Masquerade

In Which Everything Goes to Shit.

Heat. That was just one of the many words to describe what the two men were feeling. It felt as if time had slowed, the people around them moving in slow-motion. The only place they were looking was into each other's eyes. It had hardly been five minutes, yet to Tord, it felt like hours. The music was just a low hum in the background of their cheesy romance. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony with each other, Tord taking one step forward when the other stepped back, the his blue clad crush spinning him carefully with a cheesy grin, watching out to not step on the crimson cape which swept the floor. The blue Brit's arms were wrapped around his waist now, Tord putting his own arms around his neck.

Suddenly their faces started inching towards each other. Tord's blush grew so great; he felt his face would burn right off. Eyes closed, they were just centimeters apart.

Until they weren't.

Suddenly, Tord felt the Brit pull away. Opening his eyes in confusion, he noticed the blue man has frozen entirely. He was poised, refined, and the Norwegian couldn't help but stare. But something was wrong. They wore a small frown, as if deep in thought. "Hey, what's wro-" Tord started, but was swiftly cut off.

"Shh. Listen." The blue Brit gently grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the way of the other dancers. Everyone seemed so carefree and happy, why the hell was he acting like this now?

But Tord allowed himself to be pulled from the lively music's trance. They silently made their way halfway up the grand marble staircase with the red carpet, the staircase across from the stage that split halfway up into two different staircases leading two different directions. Few people stood up here, engaged in small talk, eluding the crowd. Tord's hand brushed the frigid gold railing as the stranger led him up a few steps.

"Hey, what's going on-"

"SHHHH. Listen!" The Brit glared, shushing him again. Tord couldn't help but feel taken aback. What has gotten into his usually calm and collected crush? Something seriously didn't feel right. Still, Tord obeyed, directing his gaze towards the dancers. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just people enjoying themselves. Dancing, waltzing, talking, drinking, everyone was in pure bliss. If anything, it just made the Norski want to go back there with the blue Brit even more. Looking closer, he saw that somehow, Matt had dragged Edd away from the guests and was trying to get him to dance. Edd kept trying to cover his already covered face and pull away, earning a small chuckle from the red clad man. Pau and Pat were still out there too.

As Tord began to turn and reassure his crush that there was nothing wrong, he finally saw it: The chandelier. It was rocking back and forth, giving off a quiet, yet shrill squeak. It was swinging ever-so-gently, as if two unseen forces were pushing it back and forth in a careful game of tetherball. One of the lights attached flicked, causing a glare on the gold chain which kept the massive light fixture hoisted in the air. The gold chain itself, despite being new, had a fair layer of rust covering some of the gilt. Other than the rust and the sway, the chain and the chandelier looked perfectly fine.

Tord turned back to the Brit. "The chandelier. It's swaying, but that's all. It's fine, don't worry." He placed a hand gently on his shoulder, trying to calm the paranoid man in front of him.

Before the Brit could protest, or Tord could offer anymore comfort, a loud creak was heard from above. It was low, and confusion coated both of their faces. Although the music stayed, several people stopped mid conversation and froze, wondering what caused that sound. The atmosphere dropped to a foreboding on of apprehension and dread. Tord felt a hand protectively wrapped around his. The blue and black clad man had instinctively grabbed his hand, unaware of his actions as his focus was pinpointed on the chandelier. It was swaying even more now. The flickering light from before has gone out, along with many of the others. Several of the tons of working lights were flickering like mad. Now everyone had directed their attention to the currently freaking out light above them.

"What the fu-"

Tord couldn't even finish his sentence when the creak was followed by a menacing snap. The rocking had stopped. The lights weren't flickering anymore; they'd all gone out. The chandelier was falling, and it was falling fast. And this wasn't like one of those cliché moments, where everything slows down. In fact, everything seemed to speed up. The chandelier seemed to be falling more rapidly than a chandelier its size should. It was falling almost as fast as the feeling of dread fell and burrowed into the pit of his stomach. The sinking feeling only grew, paralyzing him, gluing his feet to the ground and his arms to his side. His eyes were glazed with fear and shock, his ears numb to the screams and shrieks and screeches around him. He didn't even feel the cold touch of the blue Brit as he dragged him up the stairs and down an unknown hallway. His feet were moving, just allowing him to stumble in the directions he was pulled.

He didn't even hear the crash of the thousands of shaped glass and light bulbs as it smashed to the floor, causing shards of glass to ricochet in every direction, showering everyone in the room in glass. He didn't smell the smoke as it billowed up, blanketing the ceiling and exits while people scurried out. He didn't feel the heat from the fire as it danced across the wood floors and up the gold painted pillars.

He didn't feel himself black out as he was dragged the opposite direction of the doors to safety by the blue Brit.

(A/N:  Sorry this took so long to write, I had writers block and I've been really busy. I was extremely rushed while writing this. Please ignore any spelling or grammar errors. I will try to fix them later. There is no need to point them out. Anyways, I hope you all still enjoyed this chapter, hardly anyone understood tons of foreshadowing I left in the last chapter.

Bye for now!)