On the first day of Christmas
[Title] Warpaint
[Fandom] Battle Royale
[Rating] PG-13 for language and canon-typical homophobia
[Notes/Summary] Shou explains to Hiroshi why he was never tempted to hide his true self.
The others were taking their sweet time about finishing the smoke break, so Shou took the opportunity to check his lipstick in the bathroom mirror. Not that he wasn’t looking perfect already, but there are standards to keep up. Besides, listening to Mitsuru’s snort of irritation was a bonus.
“You know, you could think about the fucking rest of us.”
“How do you know that I don’t?” Shou said, winking at Mitsuru’s reflection. Was rewarded with a filthy look. “Fuck’s sake. You know what I mean. We got to work twice as hard to prove we’re not a bunch of pussies when you’re pissing around in make-up and… and that fucking flowery thing.”
“It’s called a waistcoat, darling. And don’t sulk. You know I pull my weight. I had three of them after me during our last altercation, if I remember rightly, and none of them were still standing by the end of it -” God, he doesn’t even really need to camp it up to piss Mitsuru off. The poor boy hears everything with an innuendo when it’s coming from a guy in lipstick.
“He’s got a point,” Ryuhei says, probably finding the attempts to irritate Mitsuru equally funny. “He, like, broke that guy’s ankle. And he wasn’t even wearing his high heels that time.”
“And Kiriyama doesn’t give a shit,” Hiroshi said, blowing smoke at the light fittings.
Mitsuru glowered but he didn’t say anything else, because there was no way he was going to criticise Kazuo dearest’s decisions. Shou lingered even longer over the lipstick just to savour the moment.
“’Sides, I reckon it proves you got balls,” Hiroshi said to him out of the blue when they were finally trailing down the corridor to class. “I mean… you came in with the hair and stuff on the first day of school. You must’ve known you’d get beaten on.”
“Well, that’s the advantage, isn’t it. I knew to prepare for trouble. You didn’t expect any. Mitsuru darling said it was the first time he’d ever seen you cry.”
“I didn’t fucking cry. You got me in the nose. It was a lucky strike.” Hiroshi spoke half-heartedly, mainly because this was a lie and they both knew it. “You must’ve started out normal, though, right?”
“Now, do you really believe that?”
Hiroshi considered it, grinned. “Yeah, okay, no. So, what, your mummy let you play with her make-up -”
“My daddy. Please. It runs in the family, don’t you know.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Okay. And you just figured you weren’t gonna stop?”
Goodness. Shou hadn’t expected Hiroshi of all people to exhibit healthy curiosity about the drag lifestyle. “Well, all right. Let me explain. We both know that the bastards, as it were, are always looking to grind you down. If you toe the line, the only reward you’ll get is more of the same. Right?”
“Right.”
“So why bother? Do what the fuck you want and make sure you don’t get caught.” Shou looked round, grinned; Hiroshi smiled back, looking like he actually almost understood. “Or, in my case, make sure someone who wants to start trouble gets exactly what he was looking for. They soon learn.”
Hiroshi laughed, but then he said, “But you gotta get tired of it, right? I mean back in elementary school I was Fatty Kuronaga the whole time, it got pretty fucking old til I started punching heads. You gotta think, hey, maybe I’ll give myself a break and ditch the make-up today?”
Shou shuddered theatrically, but he wasn’t entirely pretending the horror. “Darling. Please. I only look like me when I look fabulous. Besides. Who wants to rely on camouflage? Sooner or later you’ll be found.” And having dirty little secrets is one of the most dangerous things you can do, trust me, he nearly adds, but come on, let’s not start oversharing. “And do you really think I could pull it off? Normality? I mean, I like to think I’ve got stage presence, but come on.”
“You’re out of your tree,” Hiroshi said, grinning, which Shou decided to take as a compliment.
“Think of it as a shield,” he said. “When I'm out and proud, why should I even care about a few little slings and arrows? I barely feel them.”
