Drip- Sideshows {BoysLove}

Sideshow #17

“There is going to be an art exhibition followed by a book sale in the coming week, at Lady Crown’s countryside mansion.” Lucas read the newspaper aloud, “Do you want to go?”

“Most desperately.” Silk replied, rummaging through a pile of classics, “Let me see. What do I want?”

Lucas tapped his head lightly with his finger, “I remember last time you wanted the Count of Mont Cristo.”

“A better version, that is. Mine is so broken down that its front page is gone- you know I’ll never break a book. Something must happened to my poor bookie.” Silk corrected him, “What day is it going to be?”

“Thursday, it says.” The werewolf put down the paper onto the small glass table and looked out his small windows, “A good day that is.”

Silk snorted, “We’ll see.”

There were drinks and glasses, also dresses and suits and tuxedos. People were flowing around and greeting each other briefly in a social current. Paintings and drawings were hanging on the wall or in the middle of some rooms, on a pretty marble or original wooden stand.

“How do you find this place?” Amy Crown asked, “Interesting, perhaps?”

Twig nodded slightly, a glass of red wine in his left hand was shaken evenly in a gentle way, his right folded behind his back, palm facing out, “Yes, I do think it’s the most beautiful. The art is gorgeous.”

Suddenly one careless glimpse of the crowd caught his eyes.

“I just saw some friends.” Twig kissed the back of Lady Crown’s hand and left a crimson mark mixed with lipstick stain and wine, “Farewell.”

Amy Crown gave his back a meaningful look before turning away and to greet some more nobles and royals.

“Hey, Twig. I came for the books.” Silk immediately clamped onto Twig’s arm unconsciously in a girlish way and winked (in a more girlish way), “Do you want some white wine?”

“No, thanks- I like red.” Twig gave a sip to the glass, the corners of his mouth curling up as he gave a kiss onto Silk’s lips, which tasted of the great and fashionable but murderous beverage.

“I’m racist when it comes to wine.” Silk poured himself a glass of clear liquid after almost blushing his skin off, “Unlike some other liquid, which only comes in scarlet.”

Twig smiled and shook hand with Lucas, a friendly enough smile on his face, “Far as I know, wine does no good to you.”

“That’s true enough,” Silk admitted, “But I like the look of them. It feels real silky when they burn down your throat, though, and rummage in your stomach. Ah! If only you can feel wines that way.”

Twig’s face twisted, “You should more feel me that way.”

“I do, unfortunately.” He chuckled, “You are jealous of wine. Of wine to me."

The faerie blushed and freed his arm from Silk, “Stop annoying me and go look for your books.”

“It will start after nine.” Silk’s voice was husky and his expression slightly hurt that even his make-ups couldn't hide his sudden sadness- ages after ages people would inevitably become fragile- “Am I annoying?”

“People!” Lucas whispered, “Cut it out!”

It did no good.

Silk walked away, his back straight but he wasn’t watching where he was going. A waitress yelped when he stepped on her polished high heels. He crushed into people several times.

Twig squeezed the tide after him, saying “Excuse me” and “Sorry” half-heartedly.

Lucas just sighed and introduced himself to the faerie’s Queen, “Your Majesty, your son is…”

“Let him have his affairs.” Satina Mayblood shook her head carelessly and eyed him dreamily, “And let me have mine, young man.”

Silk’s head felt like lead. He was leaning against the railing of the balcony. Tears fogged his sight to the beautiful city before him.

Twig burst through the double-door behind him, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…”

He stopped his trail when he saw that Silk was sitting on the rails, his legs dangling.

“What are you doing?” Twig walked up and demanded, his hands clenched into fists.

Silk didn’t hesitate to answer, “Looking at the view.”

“Look, I know you are angry at me. But you can’t keep this on forever- there’d be only you and me in a few millennia.” Twig said harshly, but then a sad tone joined his voice, “If I want to go on.”

He was lost in his thought and the brilliant sight when Silk broke the silence, “What do you mean?”

The vampire’s voice had no longer anger in it. He wasn’t even concerned about “you and me”, with Lucas being left out.

“Just one century,” Twig leaned onto the handrails with his elbow supporting and his palms under his chin, “And it makes so much difference.”

Silk didn’t make a sound.

Twig knew him too well to ask; that was the sign that Silk would show people that he didn’t understand and that was the way he urged the speaker to go on.

“I am only that much older than you.” Twig nodded, as if he knew that Silk got the explanation and was satisfied.

“So close,” Silk turned around and hopped off the flat marble surface, “Yet so far. Just a gap of one hundred years, still you feel much older than me, and don’t have the nerve to walk as a living dead?”

“Hey!” Twig punched him in the arm, laughing, “You are the walking dead!”

“Not much difference.” Silk admitted, “But yes, I am.”

Twig opened his arms wide and grinned like a retard.

Silk hugged him, his hands resting on the small of the faerie’s back.

I’ll always love you no matter I like it or not.

“You are a retard.” Twig pushed him away after a several seconds, smiling to crazy.

Silk blushed, which costed a large amount of blood to do so considering how much he took in every meal, “Did you read my next thought, too?”

“Yes, unfortunately, I did. Now, could our wine-racist go and get himself some white?” Twig’s arm wrapped around Silk’s waist like a certain type of fabric gently and they walked into the crowded room once again, but peacefully and together.

These hopeless people, Lucas sighed and thought.