Chapter Text
Ken woke up naked except for a pink bow tie, glitter on his face, a pounding headache, feeling like a whore.
It took him several minutes before he could even keep his eyes opened without feeling sharp pain right inside his temple.
As soon as he sat up, he felt his stomach flipping, so he leaned to vomit on the side of the bed, but nothing came out.
He groaned in complaint.
He had never felt this bad, not even when Barbie had rejected him countless times.
Eventually, he stood up and walked in front of the horse shaped mirror of his bedroom, saw what was in between his legs and screamed.
Someone else screamed, behind him, so he screamed again and a pink crooked wig poked out from behind the bed, followed by a face.
“Wilford? What are you doing here?” Ken said. Then, he suddenly remembered he was very naked, showing new sides of himself they were new even to him. He grabbed a pillow and slammed it there.
Ouch.
He looked at it for a second, then a quick glance around the room showed an unspeakable mess.
Glitter on the bedsheets, on him, stardust on the side table - that could explain the headache - pillows on the floor, a knocked over chair.
“What happened?” Ken asked.
“What hasn’t?” Wilford stood up, suddenly fully dressed, combed and groomed.
He glided to Ken and grabbed him by his shoulders, planting a kiss on his chin and untying the bow tie.
“There it was,” he said.
Ken spotted a bathrobe on the floor and wore it quickly, before Wilford was done tying the bow tie around his own neck.
“I need a drink.” Wilford said.
Then, he pulled one out of Ken's fridge and drank it all in one gulp. Meanwhile, Ken righted the chair and tidied up a bit. He nearly slipped on a few white pearls scattered across the carpet.
“Why are you here?”
“You really don’t remember?”
“No…”
“Oh, in that case, let me guide you through it.” Wilford said, throwing his arm around Ken's shoulders and staring dramatically into space.
Arp sound filled the room and reality bent in little waves in front of his eyes like moving to a memory.
A few days before
Another day, another party.
That night could be the night to finally get Barbie’s attention and be who he was supposed to be: Barbie’s boyfriend.
He had tried to pump himself up listening to emotional songs, thinking about Barbie’s best qualities, trying to channel those feelings of love.
It wasn’t going that bad, she looked at him a couple of times and even let him buy a drink for her.
In the end she didn’t drink it, but it was okay. She wanted to dance and Ken left the drinks on a table and went with her.
He performed a series of choreographed dance moves that he knew he could deliver flawlessly, but Barbie wasn’t even looking at him. She was dancing with that guy.
Ken’s job was beach, but damn it, he had been dancing since he had memory and he could be just as smooth.
And what was he doing there anyway? Ken had told him his name wasn’t even Ken, but Wilford, and he was not from there.
Barbie seemed to have a lot of actual fun, so Ken left the dance floor and walked away, still pretending to enjoy the evening, smiling to the other Kens here and there.
He found the perfect spot to lean to and observe the scene from afar, boiling with jealousy.
Boy, he had to admit the guy looked pretty flamboyant.
He shined like a mirrorball and had beautiful pink curls like a halo around his face. His boogie shoes were impeccable and shiny.
And he had the presence of a showman.
Ken had seen him several times drunker and drunker every night after every Barbie party and everyone seemed to love him. But not Ken. Nope.
When Wilford performed a body roll followed by a kick and point, winking, and Barbie laughed, Ken rolled his eyes.
Then they got closer and the newcomer slipped off the pearl necklace Barbie was wearing and put it in his pocket, all while making eye contact with Ken.
Ken straightened up like a meerkat and frowned.
How dared he?
Ken decided to intervene to save Barbie’s day, but she was now dancing with other Barbies and didn’t notice a thing.
The stranger dance-walked over to Ken and started dancing in front of him.
Wilford definitely had the moves. He was kind of charming and effortlessly cool. He also had kind of crazy eyes.
That specific night he was wearing a long sleeved purple lurex shirt with the longest and pointiest collar Ken had ever seen, but instead of feeling jealous of how good he looked, he felt something different that he didn’t know he could feel for another Ken. Admiration? Hate.
The moves were so grand and choreographed that they reminded him about birds dancing for a female. But he was not dancing for Barbie.
“Why did you steal the necklace?” Ken said.
“Me?” He put a hand to his chest, and then moved his finger to say “no” many times, his mustache moving with it.
“I’d never steal anything! It was a gift.” He stopped dancing, noticed the two drinks that Ken had left on the table and grabbed them. Ken thought he was going to give him one, for some reason, but Wilford chugged the first one and started sipping the second, playing with the little umbrella in it.
Ken looked around confused, saw another Ken looking at him and he cleared his throat, somehow thinking it was expected of him to pick a fight with that guy.
He pushed him on his chest and Wilford lost his balance for a second, actually surprised.
Ken saw an amused expression on his face and he didn’t know why it was there.
He prepared himself for fighting, closing his hands in fists and waiting for Wilford’s reaction.
Instead, Wilford placed his drink on the table, grabbed him by his wrist and pulled Ken back onto the dance floor.
Wilford shot an arm out in the sky and then lowered it pointing at Ken - who leaned back to dodge it - and winked at him.
Ken’s plastic heart flipped, something never happened before.
They ended up chest to chest, Wilford’s hand running from Ken’s head to land on his pecs.
Ken threw a palm up between them, a wordless stop right there, and Wilford, instead of stopping, planted both hands on Ken's shoulders and held them there, leaning in.
Ken pushed him away, disguising his blushing with a spin.
Where Wilford had touched him, he had felt his skin becoming warm, a feeling that was disappearing now that they were not touching.
There was now a big flash mob happening and the crowd got between them.
They drifted apart across the floor.
Both of them followed the choreography, Ken wanting to forget all about it, but still looking for that pink hair in the crowd, without spotting him.
Wilford spun on himself, slipping behind Ken deliberately and smoothly, grabbing his waist.
Ken jumped in surprise, but the warmth was there again and it was nice.
Ken turned and touched his arms, chasing the momentum of it, chasing him. Wilford had removed his wig and had a pink mustache now. He also seemed to have changed clothes. Ken had no idea how or when, but it didn’t matter.
His heart started to hurt, beating too fast, it wasn’t made of plastic anymore.
For a second, they both just stared at each other.
Ken panicked because he felt something that definitely wasn’t hate and realised with horror that he hadn’t thought about Barbie in a while.
She never wanted him and now he was doubting if he even liked her.
Wilford held out his hand, asking to follow him and Ken said yes.