CONTAINS CONTENT:
Brief minor language, violence, blood.
{{Unedited}}
Austin looked down at his left finger noting the new ring. It was black, matte and there was a small shimmering blue band of radianite in the center. It was otherworldly, but reminded him of ice. This ring had a secret, as did hers. He pulled it back from the base of his finger a little, revealing the indentation that it left there… Marielle’s. He flipped his hand over the underside of his finger said, good boy. Smiling, he slipped it back down, hiding the small writing that now indented the base of his finger.
He knew that Marielle would eventually see the ring and wonder. He’d try his best to keep it a secret for now; no pushing, no forcing. “Let’s try and do better, today, Austin,” he told himself as he tied the bowtie, and smoothed everything down.
The mirror had two faces today, and he wasn’t sure about either of them. His own, or the reflection. The reflection was him, of course, but like the picture of Dorian Gray there were times where he wasn’t sure if it was smirking at him or not. “I want to get better,” he whispered at himself as he slipped into the white coat and gave himself the once over; he was sexy.
The ring held several thoughts, feelings, and reminders. He lifted his hand and spread his fingers out in front of the mirror. “I will never take this off until it’s clear that we are never going to be together, or I fi,-” he stopped, his voice trembling. He took a deep breath, “or I find someone else,” he finished. He was just a man, no one could ask him to move on after this, not after Marielle. Not after their connection.
He pat the pocket of his black slacks where another ring lived, and he believed that it would live there forever. Hers. She might take it one day, she might not. But he’d always have it with him so that if she wanted to, it’d be there.
Hers was black as well, it also had a ring of rubies around the band, and a single larger stone that was ruby. It etched his name on her finger. Austin’s… underside, Red queen.
The phone rang and he answered with a smile. “Han?”
“I’m ready to go, are you?”
“Close,” he said combing through his hair once more until it lay down the right way. He turned to the side and flicked his brow. “Bond… James, Bond.” Then he shook his head abashedly at himself before he put the comb down, buttoned his sleeves and went to greet Han.
“Dork,” she replied after hearing him.
He went to the door and opened it and she stood on his doorstep, Daenerys Targaryen; hair braids, dress, boots, quiver, and arrows, and all. She smiled at him and did a wacky little turn with her palms skyward.
He stared for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I mean this in a friendly way… you’re beautiful.”
She grinned and fanned herself, “let’s get going, greaseball,” she chuckled, lifting her bent elbow to him.
“Racism aside,-” he gave her an adoring look, “-yes, let’s get going.” He took her arm, and led her down the steps to his car.
***
The party space was darkened a little and there was a purple cast over the entire room. Somewhere lights were covered with bat gels, making black bats appear on different objects, tables, and the dance floor. The tables that had been set up with food that were decorated with things like skeletons with bowties holding champagne glasses and food with fake fingers, and spiderwebs. There was an apple dipping station next to a caldron with caramel, chocolate and bowls of crushed candies and nuts to dip them in.
Austin sighed as he looked it over. Waiters had been ordered for the evening as they had last time, as well as a DJ who was currently blasting Dead Man’s Party overhead. There were black candelabras dripping with waxy candles and black and gold shimmering roses placed all around the room. But the most beautiful of all the roses in the room was Marielle.
She and Vincent were Dracula and Mrs. Harker.
Vincent was in the classic Bela Lugosi get up, painted widow’s peak, cape, and all. Marielle was ravishing in a black velvet number that was somewhere between something old and Victorian and something modern. Her lips were black on the outside, and red in the middle, and he was having a difficult time processing whether she’d done this on purpose to tease him, Vincent had insisted, she was trying to tell him something, or it meant nothing at all.
Two little fang marks were on the right side of her neck where droplets of fake blood ran down into her collarbone. She had fishnet stockings on that were causing him to imagine her bare legs, and black Victorian lace up boots with a high heel. Her eyes were smeared with thick, dark eyeliner and black eyeshadow making her eyes vibrant green. They found his and she smiled.
He smiled back and gave her a small bow, but she broke gaze with him quickly thereafter. It stung.
Interesting choice, Austin thought. Considering that Mrs. Harker was Jonathan’s wife… not Dracula’s, and that the count had merely tried to seduce her.
Santa… or… Liam, broke everyone in the room’s concentration by slapping down a large red velvet bag. He had a lit cigar hanging between his lips, and he looked at everyone from under a red Santa cap and shrugged, “Okay, okay, so I forgot what holiday it was,” he growled, taking a puff. Everyone nearby laughed.
