Chapter Text
Logico was.. Well, confused was to say the least of it. For days now, Logico had been losing sleep, trying to figure out what drew Logico to these things. (These things, of course, being dresses and make-up.) Logically, Logico knew there was only one answer, but Logico didn't want to face it. So, he shoved it down. Repression was, after all, what he knew best.
He was going out for a coffee with Irratino later, anyway, so it was for the best he didn't think about this now. Or ever, hopefully.
The two of them met up at their usual cafe 20 minutes later, Logico trying to hide the fact he'd broken at least twelve different laws trying to get here on time after he had woken up late. None of them had been laws related to murder, and no one had seen him, so it was fine. He just wasn't a morning person.
That's how the two of them spent their morning, talking about nothing in particular. Eventually, when they'd both had their fill of the drinks and food the cafe offered, Irratino drove the two of them to her house, and they talked there.
Of course, this is when Logico went and opened his stupid mouth.
"Do you ever wish you could be an entirely different person?" He said, staring at the drink in his hand. It was only the afternoon, and Logico didn't normally get drunk this early, but Irratino had offered, and who was he to say no to the love of his life?
... Not that he'd ever tell her that he thought of her like that.
Irratino, meanwhile, had gone quiet, and was looking at Logico. Instantly, he started to backtrack, face flushing.
"I-I mean, start a new life, and go somewhere where nobody knows you. That sort of thing."
He got the feeling that his ramblings didn't make Irratino feel any different. She was still looking at him with that face, the one he could never read - while with everyone else, Logico had gotten good at guessing what facial expressions meant, Irratino had always been a mystery to him, and not one that he could solve with his logic grids.
Finally, she spoke. "Oh, Logico.." She murmured, and Logico realised that the two of them had gotten closer over the night. Physically, that is. The two of them were sitting thigh-to-thigh, pretty much.
Slowly, Irratino pulled Logico's drink out of their hands, putting it on the coffee table next to hers.
"Logico, you know you're allowed to live your life however you want to?" Logico nodded, feeling defensive. "No, Logico, do you know that? Are you aware that if you wanted to be an entirely different person, you can be?"
... Had her voice always been that soft?
They mentally shook his head, fiddling with a throw cushion that had, at some point during the night, ended up in their lap.
Glancing up at Irratino again, they wished they'd never brought it up at all. Irratino looked so sad - and they hated making Irratino sad. They briefly debated trying to shift the conversation onto other things, but before they could do anything, Irratino had pulled them in to a hug.
They floundered slightly, like a dying fish, before adjusting themself and resting their head on her shoulder.
Had they even been hugged since their mother had passed away? They didn't think so.
Faintly, they were aware of Irratino speaking to them, in that soft voice of hers that Logico always associated with silk. She always put on a persona of being loud, and energetic - and she was, don't get Logico wrong. But she was also kind, and soft, and she would make Logico laugh until they couldn't breath, and she would offer to buy them things when they'd spent all their money on food and rent, and she was always there when they needed something.
Oh. Logico was crying. On the shoulder of the only person they'd ever truly loved since their mother had died. And instead of pushing them away in disgust, she held them closer, humming.
How was Logico not meant to fall in love?
The two of them sat there, like that, until Logico stopped crying. As they pulled away, still sniffling slightly, they tried to apologise. Irratino put a hand on their mouth before they could.
"Nope. None of that, Logico. Do not dare apologise. You are my best friend, and I'm not going to let you bottle everything up like you have been." Her silky voice, while still soft, had gained a sharper edge, one Logico would associate with a blade - silver, with a black handle. When Irratino was the one with that voice, however, Logico found it sounded more like marble. Beautiful, and can be shaped however it is wanted.
Logico understood, now. That is to say, they understood what Irratino meant when she said Logico could be anything they wanted. Somewhat nervously, they looked at her skirt. Maybe...?
"Do you want to try one on?" Irratino had caught them looking, evidently.
"Uh- I mean- That is to say-" Logico stuttered over words, until Irratino let out a laugh, her voice echoing through the living room.
"You don't have to if you don't want to. But I think you'd look very pretty in one, if you decide you do want to."
And there was that word again. Pretty. For some reason, that word made Logico's heart flutter, especially when coming from Irratino. If she continued to call them pretty, they'd follow her to the end of the world, they thought.
Before they could change their mind, they nodded, and Irratino smiled softly. She took their hand, and pulled them to where her clothes were kept.
Even though they'd done this before, it still flustered them, the thought of wearing Irratino's clothes. If they asked, she'd probably be able to puzzle out a dozen spiritual reasons why and even more emotional reasons - but telling her would require telling her that they were in love with her, and that would never happen.
"Which one do you want to wear?" Irratino's voice broke Logico out of their thoughts, and they stared at the various dresses and skirts.
When it became clear they weren't going to answer, Irratino sighed - not the kind of sigh that Logico was used to, made from disappointment, but rather a sigh of.. something else - and reached to take one.
"How about this one?" She held up a soft brown skirt, that looked like it would reach to about Logico's ankles. Who knew where it reached on Irratino, seeing as she was a lot taller than Logico.
Logico nodded, reaching out to take it. Just as they'd thought, the fabric was soft.
Logico hid in the bathroom, still holding the skirt. This was it, they thought. Once they put that on, there's no way they'll continue being able to deny it.
Two minutes later, they step out of the bathroom, hands shaking. The skirt rests nicely on their legs, and their shirt is tucked in - an old habit brought on by an even older woman.
Irratino is waiting outside, and her face lights up when she sees them. They feel their face turn red, and they know that no matter what she says, they're not leaving this house again.
But that's a story for another time. There are more tales to be told, after all.