wigs and lashes
caleb x zayne // crossdressing // crack fluff // 4k words
when zayne got dragged into a girl's night out...
the buzz of an electric kettle filled the quiet dorm room, steam curling lazily into the air as zayne sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, one leg crossed over the other. his eyes, sharp behind silver-framed glasses, were fixed in disbelief at the open laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
yuu clicked to the next slide.
"reason four: if a man sits at our table, the perceived approachability of our group drops by 65%. that’s statistically significant, zayne."
he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled through his teeth. "obviously, i would’ve agreed from the start. there’s no need for you to list out and present your reasons in... powerpoint."
"it's just better with visuals," she chirped, nudging the laptop slightly toward him. the current slide had a pie chart. a glittery, hot pink pie chart.
zayne stared at it like it had personally insulted him.
"but," he continued, slowly, voice on the edge of breaking, "i still don’t understand the part where i have to dress up as a woman."
yuu gave him a winning smile, all teeth and no shame. "because it’s girl’s night out, duh."
"that’s not a reason."
"my friends are very meticulous. if one of us brings a male friend, they’ll get all suspicious and protective and won’t let loose. which defeats the whole point." she clicked again. the next slide read: the science of vibe preservation. it was underlined three times in sparkly font.
zayne stared at the screen like it was physically causing him pain.
"besides," yuu continued, shifting onto the couch beside him and leaning in conspiratorially, "if you don’t go, then i’ll have to be the sober one all night, and you know how much i hate that. plus caleb will literally skin me alive if he finds out i went drinking without backup. you’re neutral. you’re switzerland. you’re my best bet."
"i’m not neutral," zayne muttered. "i’m actively being conscripted into madness."
"oh come on. you don’t even have to say anything. just sit there, sip soda, look mysterious. i’ll tell them you’re my quiet cousin from out of town. you just need to nod or shake your head. that’s it."
he looked at her, deadpan. "that’s your plan?"
"it worked for that one girl who snuck her boyfriend into her all-girls spa weekend," yuu replied, now kneeling by the low vanity. "i already bought the hair extensions and some stick-on nails. also—" she paused dramatically and held up a sheer black blouse and a cute high-waisted skirt, "—i got these in your size."
"my size?"
"i may have peeked at your laundry tags once or twice."
zayne slumped forward, forehead in his hand, the beginnings of a migraine blooming between his eyes. "yuu..."
she plopped the hair extensions in his lap with a grin. "zaaayyyne. it’s just one night. i’ll buy you as many caramel puddings as you want."
"two."
"four."
he paused. considered. the pudding-to-humiliation ratio was acceptable.
"…fine. but if even one of your friends figures me out, i’m faking a nosebleed and escaping through the bathroom window. and i am not wearing that outfit. get me something decent. please."
"deal," yuu said brightly. "now sit still. you’re still getting lashes."
"god help me."
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the low thump of bass pulsed through the trendy downtown lounge, a kaleidoscope of neon light reflecting off glass tabletops and the shimmer of too-glossy cocktails. the table was circular, the velvet seats deep, and unfortunately for zayne—now answering to zizi—there was no escape route that didn’t involve throwing himself through a potted plant.
he sat stiffly between yuu’s friends, legs crossed far too neatly, hands folded like a job interviewee, eyes blinking slowly like he was buffering.
"zizi is a freshman?" one of the girls—bright lipstick, fake lashes like wings—asked sweetly, swirling her drink.
zayne opened his mouth. closed it. remembered he wasn’t supposed to talk.
yuu, sitting across from him like the devil she was, jumped in, chipper as ever: "yep! transferred in just this semester. she's super shy though. grew up in like... the mountains. or something. right, zi?"
zayne gave a tight-lipped smile. he hoped it looked bashful and not like a man spiraling through identity death.
another girl leaned in, eyes wide. "your hair is gorgeous. is it real?"
before he could panic, yuu again: “all natural. raven-haired beauty, right? i had to beg her to even put on a bit of eyeliner.”
zayne’s lashes fluttered from the weight of the fake extensions. the eyeliner was not ‘a bit.’ he had enough wing on his eyelid to redirect a low-flying drone.
someone reached out and gently touched a strand of his hair. "wow... it’s so soft. you must use rice water or something."
zayne smiled again. it felt like barbed wire. he nodded, once, solemnly. let them think he used rice water. let them think he was from the mountains. let them think anything but the truth: that he was a cardiac surgery student with three published papers and a nightmare-inducing case file sitting in his dorm inbox.
