oh! so fencer29 reminded me that i probably have non-manga readers reading this, so just as clarification, the todoroki siblings live separately from their father.
Word Count: 5,373
? ? ?, ? ? ? p.m.
t₁ = ? ? ?
Time puts a fog over your memories. Ten years ago might not have been a masquerade ball, but with how long ago it had been, it very might as well have been.
It was not uncommon for Momo to dream lucidly, which was why despite recognizing the scene, she didn't wake up.
"Well, now this has been happening a lot lately, hasn't it," she said to herself, except that no one else in the room seemed to hear. That was normal.
She was in the west ballroom of her home, and it was decked out in its entirety in ever-blurring, ever-shifting, but still otherwise pretty normal party décor. She scoped the room, feeling like all the parties she'd attended in the past were all blending together into this one party of her dreams, searching for that friend from a time gone by. He was always there when she dreamed of being younger, but occasionally, she found a version of him the same age as she was at the time, his face and overall appearance always frustratingly indistinct.
Eventually, she decided her sleeping brain wasn't going to do her any favors, and with a disappointed sigh, she headed to the balcony, where she could be alone.
Or so she thought.
"Found you," she said to the boy leaning on the rail, somehow knowing who he was just by the feeling in her heart.
Her old friend turned around, his appearance startlingly clearer than normal. She supposed that it must have shown on her face because he tilted his head at her, though his expression was frustratingly hard to decipher with the half-mask covering the left side of his face.
She stilled for a moment, though in the world of her dream, the ball kept twirling.
He was wearing a mask.
She lifted a hand to her mouth to keep it from falling open, and her fingers brushed against something fitted to her own face.
She was wearing a mask.
What had earlier felt like a sign from above telling her she was going to attend one more party in vain suddenly turned into a wild hope bursting forth in her chest, blossoming in her heart like a fresh spring rose and filling her all over with a drunken excitement. Could it be? She hoped with all her might it was.
She wanted to speak again, to ask how he's been even though this was only a dream, but—
Saturday, 8:22 a.m.
t₁ = —11 hours
Momo bolted upright from her dream, breathing hard and filled with a residual panic, as though she had just come from some crazed nightmare.
But it hadn't been.
The morning sunlight streamed into her room, dappling her bed with its warm, bright spots. Her room was quiet, save for the singing of the birds outside her window and the swishing of the curtains as they danced in the breeze. The low hum of the vacuum and the maid using it out in the hall grew nearer and nearer, but Momo simply sat still in her bed, tense as the second she woke up.
Her dream.
She allowed herself to relax and shift her position so that her legs hung off the edge of her bed.
Was it a sign of things to come? She couldn't help but want for it to have been more than just a coincidence. It was a mystery that might as well have spanned her whole lifetime, a mystery whose answer she literally dreamt of for years.
She had been staring down at her palms, laid upon her lap, but the sound of a chipper little birdsong brought her chin up. She stared at the little songbird perched out on her windowsill and let the time slip by.
It felt both far too soon and yet also forever when a maid knocked smartly on the door, causing the bird to take flight.
"Miss Momo?" the servant called out. "It's quarter to nine. Please wake up now so that we can begin your ball preparations by ten."
At long last, Momo stood up and went to open the door.
Saturday, 9:40 a.m.
t₁ = —10 hours
It felt weird waking up on a Saturday and not getting ready to go visit his mother. Sure, he was getting ready for something (he didn't know why, since they weren't going to leave for several hours), but it was obviously not the same.
Shoto wandered into the kitchen, still feeling at least a little bit asleep. He ignored Fuyumi as she ran around in the background and went straight for the fridge. Leftover rice wasn't all that good, but not only had Fuyumi told him there was going to be food at the party, but also he just couldn't be bothered at the moment. It had been yet another one of those nights dreaming of her, which by this point were starting to make him nervous for tonight.
He was about to close the refrigerator door when he noticed something weird in it. "Fuyumi, why are there flowers in the fridge?" he called.
"It's a corsage, Shoto," she called back. "Mom told me to buy one for you to give to someone."
Shoto shut the door, fighting the temptation to heave an exasperated sigh. Just what was it that his mother knew that made her so sure he would find this dream girl?
Unless she secretly controlled fate and stuff like that. Which would possibly explain the dream he had last night where he met her at a masquerade ball. And probably all her fairy-tale-esque advice.
