The Show Must Go On | Randy

8 | Outcasts Among Outcasts

We stayed on that rooftop all night. Even when the sun finally disappeared completely, the cold night cloaking us until our skin shivered, we didn't think to move. We had nowhere to go to, or perhaps simply nowhere else we wanted to be, as without words we had decided it was better to be cold and clinging to each other for warmth than to have all the comforts but none of the answers to the questions they were bound to ask us when we reentered their world. Andy and I didn't belong with them tonight; we were outcasts among the outcasts. 

My fate as the star-crossed lover was sealed. From the moment Andy kissed me, cursing love as he did for catching him even as he ran away, I knew it was the trope I was destined to fulfil. I had always aspired to be Romeo, admired the way he found a love that was worth fighting and dying for, a love that would be told and retold. But now I found myself envying him for his immortalisation in fiction, for although his affair with Juliet was fleeting, it was eternal between the pages of a play, and my own time with Andy was slipping away as real moments always did. I could never pick them up off a shelf and have them over again. Even memories faded.

We both knew this thing that was him and I could disappear at any moment, and perhaps that was why we chose not to move, although we would have to eventually climb back down into the underworld. Morning came, the first rays of warmth finally hitting our skin, and we still didn't let go, even though the goosebumps went away and our limbs were stiff and sore.

"What do we do now, Rye?" Andy whispered from within my arms, voice hoarse from not speaking for hours. I cringed at his question, because I had made him promises. I had assured him we would lie and cheat our way out of danger, but now the thought of crafting those tales exhausted me and I only wanted to run away from this place and take Andy with me. But realistically I knew the streets of Paris held an even darker fate for two penniless artists than the one that awaited us inside The Sapphire, where at least we could live and work and perform.

"We need a story," I told Andy, meeting his deep ocean eyes as they searched mine for answers. "We need something to appease Sonny so he keeps funding the show and never finds out the real reason why you left."

"He's going to be mad," Andy worried, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip.

"I know," I sighed, "but we just have to make him understand somehow."

"I won't go back to him. I won't sleep with him,  I can't," Andy's voice was panicked. He clutched tightly on my shirt as he stared at me pleadingly. Had he really thought his reprieve would only be for this one night? That I would sell him back to the duke once the danger became too imminent?

"You will never belong to him," I promised him, putting a hand beneath his chin to capture his trembling lips with mine. It was a fierce, possessive kiss, one that marked him as mine. I felt Andy soften and melt into it, my passion seeming to assure him he was safe, for now at least. His hands slid up beneath my shirt, fingers splaying across my ribcage that was nearly rattling from the vibrations of my heartbeat. It was so overwhelming to suddenly have him like this, his silky touch distracting me from the imminent dangers facing us. 

The urgency of our predicament tickled at my brain until I couldn't ignore it anymore, forcing me to reluctantly separate myself from Andy, keeping my eyes closed so I could think. There was still the question of where we could go, and realistically I knew I only had one option, and that in itself was barely an option at the moment. 

"We need to get to Jack's," I told Andy with gritted teeth. 

"Why do you sound nervous about that?" Andy asked, catching onto my hesitation straight away. 

"Because he's not my biggest fan at the moment," I admitted guiltily. Andy pulled back further from me, his hand falling out of my shirt. 

"What did you do?" He demanded.