Chapter 39: Black Butterflies

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THIRD PERSON POV

Remember to breathe.

In and out. In and out.

Breathe...

Breathe!

"Fuck!" Jax exclaimed, popping open a few more buttons of his shirt as yet another trickle of sweat joined the puddles that were rapidly forming both underneath his arms and within the canal of his spine.

White knuckles curling around the edge of the sink, the bright green emerald of Jax's engagement ring caught the moonlight that snuck its way into the dressing room, distorted and colorful due to the stained glass that adorned the tops of the windows.

Jax gulped in lungfuls of air as his own emerald eyes remained fixated on the depths of the sink basin, wondering if there was some kind of magic out there that was strong enough to let him fit down the drain and hide in there forever.

"God/dess, c'mon, get a grip!" Jax whisper-shouted to no one but himself, attempting to wrangle a lasso around his rogue getaway plan.

To be fair, Jaxon didn't actually want to run away from it all, not really. He was just... so fucking nervous that he was three hundred percent sure that he was about puke his guts out, all over this fancy fucking outfit that Benji – having been made aware of the Beta's ineptitude for any form of reasonable fashion outside of sweatpants and a hoodie – had been so kind to help him pick out.

Finally deciding to give the rim of the sink a break from incessant strangulation, Jax opted to instead press the heels of his palms into the divots of his eye sockets, instead escaping into the firework-like lights that swirled and popped behind his overstimulated lids.

It wasn't until he pulled his hands back from their assault on his orbital bones that Jax cursed once more, peeking down at the black smudges that were now streaked across freckled skin. Peering into the mirror above the sink, the Beta caught a glimpse of the wreck he had so quickly become over the course of five, agonizing minutes. Maybe it wasn't just Daffodil and Tyrus who didn't need to be left unsupervised.

The lapels of his flowy, chiffon shirt were uneven, draping wildly to either side of his sharp collarbones, and somehow a few of his meticulously styled curls had managed to frizz right back up again. But worst of all, somewhere between sweating his ass off and grinding his eye sockets to dust, Jax realized that he'd essentially destroyed all of the hard work that Berlin had done to – and he quoted – 'give Jax the most fabulous make-over in the history of ever.'

At first, Jax felt pretty iffy about the whole concept of getting any sort of makeup slathered onto his face. After all, he'd never felt the need to accentuate his unconventional features any more than they naturally were. But one glimpse of the excitement that sparkled behind Berlin's eyes – a flicker of genuine happiness that was so much harder to come across these days – and the Beta found himself ass-down and face-up in some twirly makeup chair.

Jax could have sworn that the Omega had some sort of extra, hidden arms with how swiftly he poked and prodded all over Jax's face with an assortment of weird-smelling sticks, fluffy brushes, and something that reminded the Beta of a dishwashing sponge from the kitchen.

The whole process only took a total of about twenty-five minutes, but it felt like so much longer as Jax silently brooded through it, preparing himself for eons of disappointment when he looked in the mirror and saw the damage that Berlin was sure to have done.

The sharp gasp that escaped Jax once Berlin twirled the chair around so that he could see the finished product was one of an absolute spectacle as he gaped, tilting his head this way and as the ethereally gorgeous creature on the other side of the mirror stared right back at him, mimicking his every movement.

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