Halloween night was clear and cold and dark as pitch and lit by a full, aching moon.
"Feliks, I can't seem to get this on right. Is my breastplate facing the right way?" Toris asked uncertainly from the bathroom. He'd been trying to put on the armor for the better part of an hour, but all the buckles and straps and pointy bits were incredibly confusing. Peering out from the bathroom, he saw that their room was dark and empty. Toris grunted in indignation. That little traitor had left with out him!
But as his eyes grew more accustomed to the dark room, Toris noticed a bulge under the quilt on the bed.
"Feliks?"
"Go 'way," mumbled the blonde, voice cottony under the covers. "'M sick."
Tori's first thought was Then why are you lying in my bed? but he pushed the thought away and sat down next to the bundle of Feliks with a heavy, armor-studded thump.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
"No, I'm not, I just told you that I'm sick!" Feliks wailed. "I can't go to the masquerade!"
"Eh…" said Toris, scrambling, "But you were so excited –"
"And now I feel like I'm gonna puke."
Toris wrinkled his nose, sighing. "Well, let me get this costume off and I'll see about maybe making you some tea –"
Feliks shot straight out of bed at that. "No way! You can't, like, miss the ball. That'd be totally not fair."
"But if you're not going, I really have no reason to –"
"No way, you have to go." He scrambled out of bed and began to drag Toris toward the door with a tenacity that belied any serious illness. "You got all dressed up and you have your hair tied up all nice in a ponytail like you're off to war or something and it'd be, like, a huge waste if you didn't go and have a ton of fun."
Toris was more than a little perplexed. "But… but what about you - ?"
"Oh, I won't puke all over the bathroom, if that's what you're worried about," Feliks said off-handedly.
"That's not –"
"Go!"
And with that, Toris was shoved bodily, armor and all, out the door. It slammed closed behind him.
He blinked at it for a few moments, then called back inside. "I'll be home by midnight!" There was nothing to do but let Feliks have his way. Again.
He clanked down the steps of the dorms and out into the freezing clear yard. The grounds were lit strategically with bundles of thick, white, dripping candles, illuminating the path to the old ballroom. The nice thing about having a school so old… and, well, English… was its architecture. Multiple buildings dotted the grounds: the stone dorms with modern interiors, the halls and corridors of the academic buildings, and the clopping buttresses of the administration building, where the dining hall and the ballroom were situated.
Toris joined the throng of rowdy guys filing inside, in prison uniforms, James-Bond-style tuxedos, and a full outfit of Zorro regalia. Yep, that one was Antonio. Most of the boys had donned some kind of mask, mostly black, super-hero style eye strips. Toris slipped on his own, and old Mardi-gras half-mask in dark green. He refused to wear a hot, heavy helmet indoors, no matter how historically accurate it might be.
He slipped down the smooth marble staircase to the old ballroom, surveying the room. Although the student council had tried to add a theme, with black crepe paper and an odd amount of silver glitter (he couldn't imagine Kirkland had allowed that, yet here it was), the ballroom had an atmosphere all its own. The chandeliers, made electric only recently, cast a bright glow on the proceedings. A small string orchestra was playing classical waltzes interspersed with covers of popular music. Roderich joined them on the piano. The overall effect was strange, but not entirely unpleasant.
However, the dance floor was noticeably bare. Most of the guys were tucked into corners or hugging the snack table. Alfred, Arthur, and Francis – a superhero, pirate, and… well, someone shirtless – were engaged in heated conversation by the punch bowl.
Toris spotted his crew easily enough, loitering as they were in the furthest corner of the room. He skirted the dance floor, making his way over to them with heavy, metallic strides. Tino waved enthusiastically, his fake beard askew. Yep, he was what he was every year, a somewhat holiday-inappropriate Santa Claus. Berwald stood next to him, glaring at Lukas. They both wore nearly identical Viking costumes, though Lukas' was complete with… was that a battle-axe? Toris palmed the pommel of his own weapon, suddenly feeling grateful for its presence.