[Fandom] Battle Royale
[Rating] PG-13 for language and canon-typical homophobia
[Notes/Summary] Shou explains to Hiroshi why he was never tempted to hide his true self.
The others were taking their sweet time about finishing the smoke break, so Shou took the opportunity to check his lipstick in the bathroom mirror. Not that he wasn’t looking perfect already, but there are standards to keep up. Besides, listening to Mitsuru’s snort of irritation was a bonus.
“You know, you could think about the fucking rest of us.”
“How do you know that I don’t?” Shou said, winking at Mitsuru’s reflection. Was rewarded with a filthy look. “Fuck’s sake. You know what I mean. We got to work twice as hard to prove we’re not a bunch of pussies when you’re pissing around in make-up and… and that fucking flowery thing.”
“It’s called a waistcoat, darling. And don’t sulk. You know I pull my weight. I had three of them after me during our last altercation, if I remember rightly, and none of them were still standing by the end of it -” God, he doesn’t even really need to camp it up to piss Mitsuru off. The poor boy hears everything with an innuendo when it’s coming from a guy in lipstick.
“He’s got a point,” Ryuhei says, probably finding the attempts to irritate Mitsuru equally funny. “He, like, broke that guy’s ankle. And he wasn’t even wearing his high heels that time.”
“And Kiriyama doesn’t give a shit,” Hiroshi said, blowing smoke at the light fittings.
Mitsuru glowered but he didn’t say anything else, because there was no way he was going to criticise Kazuo dearest’s decisions. Shou lingered even longer over the lipstick just to savour the moment.
“’Sides, I reckon it proves you got balls,” Hiroshi said to him out of the blue when they were finally trailing down the corridor to class. “I mean… you came in with the hair and stuff on the first day of school. You must’ve known you’d get beaten on.”
“Well, that’s the advantage, isn’t it. I knew to prepare for trouble. You didn’t expect any. Mitsuru darling said it was the first time he’d ever seen you cry.”
“I didn’t fucking cry. You got me in the nose. It was a lucky strike.” Hiroshi spoke half-heartedly, mainly because this was a lie and they both knew it. “You must’ve started out normal, though, right?”
“Now, do you really believe that?”
Hiroshi considered it, grinned. “Yeah, okay, no. So, what, your mummy let you play with her make-up -”
“My daddy. Please. It runs in the family, don’t you know.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Okay. And you just figured you weren’t gonna stop?”
Goodness. Shou hadn’t expected Hiroshi of all people to exhibit healthy curiosity about the drag lifestyle. “Well, all right. Let me explain. We both know that the bastards, as it were, are always looking to grind you down. If you toe the line, the only reward you’ll get is more of the same. Right?”
“Right.”
“So why bother? Do what the fuck you want and make sure you don’t get caught.” Shou looked round, grinned; Hiroshi smiled back, looking like he actually almost understood. “Or, in my case, make sure someone who wants to start trouble gets exactly what he was looking for. They soon learn.”
Hiroshi laughed, but then he said, “But you gotta get tired of it, right? I mean back in elementary school I was Fatty Kuronaga the whole time, it got pretty fucking old til I started punching heads. You gotta think, hey, maybe I’ll give myself a break and ditch the make-up today?”
Shou shuddered theatrically, but he wasn’t entirely pretending the horror. “Darling. Please. I only look like me when I look fabulous. Besides. Who wants to rely on camouflage? Sooner or later you’ll be found.” And having dirty little secrets is one of the most dangerous things you can do, trust me, he nearly adds, but come on, let’s not start oversharing. “And do you really think I could pull it off? Normality? I mean, I like to think I’ve got stage presence, but come on.”
“You’re out of your tree,” Hiroshi said, grinning, which Shou decided to take as a compliment.
“Think of it as a shield,” he said. “When I'm out and proud, why should I even care about a few little slings and arrows? I barely feel them.”