He told himself from the moment his brother had set his eyes on him in the damn dress that he would never again put on another one.
He promised, and swore, and...
Alan was a liar, though.
He glanced through the shelves, trying to find the display, but other things caught his attention first. Or rather, a sweet-looking lime-green dress pulled it away from the cartoons and animals. He ran his fingertips over the silky fabric, fighting back a blush that wanted to force its way onto his cheeks.
False golden-yellow and silver jewels swirled around the bust like a snake, ending where the waist would sit on a normal girl. It would look good with his auburn hair and brown eyes and -- he couldn't think of dressing up, not when it was the reason he initially fled from his home in Colorado. Prying his needy eyes away from it, he went back to his search for what he went into the store for in the first place.
Alan found the shirts, picking just a size above what she had in high school, not knowing if she had lost or gained. It was safer to get her a larger size, though. On his way to the register, though, he sized up the dress again. Looking around, he found most of the store empty, save for a couple awkward-looking preteens along with their mothers. With a shrug, he decided, why not, and pulled one of the larger sizes off the rack. A simple size-test against his torso, and he found that it would be a snug but correct fit.
He purchased the clothing, and made the semi-long trek back to his apartment. Once inside, he locked himself in his bedroom and closed the blinds so no peeping eyes could see him. He de-tagged the shirts and folded them neatly on his bed before pulling the garment for him out of the bag. Alan heaved a sigh, still debating if it was a good idea.
If the woman in black knew this rather embarrassing secret in the first place, who knew if she would know if he put one on, even in the supposed safety of his own room? He scanned the room high and low for cameras or bugs. One could never be too careful.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. With that crisis averted, Alan swallowed back his nervousness and stripped out of his normal clothes; he left his boxers on, not having anything else he could wear underneath. The silky dress slid on nicely over his head and felt comfortable against his mostly hairless skin.
He looked himself over in the mirror. It was pulled awkwardly over his chest where it had been made for breasts ("Fuck, I'm too flat..."), he had hair in places most girls kept shaved ("God, that needs to change."), and his weight, which he had always been self-conscious about made his stomach and hips bulge out awkwardly.
Despite it, though, Alan hadn't felt so comfortable being in privacy since he had moved. Sure, Lennon always made him feel comfortable, but when he was without her, he could fee his skin writhing underneath his rough jeans and baggy shirts. This felt natural. It felt... good.
He sat on the edge of his bed, still looking at himself in the mirror. He posed: one leg crossed over the other, both legs together and slightly tilted to the side, different things one might find in pin-ups.
Feeling mostly satiated, Alan slipped it off, folded it up, and tucked it under his bed. He then lay down on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he had really just done that.
He had fucking promised he wouldn't ever do it again. He could feel angry, bitter tears well up into his eye at his own stupidity. What if someone had walked in? He would have had to leave again. He couldn't bear telling Lennon that he had to leave because...
Insults screamed in his head, calling him the things his brother had spit at him before running off. "Fag, sissy..." Hot tears spilled down his face as he sat up, pulling on his normal clothes. He couldn't fucking stand this.
Alan's mind went blank as he procured ice cubes from the freezer and salt from the pantry. He didn't think as he poured the salt into his palm, then squeezed the ice in his fist. A hiss slipped through his teeth as it burned, burned, burned, then went completely numb. Only then did he let the ice fall from his hand into the sink and wipe the salt from his palm.
He padded back to his room.
Fuck it all, he was taking a nap that he could dream about sweet things and sweet red-haired girls and their cute punny names.
And definitely not about dresses and brothers and a country he didn't want to live in.
She smiled even wider at his reaction, like that was even possible. Her body was taken over with happiness at the fact that he liked it. She suddenly became flustered and looked at her feet. “I’m glad that you like it,” she said, looking up at him and kissing him softly before walking over and setting up the electronic score keeping system.
"Shoes are on the table," she said, pointing toward the table where the two pairs of shoes exactly in their size where. She didn’t mind that she was the over the top romantic one, she liked it really. She always kept him on his toes.
Alan kissed her back, grasping the sides of her face as he did, then kissed the apple of her cheek before releasing her so she could go to set up the point system. He followed her, rested his hands on her hips, and looked over her shoulder, like a curious puppy needing to know what was going on at all times.
