‿︵‿୨ ♡ allus ♡ ୧‿︵‿

✧༺♥༻ FIRST MEETING / your first interactions

➵ it all began with stolen glances, shy greetings, and a lot of fleeing and catching (most of the running away was from [name]).

➵ joseph grew very curious from your first fleet. he is accustomed to people revealing their smiles to him, exaggerating their adoration for his skills and looks. you running away like that on the first day you both interacted captured his attention ! oh, how fast you were on that day. he remembered it all.

a tap on [name]'s shoulder interrupted his train of thought. he turned around, his gaze immediately diverting away, but catching a glimpse of the--- " excuse me, kind sir. good evening. are you [name], by any chance? " the photographer. the photographer of the campus, presenting [name] his hand. in his palm laid an item of the man's possession. at a distance behind him situated a small group of individuals which even seemed far too large for [name]'s eyes and comfort --- joseph's admirers, he assumed, smiling and giggling behind their hands at the sight of joseph and his ethereal stature. " i am joseph desaulniers. pardon my distruption, but this was dropped. i was wondering if this was yours, its crest bears your name-- " least to say, joseph was incredibly taken aback, greatly confused when the man fled at a pace so quickly he had to replay the moment in his mind. " ... sir? sir, wait --- oh, oh dear. he is quite fast... "

➵ joseph seems to appear out of nowhere every time you try to run (however, he knows his limits to respect your comfort). hesitated on entering a room because he was there and decided to leave? he suddenly almost collides into you at the hallway's next turn. everything seemed so coincidental, but he found that, through these ... "accidents", he can strike a conversation with you!

" oh, i apologize, dear [name], " joseph said that time, almost sounding sincere. he was, oh he was, for frightening his dear [name]; he did not wish to scare the boy, but it was all a part of his plan. " i was deeply immersed in thought, i was not paying full attention to where i was headed. " he dusted his coat ever so slightly. " however, i am curious; are you leaving so soon? you might miss the most breathtakingly beautiful moment of the event." he paused for his next words. he offered a hand, his eyes gleaming with genuine excitement, " i understand it can be a little overwhelming, but do not go just yet --- i promise, the event is worth your while. i will ensure your satisfaction, if you allow me? "

✧༺♥༻ ACT OF COURTING / pursuing <3

➵ oh dear, how the pet names grow bit by bit, just gradually, until he barely even calls you your name anymore !

➵ joseph, ever the formal, loving man, chases absolute perfection and your satisfaction by courting you! joseph is not a man who rushes, especially when pursuing a lover. he sees it as an intimate, vulnerably process. a procedure to cherish and handle carefully. he will take his time to prove just how serious he is about making you his spouse; planning little dates (which began from a small walk, until you both ended up in a cozy restaurant), holding doors open for you, writing you little letters. he will do anything, anything at all to charm you. to make you consider having his hand !

➵ joseph does not care much about the public eye during courting; he'll lightly romance you on the spot if you're there without a care in the world about the potential gossip that may form soon. in fact, he is pleased to know such word will go around anytime later on. he will give you a flower right during dinner, a small bag of sweet treats by the campus fountain, place a kiss on your cheek in the middle of the hallway --- to him, all that matters is the two of you !

" are you still so shy, dear? " he teased, " alright, perhaps just a hug for now will do. " ... he steals another kiss before doing so. <3

➵ surprise head kisses. at some sudden moment, you would feel a quick, warm thing on your head before it disappears. he will act as if it never happened just to see you fussing rather adorably about the matter !

" a kiss, you say? i kissed you? " joseph mused, turning away 'cluelessly', twirling a strand of his hair on his finger, " oh, no, no, sweet [name], i have not a clue on what you're talking about. " " you felt it? dearest, perhaps a ghost is with us now --- no, no, i did not do it. my hands are right here, no? no, i swear, i did not--"

➵ you will receive teasing from the campus' photographer . lots of it. of course, when he believes you are comfortable, he must put a smile on your face by teasing you! his teasing tone is also always accompanied by that enchanting, sometimes wickedly mischievous smile of his. he wants to brighten up your day, or at least change it up a bit from your usual routine of running away.

