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Luxemburger Queen -- Part 3 [I'm not really happy with this third chapter, I don't think it's as good as the other two. Any help would be appreciated.] Colors It was Wednesday afternoon, and the meeting of the drama club was just over. The first rehearsal had been fun as usual, with everyone trying out his role and trying to help the others to find the right way to portray theirs. A highlight had been Brian's clown-stunt of Jason's tragic suicide, performed with melodramatic sighs and the worst faked death any stage on the planet had ever seen. Even Michelle had laughed at this performance - maybe this year wasn't going to be that bad after all for Brian. Their teacher insisted, though, that it was a drama they were planning to put onto stage and not a comedy, tutting slightly and ordering Brian to clean up the room before leaving. "I'll help him", Frank volunteered. "See you next Wednesday, then," the teacher smiled at the boys and left after the other students. Brian felt himself blushing. He hadn't talked to Frank about the incident on the playground yet and he wasn't sure how he possibly could. "How's life with you?" Frank's voice cut through his thoughts. "Huh? Oh. Well. Goes on, I guess." "Your parents still giving you trouble?" Brian smiled. "No, not really. Don't care much, though. but it could be worse. At least I didn't get grounded for running off the other day." "That's good." Frank groaned as he started to push the tables back into the formation they were in before the drama club had forced them away. "I wouldn't like seeing you cry again so soon, you looked so miserable." Heat shot into Brian's face. "You haven't told anyone, have you?" Frank stared at him, looking hurt. "Of COURSE not!" "Sorry, it's just, well, I don't need people to know I've been crying like a little girl, you know." "And you think I'm the kind of guy who would spout out a little girl's secrets to the rest of the world?" Although Brian had deemed it impossible, he felt himself blushing even more. "No, not really," he mumbled. "As I said, sorry." "Never mind. Could you give me a hand with this table?" Together they heaved it into its destined position, then they assembled the chairs and looked at their accomplished work. "Done, I guess," said Brian. "Yes." Frank looked at the younger boy with a thoughtful expression. Brian felt uncomfortable, being stared at like that. "What?" he inquired. "Oh, nothing, really," Frank smiled awkwardly. "Come on, out with it!" "Just. ah, well, this is stupid!" "Frank!" "Well, I just thought you'd make a rather cute girl, if you insist on hearing it!" "What?" Brian felt flabbergasted. "What the fuck do you mean by that?" Frank blushed. "Ah, nothing, never mind. I - I gotta go, French is waiting." Brian stared after the older boy storming out of the room. Now Frank had deserted him for the second time! What was going on here? He shrugged, very deeply confused, and slowly walked outside into the yard. He was even more confused and also surprised when he saw Frank standing there, looking at him and carving senseless patterns into the ground with his foot. "Thought you were heading to your French lesson," Brian said, frowning. "Come, I'd like to try something with you!" "What the fuck -" Brian started, but Frank just grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back into the building and down the corridor to the staircase. They descended to the basement where Frank opened the room the drama club kept the requisites in, and dragged Brian in front of the huge mirror leaning against a wall. "Look," Frank said, fumbling with Brian's hair. "Quite the girl's face, isn't it?" The smaller one of the two boys in the mirror stared back at Brian with an unreadable expression, face white under the dark brown hair which seemed almost black in the gloom of the chamber. He really looked fragile and girlish next to Frank, who was not much taller than Brian, but looked far more manly due to his age and build. "Weird," Brian muttered. Frank laughed. "Don't tell me you've never looked at yourself in a mirror before!" "Well, sure I have," Brian explained, "but I never really noticed. you know, when I was a kid walking the streets with my mom, people that knew her only a bit stopped to tell her that she had a really pretty little girl." "Well, she has!" chuckled Frank. "Aww, knock it off!" Brian didn't know whether he should feel flattered or annoyed. "Want to bet on it?" Frank rushed away to the shelf on which the drama club kept the make-up. "Hold still!" he ordered as he began putting some gray eye-shadow on Brian's face, followed by dark red and sparkly lipstick. "Ah, the next Hollywood star, the legal heiress to Marilyn Monroe - Brianna Molko!" Brian giggled and turned to inspect Frank's work in the mirror. His jaw dropped. The illusion was almost perfect, even though Frank had been clumsy with the lipstick and the eye-shadow was slightly smeared into his brow. It was a pale girl staring back at him - a rather good-looking girl, Brian mused. Of course he'd seen himself with make-up before, having been on stage since he was eleven, but he had never been made up as a girl. He turned his head to get a look from different angles. "Like it?" Frank