"Oww! Careful with that thing! Watch we're your sticking—OWW!"

As another shiny bobby pin slid into the crevices of his hair and accidentally nipped at his skin, making him wince from the momentary pain, Manjyome could only wonder how he managed to get stuck in a romantic relationship with such a sadistic person like Fubuki Tenjoin. After a thought, he admitted that sadistic was probably the wrong word. Fubuki may have dubbed himself the 'blizzard prince' but his personality was far from being icy cold. Had he actually lived up to his faux title, Manjyome wouldn't be squirming in a chair, desperately trying to keep still as nimble fingers toyed with the raven locks of his hair, twisting them into curls, and misting them with large amounts of hairspray.

Manjyome frowned as a random question wormed its way into his lace-covered head. What kind of normal boy enjoyed playing with hair anyway? He barely had the energy to run a comb through it every morning; it didn't make much sense—his hair was always going to be messy and cluttered no matter how many times he combed it.

"You have such nice hair…smells good too!" He felt nostrils sniff his hair. "What kind of shampoo do you use?"

"Whatever I could steal from the shower room," Manjyome muttered, closing an eye as the last bobby pin slid in and pinched the back of his head. "That hurts. Are we done yet?"

"Sure are!" Fubuki chirped.

He stood back and let Manjyome jump out of the chair, admiring his handwork with a faux girly squeal. The youngest of the Manjyome group examined himself head to toe in the floor mirror propped against the wall to Fubuki's bedroom. Despite himself, he wrinkled his nose in disgust; he couldn't help it—words couldn't describe this level of absolute craziness.

Manjyome was in a white dress adorned with frills and ruffles so that it puffed around him in many layers, making his shape wide and ring-like around his waist. Cream-colored ribbons stuck out from every available space on the clothing and he could have easily been mistaken for a bridesmaid at a local wedding. His hair was decorated with pieces of silk fastened in with bobby bins. The curled pieces of his hair were nicely pinned up in the back and Fubuki had even had the proposal of slipping in a few flowers here and there so that his entire head now looked like some sort of cheapskate gift basket.

His face was no better. Various shades of quirky colors that ranged from purple eye shadow to pink blush painted his face. His lips were dabbed in the rosiest red lipstick sold at the cosmetic store and costume earrings with big, fake opals dangled from his ears. There was a pretty lace choker around his neck. The tight stockings he was wearing made it nearly impossible to move his legs around. His feet cramped from the tiny maiden shoes with white straps he was forced to wear.

…Manjyome felt like a damned doll.

It was humiliating beyond measures. But he tolerated it for his boyfriend. His sweet, loving, if not some what idiosyncratic boyfriend who he cherished more than his own cards, perhaps…

"Come on, don't give me that frown." Fingers pressed on either side of his face and turned his cheek muscles up so it resembled a wry smile. "It's fun to play dress up! You look adorable!" Fubuki encouraged in such an innocent, carefree tone that Manjyome had no heart to tell him to shove a pole up his ass.

"It's embarrassing," he grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting in a childish way. "But I'm glad nobody's here to see me…"

"Why not? Manjyome Thunder-chan looks very cute in the maid's outfit."

The endearing nickname only rewarded him with a glare. However, Fubuki laughed it off. Manjyome twirled one of the ribbons on his dress with a finger.

"Once you're done drooling over me, I'm tearing off this dress and we'll have some real fun…"

"You're a little to eager for your own good," Fubuki teased.

"Oh really? If I remember correctly, you're the one who hates being cut off—"

"Sorry, the door was unlocked—what in the…Manjyome?"

They were so caught up in their playful banter that Manjyome didn't even notice the sudden presence of footsteps nor the doorknob turning to the side until a voice broke in on the two Juudai stopped halfway opening the door, staring at the scene playing out before him. Shou popped out behind him, opening his mouth as if to query something before shutting it, his silver eyes widening to the size of dinner plates upon seeing what Manjyome was wearing.