" [name], " his voice was controlled. too well, even; soft, indulgent, and languid. he always knew how to tone himself exactly how it would work for the bashful man ! and, 'unfortunately' for [name], the photographer's precise vocal adjustments succeeded to capture even the faintest hint of a blush on boy's face every single time. and joseph knew that. he prided himself on it. with one hand, the photographer relaxed to lean against one of the classroom desks. the other was used to flick an edge of the photograph he produced with his camera minutes prior. joseph shifted closer to the shy man, a soft yet nearly-devious smile on his lips as he observed the similarities between his model, [name], and the man on the photograph. " quite the model you are... the finest man i have ever seen. i take that you will be my most exquisite model for the many decades to come. it would certainly be a shame for you to remain hidden any longer, " joseph pressed on, tracing an edge of the card ever so gently on the latter's chin. he was not surprised when [name] looked away. quite frankly, he was pleased. " say, be my model. not just for today, but onwards. it's about time that you draw more attention --- you have definitely already caught mine --- to the uniqueness and extravagance you possess, hm? "

➵ joseph will enlighten your curiosities about what he can do, and, on the topic of teasing, joseph will tease or woo you in the middle of demonstrating his hobbies. practicing fencing with him? suddenly, the movements seem more intimate than correct; guiding your fingers to accurately hold the weapon but far too slowly. looking through his photography collection --- does he need to lean so close? of course, of course he does !

➵ joseph will dress more sophisticatedly than he already does. joseph wishes to look his best in front of you, and so, his efforts in wearing the best clothing he has only skyrocketed every time he hears you compliment an individual's attire or express your adoration for a style.

(SURV) NORTON CAMPBELL

norton who, despite his cautious and 'unapproachable' demeanor at first, is actually not a complete grump. he is willing to help those who are close to him. and most especially when it comes to you, his beloved.

norton is capable of being gentle, and he is when around you. just being in a relationship already declares that you are very, veryyyy, vverrryy dear to this hesitant man, and so when you're that close, he'd be loving towards you.

norton gets jealous easily and he is willing to show it. be it a glare, a tight hold on you, menacingly standing behind you, or a word of disgust and hidden spite, he makes it clear that others should not get too close to you. listen, he's lost a lot, he wasn't losing more than he already had. and losing you meant losing everything.

norton shares his meals with you ... when he sees that you don't have enough. he can still be selfish with his food.

norton sneaks a hug on you, and he so happens to do them everytime you're focused on something. whenever he hugs you, he'd whisper loving and grateful words to you. how someone like you chose him, hell -- how you even breathed the same air as him --- he thanks you in murmurs.

if he can, if it's safe, norton also steals just a tiny peck from you during matches. say you're both decoding together. just a very short and light kiss.

norton easily gets heated / angry after failed matches. he would either immediately head to his room to isolate himself or to yours, where the anger would go away much quicker. your hugs never fail to calm him down. and bit by bit, he will start to talk again, ranting on and on about the annoying bits in a match.

during cuddle sessions, norton is the big spoon --- rarely will you find him wanting to be the little spoon; nuh uh, that's your role. norton is very cautious and wants you in his arms instead of it being the other way around so he can really make sure you're safe. if he's the little spoon, then he can't easily directly look at you. plus, he doesn't like being vulnerable.

norton cherishes the metals and gems that he keeps in his own room and he shows them to you very excitedly. he knows a lot about them and is willing to keep you in his room for an hour showing you his collection --- it's a small collection, but there are things.

years after you both got together, norton rarely calls you by your name anymore. he uses your nickname(s) and many other endearments. it may not seem like him, he would definitely deny doing it, and it would take years before he starts doing it, but he would. he loves and trusts you dearly and he shows it through these names.