Marielle chuckled and whispered something to Vincent. Vincent snickered and nodded his reply.
Austin broke away from Han to go get something to drink. The room felt stuffy to him in a way that he kept trying to ignore. It was like the walls were closing in and all his senses were heightened and strained.
When he went to the table with the drinks, and spider webs over the punch, he lightly cleared his throat at the blond penguin suited man next to him. “Larson,” he whispered.
“Douche bag,” he replied dismissively and Larson marched off, carrying a tray of drinks. Waiter… appropriate cover.
Austin narrowed his eyes around the room… if Larson was here, where was Chamb- oh… He was there as a French Chamber maid and he hadn’t skimped on the outfit. Well, okay, maybe he had, because it was definitely classic and skimpy; short black dress, high heels, and all. Austin was trying to quell a laugh under a hand that was holding a cookie.
Marielle and Vincent seemed to notice him at the same time as did a few of the others. “I… did not expect that,” Marielle said, eyeing Chamber’s bare legs, and the feather duster that he was currently using on the back of Efia’s neck, who was dressed as Sailor Moon. She jumped and turned to him, glaring. He laughed, said something in French that neither of them could hear, and moved on to grazing at the dessert table.
Vincent took a swig off a beer. “I did,” he replied matter of factly. She glared at him, grinning. “I did that a few years ago. It’s a great gag, Chamber…maid.” He shook his head.
“My eyes,” Marielle chuckled.
Austin grimaced over the smile that was coming through and looked away. Near the bar, Sabine as Maleficent – staff, crow on her shoulder and all – was standing with who he assumed was John as Ghost Face from the Scream film series.
Han ran to Marielle and gave her a hug. “You look great!” Marielle cried. “Thank you,” she whispered in Han’s ear.
“Listen, if I had known and you hadn’t contacted me, I would have done the exact same thing,” she whispered back. “I love the guy. He’s a gem. There’s no way in hell I wouldn’t have jumped straight into action.” She took Marielle’s hands and squeezed them down between them both. “But I will say this much, he knew that you called me… Marielle, he is so desperately in love with you. Why are you doing this to him?” She gently led Marielle away from Vincent and to a table. Klara, who was dressed as Doctor Doofenshmirtz, was talking to him anyways. They were soon joined by Tayane who was Perry the Platypus. The three were discussing electronics or robots, Marielle wasn’t entirely sure and was glad to be lead away from the conversation. Marielle was silent. She couldn’t say anything to Han. She glanced back at Vincent then took a deep breath in and let it out. “You’re not going to tell me?”
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” she replied concretely.
She glanced at Hazal as she walked by as a sexy witch with ample cleavage, a jagged short black skirt, black suede heeled boots, and a pointy hat to match the whole ensemble. Mateo was in an Ash Ketchum costume and he leaned over to Jamie long enough to say, “Dayum like… maybe I want to be scared?” as Hazal sashayed past them. Wingman – who was dressed as Mateo – nodded in agreement and leaned against his leg, one little ankle crossed over the other as he eyed Hazal’s backside.
Jamie scowled and walked away to meet Han and Marielle. He was in a blow-up T-REX outfit, with the head pulled back so everyone could see his face, and a gold, plastic crown. He was also wearing a red, velvet cape.
Jamie took Han by the hand and led her to the dancefloor where they swayed together. He spotted who he thought was Amir in a Guy Fawkes mask and cape, and Tala was Coraline picking at a vibrant blue cupcake as Mateo joined her, reaching for one as well. She smiled at him and offered him some of hers instead.
Austin’s eyes went to Kirra and wandered down her body before he cursed himself for doing so, specifically because she caught him doing it and came to his side, swaying seductively a little as she came.
She stood in front of him in her tight, black leather, Catwoman outfit, with the mask and ears laying back against her shoulders so her face was revealed. “Ah…” she said looking him up and down. “I sort of figured that you’d come as a different Austin,” she noted. He pulled his head back a little and drew his eyebrows in, his mind trying to understand what she meant. “Powers?”
“Oh, geez.” He rolled his eyes at her then glanced down into his glass of spiked punch before taking a sip. The music’s volume was enough that they had to speak a bit louder than normal. “Never heard that one before.”
She giggled, winding her whip around the back of her neck long enough to lift a pretend gun, as she did her best English accent. “Do I make you horny, baby?”