(Oh god, his mother was a weaver of fates.)
(Except that she probably wouldn't have put herself in the hospital if she had control over that so oh god, his mother was a weaver of her children's fates.)
Saturday, 1:11 p.m.
t₁ = —6 hours
Eat well; you have a busy day and night ahead of you.
Momo carefully maneuvered another chopstickful of rice into her mouth as she waited for the conditioner to set in her hair. Nearby, maids scurried around, doing spot checks on each other's makeup as they too prepared for the ball.
It was all starting to feel real, but not real. Her mother's summer parties always felt so far-off until the day of, when the entire house suddenly bustled to life as last minute details were settled and everyone prepared for hosting.
Yet this time, Momo had something in particular to look forward to that had yielded nothing but dead ends and disappointments for so long, it felt unreal to have her intuition tell her tonight was going to be different.
She popped another bit of rice into her mouth.
Real, but unreal. Like her dream last night, the boy she had befriended years ago, and whatever her mind fancied would happen once they meet again.
"All right, I'm back now, Miss," a servant said, and Momo had to rein in the instinct to turn to the person speaking. "It's time to get this hair train going again."
Hastily, she set her bowl onto her lap and swallowed. "Oh, Marika," she said, recognizing one of the older servants' voices.
"Yes, it's me," Marika replied, her voice an equal mix of fondness and exasperation. "Now, lift your head up for a moment now, Miss. We don't want your hair getting caught in the drain."
Momo obeyed, taking the opportunity to inhale a sizable portion of her meal the way she did at school.
"The girls are all so excited for you tonight, Miss," Marika said whilst rinsing out Momo's hair, completely ignoring the young lady's egregious breach of etiquette. "They've been hearing things from us older employees lately, and when you combine that with letting the younger ones sort the RSVPs this time, why, you end up with a real hotbed for gossip."
"Marika-san, are you saying you know who my first friend had been?" Momo asked, but Marika simply tut-tutted at her.
"Don't you 'Marika-san' me. Buttering me up like that isn't going to make me tell you anything," she chided. "Sit back again."
"Still, does this mean you knew?"
"Child! I've worked here since you were but a twinkle in your papa's eye; of course I know!" Marika began gently combing Momo's hair. "I know almost everything that goes on in this household. For example, I know that almost all the hands in the house will be in the west wing tonight, and that once the first dance begins, there will be no one spare to watch the door for stragglers, and that our shorthandedness will likely peak after the third hour due to the unholy amount of dishes there will be to attend to."
Ah, there were Marika's true intentions. She was really pulling out all the stops for this one, wasn't she? "Oh, those poor younger maids, too busy to watch me and see for themselves what'll happen to me tonight," Momo commented.
"I didn't say anything," Marika said.
Saturday, 3:29 p.m.
t₁ = —4 hours
"Shoto," Natsuo called. "Have you seen the mask I wore for that Phantom of the Opera cosplay I did when I was your—" He stopped dead upon poking his head into the open restroom.
Shoto stared back at his brother, hair pulled back with bobby pins and face half obscured by the aforementioned Phantom of the Opera mask. "…Yeah," he said.
Natsuo folded his arms. "I do believe I have that figured out," he dryly said. "Give it back."
"No. I don't have anything."
"And you think I do?"
"Hey guys, we're leaving in half an hour!" Fuyumi shouted from several rooms away. "How close are you to ready?"
"Mimiiii, Shoto has my mask!" Natsuo shouted back, as if he were a picky preteen and not, in fact, twenty years old.
(Well, it was the first time any of them had done anything like this since they were literal children, so maybe it was simply a brief relapse based on old memories.)
"You mean the cosplay one?"
"Yeah!"
Fuyumi came over from down the hall. "I gave that to him. There's no other way to hide his scar and preserve the spirit of the masquerade." She peered into the bathroom herself and sighed. "Shoto, you have to put in your contacts in before you put the mask on."
"I know that," Shoto said, irritated. "I don't want to wear them."
"How are you going to see?"
Shoto pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on over the mask.
All three Todoroki siblings were silent for a full minute.
Then the glasses slid off of Shoto's face because the mask left nowhere for the bridge to rest.
