A/N: I don't own Alice Gakuen.

Hung Up

Natsume craned his neck, and as gracefully as he could, he held his phone between his left ear and his left shoulder, trying his best to continue the conversation with his little sister as he brushed his teeth with his right hand. His left held the comb he had been searching for so diligently and he maneuvered himself around his living room, making his way to the bathroom.

"So, what you're saying is, you're not coming tomorrow?"

Natsume groaned, stopped brushing, and tried his best to reply coherently through the minty foam. "I told you, I don't know. It depends whether or not I'm hungover tomorrow. Hold on," finally reaching the sink, Natsume put his phone down and turned the tap on, spat, rinsed his mouth, spat again and turned the tap off. He picked up his phone and held it to his ear, resuming the conversation fluidly, "Just tell mum I might not come. It won't kill her."

"It won't kill her, it'll kill me! I don't want to hear dad give another speech about his boring paintings."

Natsume sniggered; he didn't blame his little sister. He couldn't think of anything worse than listening to his father drone on about his 'Portrait Era' for two hours on a Sunday morning at a stuffy gallery, hangover or no hangover.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, and with the comb that took him an eternity to find, he began brushing his hair down. "I promise I'll go to his next talk and cover for you, alright? Besides, dad won't care. Just remind mum that I'm going to—"

"Luca's coming out party; yes, yes, you've said so a thousand times. You know she's still angry that you didn't invite her?"

"For good reason." God, his hair was a mess. "She hates loud music and crowds—"

"—So do you, loser," Aoi pointed out.

Ignoring her, he continued, "—she'd spent the whole night complaining. Remind her that Luca has already promised her that she can organize a lunch for him. She can show her support to Luca then."

Natsume's best friend, Luca Nogi, had come out three weeks ago to his family and close friends at the age of twenty-six. Luca had stuttered through his speech, blushed furiously, blinked incessantly, but he was ultimately met with a supportive cheer and warm hugs from all those surrounding him. Since then, excitement bubbled palpably in the air. Two weeks ago, when Luca and Natsume were watching the football game, Mochu had galloped into the room and announced that he had set up a Grindr account for Luca. One week ago, Natsume had bought a Tom Hardy calendar for his best friend. Three days ago, Koko proclaimed that he had organized a night-out for the boys at Tokyo's famous gay club, Reo, in Shinjuku.

And tonight was the night: tonight, they were on Reo's guest list (courtesy of Koko), tonight would their first night out at a gay club.

"Aoi, I better go. Mochu's arriving any minute now."

"Fine. But let me know if you change your mind and decide to come to dad's talk tomorrow, okay?"

"I will." (He doubted he'd change his mind.)

"Have fun! Send Lu-chan my love."

"Will do. See you."

Right on schedule, Natsume's doorbell rang.

It was Mochu.

"Hey, man," Mochu held two six-packs, and Natsume took one to help his friend, "help yourself," Mochu said, indicating to the beer.

"Thanks. Luca will be here in ten minutes and we're meeting Koko there."

Without preamble, Mochu helped himself to a beer and chugged it down. "You need to sort out your hair," he commented with a grin, "you look feral."

"I don't want to hear it from you. You're just jealous, baldie."

"Hey! Bald is the new black!"

"That's what all you bald men say."

Ten minutes later, Luca rang the bell to Natsume's flat; Mochu let him in and offered him a beer. Appreciatively, Luca took it.

"Your mum called me just now," Luca said, looking at Natsume (who was still trying to fix his hair), before popping his beer open.

Natsume groaned and glanced back at his friend. "Again? Jesus, I'm sorry. You should probably change your number," both Mochu and Luca laughed, "I'm not kidding. I haven't seen her this excited since that wine shop opened around the corner from her."

"I think it's sweet. She's being really supportive." Luca kindly insisted, with a genuine smile.

"Well, if she crosses the line, let me know. Aoi's convinced that mum's trying to usurp me and become your new best friend."

Mochu snorted. He was on his second beer now. "I'd take Kaoru over you any day, mate." He then quickly turned to Luca and without pause, continued with a smirk, "So Luca, I'm gonna be your numero uno wingman, right? What kind of man are we out lookin' for tonight?"

