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Mirrorball | 2.
|| Dream (continued)
Her gaze slides eloquently over the room and then stops when she notices the masked man in dark cherry red staring up at her from afar. Her smirk only grows and she is unable to conceal her excitement. Turning back, she grabs the hand of Katie, who shows herself behind the railing in a strapless two-piece dress that matches Jack’s ensemble perfectly. The two make their way down the stairs, and Tyler can’t seem to take his eyes off of Arcadia, almost like he’s mesmerized by her presence. The gown she wears falls beautifully to the floor and trails down the steps behind her in smooth waves of silk. It is navy blue to pair with Steve, and embellished with silver beading. Around her neck she wears royal sapphires, welded together with diamonds on a sleek steel chain, and her delicate mask is garnished with a pearlesque design.
Nervously, Tyler takes a sharp breath in, and wipes his sweaty palms on the sides of his trousers. He loses sight of her as she merges with the crowd, and his brain goes wild with enthusiasm, trying to think of the right things to say when she approaches him. As he is straightening himself out, he adjusts the tie around his neck, and Lane glances at him with a small teasing smile.
The sound of Arcadia’s voice sends an exhilarated chill down his spine and he chews the inside of his lip, trying not to smile as she comes into his view once again. She makes her way through their small clique, letting go of Katie, hugging Jack and Lane, and kissing both of them on their cheeks. Then she stands still for a moment, and time seems to do the same for Tyler. The world is moving in slow motion as she lifts the skirt of her gown to perform a small curtsy for him. In return, Tyler finally lets himself show a smile and bows at her, arm bent over his midsection as he bends the best he can with only one leg to fully support him.
There are so many things he wishes to say, and each of his thoughts are comprised of all the different charming words he could use; You are shimmering, beautiful, stunning, marvelous, captivating… But all he can manage to say is: “You’re here.”
She breathes, almost as if she’s relieved and responds, “Of course I am.”
He reaches forward, gently taking her hand in his, and lifts it to his lips, placing a small, soft kiss on the back of her palm.
Arcadia can’t help but giggle, feeling a rosey blush wash over her face. “Fancy sharing a dance with me later?” she asks, sliding her fingers out of his.
“I can’t dance,” Tyler’s gaze falls onto the dreaded leg brace, almost forgetting it was there until this moment.
She purses her lips, tilting her head, but refuses to even glance where his eyes have gone. “Anyone can dance,” she tells him, brow raised. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out on the floor… eventually.”
As the light music continues to be played for the room, Tyler takes a step back to observe his friends in their happiness. He has not witnessed them like this for what feels like an eternity, and today is like the bittersweet end to a not-so-wonderful year long endeavor. He has not seen Steve so much as crack a smile in months, but tonight he is grinning ear to ear as he catches up with Jack, cracking jokes and telling stories as a blush covers both their cheeks. Lane and Arcadia pick up right where they left off, something that befuddles Tyler to say the least. It is as though none of the bad things had happened, and the two never once felt betrayed by the other. Katie is happy, Jack is happy, Lane is, Steve is, Arcadia too, and then he is. Tyler Eiden Starvos is at peace for the first time in a very long time, and he never expected it to happen in a place like this.
The tune is picking up now and Lane is off with Jack, finding a spot on the open dance floor to spin him around and laugh when he nearly stumbles over. Arcadia joins them with Katie by her side, the two dancing very closely and throwing flirty banter back and forth with one another. Tyler assumes his position to watch them from the sidelines, grinning to himself and almost wishing he were one of them.
Steve approaches to his right, raising his voice over the music as he asks, “Can I get you anything? A drink, or something to-”
“No, thank you.” Tyler’s eyes finally move away from the crowd, “I am quite alright.”
The Captain nods, adjusting the mask on his face in an awkward sort of way.
“It is a beautiful room, don’t you think?” Tyler tries to strike up a conversation, turning his head to look around once more.
“Huh? Oh, yes.” Steve nods and slides his hands into the pockets of his trousers, “It’s a shame, really.”
Tyler’s brows come together and he glances back at the man, confused, “How so?”
“Well because it’s all a dream, kid.” The response reaches Tyler like it’s coming through long winding tunnels and Steve’s voice echoes, almost like he’s speaking from across an empty cave, or through some heavily reverberated telecom. The words almost don’t make any sense, but Steve says them so matter-of-factly, that Tyler considers them to be true.