"Put on the contacts," Fuyumi sternly said, and Shoto sighed. "Also, put the wig on. There might be media lurking, and I don't want them to be able to spot you from a mile away."
"Oh, like that's the only reason they'd recognize him," Natsuo said, crossing his arms.
"Well, it's definitely the biggest reason. They would eat him alive for being a UA student, and you know it! Now, I'll be right back with hair spray."
"Wait, what about my mask?" Natsuo asked, following her.
"I don't know! Figure something out!"
As their voices grew quieter, Shoto took his spare moment as an opportunity to pull his mother's ring out of his pocket again. He was a little afraid of losing it, since he was leaving the box at home, but looking at it calmed him back down again.
He somewhat wished he didn't have to take all these extra steps to disguise his appearance. It wouldn't exactly work in his favor later on, either, when he searched for dream girl after the fact.
He pocketed the ring again. Mom, why did you have to make all this so difficult?
Saturday, 4:13 p.m.
t₁ = —3 hours
The ride there was silent.
"I feel like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle," Natsuo said to no one in particular for the billionth time.
…Mostly silent.
"Mimi, you're sure this isn't going to be against the dress code, right?"
Shoto looked up from his text conversation with Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka. (They were having a horror movie marathon and had insisted on keeping him posted.) There was no way this wasn't going to lead to sibling shenaniganery he wanted no part of. Again.
"No, Natsuo, I don't know if they'll let you walk into a masquerade ball wearing an old Stain mask. But you are going to try."
Well, at least the mask fiasco had gotten resolved. That was all Shoto needed from either of them tonight.
Saturday, 4:46 p.m.
t₁ = —3 hours
"All right, there's just one more thing for you, and then you'll be done, Miss," said Marika as she finished her final once-over, and she scurried out the door to fetch it.
Momo smoothed out her skirt, more out of habit than necessity, desperately trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach and her heart. She picked up her mask from its place on the dresser before her terror could overtake her, running her fingers over its black ribbon ties to calm herself.
Less than fifteen minutes until the party officially started.
Momo forced herself to slow her breathing.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated. She'd have to turn that off soon, but since she had the time now, she checked to see what it was anyway.
[16:46]
[Kyoukanut]: hey hey how's the party
[Yaomomo (✿◡‿◡)]: I am so nervous right now, and I don't even know why because it doesn't start until five
[Kyoukanut]: hmm well that explains why you answered now instead of three hours later to avoid conversation with some rando creep
[Kyoukanut]: just remember to fuck the rules if you ever feel unsafe and hit me up if you feel uncomfortable
[Yaomomo (✿◡‿◡)]: Thank you, Kyouka
[Kyoukanut]: also make sure to let me know if anything happens ( •̀ ω •́ )✧
[Yaomomo (✿◡‿◡)]: I swear, sometimes you're just as bad as Mina
[Kyoukanut]: no it's so that i can beat up anyone not worthy of you
[Yaomomo (✿◡‿◡)]: That's not very Plus Ultra of you
[Kyoukanut]: yes it is
[Kyoukanut]: go beyond. beat up your best friend's inappropriate suitors. plus ultra!
[Kyoukanut]: they're basically the same as villains at that point so it's okay (*≧︶≦))
[Yaomomo (✿◡‿◡)]: Don't you have a date with Kaminari really soon?
[Kyoukanut]: he's outside right now actually
[Kyoukanut]: my dad just likes to grill him
[Kyoukanut]: don't worry no matter what happens #YaomomoProtectionSquad2kforever
[Yaomomo (✿◡‿◡)]: What would I do without you
[Kyoukanut]: and we'll even kidnap todoroki to help out
[Yaomomo (✿◡‿◡)]: I take that back
There was a courtesy knock at the door, and when Marika walked back into her bedroom, Momo hastily shut off her phone and threw it back onto the bed.
"Fresh out of the refrigerator, Miss," Marika said, handing Momo a small, pale pink rosebud and a safety pin.
Momo stared blankly at the flower for a few seconds. "I'm sorry, but… if I'm going to wear flowers, Marika, shouldn't I have a corsage?"
Marika made that sound very specific to older mother-figures that meant that she was very exasperated but still somehow willing to go along with whatever disaster was in front of her. "Just because I said it was for you doesn't mean you're the one supposed to wear it. Just hold onto it for now and if for whatever reason, everything else falls through, you'll still have something pretty to make it a little bit better."
