Chapter Text
The venue was quite pleasant, Lyolik thought, as he was situated near the middle of the audience. The chair he was sitting on was slightly uncomfortable, but nothing stopped him from seeing his colleague on stage before him.
As much as Lyolik didn’t prefer to be seen at fashion shows, Gesha kindly invited him to come to this one. It was only the one, he said and no more. Lyolik didn’t want to deny; he knew this was important to the model.
Lyolik had to admit, he preferred the women’s clothing to the men’s. There were many clever designs, and he could admire the women as he pleased. He just hoped that Gennady wouldn’t make a fool of himself again. The last show didn’t look good for him.
Lyolik looked around at the scenery, which was decorated in a fashion he did not like or understand. Lights hung from the ceiling, flowing down to the floor, and panels hung on the walls in an attempt to conceal the noise. The runway was positioned right in the centre, occupying more space in the room. Soft, jazzy music played on vinyl in the background. The format was interesting, but that didn't deter Lyolik. What interested Lyolik were the types of people flowing in, chatting away. Fashionistas and regular people from different parts of the room were seen awaiting the show to commence.
The lights slowly dimmed, and the stage lit up steadily, signalling the start. A woman's voice boomed down the microphone, introducing the designers' names and the chosen theme for the night. Lyolik’s eyes scanned the entire room, a little nervous.
Right there, Lyolik caught the gaze of what seemed to be a woman in a dress, but at second glance, he realised it was his colleague. Tail wagging between his legs, his ears turned a light shade of pink under his wine coloured hat. He adjusted himself in his chair, hoping no one would notice.
The man gawped at the other on stage, taking in his figure, the clothing, the makeup. A million thoughts were racing through his head, and he couldn't make sense of anything. It was as if his eyes were glued just to Gesha, in a trance-like state. He had never seen anything like this before; he wasn’t even sure if he accepted this.
Gennady wore a tight dress that bunched up towards his neck, with no sleeves. The material was a fine white colour, made of polyester. His dress was short, not even reaching his knees. The model wore his hair as he always did, yet his face was blooming with lipstick and eyeshadow. If you didn’t look so closely, you would think he was actually a woman with short hair.
Lyolik looked away at his lap, trying to conceal the start of his little breakdown. Now his ears were a very red shade, not something he could hide so easily.
The voice from the microphone flowed into his ears, but nothing registered with him; he was too overwhelmed. He grasped his shirt collar as if he couldn't breathe, and he had to get away. He needed to be anywhere but here. Away from all these weirdly dressed people. Away, away.
His mind repeated that word, away, as if he were on a quest. His hands felt sweaty, and he was unable to control his breathing as he shot up from his chair, attempting to get past. His escape didn’t do him any kindness as he almost tripped over someone's feet, nearly making a scene in front of the entire audience.
While all this was happening, Gesha tried not to look in Lyolik's direction, his face emitting shock as he showcased his wear.
The older man retreated to the men’s restroom, where he swung the door open furiously. He stormed in, heading straight to an unoccupied sink. At first, the man didn’t look directly into the mirror. Instead, he thought over the situation and considered leaving the entire venue. He knew that wouldn’t be fair to Gesha, but he didn’t want the blonde to see him like this.
He then began to imagine the possibilities that he really was a woman. He would be attracted to her, with her long, shaved legs, the way the dress would sit upon her thighs. How his blonde hair naturally swooped over his face, and the way he would add a sprinkle of blue eyeshadow to emphasise his blue eyes even more. How Gesha was just perfect, in every sense. No woman could compare.
Oh god, Lyolik thought. The man looked up this time, into the mirror, taking in his reflection. His ears were still growing pink, and his face felt warm as he touched it. He wanted to hit something, anything, even Gesha, for making him feel this way. No way was this okay for him to be thinking of his co-worker like this.
His breathing became irregular as he thought about all the possibilities for punching Gesha, making him suffer for how he dressed tonight. His breath hitched as he lunged a fist at the mirror, shattering it and cutting his skin. He imagined it was the model's face, how red and bloodied it would be.
He snapped out of it, taking a look at himself in the broken mirror, the way the shattered glass made it seem he had several eyes at once. The way they were looking at him in shame. He swiftly glanced down at his bloody fist, pain hitting him as he delved into his pocket to find his handkerchief. He twisted it around his wound, trying to stop the blood from escaping. The cloth began to turn red from the blood, and he winced at the agonising pain.
He looked back at his disfigured face, which was presented in the mirror, and he weighed out his options on what to do. Go to the dressing room and beat the absolute shit out of Gesha (with his good hand), return to his seat, or just leave. The first option was hypnotising him.