He smirked at her and chuckled, a little embarrassed before a pregnant pause. “Yes?” he replied casually.
Both went silent and their expressions turned serious for a moment, perhaps she was shocked that he’d said as much and appeared to be serious where she had been mostly joking.
His mouth curled downward a bit before he put the glass back to his lips. It’d just come out; he hadn’t really thought about it. But he only rolled his eyes at himself before drinking more down.
He blamed it on the room. There were too many ghosts still haunting it. Vincent and Marielle sneaking up to the top of the building, Freddy, the waiter who, he winced as he realized was the last person that he’d had any serious sexual contact with. He winced again as he noted that Freddy was there tonight, and yes, he had seen Austin. Their eyes had met awkwardly and all that Austin could think in this moment was how sorry he was for what had occurred, and that he should have worn a costume with a mask.
He approached the young man, feeling the weight of what had occurred last time. Freddy glanced at him with a soft smile as he began putting empty glasses onto his tray from a table. Then he kept his gaze on his task. “Something I can help you with, sir?” he asked, keeping all the poise of a hired waiter; Austin admired that.
Austin stood behind him, awkwardly. He was a little taller than Freddy, and for some reason, that played on his mind for a minute as he remembered things said in the dark back seat of his car. “I’m sorry,” Austin said quietly.
“What for?” Freddy asked in reply, still not meeting eyes with him.
“Last time?”
A secretive smile crossed Freddy’s thin mouth. “It wasn’t that bad,” he whispered, adjusting his glasses.
Austin felt his palms starting to sweat. “Regardless… I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right.” Freddy had paused as if thinking about this deeply for a moment. Austin took gentle hold of his shoulders, and straightened him up, forcing Freddy to meet eyes with him. He looked so young. “Listen to me… don’t let someone use you like that. Only do what you really want to do.”
Freddy glanced around to make sure no one was watching. “I really wanted to do that,” he explained, and he gently moved Austin’s hand off his shoulder, throwing a glance at who Austin presumed was Freddy’s boss. Austin stood back, feeling a bit better about the whole ordeal, but only because he realized that he hadn’t traumatized the kid. Of course Freddy had wanted to do it, Austin had manipulated the sensitive areas in his mind and insecurities to get what he had wanted out of it. He nodded. “I wouldn’t entirely mind doing it again,” Freddy added under his breath, as he put the last cup on the tray and lifted it.
Austin froze. He felt the pull toward that life gripping him around the neck and pulling him in. He turned his spine to steel. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry for the first time. I do hope that you find what you’re looking for, though,” Austin explained, lifting his hand.
Freddy glanced down at it and clasped it as the two shook. Austin couldn’t help but notice the glint of sadness in Freddy’s expression. Whatever Freddy was looking for in Austin, he wasn’t going to get it tonight, maybe not ever. “Thank you,” Freddy replied tightly. Then he took the tray away, and disappeared somewhere; probably the kitchen.
When Austin turned, he was met with Zayana’s violet eyes from not more than twenty feet away. She’d come as Slave girl Princess Leia, and Austin was already having a difficult time not looking at how much of her body was exposed.
Don’t fall into this trap, Austin… just go get some air or something.
He darted out into the courtyard where he thought he could be alone for a while. The sun was going down and he felt strangely distant again as he played with the ring on his finger.
He went around the other side of the fountain where he knew he’d be mostly obstructed by St. Florian, and sat on the rim. The trickling of the water mildly drowned out the noises coming from the inside and the sky was dark enough to see stars. He sat, looking down at the grass and feeling distant from everyone inside the building. Except Marielle. He felt her… he felt her on him, and in him, and all around him. He glanced at the table where Marielle had slid that playing card to him…
He took a swallow of his punch and stared into nothing. Then he closed his eyes, opening himself to her and sensing her; her heartbeat, her breath, the way her skin was growing warm under the lights. Had she been dancing?
-You look so damn beautiful right now.
-Thank you.
He savored the fact that he could hear her from this distance, the fact that she could hear him as well, and that she was listening.
-You disappeared. She noted.
-I’m not far. I just needed to get out of there. It’s Halloween, but the ghosts are real.
There was a pause. -Austin, you tried to kill yourself last night. That would have been more horrific than anything in this room.
He scratched the stubble under his chin and glanced at the table again remembering that moment when there was still hope because of a damn playing card, then down. -I started making plans. He admitted.
-I know. I mean- that’s why you said that you’d kill yourself.