The two meet eyes once again, only this time the Captain is not the same man he was a moment ago. He is rugged and dirty, bearded with dark circles beneath his eyes. His clothes are worn down and unwashed and the back of his hand is terribly bruised as he raises it to his face-- but then in an instant he is Steve again, dressed in his dapper suit, clean, hair slicked back and hands healed, smiling widely as he watches Arcadia spin Katie around on the dance floor. The morbid sight only lasts for a second, and in that second it unsettles Tyler deeply, but as soon as the illusion is over and the Captain is back to normal, the two return to their conversation as though nothing ever happened.
“I’ve always liked the stained glass windows. Reminds me of a church I went to in Germany,” Steve lifts his chin to direct attention to the tall, beautifully colored panes that send warm evening light cascading through in a marvelous array of beams.
Tyler tilts his head upward to admire the glasswork, getting lost in the beautiful spectrum it produces. There are so many colors for his eyes to appreciate, and he leans over to tell this to Steve, but when his gaze returns, Arcadia is standing there instead. Startled, Tyler loses his train of thought as the world seems to move in slow motion once again and he wonders how she can make him feel this way.
“Dance with me,” she says, offering her hand.
He hesitates, “I’m not sure I-”
Arcadia hushes him by gently taking his arm, and leading him to the center of the ballroom. The music is softer now, melodic and smooth. It reminds Tyler of honey and other sweet things, and he can’t help but feel pink-red while listening to it with her standing in front of him.
Getting closer to him now, Arcadia places her hands on Tyler’s shoulders, and glances downward to make sure he is standing up alright. He watches her do this, and nods his head when their eyes meet again, as if to tell her he’s okay.
“Can I..?” she begins, reaching down to lift one of his hands. He doesn’t object as she moves it to rest on the small of her back, but his heart races when she does this. Once he settles into this position, she teases, “See? Not so bad.”
A soft: “Mhm,” is all that Tyler can manage to respond with in his nervousness. It’s not that he feels uncomfortable in Arcadia’s presence, it is more the overbearing fear of his lame leg giving out from underneath him and the anticipation of terrible embarrassment.
She seems to read this on his face and gives his free hand a reassuring squeeze with hers opposite. “Don’t worry. We’ll go slow,” she says and then jokingly remarks: “It is a slow dance, after all.”
A short breath comes from Tyler’s nose as a small smile pulls at his lips. Her words have sparked some confidence in him, and he stands up straighter, fastening his arm tighter around her waist, ready for their dance to begin.
The two start to move, swaying in time with the soft beat. Arcadia finds herself grinning at the tune and Tyler continues to glance down at his feet, trying his best to follow hers. After a few moments, he gets the hang of it and even manages to spin her underneath his raised arm.
She giggles as she faces him again, “Look at you! Out here, dancing with the regulars...”
His hand returns to her back and he says over the music, “I am dancing with you, and you are not like the regulars.”
“No?” Her head tilts to the side and she looks into his eyes.
“Not at all.” Tyler’s expression falls, and he pulls Arcadia into a gentle embrace. He sighs against the side of her head, a sadness in the breath he lets out. Her arms wrap tightly around his neck as she deepens their hug, producing the same sort of woeful sigh. There is a mutual headache felt between them that alerts the floodgates behind their two pairs of varicolored eyes. It is a raw feeling they share in this moment. One of dread, longingness, and inimitable sadness, as Tyler comes to a harsh realization. Despite how real it feels to be in this desired reality, it is truly nothing more than a dream, a hope, a wish. The way Steve’s appearance had faltered, the way Arcadia and Lane could be the best of friends again, it is all so impossible, and it tears so harshly at the two of them to know that this is how things could have been, but now never will be.
“What are you doing, Tyler?” Arcadia whispers into his shoulder, and somehow he can hear her over the melody that still plays. She pulls away to meet the perplexed and terribly sorrowful look on his face and then continues, “You know this is just a dream.”
Almost desperately, Tyler holds Arcadia's hands in his and presses them to his lips, shaking his head in denial, “I don’t want it to be,” he mumbles into their entwined fingers, and his voice comes out in a soft, broken timbre. He knows it is true, he knows she is correct, but he just can't accept it. The night is so perfect some might say it is too good to be true, and it is. He does not want to wake up from this one.
