A Most Grotesque Display (jobros x fem!reader circus au)

13| December

When Avdol was a kid, on his way to become a teenager, his one of his very few wishes was to dance with what was now the magician of the circus.

It was more of a daydream, rather, something he thought about when his mind wasn't occupied with trapeze or (Y/n) herself. To some grand ball, perhaps that was the place he had in mind for his waltz, or maybe he'd like something more reserved, like an empty room reserved for only themselves on a moonlit night.

There were plenty of opportunities for any of that to happen, actually, though all impossible when Bucciarati was in the way. However, with the two of them now split, and with his confidence steadily built, there was hope again for it to happen.

December creeped in subtly, felt through the sting of the passing air, and seen in the dying flowers. (Y/n) doesn't much favor the wintry months, the way frost-bitten leaves will make their way into the circus tent, nor how she'd shiver in the freezing midnight. It brought back bad memories from the alley, and with it, how she almost didn't get to see spring come again at one point. 

The spiders didn't enjoy it either. As such, neither did The Mind Electric. It was slower, clumsier, always staggering to catch a moments rest as the ends of it's stilted feet went numb in the powdered snow.

And yet for some reason, (Y/n) is sitting outside, on the first day of December, when usually she's holed up in her room with Okuyasu trying to bait her out. The tent seemed steady today as well.

There couldn't have been a better time to ask the question, if she'd fancy to dance. Thanks to the long trip, they'd be making some stops at upcoming towns, one of which, Bockson, would be hosting the annual winter masquerade.

In naught but a tank top and sweats, Avdol grabbed a stray jacket from the stacked chairs by the exit and brought it out with him, shuddering at not only the sharp windy air, but at the height of which he stood, a good fifty meters above ground.

"What is it you're doing out here, all by yourself?" He'd ask, draping the coat along (Y/n)s shoulders rather than his own. 

"Thinking-- And enjoying the fresh air before it becomes unbearable." She said, pulling her arms through the sleeves. It seemed she was in some similar lounge wear, though instead of a t-shirt, there in its place was one of Speedwagon's large buttoned tops. "We have another day until we arrive at Bockson, if that's what you came to ask."

"Well... Suppose that was part of what I was going to ask." He dropped himself next to her, sitting on the edge of the boardwalk laced around the tent.  "Did you know they hold that ball every year? The one with all the fun masks and music and festivities?"

"Oh, yes, I know that much. We've been here before, have we not?"

"We have, but that was in the spring, where we saw the town taking down all their decorations and such. We've never seen it all hung up and pretty."

"No, we haven't."

Avdol pursed his lips as all drew quiet again, his hands fiddling with each other somewhat anxiously as he thought his whole plan over again. All he has to do is ask her, what's so hard about it? 

He just has to do it, right on the spot. Do it unexpectedly, so that even he himself is surprised, and won't get nervous enough to stop.

He opened his mouth to speak, his steamed breath hanging in the air as a cloud of fleeting smoke, "I guess, then, if that's the case, would you mind-- and it's ok if it's a no, but, would you..."

He thinks about it too much, he thinks and thinks far too much, that his words become paralyzed in his throat, and his tongue falls flat into his mouth. Being nervous is only something that's allowed when flying through the air, not when asking for a dance. It's so simple, yet why can't he seem to grasp it?