STRAY KIDS ONESHOTS/IMAGINES || OT8

masquerade . felix

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genre: cinderella / phantom of the opera au
inspired by The Selection by Kiera Cass
a/n: comment if u wld like a part 2? 
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It felt like you had swapped places with Cinderella. You were in a fairytale. The soft ball music, the extravagant chandeliers, the candlelit dining tables. Best of all, the people. Couples swaying to the instrumentals, gentlemen in sleek suits, ladies in velvet gowns. The ambience was breathtaking- every masquerade ball you'd been to a different experience, an unexplored realm. But it was only a matter of time before you got caught.

Where you lived the rich leeched on the poor, the idea of equality and freedom of speech all crushed and withered into dust. Where you lived there was a social construct - a band of classes. The higher you were in your ranks, the higher status, power and prestige you got. You were a Six, the second lowest class there was. Your family was poor, and you lived from hand to mouth as tailors. There was not much you looked forward to, but one thing.

The masquerade balls.

From classes four and below, you were servants. Living to pamper and shower the upper classes with undying fidelity and obedience. You were required to conceal our faces lest be deemed "disrespectful" in the presence of our masters. But once every year, a kind soul of the upper class - rumoured to be a One, would host a grand masquerade ball where the rich and poor, the powerful and powerless could come as themselves, mingle as if you were all equal. The only rule was that your identities be concealed - masked. So no one would know if you were an Eight or a One.

You were eighteen that year, which marked your third masquerade ball. As a tailor and a part time maid, you would save up and find the nicest materials you could afford to craft your gown for the ball. A trace of pride in your life of service and exploit. That year, your gown was a soft pink, adorned with scraps of lace you had managed to scavenge. It was an off shoulder mid-length dress which you had paired with an old satin coat passed down from your great grandmother. Your long hair fell in waves over your bare shoulder, and you gingerly put on your mask - the same one you wore for each ball. An intricate, ash grey floral mask with two feathers as the cherry on top.

Although everyone hid behind a facade, you knew he would be able to recognise you - like he always did each year.

The commencement of the ball upon the strike of seven made your heart race with anticipation and exhilaration. Looking around, you suddenly felt an arm slip gently around your waist from behind you, your partner's breath on your hair. You found his hand, remembering, recalling the familiar touch. You leaned against him, recognising his lean figure, his strong embrace. It was him - the mysterious boy, almost like a phantom to you.

And you loved him, like he loved you. Who he really was, who you really were, hidden away from each other. But yet, something about him made you vulnerable, both of you whispering secrets to each other in the dead of night. It felt like you knew him, though you were merely strangers in masks - drunk on a feeling, living as if it were your last.

He led you to the dance floor as the masked orchestra as they symphonised a slow but lovely jazz melody. The dim lighting and the velvet curtains which fell like waterfalls over the arched windows gave the whole place a romantic vibe, with the both of you moving gently to the music. He placed his hand on your waist, twirling you around, and that night, you truly felt like an elite - a one and not a lowly six.

Later that night, the both of you escaped the crowd that started to flock in for the drinks. You headed to the back garden of the palace-like infrastructure, passing by expensive sculptures and jacuzzis littered with lavender. It was technically not part of the property - and no one ever ventured so deep into the thick foliage. Only the two of you knew about the little hideout, claiming it to be your secret garden, a haven where the both of you could be who you were. Finally, a quiet clearing caught your attention, and you settled down on the warm grass, resting your head on his shoulder as you gazed at the stars.