asked softly. "You smeared the eye-shadow," Brian replied nastily, "and the lipstick is an awful color!" Frank faked to be mortally offended, spreading his arms and looking to the ceiling: "Mon dieu, this girl doesn't appreciate a true artist's work! Bitch!" "Fucker! Don't you dare call me a bitch!" "Well, slut then!" Frank grinned. "All Hollywood stars are sluts, everyone knows that!" "Retard!" "Whore!" "Hey! That's really going to far here!" protested Brian. "Sorry." Frank produced a handkerchief and offered it to Brian, who began to rub off the horrible lipstick. "Besides," Brian declared, "I won't go to Hollywood! Dirty business, all sell-out types there, no real art." Frank laughed. "And I thought your parents had decided you'd become a banker or something honorable like that!" "Fuck my parents!" Brian spat, his good mood suddenly and utterly gone. "No stupid money-shifting for Brian Molko, I tell you!" Frank stared at him. "Allright! Sorry!" He watched silently as Brian wiped away the smeared eye-shadow, feeling a little pang of regret inside him. He had looked cute made up like a girl. Very cute. Even cuter than when crying on a swing with the evening approaching. Brian looked at his former self which had reappeared in the mirror and thought for a moment. "What else do we have here?" he then asked, moving to the shelf and shuffling through the huge amount of tubes and boxes. Frank watched, amazed. Finally, Brian seemed to be happy with the utensils he had assembled and dropped a whole pile of stuff on the ground in front of the mirror. Carefully he applied the foundation before deciding to give the eyeliner a try. He was surprised to find the application rather difficult - it always looked so easy when his mother did it! After several tries and wiping he had managed to line both eyes with pitch black khol and moved on to the mascara. "Can I help you?" Frank quietly broke the silence. "No, sorry, I can't stand people messing with my eyes." Finally, he was done with it and took the silver eye-shadow he had chosen. This was much easier than the eyeliner and mascara. He picked up the three lipsticks he had selected and turned to Frank. "What do you think? Purple," he presented the first lipstick, "red," here the second, "or maybe this one, pink?" "Uhm." Frank didn't quite know what to say as the blood that should have made his brain work was somehow rushing towards lower parts of his body. "Pink's too cheeky, I guess, and red probably would make me look like a whore indeed," Brian muttered to himself when Frank didn't answer, "so I guess it's you, my friend." He leaned forward to the mirror and carefully applied the purple lipstick, then stepped back to take a look at his finished work of art. He was very pleased with what he saw. Hadn't it been for his sloppy old T-shirt, he would have made a really pretty girl indeed. "What do you think?" he asked, then he realized Frank had been standing behind him for quite some time, silent and unmoving as if he were glued to the spot. "Frank?" The older boy swallowed. "Unhhh. yeah. uhm." "Like it?" Brian inquired maliciously. Of course Frank did, that was quite obvious. "You're fucking hot, man!" Frank mumbled hoarsely. In spite of the fact that Brian had never felt so superior before, he blushed. "Well, thank you." He turned away from his image in the mirror to face Frank. "Great idea," he said softly, "that was fun!" "Yeah." Frank cleared his voice. "You know what's missing?" Brian stood amazed as Frank hurried away to the shelf once more, quickly returning with nail varnish fitting the color of the lipstick. "Give me your hand," he ordered, dragging Brian down to sit on the floor and then starting to carefully paint the younger boy's fingernails. "Tut-tut," he teased, "have we been chewing our fingernails? Bad habit for girls, you know?" "Hmph." Brian didn't feel like giving one of his famous nasty retorts, he rather watched his hands being transformed by Frank. Finally, the work was done. Brian examined his hands and then looked up to smile at Frank. "There," he said softly, presenting his fingers, "are you happy now?" Frank only smiled and swallowed. Brian cocked his head slightly. They sat in silence for a moment until Brian asked with the same soft and coy voice as before: "You're gay, aren't you?" Frank blushed. "Uhmm. yeah." "You know - I'm not." Frank grinned. "Right, and that's why you are covered with make-up!" "As I said, I have slept with a girl and I liked it!" Brian replied with awakening anger. "Only because you haven't tried it with a guy so far." Brian stared at Frank. "THAT's you opinion then? And how come you're so god damn superior, how come you know me so well, huh? Until some days ago we hadn't even talked more than 10 sentences!" "Oh, come on, Bri!" Frank exclaimed. "You've always been a little weirdo, and you're very creative, and you liked me kissing you on that swing, and you've been trying out lipsticks, for Christ's sake! You can't get much gayer than that!" Aflame with fury, Brian sprang to his feet. "You. you moronic little faggot!" he spat out, glaring down at Frank. "Yes, I DID like you kissing me, I liked you quite a lot, actually, cause I thought I'd finally met a person who wouldn't judge me so easily, someone