Unfortunately, there weren't any pockets in Momo's dress, and she didn't know what to say to all that, so there ended up being a silence between the two until Marika again decided that enough was enough and beckoned Momo out the door.
"Come, come," she said. "The first wave of guests have already arrived. It's time for you to be a good host. And put on your mask!"
Saturday, 5:12 p.m.
t₁ = —2 hours
"Mother," Momo said upon seeing her mother for what felt like the first time in the last three days. "Might I ask why you had a boutonniere prepared for me instead of a corsage?" (She had to try ridiculously hard to sound perfectly neutral and not ludicrously excited.)
Mrs. Yaoyorozu turned to face her daughter and smiled quite amicably, as she often did. "I mentioned it earlier, didn't I? There's someone coming tonight who hasn't been to one of our parties in a very long time. I suspect you'll find that I had great foresight once you find them."
Momo genuinely could not stop the smile that ended up on her face, and she broke etiquette for a moment to embrace her mother tightly, careful not to break the feathers that plumed out one side. "Thank you."
Saturday, 5:19 p.m.
t₁ = —2 hours
"We should have adjusted departure for rush hour," Fuyumi sighed as the three Todoroki siblings walked up the surprisingly lengthy path through the host's sprawling front yard to get to the front door and into the party.
"The invitation said dinner wouldn't start until half past five, so we'll be fiiine, Mimi," Natsuo said, springing up a set of stairs as he did so and meeting them at the top.
A masked butler bowed to them once the siblings arrived at the front door. "Welcome," he said. "I assume you all have the cards sent back in return for the RSVPs?"
The three siblings gave the butler their affirmatives, each reaching into their pockets to pull out said card.
"Excellent," said the butler, declining their attempts to hand him their cards. "These cards are not only your entry method. There is a particular seating arrangement in place for dinner, so in order to better preserve the air of anonymity, each place setting has a card has a unique drawing on it that matches one held by a guest. To put it simply, your card tells you where to sit. Now, please allow one of the maids to escort you to the dining hall. Dinner will begin quite shortly, and we do not want you to get lost before you have eaten."
Saturday, 6:01 p.m.
t₁ = —1 hour
Momo felt a little strange, eating dinner with a flower hidden beneath the napkin on her lap. It felt more like a reminder to sit with both her feet flat on the ground (as best as that could be achieved with heels, at least) than foreshadowing of the things she hoped would come.
She really hadn't thought too much about tonight's dinner, but if she had to put her expectations to words, she would have said she assumed she'd be sitting across from her friend from long ago. Still, the reality of dinner's seating arrangement wasn't bad at all. The young woman who sat opposite of her (Mimi, as she had introduced herself) was very sweet, although she seemed a bit anxious.
"You mentioned you were a school teacher," Momo said, hoping to perhaps take Mimi's mind off whatever seemed to be worrying her. "What grade level do you teach?"
Mimi practically transformed before Momo's eyes, lighting up and smiling as soon as she received the question. "Elementary school third years!" she said. "I taught fifth and sixth graders before, but now I'm learning how much I really took for granted with older kids. Like, a fifth year will know how to properly hold a calligraphy brush, but not all my third graders…"
Momo felt someone staring in her direction. However, she didn't get the impression that it was predatory, so she did her best to ignore it and focus on Mimi's excited chatter about the joys of teaching, but the feeling persisted.
Its intensity must have been enough for others to sense it too, because Mimi dropped off after a few moments and gave Momo a look of concern. "What's up?" she asked, her tone the perfect blend of concern and nonjudgement.
"It just feels kind of like someone's staring at me," said Momo, vaguely gesturing in the suspected direction.
Mimi looked over to where Momo had pointed, made a face, then returned to her meal with a bit of a smile. (Just like that, the feeling of being watched disappeared.) "You have nothing to worry about," she said. "That was just one of my brothers. He's a bit awkward, and he can get a bit spacey at events like these."
"Oh, have you been to these parties before?" Momo asked, but Mimi shook her head.
"Private events like this, no, not in a long time. Our father doesn't like them."
Momo finally snuck a glance at the boy who had been staring at her, but found that identifying someone whose main method of being made known had been a stare was remarkably difficult when they were no longer staring at her.
