"You spin my head right round, right round, when you go down, when you go down, down..."

Soft velveteen fabric slipped over bare shoulders and a flat chest, rustling as it settled onto narrow hips and formed folds around the nape of a bony neck.

"From the top of the pole, I watch her go down, she got me throwing my money around...."

There was a delightful little swoosh as Lumaira spun on his heel to carefully inspect himself in the mirror.

"Ain't nothing more beautiful to be found. Heh."

His hair was pink again, pulled into delicate ringlets that just brushed his shoulders, fringe dead straight and hanging in his made-up eyes. The dress - damn it, it had taken him a long time to find the perfect dress - was a deep magenta colour, frilled at the collar just to cover the fact that he had no breasts, was deliberately flattering of his boyish frame.

Lumaira pouted a little, adjusting the dress until it both felt comfortable and looked good. As good as a dress could look on a man, at any rate.

"Lumaira. You," He said very seriously to himself as he brushed his fingers across the reflection in the mirror, "Are a freak."

And then he sat down on his bed and let a little sob bubble from his throat. He wanted to call up Even, but the boy would be having enough of his own problems getting ready for the big night without Lumaira piling on his anxiety too.

It wasn't like he was worried about Even seeing him like this - even though he didn't know. Nobody knew that Lumaira had saved up all his money to buy a prom dress, leaving the smart suit his parents had helped him choose hanging uselessly in the wardrobe.

He wasn't even terribly worried about his friends seeing him in drag. Well, he was, but it all paled in insignificance to the fact that, in five minutes or so, his mother was going to pop in to check on his progress and find her own son wearing a dress.

A dress.

With two minutes to go he caved, pulled the thing off and changed into the tuxedo instead. It felt all wrong. He glanced back at the beautiful little dress, at his reflection, then to the dress again. He felt like that guy with the red pill and the blue pill, like he was at the crossroads of his life.

Wear the tux, you're stuck being the wrong gender forever. Wear the dress, and you're a freak.

He was overcome by the urge to throw something, anything, and in a fit of anger he grabbed the dress and flung it at the mirror. It crumpled uselessly to the floor, just like all of his dreams.

"Lumaira, sweetie? Are you okay up there?"

He hissed angrily, clenching and unclenching his fists. Tears pricked at the sides of his eyes, but he couldn't cry. Not now, not now. He'd mess up his mascara.

"I'm fine,"

"You don't need any help, do you?"

"I'm fine."

This was the only chance he was ever going to get to come out to his parents, he told himself sternly. He'd have to tell them one day and it would do no good just to keep pretending he was normal, day after day after day. He carefully undid the tie, pulled it from his neck, and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Lumaira?"

He pulled his trousers down and slowly stepped out, folding them neatly on the dresser.

"I'm just coming, mum,"

He picked the dress up again and shrugged it over his shoulders. Tugged it into the perfect position. Pulled on those gorgeous matching heels. Fixed his make up one last time, grabbed his handbag. Swallowed thickly, and braced himself for whatever reaction his family might have.

The walk downstairs seemed to take forever, the silence deafening as he rounded the little corner into the hallway.

He grit his teeth as they stared.

Stared.

It was his mother who spoke first, tone almost apologetic in its insincerity.

"Lumaira. I think we need to have a little talk."

"Yeah," He just about managed to force out, glancing at his father, then at the floor. God, he felt stupid. The pinpricks of tears threatened again, heavier around his painted eyelashes.

His mother took his hand and led him away into the kitchen, as his father simply stared.

Stared.

"So," His mother said. He couldn't meet her eye.

"So what?"

"Lumaira, we bought a lovely suit for you. Why aren't you wearing it?"

Lumaira coughed to disguise another sob, and didn't reply.

"Is this some kind of bet with your friends? Because I don't find it very funny."

Still he was silent, clutching at the hem of his dress.

"Don't you want to look good for your prom?"

"Of course I do," He muttered in reply, closely inspecting the silky folds and creases around his knees. Of course he did. But he also wanted to look himself. Whatever that was.

"I'll go get the suit. You don't have to look ridiculous like that. That's just cruel. Who put you up to that? L'Erena?"