"your eyes are gorgeous,” another chimed in. “are those lenses?"
yuu nearly choked on her drink. "nope. real. she was so shy about them in high school, can you believe it? people used to ask if she was part elf."
zayne nearly gagged on the sip of water he was nursing. part elf? what kind of lore was being written about him in real time?
"she's got that elegant vibe, you know?" the girl next to him gushed. "like—quiet pretty. like those dramas where the cool girl doesn’t say much but you know she’s got a tragic backstory."
zayne stared ahead, deeply evaluating all of his life decisions that had led to this moment. somewhere in the back of his mind, a single neuron wept.
"do you model?" someone else asked, already pulling out their phone.
yuu slapped a hand over zayne’s arm before he could recoil. "no pictures! zi’s super private. you know, camera-shy."
zayne gave a quick shake of his head, hoping it looked endearing and not like a hostage signal.
a waitress walked by with a tray of shots and someone reached over to grab one for zayne. he stared at the tiny glass like it was a landmine.
"oh—zizi doesn’t drink!" yuu cut in fast, batting her lashes. "teetotaler. for… spiritual reasons."
zayne raised an eyebrow at her across the table. spiritual reasons?
yuu gave him a look that said you want them thinking you’re a dude in heels or a monk in training? pick one.
so zayne smiled again. nod. sip water. repeat.
meanwhile, yuu was thriving.
her friends loved "zizi." her cover was working better than expected. she'd have to make zayne wear lashes more often if it meant he couldn’t scold her for a whole evening.
though, she knew his composure was cracking by the way he gripped the edge of his glass like it personally offended him. still, he was enduring it. for her. for caleb. for the pudding she’d promised. and possibly to hold it over her head for the next ten years.
she leaned over, grinning. "you're doing great, queen."
zayne didn’t even look at her. just muttered under his breath, "this is going in your medical history."
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the hallway by the women's restroom was quieter than the rest of the club, the thump of bass muffled by walls and distance. a flickering neon sign overhead buzzed like an irritated fly.
zayne stood leaning against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, eyes alert beneath perfectly curled lashes. his fitted outfit and faux charm had managed to fool yuu's friends all night—but right now, none of that mattered.
he wasn’t "zizi" anymore. not while tara was alone behind that door. not when he’d seen that table of men watching them like wolves in heat all night.
one of them—a square-jawed, smug-looking type—had stood up when tara left for the restroom. zayne didn’t hesitate. he followed a few paces behind, gaze cold and flat, calculating.
and just like he expected, the man turned down the hallway.
zayne straightened from the wall.
"well, well," the guy said with a slow smirk, his steps casual, his tone oily. "what do we have here? you lost, pretty little—"
he faltered mid-sentence.
zayne had taken a single step forward. that step brought him up close—closer than expected—and about an inch taller than the guy. his shoulders squared, his stare unflinching, nothing but quiet promise in the line of his jaw.
the man blinked, taking a reflexive half-step back. "feisty one, aren’t you..." he muttered, still trying to recover his swagger. but then the smirk returned. "sorry, sweetheart. tall girls aren’t my type."
he moved to push past—toward the women’s bathroom.
zayne moved faster.
in a flash, his hand shot out, fingers curling like a vice around the man's wrist. the movement was clean. controlled. painful.
the man grunted. "what the hell’s your problem? i said i’m not into you, lady."
zayne said nothing. his grip tightened.
more footsteps. voices. the man's friends had started to take notice and were now sauntering over like pack animals.
zayne turned his head slightly. six of them, not including the one he had pinned.
the hallway suddenly felt smaller.
"this crazy chick suddenly grabbed me!" the man barked, trying to twist out of zayne’s grip. he couldn't. zayne wasn’t just strong—he was deliberate. precise.
"hey now," one of the others said mockingly, spreading his arms like a performer. "no good forcing yourself onto someone, girlie."
zayne’s scowl deepened.
the audacity.
they didn’t even bother hiding it anymore. he’d seen the sleight of hand earlier—those tiny vials disappearing into palms, the deliberate angle of the wrist over drinks. these men weren’t just trouble—they were predators.
"if you wanna play though," another said, licking his teeth, "we can keep you company."
that was it. zayne drew back his fist, the weight of weeks of stress, exhaustion, and suppressed fury behind it—
"what are you idiots doing flocking around here?"
the voice cut through the air like a razor. calm. cold. commanding.
the whole group froze.
zayne blinked.
no way.
the crowd of bodies parted slightly, like shadows giving way to flame.
dark brown hair. purple eyes. tall, lean, and built like every inch of him could break a man in two.
caleb.
he wore a dark hoodie under a military-style bomber jacket, sleeves pushed to the elbows, expression flat and unreadable. his presence filled the hallway like a storm front.