"He's the one in the half mask, sitting across from the man in wings," Mimi said, as casually as a comment on the weather.
Momo flinched at Mimi's abrupt clarification, then turned back to her food, face flushing.
Mimi giggled. "Teacher's intuition," she explained in response to the unasked question. "Or 'sensei-senses,' as I like to say to my students. Don't worry about freaking him out by staring or anything. He's pretty used to it."
Momo took a drink of water to try to cool her face. "So how long has it been since you guys attended a party like this?"
"Umm…" Mimi put down her utensils and did a quick count on her fingers. "A little over ten years, give or take. Long enough to say that it's basically like he's never been to one of these before."
A wave of servants came around and switched out their current course for the next one..
"Oh, thank you," Momo told her butler as he did so.
"You're welcome, Miss," he said in a low voice, nodding before he continued his rounds.
Momo took this as an opportunity to get a hasty glance at Mimi's brother, quickly spotting him just a few seats away. He truly did appear to radiate awkward, the feeling coming across loud and clear the second she managed to pick him out from the other guests. Yet, she also sensed something more about him that she couldn't quite place, and because of it, her hasty glance turned into a proper look, which in turn transformed into actual staring.
He looked her way, and their eyes met.
Momo's heart chose not to beat for a moment, instead jumping up to her throat for a quick plunge into her stomach, and the butterflies it stirred up as a result caused her to face forward again as fast as she was physically capable.
"Woah, are you okay there?" asked the person sitting to her immediate left, to which Momo smiled the best she could and assured the guest she was just fine.
Momo finally looked at Mimi again, who suddenly seemed very interested in the new dish.
"It seems you've found my brother," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching.
All the windows in the hall were open, but the sun hadn't quite set yet, so there were no night breezes coming in to cool Momo's burning cheeks. Her thoughts were all a blur, stealing away her ability to formulate a response.
"I know I did say he's basically never been to one of these before," continued Mimi, "but he does remember a few things, he told me, and he's brought along a corsage based off those things alone."
"Really? Because I have with me a boutonniere because of some old memories of my own," Momo blurted out, the words tumbling from her mouth as soon as she thought them up.
"How peculiar," Mimi said. She paused her eating for a moment, looked up, and grinned at Momo. "Guess you'll just have to see what that's all about later, huh?"
Excitement filled Momo's chest all in a rush. "So it appears."
Saturday, 6:36 p.m.
t₁ = —42 minutes
Shoto hadn't meant to stare at her the first time. It was just that the color of her dress stood out in his head for being so close to that of his mother's ring, and the more he looked the more he felt that she was the one. It couldn't be a coincidence; there had to be some higher power out there painting the way to her in sapphire blue and silver.
His sister embarrassed him with the way she told him off, and he became more aware of his gaze after that. He hoped she didn't think he was being gross or anything (he had to trust Fuyumi to cover for his bad manners), since he wasn't sure how to explain what was going through his head at the time if she didn't turn out to be the girl he dreamt of.
That's why when he looked that way again, it was because now he sensed someone staring at him. It was a feeling he knew all too well and thus usually ignored, but it was a different from usual in a way he couldn't describe. He couldn't stand its unfamiliarity, so he looked at her again and felt just as surprised as she appeared when their eyes met.
He thought he saw her in his dream last night; the masks looked very similar. She broke their gaze as quickly as it began, but now, he was convinced she was the one.
He tried to focus on his dinner after that, but Shoto just could not shake the feeling that had appeared after he made eye contact with that girl sitting across from Fuyumi. It lingered in his chest much the way a long, vivid dream lingered in his mind. Was this what his mother meant when she told him to listen to his heart? It seemed an appropriate phrase for how he was feeling.
This was real.
This was happening.
And there was no turning back.
Saturday, 7:05 p.m.
t₁ = —13 minutes
When Momo came back after a quick trip to the restroom, the music had begun and it was well into the first dance. The last little sliver of the sun had set, and the ballroom was entirely lit by the chandeliers hanging overhead.
Momo stuck to the wall as she began the long way over to the other side of the room. If her dreams and Mimi's hints had been worth anything, she would be looking for a wallflower, and there was no better way to look for a wallflower than by walking the perimeter of the room.
The music began fading out; the first dance was ending. She scanned what little of this side she hadn't personally checked and saw no signs of him. Time to switch over.