FOOL'S GOLD + SURV! reader

listen, i feel like fool's gold would try playing pranks on you if he wasn't in a match with you. he sucks at it --- you can't even call them big pranks, but he's trying. reading? he'd 'jump' out of a corner with that hideously expectant smile on his face (you probably already heard him breathing and his rocks moving while he was hiding). reaching for something? it amuses him to see you think you could reach it --- he grabs it before you can. waiting for a friend? suddenly you can hear deep breathing behind you, directly above you.

fool's gold likes his axe very much and is proud of it. much like survivor norton, he would show his precious possessions to you --- except fool's gold wouldn't really talk about it so much. however, he might be aggressive and may accidentally (or purposely) scare you while showing the axe. again, he is amused by you.

fool's gold tries to spare you everytime you're in a match with him. 'silly you, believing you were sneaky crouching behind a pallet like that' --- he sees you most of the time, but he chooses to ignore you and goes after another. when he has to go for you, he tries to not hurt you. too much, at least.

fool's gold laughs and plays with you a bit while you're on the chair. once more, the sight of you just cheers him up so much and he is curious about you. a few times, he gently combs up a strand of your hair (it's hard though. it slips so easily from his fingers) and curiously lets it fall between the gaps of his rock-hand. he also hesitantly touches on your hand or your shoulder. just a very light nudge.

if permitted, fool's gold follows you everywhere. terrifying, but you knew he wouldn't hurt you --- he just lingers behind you. looking here and there, watching you do your thing. just seeing you do your little survivor things like eating, carrying something, or just walking, already ignites a sense of joy he long thought gone.

fool's gold carries you from time to time. ask, and he will lower himself to offer you a ride. and it's quite fun, too, and he is so gentle (or tries to be). you just have to get used to the possibly rocky surfaces which may hurt.

fool's gold keeps you safe from other hunters that may seem .. a bit more than untrustworthy. he himself does not trust a single hunter besides maybe just a few. as mentioned, he's always with you --- he sees what's going on and will quickly interfere if another hunter is being too threatening towards you.

andrew would want to be close to you at all times. he's never had anyone close to him growing up, having lost his mother at an age so young, and so he is so, so attached to his lover. whether it'd be just holding your elbow, or even being around you --- anything is fine. he is largely dependent on your comfort.

andrew does not have a lot of energy to socialize. however, with you, it seems as if it regenerates so quickly. residents of the manor report that, suddenly, he's no longer frowning and sulking whenever you are around.

andrew loves physical affection. as long as you are both away from prying eyes and potentially dangerous individuals (and the sun), he is willing to cuddle up for hours.

andrew adores the praise that you rain upon him. while he might say nothing and only bashfully nod, his heart pounds so quickly he might just explode if he doesn't embrace you on the spot--- that is how grateful he is. growing up, he has been nothing but insecure and self-conscious. hearing you say it would be enough for him to melt.

speaking of which, andrew has issues managing his self-esteem. he often questions his worth and his behaviors are very obvious despite his attempts to hide his struggles. he may deny your help, but he wants it. he wants reassurance, and he wants it from you.

andrew is cautious especially if it's about protecting you. andrew may be timid and shy, but he isn't a baby. he will do whatever it may take so long as he is assured that you are safe even if it means making a few enemies around the manor.

✧༺♥༻

BONUS: developing feelings

andrew kept pushing these feelings down, deep down. he tried to get rid of them before they could grow --- he became stern, avoidant, and even a little 'rude' towards you for a while in hopes of erasing these feelings.

between the both of you, it might be that you were the one who confessed first

during your confession, andrew attempted to flee out of embarrassment and the fear of vulnerability. once. twice. mayybeee thrice --- you couldn't count anymore, you had to drag him back to you

it was definitely a difficult day trying to convince him, but with a word here and a few touches there, he finally calmed down.

this is what he thought.

it had always been this way for frederick, his mind set solid on pursuing music and dedicating his time to the art, never ceasing his chase even during the most scarring situations in his undeniably miserable life.

to him, it was perfection or nothing.

hence why he attended the concert of the city's new vocalist.

and god, was it ... worth it. every moment of the concert; her vocals, her voice, her. frederick, for the first time in god knows how long, felt pulled to the opportunity of approaching the vocalist. he had his attention focused on her figure as she sang, finding it in himself reluctantly wanting to talk to her.

the utter control she held in her vibratos was a sight he would never forget. how she could do it so effortlessly was a wonder he could never come to answer.