"I don't need to pick up anyone. I just want to check it out," it was Luca's first time too, "I'm so thankful you're all coming with me; I couldn't do it alone."

"Nonsense! This night is all about you. Okay—here's the deal: if anyone strikes your fancy, give me this a signal," (Mochu merely winked ostentatiously), "and I'll help you—"

"That won't do. You'll just scare all the men away with your light-bulb head and your weird twitching eye." Natsume interrupted with a taunting grin.

Mochu glared at Natsume. "You're an ass, you know that, right? By the way, your hair still looks stupid."

I don't want to go!" Anna whined as she threw herself on Mikan's double bed. "You can't make me go." Her eyes were red, her face puffy, and suddenly a fresh, watery cry erupted from her lips as he buried her face in the pillow. "I hate men! I wish they'd all just die!"

"You don't hate all men, sweetie," Sumire insisted calmly, looking intently at her own reflection, as she continued to carefully apply her winged eyeliner, "Tom Hardy's a man and you wouldn't wish death on him."

Hiccuping, Anna looked up at her friend. "Only an hour ago you were saying that all men are parasites that burden women."

Having perfected her cat eyes, Sumire turned to look at her desolate friend and replied, with earnest frankness, "They are. They are parasitic. The day you wash their clothes and make dinner for them is the day it's over: after that, they'll expect you to clean and cook for them for life whilst they sit on the sofa scratching their balls. Your mistake was that you cooked and cleaned for him on the first date."

"B-Because I loved Takeshi-kun!" Anna wailed.

A hybrid sigh-groan erupted from Sumire's mouth. "Takeshi's a shithead. He's a big, ugly hairy baby that doesn't deserve you. In fact, most men are big, ugly hairy babies."

"Well, I hate big, ugly hairy babies and I wish they would all just jump into Mount Fuji and die!"

"Hear, hear," muttered Sumire, exasperation marring her pretty face as she smoothed down her green dress. She didn't know how much more of this she could handle.

Then, with a big bag of rice crackers, Hotaru entered Mikan's room just as Anna stuffed her face in the pillow again. She nonchalantly ate a rice-cracker as she raised an eyebrow at the pink mess that lay on her roommate's bed. Hotaru herself was in her tracksuits, wearing a loose jumper with all her hair pulled back into a small pony-tail.

"Anna, stop ruining Mikan's pillow; you're getting mascara everywhere. Stop crying. I don't even understand why you're so upset. Takeshit—"

"Don't call him that!" Anna sobbed.

"Takeshit," Hotaru said, with more firm emphasis, "is an underachieving loser who plays video games all day. He's got no money, no career, no future and zero potential. He was just mooching off you, exploiting your kindness, your money, your success and your cooking skills. You should be celebrating that he's gone from your life. He's gross, weird and I hated the way he always spoke about his 'mummy dearest'. The best thing he ever did was dump you, because now you're no longer burdened with his creepiness. You're free."

"B-But—"

"Didn't he also make you pay for his phone bills? And his stupid game subscriptions? I swear to God, Anna, if you haven't cancelled all of that, I'm going to kill you."

"B-But Take-chan needs the money! He's in between jobs right now—"

"Bullshit! Anna, you don't work Mondays-to-Fridays noon-to-midnight at a prestigious Michelin star restaurant to pay for his lazy, leeching ass! You're not Tokyo's up-and-coming best chef for nothing! You're so talented and amazing. The quicker you realize that about yourself, the better."

Anna sniveled and looked down at the floor, averting her gaze from her two friends. Sumire and Hotaru glanced at each other. Did Hotaru finally make Anna see sense—

"But," came Anna's small voice, "if I'm so amazing, why did he dump me?" And just like that, the tears returned.

