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Klavier looks at the dress neatly laid on his bed and shakes his head. It was an impulse purchase, he can admit, but let a guy be curious! He saw it while window shopping in the morning before his yoga classes, the shimmery fabric catching his eye immediately. He must have looked bizarre to passersby, ogling at a dress clearly too feminine for him. But the way the light purple fabric shimmered like scales and the chains adorning it like delicate pearls made it so he couldn’t look away.
So yes, he bought it. He didn’t dare look at the cashier or provide some half-assed excuse about how it was for a girlfriend. Klavier simply gave his measurements and asked for a dress in that size range. He feels strangely giddy looking at it. It would hug his curves perfectly, and the light fabric would feel like heaven on his skin.
He takes a deep breath and looks at himself in the mirror, blue eyes full of fear and determination. If he went through the lengths of buying the dress, he should at least try it on before deciding to return it. Besides, Apollo was out on a walk with Vongole, so he wouldn’t be disrupted.
Klavier picks up the dress and weighs it in his hands. It doesn’t even feel like it weighs anything. Klavier turns it around, trying to figure out whether to get into it feet first or head first. He quickly realizes his hips will not fit through the cinched waist area and takes a deep breath before pulling it over his head.
There are voices nagging at him in the back of his head, telling him that he shouldn’t be doing this. “You’re a man, Klavier, the fans love you as a man,” he hears. Klavier isn’t sure who the voices belong to, but they’re very persistent. He shoves it down and continues trying to pull the piece past his head. He can’t fit his arms through the flowy off-the-shoulder sleeves; it appears to have gotten stuck on his shoulders. Klavier tugs harder.
“You can be as flamboyant as you want, but do you really think a guy dressed like a chick is going to sell?” he hears his manager say. He remembers that day so clearly; it was the first day of their sold out tour, which was rare for such a new group. He wore his flashiest lipstick and put on accessories that would be sure to catch the stage lights. His manager had said that to him before they were about to enter the concert hall, and Klavier had tried his best to perform with enough enthusiasm to fool a crowd. It must have worked, because people were screaming like they’d seen God. He drank his feelings away that night and passed out in his bed.
Klavier shakes his head and continues trying to shimmy into the tight fitting dress. He’s quite slim; years of training to last for hours on a stage and healthy- although, he doesn’t think 4 packets of Maggi from Apollo’s stash is healthy- meals have made him toned. He grunts in exasperation as he maneuvers his arms to pull the dress down. Curse his broad shoulders. Frustrated, he begins to tug on the dress. It’s not going down and he thinks this is how he’s going to die. How will he ever explain to his loved ones that he died of suffocation from a dress?
“Dresses? Really? Come now, you’re a man, Klavier. You have a reputation to uphold,” The last voice calmly states. Klavier pauses his writhing. It’s Kristoph. He’s heard his dear elder brother’s voice guiding him too many times to forget his sweet, poisonous tone. Kristoph never entertained his childish ideas unless they proved to work in his favour. Klavier couldn’t imagine how Kristoph would react if he could see him at that moment. Kris would have panicked if word got out that his brother liked to dress up in women’s clothing. Both of their reputations would be tarnished.
Klavier tugs even harder. Tears begin to form as he wills and wills for the stupid piece of fabric to get on his body. Tug, stretch, yank, pull, he does it all. Klavier ignores the tears streaming down his face and keeps doing whatever he can to get it past his shoulders. His grunts have turned to yells and the thud of his feet on the hardwood floor echo in the large room. He shuffles around, trying and trying to get the stupid thing to fit so he can return it and forget he ever bought it in the first place. He wants to return it as quickly as possible so he doesn’t have to remember that it was something he wanted, something he thought he’d feel comfortable wearing, something he thought he’d feel happy wearing, something that would finally make him feel like a girl-
Klavier hears the tear of fabric from behind him. He stops abruptly and his hands let go of the dress. He’s exhausted. Slumping against the wall, he hits the ground with an ungraceful thud and begins to sob. His arms, still semi-stuck in the dress, reach over to his phone. It fell off his nightstand during his kerfuffle, but it miraculously survived. Klavier’s restrained and shaky fingers click on Apollo’s contact.
His boyfriend answers within the first two rings. “Hello, darling,” Klavier can hear the smile in his voice, even through the phone. When he doesn’t answer for a while, Apollo speaks again. “Klav? Did you accidentally call me?”
In a shaky voice, Klavier whispers, “Can you come home?”
If he isn’t mistaken, the sound of Apollo’s footsteps becomes increasingly more heavy after that. “I’ll be on my way, Klav. Stay there, don’t you dare do anything stupid.”
Klavier sets the phone down on the ground and sits there. He doesn’t have the energy to move, doesn’t want to feel the fabric of a stupid dress on his skin. Apollo will take it off and he doesn’t have to think about it ever again.
After a short while, Apollo’s footsteps and the sound of Vongole’s leash being taken off are heard from behind their door. Apollo bursts in, worried eyes scanning over the room and softening when they find Klavier on the floor.
“What happened?” Apollo asks, sitting next to Klavier. He doesn’t laugh at Klavier’s arms, stuck in the air and trapped in the confines of the dress. Apollo just sits there patiently, giving Klavier space. “You want help fitting into it?”
“Nein. I just want you to take it off,” Klavier mumbles. He doesn’t face Apollo but hears him shuffling. A warm hand caresses his cheek and the cold metal of his boyfriend’s bracelet presses against his jaw.
“Why is that? You look lovely.”
“I’m not supposed to be wearing things like this. I look like a fool.”
Apollo huffs. “Nobody gets to tell you what to wear or what not to wear. If you like this dress then we’re gonna get it on you properly,” He gets up and helps Klavier to his feet, giggling as he stumbles. “Dhurke gave me his spare clothes when I told him I wanted to be a boy. They never fit me, but I’m glad he gave me that freedom to explore my identity.”
“He sounds nice.”
“He was.”
Apollo manages to get the dress over his shoulders with a final tug, and they both let out a sigh of relief. “I, um, don’t think I’m going to be keeping this,” Klavier says, avoiding Apollo’s eyes.
Apollo simply hums and smoothes down the fabric over his chest. “You are definitely not returning this, love. You ripped the back. I don’t think they’d accept it. Apollo walks behind him and puts his hands on Klavier’s back. He draws a line from where the dress would start to where the rip is and Klavier jolts. “You’re stunning in this, by the way.”
Klavier huffs a laugh. “So I’m not always stunning?”
“Hm, well, this is a different kind of stunning.” Apollo mumbles, tracing the delicate chain with a light finger. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”
Klavier lets out a sigh and tilts his head down to let his hair cover his red ears. “I always get called charming or handsome or whatever. Never pretty.”
“Now you’re just fishing for compliments. You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” Apollo laughs. “Now raise your elbows just a bit, I need to get your arms through the sleeves.
After a bit of shuffling, Klavier takes a look at himself in the mirror, admiring the way the dress hugs his body. His hands gently touch the fabric of the dress in disbelief. Klavier can’t believe how good he looks. How good he feels. He looks like a girl, and for the first time in his life, he isn’t ashamed.
Apollo perches his chin on his shoulder and grins. “We look like that beautiful bride and ugly ass groom meme,” He snorts, gesturing to his plaid pants and white tank top. Klavier can’t believe he wore that in public when walking Vongole.
“Are you calling me ugly?”
“What? No! I’m calling you beautiful, stupid.”
Klavier takes a final look at herself in the mirror. He’s right, she is beautiful.