On this twist of the classic Cinderella, Cinder is your average step child: ignored, mistreated, and left in the dark. But when the chance of a lifetime arrives to sneak out to the Prince's ball Cinder leaves his past behind - even if only for a few...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Cinder sits at the edge of the bed wrapped in a plush blanket of furs. Adam's bedroom is less ornate than the ballroom. The walls are still painted a childish blue each one is covered in sports posters and vintage records. There's a few plants scattered here and there, various knickknacks tucked deep into the corners of the room. It's refreshingly simple, Cinder notes, releasing his tightly held breath as Adam enters the bedroom.
He's dressed in the suit Cinder designed for him, a deep burgundy shade that compliments the hazelnut hair he nervously rustles. Adam holds Cinder's gown in his arms, a sheepish grin overtaking him as he sits on the bed next to him.
"I tried my hardest, I promise." Adam laughs, running a calloused hand over the purple stain. "I also promise I didn't spill my drink on you on purpose, that was a genuine accident." He adds on after catching a hint of Cinder's glare.
Cinder only tucks his knees into his chest, wrapping the plush blanket tighter around his bare body. "Lucky for you I'm never wearing that dress again so no harm no foul."
"It's amazing you had the time to make everyone's outfits and your own in just a day. You're insanely talented, Cinder, you know that right?"
There's a gleam in Adam's eyes, a genuine admiration as he leans closer, his hand finding its way on top of Cinder's placed atop the bed. It's a jolt of electricity, a spark that strikes through Cinder's chest as his breaths begin to draw lower, slower as the nerves begin to settle in.
"It's just my job." Cinder admits, head ducking away in embarrassment. "It's really not that big of a-"
A finger finds its way beneath his chin, pulling his face until he's met with a warm expression placed too close to his own. He can smell the cologne that drifts off of Adam, trace the small scars on his forehead and count every speck of stubble that graces his features.
"It is a big deal though, why do you sell yourself short, Freckles?" He quizzes, face never pulling away and gaze never leaving Cinder's as he cocks a brow in confusion.
Somehow he's gotten closer, his leg brushing against Cinder's beside him as he repeats his question. Yet it's a question Cinder can't answer, a question that asks him to reveal too much of himself, of his past. "I guess I was just raised to be humble." He lies.
"People with your talent don't need to be humble. How does someone like you even end up working for Cassandra? You're just so..." the boy puffs air from his cheeks, eyes widening as he attempts to find the words. "different from the rest of them. You're sweet, and caring, and funny." Adam adds on, pawing at the dress laid over his lap with a gentle laugh. "You should find somewhere else to work, anyone would be lucky to have you."
Except I can't. I'm trapped.
Cinder's hand falls away from Adam's grasp, the limb coming up to secure the blankets tighter around himself. He can still feel Adam's presence as he hides under the concealment of the covers, burying his head in the fabric to make the other boy disappear. "You're saying all these things when you barely even know me."
"But I want to get to know you."
He pulls the blanket from Cinder's head until they're face to face once more. Adam can't help but to want to hold him. To secure them in this moment forever, to show the boy in front of him that he's worth so much more than he believes.
"I-"
Cinder's cut off by the chime of a bell, a roaring, thunderous chime that cascades up the grand stairs and seeps beneath the crack of the bedroom door. The boy sits up with a start at the chime, yanking the ruined gown from Adam's lap as he forces himself into the fabric.
"Are you-"
"I have to go." Cinder states, face flustered as he fumbles with the corset strings behind him. "I have to go now."
Catching the panicked boy, Adam holds him square before him, watching as he nervously eyes the room. "It's barely even midnight, I can have our driver take you home just, please, stay." He begs of him, hands beginning to trail the length of freckled arms until Cinder ultimately pulls away.
"I was supposed to be home by midnight, I-" every breath is labored as he gasps for air, hands flying into blonde locks before dragging across his face in terror. "Cassandra is going to kill me. I'm going to be murdered." He mumbles to himself, the words incoherent ramblings to anyone but himself.
Slipping a shoe over each foot, Cinder runs out the bedroom, skipping every other step on the grand staircase until a hand catches his own. Yet he doesn't hesitate, merely ripping his arm away from their restraints before running into the snow covered night.
•••
The door is unlocked.
It's a gesture so small, so inconceivable and yet if strikes fear into Cinder's heart as his hand hesitates on the golden knob. An unlocked door means he's too late, that midnight came too soon. It means Cameron and Campbell made it home before he did, that they arrived to an empty room and an emptier studio.
He's too late.
With fleeting confidence, he pushes the door open, every muscle of his body aching with stress at what comes next. At what, or rather who, will be lying in the dark ready to strike. Cinder is only one step over the threshold before papers are slamming against a desk, the click of heels against wood ricocheting off his bones as he instinctually flinches from the sound.
"Come here." The devil bites, hand colliding with the desk next to her. "Now!"
There's no point in hiding the truth, the ruined ball gown draped over his body enough proof to condemn him without a trial. "I can explain." His voice is already cracking, eyes downcast as liquid begins to dot at the papers below him, smudging the ink of his sketches as his tears begin to flow. "Please let me explain."
"Are you tryna' ruin me, boy? Huh? Is that what you're tryna' do?" Her talons latch onto her son's chin, yanking his attention away from the sketches as she forces him to face her, to face his mistakes. "You think you can run from here? Cinder, you will work here 'till the day you die, you understand me?"
Though his mind begs him to speak out, to protest again her and rip from her suffocating grasp he does nothing. He can only stand there silently trembling until his body begins to hiccup from tears. "Please, I'm sorry. I swear I'm sorry." Though he claws at his mother's arms she refuses to release her hold on him, manicured nails clawing into his flesh until it threatens to break.
"How dare you ruin your sister's chances, my chances!" She screams, grabbing at a fistful of blonde hair before dragging her son up the staircase as he begs. "I swear you're gonna' make back every coin you just cost me. You will never see the light of day again, you hear me!"
With that she throws the boy into his bedroom alongside the plethora of sketches, his body colliding with the floor with a painful thump. She's already closing the door behind him as he scrambles across the floor, begging, screaming for his mother's forgiveness. Forgiveness that never comes, only the slam of a door and fumbling of a lock audible before heels click against each stair, disappearing into the night air.
There's nothing he can do as he curls into a ball against the door, tears flowing freely as he rips at his gown in frustration. As he tears away his one chance of freedom, his one chance of escape from this hellish nightmare. With nothing left in him he begins to gather the sketches thrown across the floor. As he outstretches his arm he stops in his tracks, blue eyes widening as he stares at his wrist.