-I burned them. He let out a long, sigh. -You’re free.
He heard her breath hitch. -Austin…
-Austin. He swallowed another gulp of his drink. Then he set the cup aside and started to play with the ring on his finger, keeping his thoughts on the inscription inside quiet.
***
Inside, Vincent paused, and lifted his head slowly as he drifted in his mind which lit up like a band at a carnival. The song had changed again and this one stung deeply. The room seemed to lurch as it echoed with cooing voices. It was The Night we Met. He blinked once or twice feeling the déjà vu of the situation; the longing and despair that accompanied all his other emotions the last time that he stood out by the fountain and met Marielle for the first time in his dimension.
Wei Ling slowly made her way to the dancefloor in her subtle owl costume, and danced with her feather fans, alone. No one was sure whether to watch in awe, or cry in despair, but everyone gave her the spotlight for the duration of the song as she moved, swayed, lifted her arms and hands, and slowly twirled in her own little world. Waiters, staff, and guests simply created a circle around the space and watched her as she paid tribute to Sasha ignoring their gaze, their tears for her own, and their gasps.
Vincent turned to see Marielle; she was standing alone at the dessert table, fondling a pendant that was dangling between her breasts and she was staring in that way that she did when she was deep in thought… or… he glanced out at the dark courtyard- talking to Austin.
Austin was out there, wasn’t he? Just out of Vincent’s line of sight, but still reachable by Marielle’s thoughts. Where was he? The fountain… Vincent’s fountain, where he met Marielle and decided in his mind that she must be his and that someday he’d find a way to get her away from that prick. In his own dimension Vincent hadn’t needed to craft any plans to do so… Austin had caved in on himself, all that Vincent had to do was wait… patiently. After a wedding in which he watched her marry that jerk, then an entire year plus of suffering where Austin’s abuse got worse and worse, Marielle had finally decided for herself, and had left Austin, just as Vincent had wanted, and she came running into his arms full of hope and desire. Vincent had been so kind to both during the first two years of knowing them that he’d practically orchestrated it that way. It had been simple, Austin was a dick and if Vincent played his cards right, the whole thing would fall apart. It had in so many ways.
In this dimension, Austin was becoming a better man by the minute, and while Vincent wanted this for Austin’s sake – and to protect others – the fact remained; Vincent wanted Marielle. He wanted her in that little cabin in the French countryside with him. He’d even make it an enormous cabin if she wanted.
Vincent’s chest felt tight and panic gripped his core. Didn’t she know how much he loved her? Didn’t she understand that he crossed time, space, and ruined everything for her? Why? Why couldn’t she just love him? Why couldn’t they just be together? Why was this jerk always in the way? God… he looked up at the ceiling… what do I do? If the voice inside of himself was God it only replied, “nothing. Let it go.” But nothing wasn’t good enough for Vincent right now. He had to stop this.
Vincent swallowed hard and went to Kirra’s side, brushing past Erik who was chugging a beer; his only costume was a Viking helmet. “Austin’s looking a little lonely out there.” Vincent gestured with his head.
Kirra gave him a fake smile and shrugged a little as she popped a cheese cracker into her mouth. “He just kind of… walked away.”
“Maybe he just needs someone to see if he’s okay,” Vincent suggested.
“I don’t think he’s interested in me,” she said dismissively.
Vincent pursed his lips. “Anyone would be interested in you, Kirra. You’re beautiful,” Vincent said. “He had a really rough night last night.”
“I heard something about that, what happened?”
Vincent crossed his arms, and stared at the floor. Then he glanced around the room wondering if now was the time or place to say. “He almost killed himself,” he blurted. Kirra’s eyes widened and she glared out at the courtyard. “I guess, I just don’t want him to be alone,” Vincent added.
“I understand,” she replied quickly. Then she swallowed down some punch and strode out into the courtyard.
Vincent watched her walk away, taking in several deep breaths. Was this ever going to be over?
He went to Marielle and put his hands on her shoulders, leaning in and gently kissing her ear. “You’re missing Wei Ling’s dance,” he whispered.
They both turned to watch, and Marielle felt tears in her eyes. “She’s beautiful,” she breathed in delight mixed with sadness.
“It’s hard without Sasha here,” Hazal’s voice came from behind them. They turned to her, not realizing that she’d been standing a few inches away, and Marielle nodded. “He would have come as,-”
Marielle cut her off, “himself,” they said unison, and they couldn’t help a laugh, “yes!” both women squealed through their tears.