"someone wanna explain?" caleb asked, not looking at anyone in particular, though his eyes briefly flicked to zayne.
zayne swallowed. hard. he shifted his hand off the man's wrist, smoothly folding his arms over his chest instead, hoping the shadows would hide the tension in his jaw.
the man rubbed his wrist with a snarl. "this chick just—grabbed me outta nowhere, man."
"right," caleb said, voice skeptical, eyes flicking briefly to the group behind him. "seven of you. and one girl. that doesn’t look weird at all."
"look, we weren’t gonna do anything."
"you sure? because i know exactly what you slipped in your back pocket earlier." caleb’s voice didn’t rise, but it hit like a hammer. "i’ve got friends on staff. you want me to ask for the footage?"
the group went quiet. suddenly, they weren’t as confident.
"…we’re leaving," one of them muttered. the others followed, one grumbling curses under his breath.
zayne remained still as they left, shoulder to the wall, arms crossed, watching them go.
caleb waited until they turned the corner before speaking again.
"…you alright?"
zayne nodded once.
caleb’s eyes narrowed a bit. "don’t talk much, huh?"
zayne nodded again.
"…do i know you?"
a pause.
zayne shook his head slowly. kept his head slightly down. tried to blink innocently under lashes that should’ve been illegal.
caleb’s eyes lingered for a second too long. then he exhaled.
"stay near your group," he said finally. "creeps are crawling tonight."
he walked past, heading for the front of the club. but before he disappeared around the corner, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. suspicious.
zayne held his breath.
and then caleb was gone.
tara exited the bathroom a moment later, startled. "zizi? whoa, what happened? you look like you just saw a ghost."
zayne let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
he had. and it was named caleb xia.
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the air was cold, heavy with the scent of spilled alcohol, exhaust, and whatever perfume was currently radiating off the half-dozen girls zayne had just carried—carried—into the backseat of yuu’s car.
he gently adjusted the seatbelt over yuu’s shoulder, careful not to wake her. her head lolled to the side, a drool line forming, eyelashes fluttering like she was dreaming of sugar.
the others were slumped across each other in a tangled mess of glitter, heels, and clutch purses. it was like a tornado had hit a fashion boutique and dumped the remains into his car.
zayne straightened up, rolling his sore shoulders with a low sigh. the night had taken ten years off his lifespan.
he turned, already ready to leave—
and stopped.
boots.
military-style.
black and silent.
zayne looked up.
caleb stood there, hands in his pockets, posture casual, but his eyes were sharp. calculating. narrowed.
zayne's stomach dropped.
oh, god.
caleb tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly as his gaze scanned zayne’s face from top to bottom. hair extensions. faded eyeliner. that stupid soft loose sweater yuu made him wear. the only giveaway was the slight shift in zayne’s jaw, the stiff line of his shoulders that refused to relax under caleb’s scrutiny.
then caleb spoke.
"you…"
a beat.
caleb’s frown deepened.
"…you're zayne."
zayne froze like someone had hit him with a tranq dart.
there was still a chance. a sliver of a chance.
he looked away—deliberately. just a subtle aversion of eye contact. feign confusion. play it off. you are zizi, shy freshman, mountain girl.
he turned slightly, making like he was about to walk back to the driver’s side and drive this disaster home.
but caleb stepped forward and reached out—not aggressively, just steady. confident. he gripped zayne’s arm and tugged gently, pulling him halfway around to face him.
"hey." caleb’s voice was low now. not angry. not mocking.
just knowing.
zayne turned reluctantly.
their eyes locked.
even in the dim parking lot lighting, there was no hiding the shape of his face now. no lash or gloss or glitter could erase the familiarity burned in from years of friendship.
"…zayne," caleb said again, this time with certainty.
and zayne, thoroughly defeated, stood there in a wig and heels and muttered—
"goddammit."
caleb blinked.
then blinked again.
and then he just—laughed.
one short breathy sound, like a crack in his perfect composure. the shock had finally registered. caleb staggered a step back and clapped a hand over his mouth to stop from fully losing it.
"you’re kidding me," he said through his palm, barely holding it together. "that was you?"
zayne ran a hand down his face and groaned. "do us both a favor and forget this ever happened."
caleb looked at him, utterly incredulous. “forget? you looked like—like if an assassin got dropped into a pop music video.”
