The Mushroom Prince // DNF

19/The Masked Stranger

*HI IM BACK! I really liked writing this chapter (although it's a little angsty) so I hope you all like it too!*

George spun to face the stranger, the handle of his dagger gripped tightly in his free hand, his other hand still caught by the wrist, the stranger's fingers gripping it tightly.

It was too dim in the hallway for George to make out who the man behind the mask might be, but he could only make the assumption that he meant to harm George, possibly as a means to get to his father.

The masked man tried to reach for George's free hand, but George managed to move just quick enough to evade the attempt. He inhaled sharply and swung the blade, watching it move in slow motion as it sliced through the air and caught the fabric covering the man's arm, grazing the skin underneath.

With a wince of pain, the man retracted quickly, dropping George's wrist as he moved to cradle his injured arm against his chest. George used this to his advantage, side stepping away from the man as he attempted to retreat back to the safety of the ballroom.

But the man was faster, catching up to George with just a few long strides.

George felt the man's hand grip his arm, and before he knew it, he was being pushed up against the wall roughly, both arms now pinned against the cold stone. He struggled against the man's grip, grunting from the effort as he freed his arm and attempted to swing the dagger at the man again, this time aiming for his torso.

The masked man was expecting it this time, and he grabbed George's arm before the blade could make contact, pinning it to the wall again and effectively holding George in place as he finally said, "George, stop. It's just me."

George recognized the voice instantly, the same voice that had been plaguing both his dreams and his waking thoughts for days on end. He stopped struggling, his eyes lifting and tracing the details of the white mask as he whispered, "Clay?"

Clay nodded in response, freeing both of George's arms as he stepped back from the brunette, moving into the shadows again but staying close to George, his hand wrapped tightly around his injured arm.

"Are you crazy? What are you doing here?" George questioned him, his breath uneven as he fought the urge to reach out and pull Clay close to him.

Clay was silent for a moment, and George could only keep his eyes glued to the mask, wondering what was happening behind it. When Clay didn't answer, George shook his head and continued, "you shouldn't have come, there's a ballroom full of people."

He heard Clay laugh lightly to himself before he finally responded, "that's exactly why I'm here, George. It's easy to blend in with a crowd of people, especially when they're all wearing masks."

George watched as Clay inspected his arm, the fabric of his shirt cut open where the blade had hit, his arm underneath cut and bleeding. The brunette couldn't tell how bad the injury was from where he was standing, but he was relieved when Clay laughed quietly and said, "I see you've been practicing without me. You're getting pretty good."

George laughed quietly in response then dropped his eyes to the floor between them, silently searching for words. There were so many things he had wanted to say to Clay, so many things that were left unspoken between them.

But now that he was here, right in front of George, he couldn't seem to find the words to express what he was thinking or feeling.

He looked back up, his voice soft and quiet as he said, "can you take the mask off? It's just the two of us."

Clay looked over his shoulder, searching the long hallway before answering, "I don't think that's a good idea. I can't risk anyone seeing me here."

"Then why did you come here, Clay?" George asked, crossing his arms in frustration.