Lumaira curled up on himself. He looked ridiculous. He looked like some kind of sick idiot, and his mum thought that he was a joke, and he wanted to curl up in a hole and die, or preferably strip naked and have hot, steamy sex with Even in the shower.

... But that probably wasn't an option right now.

"Lumaira, you don't have to ruin your prom for some silly bet," His mother was continuing obliviously as if this was supposed to make him feel better or even console him in the slightest.

"It wasn't a bet," Lumaira admitted.

"You can be honest with me, Lumaira, sweetheart,"

"I am. I want to wear a dress. I like dresses."

"Lumaira," His mother repeated, her voice teetering dangerously on the edge of anger, or worse, disappointment.

"I like being girly."

"There's a lovely suit waiting for you upstairs..."

"I want to wear the dress!" Lumaira yelled, for a split second unable to keep his temper in check. Horrified at his reaction - he'd never shouted at either of his parents before - he clamped his hand over his mouth, mumbling muffled apologies, eyes wide. Hot tears stung at his cheeks, rolled across his fingers and with each one he felt the horrible flare of shame bite at his stomach.

His mother took a deep breath, clearly unsure of what to say.

"I need to speak to your father about this," She finally said, and disappeared.

Lumaira hiccuped sorrowfully, and hesitated for a brief second before wiping away the worst of his make up from his face, evaluating himself in the reflection on the oven door, and slipping out of the back door into the evening air. Climbing the gate was interesting with heels, and eventually he simply pulled them off and flung them over before climbing over himself. He was going to look a wreck.

He half walked, half ran a little way down his road before fishing out his phone and flipping it open. He didn't have his jacket, and already his bare arms, legs and shoulders were bristling with the cold.

"L'Erena?"

"Hey babe. 'Sup?"

"I need a lift to the prom."

"I thought your mum was taking you,"

"Yeah. We... we had an argument."

"You don't sound so good."

"I don't look so good, either," Lumaira replied as he walked briskly along the next road, hoping that to the few cars that passed he looked sufficiently feminine to not draw too many weird looks.

"Where'd you need picking up?" L'Erena, who had her own car, asked.

"I'll be at the park in a few minutes."

"Kay. I'll be there."

"Thanks."

The car - L'Erena's dad's, a flashy Jag - was waiting at the side of the road and Lumaira quickly hurried over and slipped into the passenger seat.

"Don't even ask," He said as he flicked the in-car light on and began fixing up his face in the mirror in the sun screen.

L'Erena whistled a little.

"Who bet you to do that, and how much were they offering?"

Lumaira bit his lip again, choking back another harsh sob. So this was how everybody was going to act? Just think it was all a joke and laugh it off?

"Nobody bet me," He said quietly, ruining his make up again and having to start again. "Nobody bet me, I'm wearing this because I like it. You don't have any waterproof mascara, do you? If I'm going to be bursting into tears every five minutes I don't want to have to be fixing my face up again every time."

L'Erena said nothing as she pulled over to the side of the road. Once the car had stopped, she flipped up her seatbelt and climbed over the gear stick to sit on Lumaira's lap and wrap her arms around him.

"You could have told me that you were a cross dresser," She said softly, and softly was not something that L'Erena did.

"I'm not," Lumaira explained. "I'm not. I'm a girl. I just got stuck with the wrong fucking body,"

"Oh."

"And only Even knows-"

"Even? Nerd Even?"

"I've been dating him in secret for two years. Three if you include the period when we didn't realise that we were each other on the internet."

L'Erena slowly climbed off Lumaira and stoically rummaged around in her own bag, throwing a mascara at him.

"So much for being best friends."

Lumaira's guts twisted uncomfortably. He was already in deep shit with his parents, now L'Erena was going to abandon him too? What next, was Even going to dump him for making a big fuss at the prom and embarrassing the hell out of him?

... That possibility was all too likely, and suddenly the tuxedo seemed like a very good idea indeed.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled. "How about I just go home right now."

"This was Even's idea?" L'Erena asked, ignoring Lumaira's suggestion.