Eduard, who was resplendent in a foil-covered cardboard box that was somehow supposed to be reminiscent of a robot, ran up to him and awkwardly shoulder-punched a greeting. "Hey, Toris!" he said happily. "You look great!" He didn't wear a mask, but the silver face-paint on his cheeks gave him an unfamiliar, otherworldly look.
"Where's Feliks?" asked Lukas, slinging an arm around a bored-looking Orin, who seemed to be Robin Hood, only with pointy ears or something.
"Ill," said Toris with a sigh. "He had some kind of secret costume planned, too. He was the only reason I was going to come. I feel sorta awkward, now." His eyes flicked around the still-empty dance floor.
Tino smiled warmly through his thick synthetic beard. "Don't worry, the girls should be here soon. You'll have more fun when you have someone to dance with that will make Feliks jealous." He winked. Toris flushed.
"I-I wouldn't…"
"Wow. Would you look at those – Ow, Orin!"
The interruption came from a dazed-looking Lukas, who was staring at the marble staircase.
Oh. The girls had arrived.
It was as if the room had been frozen still with their arrival. Some thirty or so girls jostled, whispered and giggled at the landing of the stair, in various stages of undress and various states of death-by-glitter-asphyxiation. They had everyone's attention – even Toris' group, with its disproportionate amount of gay students, was not unaffected (and Lukas was being physically punished for that).
In pods of two or three, the boldest of the new-comers began to float down the steps. A few of the more cocksure boys stepped up and immediately asked them to dance. Most were obliged with blushes and giggles, and the floor began to fill with swirling skirts and half-remembered Cotillion dance steps. Toris idly scanned the girls, focused more on their costumes than anything, and even then only with a sense of vague detachment.
A susurrus of curiosity began to ripple around the room, however, as a group of girls appeared on the stair. Eduard elbowed Toris's side, wincing as he hit leather armor.
"Who is that? I call dibs,"
Toris looked up. There were three of them, attached at the hip in the confident way only pretty girls could be. Toris recognized Elizaveta, boldly without a mask and wearing what looked like a skimpy version of a European peasant-girl's dress. She immediately waved to Gilbert, who was squeezed onto Roderich's piano bench, poking him as he tried to play. The boy was wearing a knight's costume as well, Toris noted dully, though it was obviously plastic. He felt slightly better about his own ridiculous state of dress.
Elizaveta was flanked by two other girls. One, a slim, tiny blonde with ribbons in her hair and an old Victorian dress, was Lilli Zwingli, the sister to one of the boys at the school. But it was the other pretty little blonde girl that had everyone captivated.
She was decorated like a medieval lady, royalty. Her wine-red dress was embroidered with gold at the edges, and lace dangled from the cuffs. Under the overgown, a gathered cream and green bodice peered out, accented in gold as well. Her half-mask was adorned in feathers and clear rhinestones. As she slid across the floor, Toris couldn't help but notice that she walked with an air of absolute confidence. There was something unbelievably sensual about her.
God, no wonder everyone was staring, she was very, very –
"Ack. No, you have a boyfriend," Toris squawked out loud in response to the voices in his head. Eduard shot him a curious look, and Toris flushed. "Ah, no, it's okay, sorry." Mentally, he berated himself. She was pretty, sure, but she had nothing on Fel –
"Fuck yeah, she's coming this way," said Lukas with a grin. Orin hit him again.
Tino giggled, pulling Berwald away. "People are starting to show up. Lets dance!" he said excitedly.
A convenient excuse to leave seemed really good to Toris, too, especially as Lukas was right about the girl seeming like she was heading in their direction, leaving her friends with a wave and turning towards the boys. Toris thought it would probably be best to leave Lukas (or was she focused on Eduard? Not likely) to his lucky conquest.
However, Toris didn't move fast enough, and the girl was in front of them. She was slim, with the barest hint of a chest. Her smile was positively mischievous.