The scoreboard gave a ringing buzz when it was ready, and he heaved a sigh and stepped away from her so he could get his shoes on. He was awful at bowling. If the guards preventing the ball from going into the gutter weren't up, the chance was high that he wouldn't knock a single pin down. It looked as though they weren't, so tonight, he would do his best, even if his best was gutter-balls.
The bowling alley was completely empty except for them. And that was intentional. Lennon had called ahead of time and rented out the entire place for just them. The only person there was the manager just in case something were to go wrong but he said he’d stay upstairs. She had gone beforehand and set up a blanket and pillows on the floor by their lane, 14, also known as the day in February they started dating the first time.
The lights were dimmed and they walked into the bowling alley. She smiled at him and lead him to their lane, placing the basket on the floor. “I know it’s mushy and overly romantic but I hope you enjoy,” she told him, still smiling like an idiot.
Alan probably shouldn't have felt near as flustered as he did. The scene was something out of a movie; the spot was decorated romantically like a special picnic (something that Alan had thought of, but...). He could feel his pale face go bright red, freckles disappearing into the blush that made even his neck and ears turn color.
He looked over at Lennon, brown eyes shimmering lightly. "This is really mushy, yeah," he laughed, his free hand clutching at his clothes, "But it's really nice. I like this surprise, Lennon," then paused, before saying, "Even though I really don't like them a lot."
She quirked her eyebrows, smiling. “I don’t know, guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” she said as they walked down the stairs and through the lobby. The bowling alley she found was only three blocks away, definitely withing walking distance.
She swung their hands, walking in comfortable silence. She liked their relationship because it wasn’t a constant, poking annoying thing. He was her safety net and vice versa, no matter what they would always be there for each other.
God damn it. That didn't work. He furrowed his brows and fell into silence, wondering what could possibly be in the basket. They were going bowling, so it couldn't be something too out of the ordinary. Maybe a bowling ball. Did Lennon own a bowling ball? Why would she keep it in a basket? No, that was stupid, who would keep a bowling ball in a basket? Perhaps some shoes, or comfortable clothes, but again, who would keep that in a basket?
Then he thought that maybe she could have packed some picnic of sorts, that this would be similar to some of the things they did in high school, but why bring a picnic to go bowling? It made no sense, and Alan could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing in anticipation.
They reached the bowling alley, and it looked surprisingly more American than he had seen anything else look in the stupid country they lived in. The neon lights making him think of Black Hawk or Vegas.
Lennon looked at herself one more time. This was their first real date since…things had happened and she finally felt the change. She grabbed the basket and walked back to the main room, noticing him looking around but not really commenting on it.
"You ready?" she said, grabbing his hand with her free one, kissing him on the cheek. She walked with him out of her apartment and she locked the door behind her. Boy did they have a night planned.
Alan looked over to her with a wide smile. "Yeah, I'm ready," he answered, leaning into her kiss. He glanced to the basket, raising his brows in curiosity. Judging from that smile on her face, he could figure that she wasn't going to be telling him what was in it.
And that was annoying. He pouted and lightly tightened his grip on her hand. "So, the basket. Why are we bringing that bowling?" he asks, pushing up his glasses.
Lennon set the basket she was filling with his favorite food aside and looked herself over in the mirror. She knew that she didn’t have to try to impress him but she liked to look presentable. She smiled and took a deep breath, looking at herself and for once only seeing the good things.
She heard the knock on her door and walked over, opening it to see Alan, looking as amazing as ever. She grinned at him and let him walk into her apartment, closing the door behind her.
"Alrighty let me just grab something and then we can go," she said, still grinning. For once, he didn’t know what was going on. And she was going to use that to her advantage.
He walked in, standing awkwardly near the doorway as if he hadn't just made himself welcome a few nights ago. His gaze sweeps over her, taking in her appearance. He was going to comment on how she looked when she spoke up, grinning at him smugly.
"Take your time," he said, looking around the apartment for the second time. It looked similar to his, almost eerily. Perhaps that was just how all the apartments looked, but it made him turn away and occasionally side-eye at the scenery while he waited for her to return.
Surprises really annoyed him, especially when he was told first and just wanted to know what was going on. But his was Lennon. She'd surprise him a thousand times and he'd sit back and let her. He spoiled her too much sometimes.
Instead of throwing a tantrum though, he waited patiently for the hour to be up. It couldn't come faster, but when it did, he threw on some semi-casual clothes and headed over to Lennon's apartment.
He knocked on the door with the back of his hand, feeling antsy and excited.
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