who wanted to really get to know me instead of shoving me into one of his categories!" "Come on now." "NO! YOU come on! Why couldn't you just enjoy the fun here? Huh? Why did you have to announce I was gay? How do YOU know what I like and what I don't like? I don't remember seeing you in my bedroom when I fucked her!" Frank stared amazed at the smallish pretty figure looming above him like one of the goddesses of revenge from the antique mythology. "Look," he then tried to explain, "if you kiss a guy and like it, then you're gay!" "Oh yeah?" Brian hissed. "So kissing a guy turns me on! I'm fifteen years old, for fuck's sake, you know, Erection is my middle name! I get a hard one all the time! Don't you DARE tell me that I didn't like sleeping with a girl!" Frank had had enough of it now. He stood up and stared at Brian. "Fine then!" he grunted. "Fine! Then forget about it, okay? I thought we could have some fun down here!" Brian glared back, his expression changing from fury to utmost disappointment. "I thought we already had," he replied quietly. "But you only dragged me down here to snog or for even more than that, didn't you?" Frank didn't answer, but Brian saw him blush slightly. He felt tears welling up in his eyes. "So you only wanted to try to shag me then, and that's it!" he concluded bitterly. "And I thought. I thought. you." He broke off with a sob and punched against Frank's chest so hard he could see pain creeping into the older boy's face, then Frank grabbed his wrists. "Stop that!" he commanded. Brian almost screamed at him: "Let me go!" "Don't be such a kill-joy, Bri!" "You let me go NOW, you fucking sick queer!" Frank laughed coldly. "You call ME a queer? Now WHO'S the one with the make-up here?" Brian finally managed to wrench his hands free and stepped back. The tears escaped his eyes and ran over his face, smearing the eyeliner and mascara. "I liked you!" he whispered hoarsely. Franks anger died a sudden death and was replaced by shame. "Bri. I'm sorry, I lost my temper and -" "Don't you dare touch me!" Brian sobbed as Frank stepped closer. "You're just like all the others! You only ever care about yourself, the fun you want to have!" "That's not true, Brian, I really like you, you're the most interesting -" "Shut the fuck up! And leave me alone, I have to get rid of this!" Brian dug out the handkerchief and violently began to wipe his face, then, realizing it didn't work, he rushed over to the water tap and started to rinse his face. Frank watched him helplessly for a while. Then he searched the shelf for some cotton wool pads and make-up-remover and offered them to Brian. The boy took them without a word and cleansed his face. "Brian." He didn't even look up at him. Frank swallowed, feeling awful. This couldn't have been worse. He so wanted to turn back time. He had been so stupid! He should have known that Brian was a very sensitive and easily hurt kind of guy! Too late now. He could see that. He had forfeited his chance, his probably once-in-a-lifetime-chance with Brian Molko. "I. I'll leave you alone now, okay?" he mumbled. No reply. He sighed and slowly slid out of the room. When the door clicked, Brian looked up into the mirror. He had managed to wipe out most traces of his explorations of his girlish side. Somehow he regretted it, but then it had only been a trick of Frank. He could have murdered him right now. That kiss on the swing had felt so good, so soft, so nice. how Brian had hoped Frank would repeat it here in the basement! Instead, he had chosen to play with Brian's feelings like any of those thoughtless idiots in the school. Brian decided to go home as school was over for today. He glimpsed into the corridor and walked carefully out of the building, fearing for Frank to wait for him, but luckily he wasn't. The way home seemed to be miles and miles long, but finally he entered the well-known surroundings of his parents' house and went straight into his room, slumped down on the bed and stared at the David Bowie poster. Music. Good idea. He got up and wanted to pull one of his Bowie records out of the shelf, but as his hands extended towards it, he froze with horror, realizing that while he had removed the make-up, the purple nail varnish was still on his fingers! "Fuck! Oh God! Fuck!" As silent as possible, he opened the door and listened. He could hear his mother singing in the kitchen. Quickly he rushed into the bathroom and locked the door, trembling all over, and started to ravage his mother's things - Christ, she was a woman, didn't she have anything to remove nail varnish? At last, he found a small bottle of remover, spilling some of it as he hastily unscrewed the lid, and started to rub the varnish off. Close. Very close. Imagine your mother catching you with purple nails, he thought terrified. You wouldn't even have a weak excuse like the one about nose-bleeding after your one-time sex experience. Brian let out a gasp and slowly walked back towards his room. "Is that you, Bri?" his mother called out. "Dinner's almost ready!" Brian cleared his voice. "Yeah," he called back. "I'll be there in a minute, okay?" He stood staring at the wall for a small moment. "I'm NOT gay," he muttered to himself. "I just happen to like guys. So what." Prev | Next Home |