(name), a truly magnificent form of art. never has frederick admired anything so profoundly, believing in his own capabilities of music and being impressed only by the fewest individuals. he has long lost the admiration he beheld once for people, his curiosity overshadowed by the shameful mediocrity everyone unfortunately had.

.˚₊‧༉︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. AFTER THE PERFORMANCE

(name) was exhausted. relieved that the show was over, she felt at peace knowing that she no longer had to exert such energy when she finally makes it to her room---

" pardon me, " a rather soothing voice called. and came into her view was a man in red, a cane behind his back. " i do wish i am not ... intruding or interrupting you. i couldn't help but personally give you my appreciation of your ... delightful talent in singing. "

(name) felt a sense of tension in her body, suddenly feeling the need to look away or hide elsewhere. this has happened quite a lot --- where admirers come close after a performance, but for an odd reason, it felt a little more intense with this individual in particular. his controlled tone, his clothes, his very demeanor --- it felt as if he was of the higher class. wealthy, that is certain.

" thank you, mr..? " she held on, voice a little softer.

" kreiburg, " the pianist continued, straightening his back just a little bit. however, he couldn't resist wandering his gaze down and away. it was a hard habit to break as he has, for so long, strayed away from friendly exchanges. " frederick kreiburg. "

(name) acknowledged the information with a nearly-silent hum before facing the direction she was initially headed towards.

" mr. kreiburg, it is lovely to have met you this evening. " (name) nodded, " however, i must retire to my room--- "

" hold on, " the pianist held her there, almost taking a step forward. as he further analyzed her face, that tired yet intrigued expression, he made out the shy and meek expression that she held yet tried to push away. " would.. would it be a burden for two musicians to perhaps, merge their work? "

(name) is taken aback by the request, prolonging the silence by a few seconds. " sorry? "

" i am a musician myself, " frederick murmured, hesitating for a moment. he did not know if he was being too straightforward. too intrusive. " a pianist. and ... i do see a certain potential in a performance hosted by you and i. a duet, even. "

was he doing too much? what if he looked like a creep? she would certainly decline. what was he thinking? the city's favorite vocalist would certainly spread word about him, deeming him a sick wretch with ill intensions---

" i would love to, mr. kreiburg, " (name) breathed out at last. her eyes seemed brighter with joy, and yet they flickered away similarly to his own in response to shyness. " i would be delighted! "

questions swarmed the pianist's head. was she not freaked out by him? did she not see him some dirty, eerie fan who'd follow her everywhere?

the vocalist suddenly reached for a nearby attendance sheet, ripping off a tiny piece and writing on the empty space with the quill beside it. she then, so quickly, held frederick's gloved hand and almost pushed the folded paper too hard (out of panic) into his grasp before excusing herself for the night, shying away from the man.

frederick could barely catch himself as he, almost instinctively, wanted so terribly to reach out. for her to stay.

dazed by disbelief, both from having just directly spoken to his admired vocalist and having a note with her own writing in his hands, frederick opened the note with trembling fingers. and there, he read its contents.

may 21st, [year] a duet prompted by (name), the city's vocalist, and another musician, whose names are signed below. signed: [SIGNATURE] signed: (name) (duet partner/s) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

mr. kreiburg, 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦; 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘶𝘦𝘵. 𝘪𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪. (name)

(name)'s signature was there, so beautifully scripted by her own hand. perhaps it was worth the panic when he approached.

with the slightest hesitance, frederick's eyes fluttered ever so slightly before bringing the page closer up to his face. he then neared the paper to his lips and whispered against the page,

" a duet, it shall be. "

... one of the concert attendees almost had their mouth agape at his action to which the pianist responded with a repressed glare, coughing quietly to seem as if he was just relieving himself from some health problem and definitely not trying to calm himself down from getting a heart attack.

the sight of the attendee running off had frederick rolling his eyes. if there was anything a potential eavesdropper would see, it would be his 'rudeness', not the burning of his cheeks from embarrassment.

and he was furious about it. he always has been. just today, today shall be naib's "unlucky" day where he would finally face (name)'s wrath as deserved.

