the arms i fall in - [ᴅɴғ]

[ 9 ]

"mademoiselle?"

"shut it," the brunet glared at the seemingly confident blond, who was asking for his hand in the middle of the ballroom.

dream only smirked, taking the boy's hesitant palm into his own.

the entire room was silent, eyes all on the two centered. george tensed, breath hitching as he realized where he was.

the blond's arm was snaked around george's waist, hands held at the side in a waiting position. dream was gazing at the top of the brunet's head as he stared at his feet, refusing to look up.

he wanted to hold back, he wanted to. george knew his mother was in the crowd, pleased by his own displeasure. all she wanted was his misery, he was sure of it.

"chin up, m'lady," dream playfully whispered.

george scoffed under his breath, slightly looking up to meet the shoulders of the one holding him. something lingered in his chest, he didn't know what to name it.

everything about being in his arms felt so right but wrong, like something was off. he kept himself together, letting his shoulders fall in an attempt to stay collected.

the blond squeezed his hand.

he looked up for a brief moment, looking back down to face his feet once he'd met his watered-down yellow-ish eyes. he flushed, feeling his gaze settle on his head once again.

he cursed to himself once more, asking what could possibly be so wrong about it.

the silence grew heavy, the piano bursting through seams of tension.

he winced as the song grew and the attention came back to them.

each note rang in his ears as the blond started to guide the directions in which he swayed. his peripheral caught the onlookers carefully studying them, studying every step and move.

his grip tightened around his waist, causing the smaller male to inhale sharply. he earned a curt grin from the blond towering over him. george pressed his lips together, focusing again on his feet.

his mind wandered, eyes widening once he'd realized what he'd stepped on.

"blazes," the blond breathed, pulling back his own foot.

"sorry," the brunet whispered.

they passed their table, his mother's eyes stabbing the back of his neck. he bit the inside of his cheek, telling himself to focus. the action already left his mouth with a strong taste of blood.

their lengthened capes waved gently as they moved along, almost causing the brunet to slip as he was dipped without warning. the blond laughed, his father glaring at the two's foolish manners. george could feel himself flush again, wincing at the knowledge that they were still being watched.

"why isn't he looking up?"

george furrowed his brows, scoffing underneath his breath. he'd hated the tone of voice that singular man had thrown at him.

a challenge?

he looked up.

he met two golden irises, bright, almost glowing in the way that some trees did to him. glowing in a surprised manner.

he could feel his confidence sinking, along with his defenses, as he studied the gorgeous man's complexion. hair fell and hung perfectly over his forehead, slim lips forming a gentle smile. he felt so intimate, taking a mental note of every detail— the freckles dotted on his face, the dimples that showed on his cheeks ever so slightly, even how his eyelashes turned white in the sunlight that seeped through the windows of the dome.

"like what you see?" the blond raised his eyebrows at the other's distraught expression.

the brunet glared at him, eyes almost threatening to step on his toe once more.

they continued their waltz, the music slowly dying.

the audience applauded once the piano had ended its song, the two approaching their seats back at their table.

"you're not my stupid prince charming," the brunet grimaced as they took their places at the table.

"well, i hope you know you're mine."

—————

floris took the hood off of his head, finding a small paper stuck into one of the vines hanging over his door.

he reread the note again, wondering how the brown-haired stranger had gotten it sent to him so quickly.

To whoever you are,

I want to know.
I think I've found out what he means to you.

Plaza, 10 P.M. Be there or not, I'll be waiting until midnight.

Consider.

- The Groom.

the auburn-haired boy scoffed bitterly, tossing the note to the side. what did he want to know? how he was tossed to the side like some useless junk? how every hint of affection proved to be meaningless?

the request confused him, but he felt obliged to comply. even if the stranger was one he wanted to blame.

he bit his lip, mounting his horse. he wanted to pay someone a visit.