"You, knight," she said. "Care to dance?"
Toris was so surprised that for a moment, his eyes flicked around, wondering if another knight was in the area, if maybe she were talking about Gilbert; but no, Gilbert was across the room with Elizaveta and Roderich, so she was talking to him…
"Um…hello? Earth to Mars? You're spacing." The girl rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist. He noted that the color of her fingernails matched her dress.
Lukas and Eduard just stared.
The girl led him out to the dance floor. She held out her hand, palm down, fingers together. Slowly understanding, Toris knelt to kiss her hand, hearing a muffled growl from various jealous boys in the room. Toris' head spun as his arms slipped around the girl's shoulder, her waist, and they began to dance.
Immediately, the girl giggled, leaning close to Toris' face. She smelled of spices and… something else, something fruity.
"So, oh knight," she said, the hand on Toris' shoulder slipping down to his waist, threatening to go lower. "Does your boyfriend know you've got some girl all over you?"
Toris flushed, but didn't back away. "I – you – what? Um, how did you know… how did you know that I had a boyfriend?"
Her laugh was loud and bright and lingering, as beautiful as the spark in her deep green eyes, half-hidden behind her mask, and Toris recognized her scent, now – cinnamon and strawberry and –
Oh.
Shit.
"…Feliks?"
Then she – he – kissed him, in the middle of the ballroom, and it tasted of breathmints and lipgloss and triumph.
When it was over, Toris was not the only boy in the room who was slack-jawed. He stared. The first intelligent comment out of his mouth was:
"I thought you were sick."
Make that the first semi-intelligent comment.
Feliks raised an amused eyebrow. "I had to give a good excuse for why I wasn't here so that no one got suspicious. And Liet, you're, like, a horrible liar so I had to make sure that you thought it was the truth."
Toris almost pouted, not wanting to see the veracity in that statement.
"Anyway, you like it?" asked Feliks, breaking away for a spin in time with the waltz steps before twisting back into Toris' hold. "I think it makes me look a little flat-chested."
"Feliks, you are beautiful," said Toris without hesitation. "Most of the guys in this room are about to beat me up because they are so jealous. I just can't believe that you're here and you're wearing…"
Feliks grinned. "It feels good, huh? To be like this."
"Ksese…excuse me, but His Awesomeness requests a dance with this fine lady over here." A staying hand fell on Feliks' shoulder and a deep, arrogant voice squirmed through the dancers. Gilbert stood before the couple, gaze alight, eyeing Feliks as one would a shop window, full of possession and passion but little else, little appreciation or humanity. Toris prickled and was about to say something, but Feliks already had it covered.
"Hmmph!" he sniffed. "As if. Maybe if you grow up and grow a pair. And, you know, get hot."
Gilbert stared at him, speechless, possibly for the first time in his life.
"W-what?" he demanded. "I'm way hotter than… than this fag over here." He shoved Toris as emphasis. "Did you know this one has a boyfriend?"
"Umm, yeah, I did," replied Feliks with a trace of arrogant boredom. ."Gay guys are kinda hot. At least, more attractive than you, little boy." He smiled at Toris in a way that made his heart flutter in anxiety, before kissing him viciously, eyes locked on Gilbert's awestruck face.
"Now go away," said Feliks dismissively when they broke contact.
Gilbert gaped, stared and finally, marched stiffly away.
Feliks giggled. "Ohmigawd that was so fun! Did you see the look on his face? Priceless! Man, I hope Lizzy took pictures." Feliks kissed him again.
Toris couldn't believe it. Here he was, practically making out with his boyfriend, who was wearing a skirt, in the middle of the ballroom – completely decimating his long-time arch-rival in the process. Best Halloween ever.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Toris spotted Feliciano, a far-too-cheerful Phantom of the Opera, dragging a dog-eared Ludwig toward them.
"Ve~! Toris, why are you dancing with a girl?" he demanded bluntly. "Where's Feliks?"