It took a lot of control for Hotaru not to bang her head against the door. With poised restraint, she vehemently continued, "Anna, he dumped you as soon as you told him to get his act together. That alone should tell you what kind of person he is. He has no intention to ever work in his life. He means to live off of other people's hard work. His mere existence is insulting to all of us—all of us here work our asses off every day, whilst he sits around picking his nose at home, playing his idiotic games all day. There's nothing wrong with you—it's all him. He's a scrawling woodlouse: ugly, an eyesore and absolutely insignificant. He will amount to absolutely nothing, and to even think that he once stood beside you is offensive to me. Not to mention, he dumped you three weeks ago! It's time to move on. Come on," Hotaru pulled her friend up from Mikan's bed, "pull yourself together, stop crying, have a drink, and," she clutched the dress that lay on the armchair by the bookcase and handed it to Anna, "wear this dress that Mikan bought you."

Sniffling slightly, Anna nodded. She inspected her new dress again. It was a nice dress.

"Oh, and honey," Sumire chimed, (she was now straightening her hair, looking at her reflection once again), "don't forget to change your Netflix password too."

Anna sighed. "I've been putting that off. It'll feel… I dunno, it'll just feel so officially over once I change my Netflix password. That's, like, the last straw, you know?"

"That's great," Hotaru said with a slight grimace (did she really live in a day and age when a Netflix password determined the end of a relationship?!) as she pulled her phone out of her pocket, "Anna, give me your bank details. I'm cancelling all of Takeshit's bills."

With another sniff, Anna passed Hotaru her credit card that she retrieved from her purse. Immediately, Hotaru got to work on her phone.

"God, you're good at this," Sumire said, looking at Hotaru, "you know, if you weren't a doctor, you should totally be a breakup therapist."

Hotaru snorted, "I'd probably have better hours and better pay if I were one. I clearly chose the wrong profession."

The corners of Anna's lip upturned slightly.

"So, next time I got through a nasty breakup, you'll be here for me, right Hotaru?" Sumire joked with a mocking smirk.

"I might start charging." Three minutes later, she passed Anna's card back to her. "Done. He'll have to start paying for Dragons, Elves and Swords RPG all by himself now."

Anna couldn't help her sad little sigh as she looked at her credit card. She popped it back in her purse, and as she then pulled her new dress over her head, she asked, "Can't you just invent a new plague that will wipe-out men?"

"Specifically straight men," Sumire specified.

"No." Hotaru said. "But my friend Nonoko in the labs might be able to whip something up."

They all laughed.

"You sure you're not coming out tonight?" Sumire asked as she brushed her pin-straight hair carefully, looking at Hotaru. "It'll be fun, I promise. Narumi's promised that we'll have free drinks all night and the music will be 90s and early 00s RnB! And," she turned with a cattish smile on her face, "a gay club means no nasty straight men! Can you imagine—a night-out where we can actually all dance in peace, where no assholes think they are entitled to grab your ass and come up behind you and push their boners up against you?"

Anna frowned, considering Sumire's words. "Wow, straight men really are the worst."

Hotaru shook her head. "No thanks. I've had enough dick today."

Sumire chocked on her drink. Laughing incredulously, she spluttered, "What?!"

"Oh? Mikan didn't tell you?" They both shook their heads so Hotaru continued, "Earlier today, when I was helping out in the urology ward, an eighty-year-old man came in. Just for context, he looked like a leather bag, creases everywhere, liver spots covering every inch of him." Both Sumire and Anna tittered in amusement. "He proceeded to whip his wrinkly dick out," Sumire screamed in disgust while Anna laughed harder, "and told me that blood comes out of his dick every time he masturbates."

Sumire roared with laughter, slapping her hand incessantly against her own knee in sheer amusement. Tears of mirth collected in Anna's eyes, as she clutched her sides.

"That's horrific!"

"Yup." Hotaru resumed in munching her rice-crackers. "So, gay club or not, I'm not leaving this house tonight. I'm going to stay in, finish all these crackers and rewatch The Office. I don't want to be within a five-metre radius of a dick tonight, young or decrepit."

With a cheeky chortle, Sumire couldn't help but ask, "So? What did it look like?"

"… It looked like a dead mole rat."

Sumire and Anna shrieked in both amusement and disgust.

"Mikan was eating a hotdog when I told her this. She nearly vomited."

The two laughed even harder.

"You're so cruel," Anna wheezed, wiping away her happy tears.

