[fic] Crystal (#342 Drag)
Title: Crystal
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Word count: 880
Warnings: none
Notes: Thanks for giving me a reason to come out of hibernation. I'm a little obsessed w/drag queens and Paris is Burning, and I can imagine L2 being a lot like NYC in the 80s, and thus this fic was born.
Title: Crystal
Pairing: none
Warnings: none
“Life is drag. You're born with a name and a set of circumstances, and the rest is what you paint on top.”
She spoke as if it was an afterthought, like she was speaking to herself in the mirror, as she held incredibly still, painting her eyebrows dramatically high on her forehead. This was really how she felt, had felt for a long time, why the act of painting her face from that of a slender man's into a glamorous woman's had become so important to her, but she wasn't sure why she was telling any of it to the kid, exactly. Maybe because he was still here, when she had expected him to leave the minute she had given him a few bucks off last night's tips to get himself something to eat, after finding him curled in the doorway of the bar's back entrance.
He was obviously starving, but for some reason, he hadn't run right off, and she had let him come inside while she got ready, because the damn weather was fucked up again and it was freezing outside.
So maybe that was why. Maybe she felt like she owed him something more, because she was doing all right for herself and he was starving. And she had been there once, before her family-- not her real one, of course, they had thrown her out as soon as they had caught her coming home with her mother's makeup all over her face, but the girls at the bar-- had taken her in and given her everything she had. He didn't have none of that.
Maybe that's why she was talking to him.
“I wasn't even born with a name,” the kid said, “I made one up myself.”
“See? You already know what I'm talking about,” she said, working blush up onto her cheekbones. “My name ain't the one I'm born with either. What's yours?”
“Duo.”
“I'm Crystal. You know how I thought it up?”
“How?”
“I ain't never seen a piece of crystal in my life before I came here. My drag mother gave me a pair of her crystal earrings to wear my first ball and I decided right then and there I was gonna shine, like they did.”
She glanced at him in the mirror and was a little surprised to find him watching her, listening intently.
“How did you come up with yours?”
He stared at her a long time. He had enormous purple eyes, his face young and soft, too young yet, but he could be beautiful someday if someone cared enough to rub the dirt off him. And his hair, so long and thick, would have been the envy of all the girls at the bar.
Just when she thought he wasn't going to answer at all, he spoke.
“I named myself Duo after my best friend, because he's gone.”
She stilled her movements in the mirror and turned to look at him.
“I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I lost my friend, too.”
His eyes widened. “Was it the plague?”
“No,” she said. “Someone... hurt her.”
She watched his mouth harden, his expression turn grim. He was too young to be so good at that.
“How can you do it?” he finally asked, looking around the dressing room, at all the sparkling things lining the shelves and hanging in the closets.
“Do what, baby?”
“Dress up and smile and not be sad.”
She looked down at her makeup, her war paint. She had been drowning in sadness once, but she had found a way out, and it was all around her, while he was still underwater.
“Life is drag,” she said. “And drag is illusion. Sometimes, you don't even want to go outside, but you force yourself into your clothing and you wear it like armor against the world. You paint your happiness like a mask over your face until no one can tell you're sad inside. And maybe it is just an illusion, but that mask feels so comfortable that, one day, you'll find yourself matching its expression.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Oh shit, honey, I gotta go.”
He stood and approached her, and she realized he was coming to give her the money back. She closed her thin hands over his tiny ones, crumpling the bills tight in his fist.
“Keep it, Duo,” she said, looking into those giant purple eyes. “Buy yourself something to make you smile.”
He looked down at her hand over his for a moment, brown hair falling over his face. Finally, he nodded, then went to the entrance out the back.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Sure, baby,” she smiled, and he was gone.
She hurried absently through the rest of her makeup, mind on the kid from the street, about all that they had lost, both of them children forgotten along the way. There wasn't much good to find out there anymore, but she really hoped he'd find it.
Then, it was time for her to go on, and she slipped her earrings on and hurried out the door.