naib laid down on his bed, grunting and groaning all quietly to himself as he wrapped a measly bandage around his wounded forearm. no, wounded was an understatement. it looked as if it could fall off, with burns and scratches and all other things so terrible. but it was a sight he knew by heart. perhaps his years as a soldier has trained him not only for the situations in battle, but for the wounds he'd have to see on himself.

naib wrapped it once, twice, ... and that was enough, he believed.

he was just about to relax into bed when the sudden bang of his door being thrown open alerted him with a slight spook. was he in danger? who was it, what were they planning to do? alas, thanks to his dark room, he couldn't see---

he could only hear infuriated stomps growing closer to him. then, to both his relief and his demise,

" naib, " his lover's voice muttered lowly, threateningly. " i have some interesting news today about a 'heroic mercenary' i happened to have heard from certain people...!!! "

and with that, came the blinding lamp being turned on. naib hissed slightly, flinching away from the sudden brightness-

" jesus --- fuck, (name), what the hell?! " naib sneered, arms over his eyes. yet he was returned with no answer as (name) so suddenly straddled him on the bed, pushing him down.

and there came the rain of yells and severe scolding to which naib could've sworn he'd grow deaf of.

and before he could stop it, he was pinched once. then twice, then thrice, making him flinch back and apologize profusely in an out-of-character manner.

lord. if only he had locked his door.

or listened to his boyfriend.

✧༺♥༻

(name) tightened the gauze around naib's torso, earning a supressed wince covered by a tired, annoyed huff from the mercenary.

(name) tightened the cloth further.

" what was that? did you not hear enough? " he threatened.

" shit --- no. no. i'm just tired of the match. i'm sorry, okay? i won't do it again.. " he mumbled.

" mhm. right. you're not participating in a single match tomorrow, understand? "

" what? i'm on the top ranks right now, i can't just--- "

(name) pressed a thumb against one of naib's gauze-covered injuries.

" ah-! okay, fine.. "

✧༺♥༻ PAST

that dreadful, awful year joseph could not find his lover anywhere. (name), that wicked, wicked man, leaving him to his desperation--- joseph did not know whether to weep, push himself to a doom of sorrow, or indulge in his fury.

" (name), " he had cried then, his voice no less than a hum of interest, " (name), my beloved, why do you hide? "

at first, joseph thought that (name) wished to indulge in a playful couple's game of hide-and-seek. however, he could not be proven more wrong when not a sight of his beloved crossed his vision the whole day. then, the entirety of three days.

" (name), " he cried once more. " (name), my dearest --- where have you gone? "

a week. then, a month, yet still, his beloved husband has not proven himself present.

" ... (name) ... "

and before the photographer could catch himself doing so, his eyes had, for the first time in a while, sprung with tears. those of pain and heartbreak, a combination he was already struggling getting rid of since the death of his brother.

(name) ran away from him. for what reason? he hadn't known. however, he did remember that (name) never liked his ideas on taking people in and sealing their souls away in his virtual world.

✧༺♥༻ PRESENT

that year. that year he had lost the man dearest to his heart. most rumor that the photographer had gone mad since then, deducting that he was the reason as to why his own servants had gone missing one by one. the cases grew increasingly concerning when residents of other places have also disappeared.

there was only one solution to this, and the city hesitated no further as long as they are at peace once more. they had to ask (name) to leave the city, to finally return to the grasp of the lonesome, infuriated photographer. to his demise, (name) spoke for his life, but the city heard nothing and went forth with the action.

✧༺♥༻

(name) cautiously entered the place he had long forgotten --- or almost so. the door was as heavy as it had always been, and much like before, he struggled to push it open. after a minute of prying the stubborn wooden door open, the wood creaked hauntingly as if to prepare (name) of the encounter he would next come across.

he gently held the pillar. it was dusty, almost as if it wept for his departure years ago. he remembered it well.