Arcadia pulls her hands away, slowly and gently, like she’s afraid she’ll break Tyler’s heart if she moves any faster. As much as she also wishes she could stay with him, she knows a goodbye is what he needs, and closure is what this dream has all been for. The chance to see everyone he loves as they once were: happy, lighthearted, and so full of love.
So, as the music dies down and the masquerade revelers fade away, Tyler Eiden Starvos stands there with his butterfly, tempted to beg her not to go. However, he stays quietly put.
“I love you, jellyfish,” she says to him, hands folded behind her back as she takes another step away from him.
He swallows hard and almost goes after her, but instead he just mutters, “I know you do.” His voice is quiet, but then he raises it once more to say, “Arcadia?!” He calls to her as she finally turns her back to him.
His butterfly freezes.
A sharp breath in. Tyler knows he would forever kick himself if he did not say these words in this moment, so finally, he says them: “I love you too.”
With that authentic almond smirk dressing her face, she slowly disappears, leaving him standing completely alone, crestfallen in the middle of the ballroom.
Hanging his head, Tyler shambles over to the spiral staircase where he sits on the third step. His fingers slide beneath the mask that covers his eyes and it loosens as he stifles a cry, feeling the tears well up, but knowing they will never fall. Holding the mask between his fingers now, he traces his thumb over the gold trim of it. He is stalling, trying his best to stay in this dream for as long as he can, but what’s the use? His butterfly flew away in this reality too.
With one last heavy breath, the grieving young man, Arcadia’s jellyfish, friend and so much more stands up, numb leg shaking beneath his weight. With a weak flick of his wrist, he tosses the mask onto the floor at the front of the steps he had been sitting on. He feels the sting of salty tears in his eyes and the ache at the back of his skull that begs him to cry, but he doesn’t. He won’t. He can’t. Instead he shuffles over to the empty black piano, pulling out the seat. He places himself behind the keys and holds out both of his shaking hands. He closes them into tight fists and holds them in that pose for a just a moment, then releases. Their tremble ceases slightly, and he begins to play the song that’s on his mind, starting with a simple note on one key. He plays it three times, and then the music pours from him. Effortlessly, he sings and he plays as the room slowly fades into nothing but the backs of his eyelids.
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Mirrorball | 1.
|| Dream
The room seems empty before the guests arrive. Tall ballroom ceilings meet in a beautiful four-beam arch and echo the sound of shuffling feet like angels dancing in the heavens. Soon, these masquerade revelers will be dancing too. They file in, the first arrivals. The silly early folk that appear just on time, not a moment too late. Some are only so punctual in order to grab their first pick at the hors d’oeuvres, and others simply know the anxieties of arriving in a room already full. Leisurely, their bodies fill the ballroom as they descend from the steps of a marble and gold spiral staircase, all dressed in a wide variety of colorful apparel.
Tyler arrives in the second crowd --fashionably late, as some call it-- arm looped tightly through Lane’s as she helps him weave steadily through the split people have created at the top of the stairs. His limp is hardly noticeable as she leads him onward, and neither is the brace his left leg wears beneath the outfit he has on. It is a proper occasion, and he is dressed in a hand-me-down suit jacket, black polyester. Underneath it is a collared shirt, dark cherry red and smoothed to perfection, complete with a black silk tie. His date wears the same color scheme, and their venetian style masks compliment one another in gold trim design, fitting perfectly to each of their faces. Her long gown is made of smooth red satin, and just barely brushes the floor as they continue down the steps, slowly, and holding onto the railing, making their way through the growing ocean of people in the ballroom.
“Are we early? I don’t see anyone,” says Lane, leaning over to Tyler as her eyes still scan the room. He gives her a funny look and she smiles, shaking her head. “I mean, I see plenty of people, but none of the ones that we know.”
Tyler twists his neck to look back the way they came, eyes squinting as he looks for a familiar figure, but doesn’t find one in the sea of masked party-goers. “They will arrive soon I’m sure, and Jack was not far behind us,” he turns back to her as they stop, and sees she is already looking at him.
“Relax Ty, you look so nervous.” She flattens the material on his shoulders, then brushes his cheek with the back of her hand. “Arc will be here soon,” she reminds him.
His anxious heart slows a bit at the mention of her name. “I know,” he says simply, “but gatherings like this are not something I frequent, and my leg...”
