit to break. "Why do you really do it, Michel?"

"I…I'm not really sure any more. I used to do it to stop the hurt…I guess I kind of taught myself how to turn off all my feelings. Or it was so easy to focus on a hurt I had caused myself, rather than one caused by some one else. Sometimes, it was an easier way to let everything out than to talk to some one else. I grew up without other children; I learned how to keep things to myself. KR…isn't the best father figure. I had everything I could have wanted, except the attention a child deserves. He simply couldn't spare time to make sure I was tended to as I should have been." He paused for a moment to catch his breath, giving Yuki time to swallow the information.

"Because of that, I learned to fend for myself. It was around the time I started at St Justin Martyr's that Chloé was brought here, but he was a grown man and I had learned that grown-ups had very little time for the problems of a small child. So I rarely tried to tell Chloé when something was bothering me. I started cutting myself instead, around the time I turned thirteen. It was easier than trying to talk at that point and a lot less difficult to hide too. It was something…I had control over. All of my life was planned and scheduled for me, but this was something all my own. Back then, I was in charge of it. But it's such a rush; so addicting. I don't know any more…I can't really explain it to some one who's never done it."

"Sometimes though…" Here his voice dropped to a whisper, "Sometimes I do it just to remind myself I'm alive. If I hurt; if I can still feel…Then I'm still human."

Yuki shivered, hugging him closer, "There are other ways to remind yourself you're alive. Please…Don't hurt yourself any more."

Michel was silent for a moment, touched at Yuki's concern. The older boy rarely showed this vulnerable side; rarely showed his weaknesses. Yes, he could cry over Alison and Akagawa, but it wasn't the same. Peering into his haunted eyes, Michel could see a sort of deep rooted fear; it seemed almost as if he was afraid of losing some one else close to him. He had a wild urge to laugh hysterically for a moment; Yuki wasn't close to him. Yuki tolerated him, but they weren't close. Although maybe -just maybe- Yuki was as lonely as he was.

"I can try. I can try, Yuki, but I can't make any promises. Don't ask me to promise." He whispered.

"That's better than nothing." Yuki cuddled him reassuringly, "And I'll help," He paused, hesitating, "If you want me to."

A soft smile crossed the blond's face and he rested his head on Yuki's shoulder. "Aye; I think I'd like that."