"Where's Mikan anyway?" Sumire asked. She turned to the door and called, "Mikan? Mikan! You're missing all the fun!"

"She's still on the phone trying to get a ticket for tomorrow." Hotaru explained as she sat down beside Anna on Mikan's bed. "Come, let me fix your eyes. You've washed away all of your mascara."

"Thanks, Hotaru." Anna gratefully held her friend's hand. "For everything."

"It's fine. Come on, pass me the palette."

Just as Hotaru finished fixing Anna's eye-makeup, Mikan entered her room, an annoyed expression creasing her face. She was already dressed up: her dress was tight, backless and white; her make-up was nude and smoky and her hair had volume for once. Her irritation subsided once she saw Anna in her new gold dress.

"Oh, Anna, you look beautiful! The dress looks so good!"

"Thank you, Mikan!" Anna beamed. "Honestly, thank you so much for getting me this."

"Consider it payment. All those meals you've cooked for me—"

Hotaru raised an eyebrow, "Not you too. Okay, from this day forward, no-one is allowed to mooch off Anna's cooking."

"I'm not mooching! I intend to pay her back in dresses," Mikan proclaimed, smiling sassily, "in this stagnant economy, dresses are the best form of currency, trust me."

Changing the subject, Hotaru asked, "So? Did you manage to get a ticket?"

Immediately, her good-humoured grin dissipated and irritation returned. "No," she huffed as she fell heavily onto the armchair, "they put me on hold to confirm whether there had been any cancellations only to tell me, twenty minutes later, that there are no tickets available."

"Bummer," Sumire shook her head, "well, at least you can have Sunday brunch with us tomorrow then."

"Yeah," Mikan dabbed some perfume on her neck, "I guess. I just really wanted to go. And oh my God," she pulled a face, "guess what song they used for the call waiting tone? I still can't decide if it was pure genius or just a decision made by a sadistic psychopath."

"Lady Gaga's Telephone?" Anna suggested.

"Madonna's Hung Up." Mikan revealed, before she started to jam, "Time goes by, so slowly, so slowly for those who wait…."

"I'd say that's pretty sadistic." Sumire decided, wincing.

"What! Why? It's a great song." Anna countered.

By her expression, Hotaru seemed to agree with Sumire. "I would have hung up." Hotaru clarified, but then her eyes widened when she realized what she had just said. "Hung up… oh shit, that's genius. Think how many customers it subconsciously deters. I wish I could use that on some of my patients."

Mikan snorted. "It was fun for the first few minutes." She nodded at Anna, acknowledging its 'great song' status, "But then, my brain started to unravel. Time really did slow down, and by the eleventh minute, I was so, so tired of waiting." Mikan sighed melodramatically. "And to think, all that aural and mental torture was for nothing."

Sumire's phone tinged. "Forget about it Mikan; there'll be other talks. I can assure you of that." She looked at her phone. "Naru's said he'll meet us outside Reo. Shall I order the cab now? Are you two ready?"

Ten minutes later, Anna, Sumire and Mikan were putting their shoes on. Hotaru watched them fumble with the straps of their heels as she coolly ate her rice-crackers. "Text me when you're on your way home," Hotaru said to Mikan, "depending what time it is, I might still be up."

Mikan nodded at her flatmate.

"Have fun. Also, tell Naru I say hello." Hotaru bid as Sumire opened the door.

Before she closed the door shut behind her, Mikan smiled at her best friend, "Enjoy rewatching The Office."

She grinned deviously back. "Oh, I will."

A/N: Hello! I hope you've enjoyed chapter one! I've already written out the whole story (I'll probably be slicing it up, into four/five parts) so expect an update very soon.

This will be a very light-hearted, fun story that shouldn't really be taken seriously. Think of it as a 'Buzzfeed Article'-level fanfiction, i.e., mindless fun that gets us through the day. Everything in the world is so fucking shit and terrible right now, but instead of wallowing, despairing and writing a story that reflects that, I decided to write a fun story filled with youthful silliness. I'm currently staying away from Resistance, because honestly, that shit just depresses me now. So, I hope you enjoy this very short and (hopefully!) fun ride, and I hope it distracts you from the clutches of cruel reality :)