(name) took his surroundings in bit by bit, carving each sight to his memory. he knew the place so perfectly before..

his thoughts were disrupted, however, by the rough grab on his wrist to which he instinctively yelped---

" you foolish, foolish boy..! " demanded a voice so tired, so exhausted. so outraged. (name) recognized it immediately; it belonged to no man but his husband. his husband who he had long left alone in fear of joseph's questionable obsession with taking people into his camera world.

" you return now --- do you know what agony you've cursed upon me?! " joseph sneered, his voice a reflection of the clear devastation he had been in during his lover's missing state. " i've looked everywhere... everywhere..!!! "

joseph's voice trembled as he wasted no time to drag the fearfully shocked husband of his over to the chambers upstairs. with a furious mutter under his breath, the photographer shoved the door open, nearly tossing his beloved into the room, slamming the door shut.

in his panic, (name) looked around the room, taking in the view of the cold room, it looked ... preserved in time, as if it had not moved a single bit since his disappearance all those years ago. but he could not waste another time to think as (name) heard joseph's infuriated yells.

" i am bound to punish you! you are no more than a wicked, selfish man who cares not for his husband --- you left me without a word, and you come sauntering into my manor --- our old home --- after all these years, looking ... looking as if you have no regret of what you've done! "

joseph drew closer, his breathing ragged similarly to his voice. it seemed as if he hadn't spoken for so long, and that was clear even in his appearance.

(name) nearly felt guilty. however, he still stuck with his reason as to why he left joseph unannounced.

" joseph, my dear --- "

" do not call me that, you ... you disloyal, runaway ! " snapped the photographer before he quickly dug out his rapier --- which had been logged into the wall presumably from a previous breakdown --- from the plaster behind him. he pointed the sharp tip to his husband. " you will suffer for what you've done. you left me here to die and rot alone! "

" joseph, please listen to me, " (name) pled, slightly flinching away from the threat of the weapon. " let me explain--- "

" what is there to explain, hm? " the photographer demanded, his voice angry and distraught before he mocked, " oh, you left me because you found another suitor, is that it? because you never even harbored feelings for me in the first place ?! "

(name) abruptly approached his husband, carefully avoiding the weapon as he gently yet sternly guided his beloved to sit on the worn bed with him. the infuriated joseph was startled at first, almost --- by instinct --- lodging his rapier through his lover. and yet...

he did not. for, despite not wanting to, joseph still held a love so great for his husband. he physically could not.

✧༺♥༻

unexpectedly, and certainly as deserved (in joseph's eyes), (name) sat through a long while of the enraged photographer's outbursts and tantrum. the past hour had been filled with shoves and expressions of disgust and hidden pain from joseph. anytime (name) tried to reach out, to touch him, he would pull away with a shiver.

but bit by bit, joseph's angered facade began to ebb, replaced by the overwhelming misery he had also felt.

" ... you are a traitor, (name). " his chest heaved. he could barely hold back his sobs. " you, of all people; you who have promised to never leave me to be on my own, left me when i required your company the most. you left me. do you see why i express such dejection? "

without awaiting an answer, joseph hastily grabbed (name)'s chin, forcing his husband to look at him.

(name) could see his husband's expression of utter unhappiness. and there, too, he saw the faintest of tears. he had never seen his husband cry for any other reason besides to mourn for claude.

" you left my heart at a state of such daze. such torture, such---... " he could no longer speak, and he retracts his hand. in seconds, he could no longer withstand the 'just-upset' facade and he broke down. turning away, of course. joseph hated appearing vulnerable.

but this vulnerability was not one (name) desired to overlook, especially after his traitorous departure, and thus he gently pulled his husband into his arms, offering what little warmth he could at the moment.

joseph attempted to pull away. he did not wish to be cradled like a baby, much more by his beloved. he used to, but he did not wish to do it once more---

yet (name) persisted and brought the weeping photographer closer to his chest.

" i am sorry, my love. i am so, so sorry. " (name)'s voice was but a quiet, guilty mumble, muffled slightly when he pressed a soft ghostly kiss to joseph's knuckles. then, the top of his head.

shattered fully by sobs, joseph found himself hesitantly accepting the arms of his beloved. he thought he would never admit to missing such a sensation --- his lover's warmth to his, hand-in-hand.

he wept for it each night without (name). he wept for his comfort, his love, his touch, in the span of nearly 2 years.