It took them a few moments to fully absorb the image of the great and mighty Manjyome Thunder in a dress. After recovering from the initial shock, they instantly burst out into bouts of loud laughter, clutching their stomachs and rolling on the floor. It was different from the cheery chuckle Fubuki always provided him with. In all contrast, rather than soft and playful, their laughter was loud and wild and pierced through his heart like sharp arrows. All of a sudden, Manjyome wished he had never put up with this stupid dress-up routine in the first place.

His face turned a shade of humiliating red and he quickly stole a glance at Fubuki in a silent plea for help—that perhaps his shishou could do something, could do anything—Manjyome felt his entire reason for existing shred into tiny pieces. Fubuki was laughing as well, gallantly, as if he didn't give a damn's worth to the amount of mortification the raven-haired boy was currently experiencing right now. That shattered his very soul and being and whatever trust he once had in his master.

"Get the hell out of the way."

Juudai stopped laughing the instant he saw Manjyome's expression harden vindictively. He bit his lip, placing his hands in front of him in an apologetic way.

"Manjyome, we were kidding…really…"

With a fling of the arm, Manjyome threw him aside and ran out of the room before anybody else had a chance to take back their words or laughter. Shou and Fubuki had suddenly turned deathly quiet and Juudai could only lie on the floor and stare after the spot where Manjyome was bitterly standing.

"Ehh…sorry about that, guys," came the distant voice of Fubuki. "I don't think Manjyome Thunder-chan can take a joke sometimes…"

But Fubuki's kind words really didn't have any meaning to him. They were distant and rung through his head like the muted ringing of bells. Juudai removed himself from the ground and put a hand on his forehead. He glanced at the door in worry. He knew they had gone too far.

He ripped the flowers out of his hair distastefully and flung them to the floor.

His black trenchcoat was still in Fubuki's room when he stormed out on the laughing trio, but Manjyome was in no mood to face his boyfriend after being so thoroughly mortified. He had no other alternative clothing, save the old Obelisk Blue uniform tucked in the corner of his closet that he was prohibited from wearing and that didn't fit him anyway. It was oxymoronic how his pride managed to destroy the remainder of his dignity for the rest of the day and perhaps his life.

His pride prevented him from stealing Juudai's or Shou's or Hayato's clothes. His pride prevented him from skulking back to an amused Fubuki. His pride prevented him from letting anybody else catch a glimpse of him in the frilly dress.

The result?

Everybody saw him in the dress.

Manjyome ended up dragging his feet to class looking like he had attended a nuptial three minutes before the bell.

Professor Chronos was not pleased, not one bit. He made a huge scene as Manjyome took his seat and shrieked his loony Italian head off, threatened to suspend him, and then ended up issuing two months of clapping blackboard erasers every single day after school. Asuka seemed embarrassed to be associated with him, Misawa raised an eyebrow upon seeing the ribbons, Shou burst out into a fit of giggles, Hayato coughed heavily into his fist, but Juudai had paled considerably.

And the rest of the classed laughed their pathetic asses off.

Luckily, Manjyome was quite used to rumors being spread about him and receiving nasty sneers and inappropriate insults (his former Obelisks classmates provided him with plenty) so most of it didn't bother him as much as it should have. As a matter of fact, Manjyome couldn't have cared less if the entire school laughed at him now—hell, he couldn't even care if his brothers laid eyes on him right here and now. They could go screw their fancy business selves. Just like the rest of the world.

The only person that really mattered right now was just Fubuki. It hurt him to see his boyfriend laugh like that, like he didn't care, like the only reason he kept the younger boy around was for his own twisted amusement. Manjyome didn't know if he could handle any more romantic disenchantment today without losing some of his sanity in the process. Well, at least classes were over now and he could sleep away the rest of the night. It was getting awfully annoying having to stop in the hallways and punch boys in the faces for flipping up his skirt or giggling while he walked by. Anyway, Manjyome would deal with everything tomorrow—it was too tiring to think about anything now.