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Word count: 880
Warnings: none
Notes: Thanks for giving me a reason to come out of hibernation. I'm a little obsessed w/drag queens and Paris is Burning, and I can imagine L2 being a lot like NYC in the 80s, and thus this fic was born.
Title: Crystal
Pairing: none
Warnings: none
“Life is drag. You're born with a name and a set of circumstances, and the rest is what you paint on top.”
She spoke as if it was an afterthought, like she was speaking to herself in the mirror, as she held incredibly still, painting her eyebrows dramatically high on her forehead. This was really how she felt, had felt for a long time, why the act of painting her face from that of a slender man's into a glamorous woman's had become so important to her, but she wasn't sure why she was telling any of it to the kid, exactly. Maybe because he was still here, when she had expected him to leave the minute she had given him a few bucks off last night's tips to get himself something to eat, after finding him curled in the doorway of the bar's back entrance.
He was obviously starving, but for some reason, he hadn't run right off, and she had let him come inside while she got ready, because the damn weather was fucked up again and it was freezing outside.
So maybe that was why. Maybe she felt like she owed him something more, because she was doing all right for herself and he was starving. And she had been there once, before her family-- not her real one, of course, they had thrown her out as soon as they had caught her coming home with her mother's makeup all over her face, but the girls at the bar-- had taken her in and given her everything she had. He didn't have none of that.
Maybe that's why she was talking to him.
“I wasn't even born with a name,” the kid said, “I made one up myself.”
“See? You already know what I'm talking about,” she said, working blush up onto her cheekbones. “My name ain't the one I'm born with either. What's yours?”
“Duo.”
“I'm Crystal. You know how I thought it up?”
“How?”
“I ain't never seen a piece of crystal in my life before I came here. My drag mother gave me a pair of her crystal earrings to wear my first ball and I decided right then and there I was gonna shine, like they did.”
She glanced at him in the mirror and was a little surprised to find him watching her, listening intently.
“How did you come up with yours?”
He stared at her a long time. He had enormous purple eyes, his face young and soft, too young yet, but he could be beautiful someday if someone cared enough to rub the dirt off him. And his hair, so long and thick, would have been the envy of all the girls at the bar.
Just when she thought he wasn't going to answer at all, he spoke.
“I named myself Duo after my best friend, because he's gone.”
She stilled her movements in the mirror and turned to look at him.
“I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I lost my friend, too.”
His eyes widened. “Was it the plague?”
“No,” she said. “Someone... hurt her.”
She watched his mouth harden, his expression turn grim. He was too young to be so good at that.
“How can you do it?” he finally asked, looking around the dressing room, at all the sparkling things lining the shelves and hanging in the closets.
“Do what, baby?”
“Dress up and smile and not be sad.”
She looked down at her makeup, her war paint. She had been drowning in sadness once, but she had found a way out, and it was all around her, while he was still underwater.
“Life is drag,” she said. “And drag is illusion. Sometimes, you don't even want to go outside, but you force yourself into your clothing and you wear it like armor against the world. You paint your happiness like a mask over your face until no one can tell you're sad inside. And maybe it is just an illusion, but that mask feels so comfortable that, one day, you'll find yourself matching its expression.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Oh shit, honey, I gotta go.”
He stood and approached her, and she realized he was coming to give her the money back. She closed her thin hands over his tiny ones, crumpling the bills tight in his fist.
“Keep it, Duo,” she said, looking into those giant purple eyes. “Buy yourself something to make you smile.”
He looked down at her hand over his for a moment, brown hair falling over his face. Finally, he nodded, then went to the entrance out the back.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Sure, baby,” she smiled, and he was gone.
She hurried absently through the rest of her makeup, mind on the kid from the street, about all that they had lost, both of them children forgotten along the way. There wasn't much good to find out there anymore, but she really hoped he'd find it.
Then, it was time for her to go on, and she slipped her earrings on and hurried out the door.