"i will kill you."
"i knew something was off! you looked so damn familiar. i thought i was going insane."
zayne leaned against the car and let his head fall back, staring at the stars like they might smite him from pity.
caleb was still watching him, this time with something quieter in his expression. less laughter. more... understanding.
caleb exhaled. looked down at the girls passed out in the backseat. "thanks for watching out for them. even if you were in—whatever this is."
zayne snorted. "your sister is the reason for this. i was blackmailed. with dessert."
"sounds like her."
there was another pause.
then, caleb smirked again. "so... zizi, huh?"
zayne gave him the flattest stare in human history.
"i cannot believe you wore eyeliner for this."
"shut up."
"you even wore heels."
"you live with this secret now. and you never speak of it again."
caleb raised his hands in mock surrender. "fine. fine."
but zayne could see the grin trying to sneak back in.
"…zizi."
"i swear to god—"
"you… jerk!"
both zayne and caleb flinched as the slurred voice sliced through the night.
they turned just in time to see yuu, half-slumped over in the backseat, eyes barely open, hair a mess, face flushed and defiant as she leaned out of the half-rolled window like she was about to wage war.
"don’t bother my... friend like that!" she growled—or tried to. it came out more like a tired meow. "or i’ll... beat you… up…"
she slowly sank back into the seat, drooling against the window glass, completely unconscious within seconds.
a long silence.
caleb stared, one brow rising. then he cracked a quiet laugh, biting the inside of his cheek.
"i’m lecturing her for six hours straight tomorrow," he muttered.
zayne sighed and rubbed at his temples like he’d aged twenty years in one night. "i don’t have time for this. i’m leaving."
but caleb, ever persistent, tilted his head, arms crossed casually as he leaned against the hood. his smirk was a permanent fixture now.
"wait,” he said, “you’re all alone, aren’t you?"
zayne side-eyed him. "don’t start."
"i’ll keep you company then."
"i don’t need it," zayne grit out, opening the driver’s side door with a little more force than necessary.
"but it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to leave a beautiful lady out here all alone," caleb teased, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "taking care of her drunk friends? admirable. but risky."
zayne turned to face him, scowl sharpened. "go back to your friends. i’ll take care of your sister. i’m not as helpless as you think."
caleb didn’t flinch. "didn’t say you were helpless. just saying being alone isn’t as safe as you think. especially for someone as—" he gave zayne the slowest once-over, "—pretty as you."
zayne looked like he wanted to either melt into the asphalt or commit a felony.
there was no winning. caleb had locked in like a heat-seeking missile.
"do what you want," zayne finally snapped, sliding into the driver’s seat. "i’m ignoring you anyway."
caleb just gave a mock salute as the car pulled out of the lot, then slid on his helmet and followed smoothly on his bike, headlights trailing after zayne like a shadow that just refused to leave.
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by the time zayne had parked and helped the last of the girls inside, his arms were aching. tara had insisted on being carried bridal style while giggling. one had thrown up near the bushes. yuu, still passed out, was now tucked under three blankets on the couch, snoring like a puppy, with her leg halfway off the armrest.
zayne looked around the quiet house, the mess of heels and coats and faint scent of alcohol. he shook his head.
he made sure the doors were locked, lights were off, and everyone was at least breathing regularly. then he stepped out onto the porch, closing the door with a quiet click behind him.
the night air was cold. sharp.
he exhaled.
and groaned the second he looked up.
caleb was still there.
leaning against his motorbike like a poster boy for bad decisions, helmet now resting beside him, arms folded, eyes gleaming like he had all the time in the world.
"…you’ve got to be kidding me," zayne muttered.
"i’m committed now," caleb replied, smiling. "i escorted you home. that’s chivalrous. i deserve a medal."
"you deserve a restraining order."
"you’ll need to try harder than that. i was raised on yuu’s tantrums. i’m immune to insults."
zayne trudged down the front steps, brushing past him toward his car. "if i get back in the car fast enough, maybe you’ll vanish."
but caleb fell into step beside him, hands in his pockets.
"do you do this kind of thing often?" he asked casually. "you know... wear eyeliner, throw guys into walls, save drunk girls from creeps."
zayne shot him a glare. "only when blackmailed."
"mm. looked good on you."
zayne stopped walking. "you know i have a scalpel collection, right?"
"i do, actually. and that just makes this even better."
zayne yanked his car door open, slid inside, and shut it with a satisfying thud. he rolled down the window just enough to deliver one final, exasperated glare.
caleb leaned down, elbows on the window frame, chin resting on his hand like this was a romcom.