Manjyome chose the emptiest route back to his dorm to avoid trouble and tiptoed as quietly as he could through the hallway. A familiar voice emitting from one of the seemingly empty classrooms made him stop in his tracks.

"…you have such nice hair, Ryou," came a loving coo. "What kind of shampoo do you use?"

His blood turned icy cold. Those words were directed towards him just this morning.

"Does this pertain to our lessons at all?"

He heard a playful laugh and a light punch on the arm. "You're too uptight." The voice turned low and seductive. "I'm coming over your room after dinner whether you like it or not. You're going to help me with something very important…"

Manjyome took a chance and cast a fleeting glance into the classroom. What he saw horrified him—Fubuki's face was moving dangerously close to Ryou's. To prevent any more mental scarring, he took his head out of the classroom and shut his eyes.

A moment later there was an uncomfortable sigh of, "Fubuki…"

Yeah. Manjyome didn't think he could take any more romantic disenchantment today.

It was around nine-thirty at night when Fubuki strolled back to his room wearing a very content grin on his face; his arms were full of completed essay papers and an assortment of notes. Perhaps it had to do with the fact Ryou was generous enough to finish his homework and tutor him on the duel theory seeing as the older Tenjoin had dozed off in class earlier that day. Fubuki would have never imagined that Ryou would do such a thing, but apparently he was wrong. Boy, he was so lucky to have a best friend as bighearted as Ryou!

The room was dark when he opened the door, though Fubuki distantly remembered leaving the lights when he left. He had a fear for darkness, actually. The incident with being possessed by unseemly spirits and then being forced to wield the Red-eyes Black Dragon before succumbing to the darkness…eek. Fubuki just shivered thinking about it again. Anyway, Asuka probably came in here and forgot to shut the light or something. Brushing it off as a mere coincidence or lapse of memory, his hands automatically reached for the switch and flicked open the lights.

"…"

Manjyome was sitting on his bed. He was still clad in that same white dress, frills, stockings and all, though this time around the effect was more eerie than cute to Fubuki. Most of the silk had been torn out of his hair, giving him a bedraggled appearance. His eyes were detached. His smile was oddly worn.

"Hello, shishou!"

Fubuki blinked, startled, at the sudden emergence of his boyfriend. Shouldn't he be in his own dorm during this time at night?

"Hey, Thun—Manjyome."

He had almost called Manjyome with the '-chan' suffix but for some reason, it felt wrong to say it during a situation such as this. Fubuki locked the door behind him, silently taking note Manjyome must have wanted to stay overnight with him. He felt his disheartened spirits lift tremendously. Yeah, that made sense! Fubuki walked over to Manjyome and sat down on the bed, ready to ask him if would like to spend a good time tonight. Without any preceded warning, Manjyome leapt up and bounced into his lap, taking the blonde by surprise. Nevertheless, Fubuki allowed him fidget around on his legs until he was comfortable. What a sweet boy. The Osiris giggled and Fubuki calmed down, letting a soft smile spread across his face.

"…what are you doing here?" he asked gently, petting his prickly black hair. Hopefully, he still wasn't angry about this morning.

Instead of answering his question, Manjyome grinned sickly.

"So how was Kaiser in bed?"

His hand froze. His heart stopped. Fubuki dropped his arm to his side and turned Manjyome around so they were face to face.

"What are you talking about?" he asked confusedly. All traces of the smile had left his face. His brow wrinkled with a mixture of perplexity and worry. "We did homework together."

"Lies," Manjyome protested. "I know he slept with you, that whore."

By now, Fubuki knew something was wrong. He placed both hands on the younger boy's shoulder. Golden eyes pierced into oddly blank onyx ones.

"Manjyome. Stop fooling around. I don't like Ryou that way—he's my friend. You're my lover…there's a huge different…and…and that's all that matters!"