"Um… sick…" Toris blushed under his mask as Feliks rolled his yes, a look confirming that Toris was, indeed, a horrible liar.
"Awww…" pouted the Italian boy. "I wanted to see his costume. Mmm… so he's sick."
Toris nodded quickly. "Yeah, really sick, got a fever and shakes and that sort –"
"Ludwig, lets go visit him! He must be so sad that he's missing the party!"
Immediate panic.
"Nonono you don't need to do that; he's actually really contagious –"
But Feliciano was not listening. He was gone, halfway across the ballroom, in fact. Toris turned to Feliks, face white.
"Well…um… they believed me…?" he offered weakly.
Feliks cussed, bending down and fumbling under his dress hem. "I was hoping I could stay longer, you know, like, past midnight?"
At that moment, the clock tower across the quad began to clang, causing both boys to jump, and Feliks to swear again.
"Ugh, just take these," he said, thrusting a pair of high-heeled boots at Toris. "I can't run in them. I'll see you back in the dorm, 'kay?"
"W-wait, wh- how're you going to get back in time? They're ahead of you!"
"Duh, same way I got out – out the back window and down a tree. Only, you know, reversed."
There was really no conceivable flaw with that plan.
Feliks kissed him on the mouth one more time – damn; where'd he learn how to make Toris' knees buckle like that? – and dashed out of the ballroom, giving Elizaveta a peace-sign salute on the way out. The girl indulgently watched him leave, then turned and gave Toris a long, slow wink. Yeah, she'd been in on it the whole time.
"Toris!" hissed Eduard from across the room, giving a little jerky wave that could best be interpreted as "come here, now, bitch." The robot-boy was surrounded by others – Alfred, Francis, Lukas, and a furious-looking Orin.
Toris swallowed. Oh, no.
Dutifully, he trotted over.
"Hey, guys, wh-"
"Who was she?" demanded Eduard, flopping arms encased in aluminum washing-machine piping onto Toris' shoulders in a way that he may have thought was threatening. Considering the costume made it hard for the kid to move his elbows, that may have been a lost cause.
But then Lukas was at his ear and he was definitely more frightening, with that axe and all. "Why was she kissing you?" he hissed, obviously put out. "Where'd she go so fast? Are you that bad a kisser?"
"Ummm… umm…" Oh, god, he really was bad at lying. "I… dunno… her name was … Fe – Fel – Felicia! Felicia and she was umm… felt uh…sick – um –"
"Then why on earth are you carrying her shoes?" cut in Francis, eyebrow quirking.
"Umm… you see…"
"Problem here, boys?" cut in a smooth, self-satisfied, female voice. Toris found himself with an arm flung around his shoulder conspiratorially.
"Ah… hi, Elizaveta," he said weakly. "Just… telling the guys about why Felicia left so suddenly. His eyes begged: Help me.
Elizaveta grinned, clearly promising he'd have to pay her back for this later, before turning on the jealous-looking boys in front of her.
"Felicia's a friend of mine," she said smoothly, "but she doesn't go to the girls' school; she lives in town and snuck out of the house. She was supposed to be home before midnight! Anyway, I'm pretty sure she left her shoes here so she could run better.
And because it was from the lips of a girl whose lips were not the focus of any of the boys, they believed her. Elizaveta smirked at Toris. "I'll take those and return them to her." She leaned down to whisper in Toris' ear. "Liked what you saw?"
Before Toris could stop himself, he replied: "Very much".
Elizaveta's laugh was low and cackling and not unpleasant. A little ominous, but…
"I'd better go check on Feliks. He's… sick, you know," said Toris helpfully, before dashing out of the room, completely red-faced, ignoring the protests of Eduard demanding more information.
So… is their cover blown? What the heck is going on – will Feliks get away with it, or is he outed, in front of the whole school? I hope you look forward to the next chapter. Um… also, the "stuff" I think a lot of you have been waiting for.