The Savage Brothers | ✓

CHAPTER 23: Dance with the Devil

Eyo, Savage Fam! I owe ya'll an apology 'cause I said I'll be back early April... but here I am, early June. Lmao. At least I'm "early," amirite? (Ok, I'll shut up.)

I know you've missed my boys as much as I missed writing them. So here's a three-ish update! Let's binge-read! :) 

Happy reading! (Please vote and comment! Bye!~)

CHAPTER 23: Dance with the Devil

B R Y A N

Whoever in their goddamn mind decided that it's OKAY to blend the yellow tablecloths with red is a dumbass. I thought the manager and I talked about this already! Clearly, she was deaf. What did they think of this extravagant night, a McDonald's kids' party? Fucking hell! I have to revise it on the last minute—and thank god it turned to be out better.

Just like the theme: Half-Halloween, Half-Christmas prom—weird flex but okay—the place was aesthetically done. Tables were round, each having different centerpieces; alternating from Halloween to Christmas—and thanks to me, the perfect shade of blue and gray made it work.

The beautiful stage was designed by Jordan, and Damien made his vision came to life. The duo was responsible for hiring the lights and sounds technicians, and also our talented orchestras we have tonight.

The walls were gorgeously lined with white and light blue decorations of Christmas that matches the wallpapers Karen picked. She is the emcee for tonight and the one who scheduled the event to be as organized as it is now.

Fake-snowflakes and -cobwebs dominated the ceiling. I thought the idea of them mixing in a ballroom was going to be horrific; on the contrary, it turned out to be epic. I didn't know Nikki had the sense of perfectionism in her, so props to her.

Jerry did his part as well—by hiring dumbass staff people to help us ruin the night. I thought Asians were smarter than this. After scolding Jerry for that, he and I worked this through. The staffs of the hotel will also be our servers, and thanks to my TED Talk, they complied to actually be better. We're not paying them for doing bullshit. If they want their money, they have to do it my way.

The prom was lit because of me. Literally—well, not really. I was the fire of this place. The BOMB.

My tailor is a badass. He knew what I wanted and created my suit perfectly. (Unlike my last designer/tailor. I fired his ass for making me look like trash.)

I told my French tailor to make me a unique suit that matches my personality for our prom. And he did. He made my attire like he just got it fresh out from an active volcano.

My suit is literally a work of art. My coat's exterior was rough-looking, like it was made of coal with shades of red, yellow, and black dotting the masterpiece. It gives off this fixed illusion that scorching lava is flowing down on the hard surfaces of the jacket (spoiler: the fabric isn't—it's hella soft on the skin and it feels fucking awesome). I guess my tailor used some gems to make it shine.

The trousers were an astonishing extension. Its dark colors fading as the "lava" goes deeper and cools down after some time. Finally, the shoes have blended well with my whole outfit—feeding the attire a wholesome look. The rigorous effort of making this has definitely earned my respect for him. (And also he earning lots from this, but money is no problem.)

"Zou're like e voulceno, zat 'tis about to explode!" he rambles with haphazard gestures. "Zou are hot-headed—eazily angered—aggressive, bossy, and zou tok nonstop!" I was gonna open my mouth to retort but he raised a finger. "VUT! ZOU. ARE. HOT!"