The word 'lover' seemed to register something in Manjyome's mind. He pushed himself off Fubuki with a single thrust of his palm and turned away, crossing his arms and pouting immaturely like earlier this morning. Fubuki sat in shock for a moment, but then realized Manjyome was just fooling around. Right, he was just being hard to get at—this was just part of the innocent schoolgirl act.

"But no more worries, now. The Kaiser won't get in the way of our love any longer…"

There was a perturbed shuffling of clothing and a sinister laugh. Fubuki's felt chills crawl down the nape of his neck. Part of the act, he repeated to himself. It's just part of the act.

Fubuki was a natural athlete, his muscled arms and toned legs spoke for themselves not to mention his tan indicated his long hours surfing against the waves on the beach. However, his agile reflexes weren't quick enough to avoid the knife plunged into his skull. His train of thought drifted into blackness and the final thing that ran through his head was that cross-dressing his boyfriend in a cute skirt and toying with his hair like a doll didn't exactly end with the result he had wanted.

Pupils dilated and eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings caught in the breeze. Golden orbs rolled back and out of sight until all that could be seen left were the white and red veins of his eyes. His mouth opened ajar and saliva mixed with the blood that dripped from his head trickled down his chin. His body grew limp, his arm muscles loosened, and most intellectual brain functions shut down until all remained was a hollow, obtuse shell of a man.

Manjyome's grin widened.

"You know, shishou, you're really pretty when your eyes are open like that."

…

…

…

He smashed the sharp edge of the knife repeatedly into his head, hoping each blow would bring an insane amount of excruciating throes to his lover for betraying him like that. The cold metal pounded against his skull, jutting into the crevices of the joining plates and he yanked them apart with his all strength, splitting open his cranium until a flash of pink met his eyes. It was so pink, so red like a paint being splattered on an empty canvas until it created the most wonderful masterpiece nobody would ever dared to deny.

The boy beneath him shuddered violently.

Twitch.

Twitch.

Blink.

Twitch.

Onyx eyes lit up in vague interest. So he was still alive? Oh, well. Still breathing, even if it meant hanging on a thread of life only meant he felt more pain. He threw down the knife, ignoring the crimson fountain sprouting beautifully from the fissure he created. He gently parted the field of yellow threads, distantly noting that his lover's blonde hair clashed wonderfully with red. He dug his fingers into the crude hole and traced his hand over the bumps, feeling soft, moist wetness on his fingertips. He dug further into his brain, breaking the nerves into threads, erasing every memory existing in his lover's now dysfunction mind…

…the boy with the raven hair sat upright in his bed. His head hurt. He brought an arm up to rub it robotically. Where was he? What time was it? What had happened? His room was white. Very white. He remembered seeing only vivid shades of red and pink so the sudden contract of white was very rough on the eyes.

"MANJYOME!"

He looked up. The door flew open.

In the entrance stood a distraught Juudai, his hand over his heart, panting for breath, his hair unruly and flying all over the place and getting into his mouth. His face was confronted with complete, utter devastation as if he had just seen a bloody carcass lying on the floor with an assortment of knives sticking out of his skull and pink lumps of brain oozing to the ground. Perhaps that was the case.

"…I…I'm sorry…but…listen…" He swallowed a hard lump in his throat. "…Fubuki was murdered last night."

Juudai's mind was still in too much shock from seeing those lifeless golden eyes upon walking into the Obelisk dorms this morning to notice the insignificant details that fluttered around him—for example, a small wisp of dust blowing into the room, a cockroach crawling by his feet and Manjyome not looking even remotely surprised.

Manjyome stared at the other boy. Not a flicker of emotion dawned in his eyes after hearing this sudden declaration. His jaw unclenched.

"Oh. Right. I see."

Juudai nodded furiously. "It's…absolutely horrible, isn't it?"

Onyx eyes grew unfocused.

"Yeah. That's horrible."

…

He still remembered how his lover's brain felt on his fingertips.