"Even doesn't know," Lumaira hissed. "Even doesn't know. Even doesn't know that I wanted to be seen with him in public for once. Even doesn't know... Oh fuck, I was going to ruin his prom. Oh, fuck... I want to go home."

He picked his legs up and curled around his knees, sobbing. Why had he even thought that this was a good idea? What on Earth had possessed him to think that it would be a good idea to go to his prom in a dress?

"Why didn't you tell me?" L'Erena asked, tapping her fingers against the wheel. When Lumaira spluttered miserably again, she sighed. "Look, Lulu, I'm not mad. I just wish you'd told me. I could have done your make up, and your hair. We could have gone prom dress shopping together."

Lumaira looked up.

"R-really?"

L'Erena smiled gently at him.

"Yeah. Look, sorry, I could have taken that better. I just didn't think you were serious at first. It was a bit of a shock. Come on, let's go back to my house and I'll fix you up. You look a mess."

Lumaira looked back and nodded, trying to collect himself, but the tears of worry just kept spilling over his cheeks. What were his parents going to say when he got home tomorrow? What would Even say? He was silent as L'Erena drove them home, bundled him out of the car and upstairs into her bedroom.

"We've got twenty minutes," She said, first and foremost finding a plaster for the nasty scratch Lumaira had given himself climbing over the gate. Then she washed his entire face clean of make up, and began again with a thin layer of foundation, then blush and lipstick before beginning work on his eyes.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this for," She commented as she applied eye shadow to match the dress.

"What, give me a makeover?"

"Yeah. Why didn't you tell me you were a tranny?"

Lumaira truthfully didn't know. It was just something that he'd never told anybody - except Even, and the people on the internet who truthfully thought that he was female - and L'Erena was no exception.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," L'Erena said, ruffling his hair as he pouted seductively at her. "But honestly. Even?"

"He's cute. In a mad scientist kind of a way."

"Right."

L'Erena didn't seem at all convinced, but she let it slide as she added a few finishing touches of waterproof mascara to Lumaira's new image.

"You look gorgeous, babe,"

"I don't believe you," Lumaira replied petulantly. He wondered what he'd been expecting his parents' reaction to be, because it had shattered his already minimal confidence and he wasn't sure if he could face walking in one everybody in drag no matter what L'Erena said.

"If you look better than me I'm not going to let you go," L'Erena replied pleasantly, and disappeared off to get changed herself. A few minutes later she returned in a gorgeous black low-backed ankle length dress that perfected every curve in her body and sparkled like midnight.

Lumaira was truthfully jealous.

"What do you think?"

"You look like a fallen angel."

L'Erena laughed.

"Let's go."

They chattered as L'Erena drove them to the venue of the prom, and Lumaira found himself forced to reveal all the details about Even - how Lumaira had first found solace on chat rooms and MSN under the screen name AI Mural, about meeting and falling in love with this cute guy called Even_Is_Odd, and only discovering when they met up that it was that Even, and then falling in love all over again.

But thankfully, before they got onto the topic of exactly why Lumaira was so good at typing one-handed, L'Erena drew up in the car park and opened the door for him to help him out.

Suddenly he was overcome with nerves - what if Even really was horrified by people seeing him with a transvestite? What if he left him? What if, what if, what if?

"I don't think I can do this," He quietly admitted to L'Erena. She companionably rubbed his bare shoulder with her most encouraging smile.

"Sure you can. I'm right behind you, girlfriend,"

Girlfriend, Lumaira thought dizzily. Girlfriend.

He stepped out of the car and, hand in hand with L'Erena, walked up to the gaping double doors of the glitzy hotel.

For a few horrible seconds as concrete turned to red carpet, everybody stared.

Stared.

But Lumaira kept his head high and his balance perfect as he walked right in with L'Erena by his side. He heard around him whispers in the hushed silence as he plucked out Even with his gaze.

"Who is that?"

"Damn, she's sexy."

"You idiot! It's Lumaira!"

"What?! No way, he looks like a girl!"

"Fucking hell..."

He broke free of L'Erena's grasp, confidence growing with each murmur of surprise, confession and compliment. Even Even - oblivious at the best of times - had looked up now, expression one of pure surprise.