He took one glance at his bloody, wrapped knuckles, stuffed it in his blazer pocket and took another gander at the broken mirror. He fantasised that instead it was Gesha’s face, the way he probably would have broken his nose by now from all his beatings in the past. He shook his head, adjusting his hat again and walked out of the men's toilets.
He passed the main hall, sticking his head to see that the main focus in the middle wasn’t Gesha anymore. He needed to find the model and confront him about all this ludicrousness.
Lyolik stopped just in front of Gesha’s supposed dressing room, hoping no one else would be there to see or hear their little confrontation. He thought the situation over, his good hand gripping the door handle.
Perhaps the wisest thing to do would be to leave the whole venue and curl up on his bed in a self-pitying human ball. Drink some kvass with that and pass out. A night of just that was tempting, but his body was thinking otherwise.
He slowly opened the door, his nose being hit by the powerful smell of perfume and hairspray. It was too much, intoxicating even and made his head swirl. Through the crack of the door, he was grateful that the room was empty except for Gesha, who was clad in nothing but a robe, who was downing champagne like water. This was not like Gesha to suddenly start drinking from just the champagne bottle. He only did it once, when he was a total wreck.
“What the hell was that, you idiot?”
Gesha turned around, his makeup smudged. His face was red, but not from crying. He looked a little under the influence. “What was what? All I did was show off my outfit.”
Lyolik was too hot in this small room. The smell of expensive perfume and hairspray was making him feel dizzy, and this was not helping. He removed his hands from his pockets, clenching his fists at his sides. “Why are you dressed as a woman? You’re not one of those queers, are you?”
His eyes were still glued to Gesha, who wasn’t sure how to respond to his question. Lyolik nearly took a step towards the blonde man, getting his fists ready, but instead, Gesha stopped him. “What happened to your hand?”
The question didn’t register, so Lyolik stood there like an idiot, and he didn’t notice when Gesha was to his side. He was pawing at his hand, being all gentle until Lyolik swiped it away and jammed it back into his suit pocket, with so much care.
“A better question is what the hell was that all about out there?” Lyolik said, repeating himself, watching as Gesha turned his back to him. He knew the blonde couldn’t escape this question again; he was staring daggers into his back.
“I was only doing it for the show. Besides, you’ve already seen me in a dress. What’s the big deal?” Gesha spun back around, a smug grin plastered on his face. If only Lyolik could punch it off him, then he wouldn’t be so positive about this whole thing like he was seen to be.
Lyolik tried to compose himself as he listened to the man’s words. “This time was different. It was as if you were messing with me.”
The first time he ever saw Gesha in a dress, it was different. He wasn’t all jazzed up; it was only a disguise for one of their jobs. Even that didn’t evoke any feelings for the man.
“I didn’t like it!” The sudden burst of loudness shocked Gesha, stepping away as the older man stepped forward. The blonde’s lower back hit his makeup desk. Now, he wasn’t so smug about the whole situation. “You didn't have to like it, Lyolik, it was just for show.”
The two men were paired together, their bodies slightly brushing eachother as Lyolik leaned over Gesha, his body growing bigger as the model slowly decreased in size. “Please, Lyolik,” Gesha snaked his hand to Lyoliks' chest, attempting to push him off, but he was unsuccessful.
“Tell me the truth, was it just to mess with me?”
“You know I would never do that. I was only doing my job, you know that.” Lyolik couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was lying. But he backed away anyway. He looked down at his bloodied knuckle, biting his cheek. He decided to let it go, to spare him.
Gesha’s gaze returned to the man, almost losing it in front of the model. He was pacing the room, fists bulging at his sides. He stopped suddenly, eyes searching the floor, thoughts racing. That familiar colour of red rose to his ears again, trying to calm himself and his thoughts.
“I thought you were… attractive.” Was all Lyolik could say, not even looking at the man as he bellowed it.
Gesha wore a smug grin, his cheeks a soft, rosy pink. He had won. “That’s okay.” He tried to reassure Lyolik, but they both knew it wasn't of any help. Lyolik didn’t even notice how close Gesha was until he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Lyolik’s cheek.
“I would like it if you returned to your seat, the show hasn’t even finished yet.”
At the end of the day, it was true. The only woman he ever loved was Gesha. Sure, there were times he had an eye out for his other coworker, Anna, but that was just another blonde woman who resembled Gesha. Everything linked back to Gesha; if only he had never worn that dress. If only Lyolik accepted Gesha and, of course, himself. It was a battle, and he hadnt a clue if he would win it.