"you looked out for her," caleb said finally, voice quieter, more sincere now. "for yuu. i appreciate that."
zayne paused, caught off guard.
"…she’s my friend," he muttered.
"i know. you always were the reliable one." a soft smile. "even if tonight, you looked like a decoy in a spy movie."
zayne started rolling the window up.
"night, zizi."
"don’t you dare."
but the window was closed. caleb chuckled and stepped back as zayne started the engine, tires rolling quietly out into the night.
caleb stood there a few seconds longer, helmet under his arm, watching the red taillights disappear down the street.
his smile faded into a thoughtful line.
"…yeah," he murmured to himself, "definitely zayne."
but he couldn’t shake the way his heart had stuttered just a little when he first saw her—him—under the club lights. dressed different, eyes the same. still unreadable. still sharp.
and for a moment, he wondered if zayne had any idea just how pretty he actually looked.
even without the disguise.
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sunlight filtered through the tall arched windows of the campus library, casting golden streaks across the quiet tables. the place was nearly empty—zayne had made sure of that. he’d scoped out the farthest possible corner, barricaded himself behind a fortress of anatomy textbooks, and made absolutely sure there were no violet-eyed military nuisances in sight.
he wasn’t avoiding caleb.
he was simply... strategically preserving his remaining sanity.
he flipped a page in genetic cardiomyopathies vol. ii, underlining a key term, when—
schffft—clack.
the chair across from him slid back. zayne didn’t even need to look up. he felt the disturbance in the air. a smug gravitational pull of chaos had entered his orbit.
he looked up slowly.
caleb sat down, cool and casual like this was just another tuesday. hoodie unzipped. shirt neat. that same relaxed lean like the entire world bent to his tempo.
zayne lowered his pen. "what."
caleb didn’t say anything at first. just folded his arms and tilted his head, as if trying to gauge his odds of survival.
"if this is another one of your sick games—"
"look, i’m serious," caleb said, rubbing the back of his neck. "this isn’t about revenge."
zayne narrowed his eyes.
caleb sighed and leaned in a little, voice dropping. "i’ve been getting too much attention lately. it’s getting out of hand."
zayne blinked. "you are the golden boy. that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?"
"i wanted to graduate and do my job, not get swarmed every time i walk to class," caleb muttered. "there were three love confessions outside the mess hall yesterday. one girl actually had matching jackets made. for us."
zayne winced. "...tragic."
"exactly."
zayne folded his arms, unimpressed. "and what does this have to do with me?"
caleb leaned forward, elbows on the table. "you’re gonna pretend to be my girlfriend."
there was a silence.
zayne stared. "you’re joking."
"i’m not."
"you want me—me—to dress up again and play fake girlfriend just to help you fend off your fangirls?"
"i don’t need you to act every day," caleb said quickly. "just now and then. i’ll call you up. you show up in that getup of yours—wig, makeup, whatever—and walk around campus with me. hand-holding, casual conversation, just enough to make it believable."
zayne stared at him like he was a terminal patient who’d refused treatment.
"you want me to cosplay as your girlfriend to ruin your dating market?"
"to control it," caleb corrected. "filter out the chaos. if people think i’m already taken, they’ll back off. mostly."
"and you thought of me for this?" zayne asked, voice flat.
caleb raised a brow. "you’re the only person i trust not to catch feelings. and you’ve already proven you can pull it off. you had tara convinced, and she once dated a backup dancer."
"i swear to god, caleb—"
"you owe me."
"for what?"
"for not outing you last week when you tried to curb-stomp a guy in six-inch platform heels and called it girl’s night."
zayne scowled. not about revenge... yeah, right. look who's blackmailing him now. xia siblings are one and the same.
he looked down at his notes, then back at caleb.
the worst part? caleb wasn’t smirking this time. he actually looked... tired. like the attention really was weighing on him. and if zayne was honest with himself—which he rarely was—he’d always had a soft spot for caleb’s more vulnerable sides.
he exhaled slowly.
"…once a week," zayne grumbled.
caleb blinked. “of course.”
"no pictures. no public declarations. no matching outfits."
caleb nodded. "done."
zayne glared. "if i so much as see you wink in public—"
"i’ll behave," caleb said, lifting a hand in mock solemnity. "scout’s honor."
"you weren’t a scout."
"didn’t stop me from being honorable."
zayne shoved his textbook toward him. "sign a contract next time."
caleb grinned.
"thanks, sweetheart."
zayne pointed a pen at his head. "i will euthanize you."
