He had been waiting twenty minutes for his date's arrival, standing by the staircase that led down into the ballroom. He knew that it was useless to wait, because it was painfully obvious that they weren't coming. That he had been stood up yet again. He checked his watch for the tenth time that night, only to sigh and shove his hands back into his pockets. No doubt when he called them the next morning they would give him the same bullshit excuse they always did.
It was ridiculous, how he thought that staying with them, no matter how many times they hurt him, was ideal. It was ridiculous how he knew that they didn't care about him, but yet he still stayed.
He leaned against the wall, cursing at how stupid he was. He stared up at the staircase, as if his date would somehow magically appear.
"Is everything alright?"
His gaze went from the staircase to the man who had asked the question. He wore a gold and black mask, but Egill could still see the hint of amusement in the man's sharp, blue eyes.
"Everything is fine." He answered, rolling his eyes. "Everything is perfectly fine."
"Your tone suggests otherwise."
"Alright, you got me." He gave a bitter laugh. "Everything isn't fine. Are you happy now?"
The man tilted his head to the side. "No." He said, taking a step forward. "Tell me what's wrong."
"I got stood up. Now leave me alone so I can sulk in peace."
But the man didn't leave him alone; instead, he took another step forward so that he was standing right in front of Egill, able to look down on him.
The Icelandic boy felt his breath catch in his throat, and his heart seemed to stop.
"This isn't the first time?" The man asked; thumb brushing along Egill's cheek.
"N-no…"
The man then stepped away from him, acting as if he hadn't just practically pinned Egill to the wall.
"Dance with me?" He asked, reaching out his hand.
Egill cursed himself for taking it.