She had just a few short moments to cross the room by hiding in the crowd of people who had just finished breaking in the dance floor. Most people don't go to the far side of the ballroom once they're done dancing, though, so it was with mere seconds to spare that she reached the other side.
She paused to watch the new pairs of dancers as they each took their places. The conductor nodded at the string quartet, counted them off, and the second dance began all at once. Momo spent a minute watching the people twirl before returning to her search.
And it wasn't long before it was a wallflower she did find, leaning against a pillar by a balcony door with his arms crossed and an expression that asked to be left alone. It had to be him. It had to be; she just knew it.
She shifted her grip on the rose she had just spent five minutes freshening up in the restroom. (Not that it had needed it; her family knew where to get hardy flowers. It was just that she felt as if she shouldn't be in the room when dessert started to be cleared away.) It was time for her to make her move.
She slipped behind his pillar and leaned against it herself, but as stealthy as she thought she had been, he turned around and checked her hiding place anyway.
"Hey," she said, smiling just a bit as she suddenly found herself staring into a pair of dark grey eyes. She fidgeted with the boutonniere stem.
"…Hey," he replied, staring right back at her.
And then, silence.
Saturday, 7:13 p.m.
t₁ = —5 minutes
"Hey, um," said Shoto, breaking gaze to look awkwardly off to the side. (This was real. This was happening. There was no turning back.) "May I have the next dance?"
The girl from his dreams began to giggle, and he quickly looked back at her. After an eternity (but not), she said, "Gladly."
Shoto wanted to let out a sigh of relief. Asking that one question had made him more nervous than he expected, but there was still more to come, he knew. He held out his hand as the music was ending, and when she took it, he pulled her out from behind the pillar.
Saturday, 7:15 p.m.
t₁ = —3 minutes
There was another bit of silence, during which Momo battled with her internal need for external confirmation. This was him, right? She had been so sure of it just a few minutes ago, but now that seemed more like an information high; something about this boy just didn't look the way her heart and long-buried memories said he would.
Saturday, 7:16 p.m.
t₁ = —2 minutes
As Shoto led them onto the dance floor, his dance partner seemed to tighten her grip on his arm.
"So, this is probably going to sound crazy, but…" she hesitated, and when Shoto looked at her, she wouldn't meet his gaze. "A long time ago, when I was really little, I met someone at one of these parties, and he was the first friend I ever made. And, we promised to see each other again, but we never did after that, and I know this is going to sound crazy, but—" she finally looked back at him and asked her question. "—I've had this feeling all night that it was you."
Saturday, 7:17 p.m.
t₁ = —1 minute
Her wallflower stopped, evidently deciding that they reached a good spot to begin their dance. Momo held her breath, afraid of being wrong but much too terrified to not make sure anyway.
"Yeah," he said. "I had that feeling too."
Momo let out that breath and smiled. "Then I believe this is meant for you," she said, swiftly pinning the little, pink rose she'd been carrying around to his blazer.
"Oh," he said, but she couldn't tell if what emotion it went with. "Right." He took her hand, and he slipped a corsage onto her wrist. It was a little roughed around, but it still matched the boutonniere.
She smiled as she settled her hand on his shoulder, excited to spend the night getting to know him.
(And, it was hard to catch, but he smiled back at her too as he put his hand upon her waist.)
Saturday, 7:18 p.m.
t₁ = 0
The conductor raised his baton, and the dance began.
author's note ii. aaaand then i could have just left it at that and it would have been a perfectly okay ending if i cut out a few prior bits so that there were no more dangling plot threads, but i didn't because this is barely the beginning of what i described in my original pitch. genuinely thought this was going to be a oneshot at first. how foolish of me.
fun fact every time i had to spell boutonniere i had to look it up. french isn't real and anyone who says that it is a real language is lying to you bc they don't want to admit they can't spell spanish. this not very hot take is a joke.
check out my tumblr (a-piece-of-shipping-trash) and ask questions about stuff i do. or just appreciate the fandom shitposts i reblog. or decide that i am your senpai and that i must notice you at any cost. (that has happened before.) but really i just crave attention and i'm not going to hide it.
anyway tune in next week for when tdmm experience the masquerade ball together. thank you for reading! please review, and as always, have a greaaaaaat daaaaaayyyy~~~