He gave Even an urgent look. Is this okay? Am I okay?

People realised were Lumaira was heading even before Even took his first tentative steps closer, and the whispers only intensified, darting back and forth between the assembled crowd. Lumaira dared to swing his hips a little, and swish, swish went the silky fabric of the dress. People were clearing the way for him; everybody was staring. He was torn between elation and terror, so pumped with adrenaline that he visibly shivered as Even's cold hands brushed against his bare arms. Neither of them stopped as they simply walked into each other and a crushing embrace, lips pressed together like nothing could tear them apart.

Even was melting under the spotlight and so was Lumaira, but the other students were the ones who simply dissolved into insignificance as they kissed, again and again.

"You look amazing," Even breathed once they pulled apart. "You look more beautiful than any other girl in this room,"

Lumaira smiled, genuinely, for the first time since he'd put the dress on. Suddenly everything just felt right, like this was what he was born to do. Even if the others couldn't decide which was more weird, that two guys who apparently hated each other were suddenly kissing each other, or that one of them was actually posing as a girl.

From that moment on, the evening couldn't have been more perfect. Lumaira flitted like a real gossipy girl between all the groups and couples just as much as they were drawn to him, Even a little awkwardly posed on his arm. Far from the horrified stares or laughter that he'd predicted, people wanted to know. How long had Lumaira been cross dressing for? When did they start going out? So it was them who Myde heard making out in the school toilets last year, wasn't it?

And when they danced... Well, neither of them knew how to dance but that didn't matter because they were together, and the whole world didn't matter as they were captured by each other's gazes.

Even as they settled down with drinks around tables, Lumaira could feel the buzz in every cell in his body. This was how it always should have been. The utter rejection from his parents was all but forgotten.

"And then we decided to-"

"Shh! They're about to announce the prom king and queen!"

Silence descended over the whole year as everybody turned to the stage where one of the teachers was waving a little gold envelope.

"If it's me, I will die of laughter," Lumaira, who was comfortably curled up on Even's lap, giggled. Even murmured something along the lines of "That wouldn't do at all," And nibbled on his ear until he gave in and leaned up to kiss back.

"First of all, this year's prom king is.... Isa Lune!"

There were cheers from the tall, stoic boy's fanclub as he grinned as his defeated companions Lea and Myde and waltzed up to the stage. Like it wasn't obvious that one of the Flaming Ocean boys was going to win that prize, L'Erena thought.

"And this year's prom queen is none other than the gorgeous and sparky L'Erena Valkyrie!"

Lumaira was quick to shove his best friend off her chair to join Isa on the stage as there were catcalls and cheers from the male crowd.

"Would either of you like to make a speech?" The teacher asked, and Isa was the first to take the microphone.

"I told you I was sexier, Myde, Lea," The drummer began to the raucous "boo!"s of his friends. "No, seriously. Thanks for voting me, guys. Yes, I'm looking at you, Norty. I know you secretly have the hots for me."

As everybody stared at Xehanort, the boy that Isa had pointed out, Isa passed the mike to L'Erena.

She knew what she was going to say.

"Yeah, thank and all that," She began. "But you know what? I don't think you chose the right girl to be prom queen. 'Cus who better to choose for the title than a real queen?"

She gestured to her best friend, grinning.

"I'm talking about you, Lulu. Come on up, you deserve to be up here just as much of any of us girls,"

Everybody was cheering as Lumaira peeled himself away from Even and tottered onto the stage.

Cheering.

At him.

"And," L'Erena, by no means finished yet, "I think we should have an extra prom king as well, not for the sexiest guy in your year but for the most improved. Who thought that the geeky, obnoxious kid we all dreaded sitting next to in class could turn out to be such a blonde bombshell, Even?"

Before he had a chance to run away, Lumaira had dashed down and forcibly dragged a beetroot-red Even onto the stage.

As Isa and L'Erena put together their collective genius to make makeshift crowns out of the golden envelope, the evening couldn't have been more perfect. And the night just kept on getting better as the dress came off, mouths and tongues crashed together, legs were drawn up and Lumaira was made complete again and again.

"I love you, Lulu,"

"I love you too."