***
Austin shifted, uncomfortably wondering what the rest of the week would bring at this point. Already it felt like the world had spun around fifty times. –Marielle… Are you happy?
There was a pause. –Yes.
He chuckled silently at himself and shook his head, rubbing his palm over his lips. –I’ll just leave, then. You need your space.
He got up to go home, but was stopped when as he stood, he noted Kirra approaching him with her arms wrapped around her midsection.
“Hi,” she said shyly.
“We meet again,” he replied with a soft, dying smile.
There was an awkward pause as if Kirra was trying to work up the courage to continue to speak to him. “It’s cold,” she said as if it was the first time she was noticing it; her eyes darting around the courtyard as if trying to find the source of the cold. It was the end of October, after all. “Are you cold?” she asked, biting her lip, and his gaze flicked down to this action. She wanted him to kiss her.
“No,” he whispered unbuttoning his coat and putting it over her shoulders before he rubbed them a few times for her, and pulled back away.
“You’re trying really hard here, aren’t you?” she asked.
His eyes fluttered closed, “Yes.”
“I’m not – it’s not like Italy,” she explained, taking a small step towards him. Oh no, she’s advancing and I don’t know how to say no. “I’m not asking you to go to bed with me,” she explained. Thank God. “I know that… you’re not ready for that right now,” she said flatly. “I also know that you’re working on changing,” she said and the heaviness in her tone was frightening him. He didn’t show it, though. He straightened his back, and glanced back into the foyer where he saw a glimpse of Marielle as she walked away from the tables with Vincent. His chest felt tight.
“Yeah, I’m trying,” he explained. He gave her a diminutive smile. “Thank you for noticing and seeing that about me.” He twisted the ring around his finger.
“But you- you’re not interested?” She pressed, twisting her hands together, and biting at her lip again.
He swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair. Interested… what did that mean? He was still trying to work out love, and what love was in regards to Marielle. Was he interested in Kirra’s body? Yes. Very. Did he want to get to know her better? Yes, he’d have to admit that as well. Did he want to foster and build a romantic relationship with her? No, he didn’t. At least, not at this stage.
“Kirra- I…”
“The truth is,-” Kirra said biting her bottom lip nervously, “-I like you,” she admitted. He exhaled and looked away. Was he actually about to turn someone down? He never did that. “And…” She took another brave step towards him, “and I think that we could- I mean, I’d be good to you,” she stammered.
He couldn’t handle it. He grabbed the sides of her face, desperately wanting to take that kiss, and stilling himself so that he wouldn’t. His kiss was Marielle’s, and hers only. “I know, Kirra,” he said gently. “I know.” She looked at him with big green eyes… oh gosh, her eyes were like Marielle’s… focus, focus. “But I wouldn’t be good to you,” he explained.
She sighed and looked down; her cheeks still held by his warm hands. “Because your heart belongs to Marielle, right?”
He stopped a smile, but nodded slowly. “But also y-you know what kind of man I am.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I think that’s what kind of man you were… I don’t quite see that man anymore.” She sighed, looking down. “The truth of the matter is that whenever we try and change, there are always road blocks and temptations,” she said slowly, as if realizing that she was a temptation that he didn’t need right now. She took a step back, and put her hands on his wrists, gently guiding them down as if making the decision for him. Then she smiled at him softly.
“I’m so sorry. It’s just-” his voice trailed off as he thought for a moment. He looked down at his ring. Yes, this was right, “-not going to happen.”
He saw her eyes water a little, but she was too dignified to cry. “It’s okay, mate. I’m just… If your heart is ever in a different spot, you know where to find me.”
He gave her a soft, sad smirk. “I do,” he explained. Then he bent and gave her a small, innocent kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Kirra,” he whispered lingering near her ear for a moment. Then he straightened, and walked away, forcing one foot in front of the other, and feeling stronger with each stride.
When he reached the end of the courtyard that crossed over into the parking structure, he paused and looked back at her. She was rubbing her arms under his jacket; he’d get it from her tomorrow, it was fine.
Her gaze found his for the last time, both wondering if they’d just made a mistake…
Then the silence was cracked by an ear-piercing pop as it split the silence of the courtyard, cutting The Night we Met apart at the end and they both jumped.
Time seemed to slow as Austin watched in terror as Kirra touched her lower body. She pulled her hand away, finding a handful of blood. Her panicked eyes sought Austin’s before she fell to the ground limp and lifeless.