Part 1

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Mabel finds herself yet again in a nightmare. This time though, her mind is painstakingly drawing out the climax to the dream. She's at a funeral, that much she's sure of, and in the distance she can make out a casket. Quite unwillingly, her feet take her toward it. Her surroundings are smudged and blurred greens that she unconsciously decides are grassy hills. Her heart tries harder and harder to beat out her chest as she finally approaches the glossy black casket and tilts open the lid. But of course, she's staring into it at herself. Her own face pale and blue, resting peaceful and dead before her. Her own scream bounces around inside her head until it jolts her awake.

Two pale green eyes meet her line of sight as she catapults herself away from her pillow, chest heaving. Seconds pass before all the air whooshes out of Mabel and she kicks off her damp sheets, pushes her sweat drenched fringe out of her face, and flops back on the mattress.

"Get out  Eugene," she sighs with zero venom. The boy sitting on her bed with his hands hanging precariously between them, wrinkles his perfect brow.

"You were screaming. And crying. And you're filthy." Mabel dares a peek down at herself. It was true, she was still covered in dirt and beer from last night's complete disaster. She was so exhausted after the performance and her and Dante's fight, then chasing down that bastard who she thought kidnapped her sister and somehow fighting off his cronies that she had collapsed into bed around three in the morning. That is, not before she gobbled down a few leftover Danishes. It couldn't have been more than an hour since then. Mabel glances back at the perturbed boy before her.

"Yeah, thanks for that update. Also, why are you still here?"

Eugene starts tugging at his blondish curls while glaring at her, managing to look both nervous and annoyed. "Where have you been all night?" he demands, "I haven't seen you since you and Moreau had your screaming match in the dining hall."

Mabel props herself up with the heels of her palms behind her and criss-crosses her legs, careful not to sniff herself. "Don't pretend like care Your Highness. After seeing me and my friends fighting for once, you probably had a seizure from all the bliss."

Eugene stiffens before her, and it's then that she notices his attire. He's wearing his official work clothes, silk cuffs and all, except they're noticeably wrinkled. He must've been holed up in his office all night and never gone to bed. And of course he still manages to smell amazing. She really needs to steal his cologne soon before she goes insane.

"But I do care!" he was sputtering, "I don't know why you're always assuming the worst of me or how our relationship was like before I got bludgeoned in the head by that psychotic bean pole but I do know how I feel about you now!"

Mabel blinks at him. It had been a few weeks now, but Eugene's sudden outbursts and apparent personality switch never failed to take her off guard. After Dante had tried to literally kill the prince at his coronation, Eugene had lost his memory and hadn't been the same since. And now Mabel was living in his palace as a palace circus performer, under the same roof as her sworn enemy; and here he was, going on about how he cared for her now, as if they hadn't been equally prepared to poison the other's tea or shoot a blow gun at the other's head a mere months ago.

  She gingerly touched her hands to her forehead, "You are giving me a migraine, please just pick a persona and stick to it so that I know how to act around you." She feels rough hands close around her wrists as he gently pries her hands away to peer into her face. Too close.

"It's not a persona, this is me Mabel."

Mabel warily searches his eyes, brain full with distrust. "Eugene, two months ago you had me thrown into a prison cell." She watches as he visibly cringes, shame hunching his shoulders.

"And I have no idea why I would do that, I truly don't. I have no memory of the things I did before, but I can tell you that I am sorry for whatever I did to hurt you." His hands tighten around her wrists. Mabel feels herself starting to sweat as she tries to remember her surroundings and escape routes. She has no idea what he is getting at but she has to keep her guard up; this could still be a ploy for all she knows. As undetected as she can, Mabel slightly angles her body toward the nightstand.

"Well maybe you did it because we hate each other?" she offers reasonably.

"But I don't hate you," he whispers, face inching closer.

"You don't?" Mabel asks, a nervous laugh in her voice.

His eyes lower to her mouth by a fraction. "Not even a little," he breathes as he suddenly closes the gap between their faces.

Initially, Mabel goes into shock as soon as his lips touch hers. The situation is so impossible, so laughably out of the question, that all she can do is sit there. When she feels him deepen the kiss, a jack hammer swings into her chest, kickstarting her heart and her senses. Trying to keep her late-night snack in her stomach, she jerks her head back and her wrists out of his grasp while snatching the lamp beside the bed without looking and slamming it into the side of his head. Glass shatters as Eugene curses, but Mabel doesn't stick around to hear his explanation. She's already flying out the room.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Dec 17, 2020 ⏰

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