“You will be fine, I promise.” Lane reassures him, and the two move toward the edge of the crowd, to a table laid with drinks in ice totes, and snacks on marble white plates. The cloth beneath it all is a deep royal blue, with a beautiful Victorian design stitched along its hem. Lane looks over the spread, and happily helps herself to a garnished deviled egg, smiling through her puffed out cheeks.
Meanwhile, Tyler scans the room again, nervous eyes pivoting back and forth as he searches for something to focus them on. He watches a small group of men in the midst of hearty laughter, and studies how they compose themselves -- shoulders back, hands stuffed half way into their pockets. He straightens out his own posture to match theirs, and then continues on. The next clique he finds is a pair of ladies and their dates, who look far less pleased to be attending. The women smile, and one of them seems to notice Tyler’s stare, so he nods his head at her and quickly turns away.
“Punch?” Lane’s voice breaks in through his thoughts as he faces her again.
“Hm?” He mumbles, then sees she is holding a clear glass full of some brightly colored liquid. It looks like it may be sweet but Tyler can’t really tell, considering how fluorescent pink it is.
She holds the glass out towards him and repeats herself, “Punch, do you want some?”
“Does it have anything ...special in it?” he asks, taking the cup from her hand and bringing it up to his nose.
“I mean, it has ice,” she jokes with him, watching as he lowers the drink.
His head tilts down ever so slightly, “You know what I meant.”
Lane giggles, “I assure you, it hasn’t been spiked,” she raises her eyebrows on the last word, then finishes with a cheeky: “Not yet.”
Eyeing her, Tyler takes a sip. The cool drink stays in his mouth for a moment as he decides whether or not he likes the taste. At first, it is sweet like he imagined it would be, but then there is a hint of lemon and raspberry that adds quite the sour kick. He licks his lips after puckering them a bit, and hands the drink back to Lane, who grins before taking another gulp.
For another few moments, the two walk together, sharing small talk and glances around the room. Lane makes friendly remarks to the lady passerby, complimenting gowns, masks, hairstyles and shoes. Tyler likes that she socializes so easily, and that she includes him in the conversations so he’s not just following her around. She keeps his mind busy so it doesn’t have to wander, and he feels rather secure in her company.
As the ballroom fills more, the masquerade revelers disperse themselves to the outer edges of the dance floor. Music begins, a soft folk song reverberating through the room, product of the pianist stationed to the right of the spiral steps. His tune is joined by two types of guitar --bass and acoustic-- as a soft snare drum pulls it all together. Tyler closes his eyes as the two pause their stroll and he listens for a moment, trying to hear past the sound of soft chatter and shuffling shoes. The song is green-white to him, and soft silver-blue. The kind of feeling one gets when standing in the light of a summer moon. His eyes open again as he leans over to tell Lane of the colors he feels, when she just so happens to spot someone she recognizes and waves them on over.
From the crowded edge of the spiral steps emerges Jack, dressed in a dark pink shirt, buttoned from top to bottom and tucked into his white dress pants. Following close behind him is Steve, wearing a full suit of navy blue, silver and white accenting his collar, cuff and mask. He carries Jack’s mask for him too, and hands it off when they finally reach Lane and Tyler.
“Damn, you two clean up nice.” Lane remarks, reaching forward to fix the mask as Jack struggles to put it on.
He gently swats her hands away, “You guys don’t look half bad yourselves.” He jokes, finally securing the object on his face.
Steve lifts an arm, and Lane hugs him, happy to, after not seeing him for so long. He smiles down at her when she pulls away, and then shifts his eyes to Tyler, offering a hand for him to shake, “It’s good to see you,” he says, winking.
Tyler obliges, nodding to say you too.
“So tell me, what’s a pair of good-looking guys like you doing without your dates?” Lane asks, looking around in an exaggerated manner.
Jack laughs, “Well Steve is practically my date now, because ours left us the second they saw the hors d’oeuvres.”
“But they are here..?” Tyler interjects, thinking of one person in particular.
The blonde narrows his eyes knowingly beneath his mask, “Arc is here, yes.”
Tyler squints at him, but then lifts his gaze to the spiral staircase. He would have come up with a clever remark, but he does not have the time to think of one as the figure paused at the top of the steps catches his attention. His eyes focus and he recognizes her; he’d know that almond smirk anywhere. Arcadia has gracefully entered the ballroom.
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