My Double Life

|| 20 || Love is Tragedy, Love is Insanity

His smile is still evident, his teeth on display and his left contour more visible than the right. Sweet, sweet smile of his; tragic, tragic smile of mine. His blue eyes continue to glint, in all his excitement. He can hold everything, from the earth to the skies, but with a few simple words, strewn together with my vocal chords, he can shatter. Pieces. Everywhere. The dancing is a blur, his suspicion as well, but I can tell he expects good news. He’s an optimist, after all. Sometimes the optimist and the realist fall in love, and the realist needs to break the optimist to make them stronger.

“Okay?” he questions, in bewilderment, still smiling, still happy.

Trying not to stumble over my words, I say, “Somewhere else though. Where its quiet.” I don’t hold his hand, because that’ll just add fuel to my burning fire of guilt, instead I seize his wrist and pull him out of the crowd. “Follow me.” I let his arm go, to free my hands to pull my dress off the floor. They begin announcing the Prom King and Queen, which Dianna will probably win, unless Emma decided to sabotage the votes. No one bats an eyelid at us, they are all caught up in their fantasy of popularity.

I find myself running up a straight, towering staircase, and the penumbra of the arched window shadowing it. It is labyrinthine, this building, a plethora of rooms and stairs. The oak doors are all locked, or at least closed, so I don’t feel as if I should interrupt the beauty of the sublime rooms. I continue to walk briskly, along one length, the staircase on one side and the rooms on the other. Ignoring the eerie old paintings, scratched and peeling, I notice a peek of light coming from a sliver between two doors. Approaching it, I hurry, pressing my fingers on the smoothness and pushing it. Ashton is only smiling slightly now, following behind me. I walk in, my breath taken away instantly. The room is none other than a music room, shaped in a dome for cleaner echoes. A grand piano stands, exquisite and unique. A crepuscular moonlight dawns from the glass door, closing off the chilly breeze from outside. My shoes click against the marble flooring, lined with shards of gold. Ashton’s footsteps are nimble, each step with rising suspicion. Chairs align in rows neatly down the spacious room, a harp to my left and a fireplace to my right. I look up to see a grandfather clock engraved in the wall, with paintings of cupids scattered over the dome. A chandelier hangs, with wax melting off its silver ends, creaking and swaying slowly. Walking past the framed paintings, I hold the gold door handle and push it down, letting the warm air escape, in exchange with a mild breeze. The moon is brighter here, on the balcony. Trimmed rose bushes sit on the ceramic railing, some flowers wilted, others blooming, no in between. I place my palms flat against the rough surface, tainting the creamy colour with my tears.

An icy hand presses against my freckled shoulder, urging me to turn and face him. I spin around, gazing, as my wavy, frizzy hair catches the wind.

“What’s wrong, Misty?” he asks, sincere, with the biggest heart. Ashton holds his arms around me and kisses with his pink-blue lips.

“It’s just… I don’t know how to say this,” I whisper soundlessly, stifling my weeping. Pushing him away, I gape at the crescent moon, avoiding his gaze with all my might.

“I can’t tell you, Ashton. I don’t want to tell you. But I need you to know, because it would be horrible for the both of us if you didn’t know.”

He leans over, searching my vacant eyes for any clues. He places his hand on the back of my head and pushes me back into an embrace.

“You can tell me, I’ll try not to freak out or anything. I’ll be completely calm.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” I whimper, stepping backwards, my hands completely covering my face.

“Will it help if I don’t look at you?” he asks, standing a metre away from me. “I’ll turn away if you want me to.”
“Yes, yes, if you don’t mind. It’ll be easier, so I can’t blame myself for telling you.”