" joseph ... " (name) whispered. " i am sorry; please do not cry... i left as i grew scared. fearful of your ideas. when you explained to me, with an excitement i did not understand, that you have come up with a ' new idea to resurrect your brother ', i grew fearful of you. and in my own selfishness, i left you be. i should have guided you, joseph, "

(name) went on, his hands trembling. " i knew that your ideas were ... a little out of the ordinary, and i should have offered help instead of--- "

joseph was not hearing any of it. in seconds, he surged up, holding (name) by the sides of his face before sealing the space between their lips with such urgency that (name) nearly fell to a laid-down position on the bed. closing his eyes, the photographer kissed his husband with great passion and the lingering gloom.

however, he could not hold it for long. he found himself pulling away as the next wave of sobs interrupted their union.

and yet, despite so, joseph embraced his beloved husband, pushing both of them down onto the huge mattress. there, he wept. the photographer wept right on his lover's chest, to which he was met with the gentle brushing of (name)'s fingers through his hair, tangled from years of neglect.

" do not make me cry further with your words, you filthy, filthy boy. " he sobbed. by his words, (name) could tell that the photographer was tied between the growing relief and the still-there anger.. and it was much expected. " be quiet. "

" ... i am glad you have come home.. " joseph whispered. but not before suddenly grabbing (name)'s wrist rather uncomfortably tight. " do not think that my joy will erase the punishment that awaits you. you will stay here for the night --- no. for the month --- no. the year. do you understand? you will stay in this manor and step no foot outside for a year. "

(name) winces at the hold on his wrist, weakly nodding. god did he love joseph, but he was terribly scary when angry.

" good. now ... welcome home, (name).. come, come closer, for we will unite with one another properly on the bed."

.. and with that, both husbands indulged themselves in a rather long night of passion. perhaps one can be grateful that there were no longer any attendants in the manor to hear what was going on in the photographer's chambers that evening.

the prying eyes left no room for comfort or solitude. they were always there, jeering and hurling at him --- even when they have stopped long ago. it had driven him to a sense of doubt and uncertainty.

they never understood, those foolish ones. they picked on him for his favor and the particular fascination he found in the art of death; who were they to point when they could not understand the beauty of the afterlife?

needless to say, aesop drifted far into his admiration for the dead. after all, he seeks to know what they do not. he will uncover the emergence of the afterlife as no one has. even if that meant coming into contact with the manor's phantom, who has remained unspoken about.

and that was when he saw it for the first time.

a soul, neither alive or dead.

the manor's long-forgotten necromancer, (name), whose name was mentioned ever so little all around.

peeking through the door in a careful, curious matter, the embalmer watched with a fascination at such peak he could almost fall from his position. in the room, which happened to have been open that fateful evening, had not been unlocked in so long. was this the secret behind the door?

the luminescent air seemed to grow ever so ominously behind her. yet instead of feeling fear, the embalmer only felt himself drawn closer. was it his curiosity or his relief to have finally found someone who was different?

within the ticks of time --- seconds and minutes --- aesop cautiously entered the room. he may have entered the manor's hidden room as he saw it, but perhaps he's traversed into something much bigger.

✧༺♥༻ PRESENT

time may have grown old. but the rumors and cruelty around the manor have not; and once more, aesop found himself in the process of fleeing from the company of the others. their words, their points, their assumptions, their---- ... was it all anew?

regardless, the residents' taunts reached his ears, his mind, as they always have. and he found himself at the grace of the old, wooden door he now knew so well. with a soft grunt of struggle, he pushed it open, forcing the hinges to creak unceremoniously.

" (name), " he sighed before entering the room and locking it behind him with a twist of his wrist. aesop then tiredly approached the ghostly figure of the lady, hesitantly reaching a hand to her own.

" my dearest, " she whispered back before guiding him towards her. could it have been from the effervescent shine of fate or his own doom that he met her? " tell me, did it happen again? "

the embalmer nodded. he held onto her tighter, seeking for the warmth he had long been denied.

(name) held him tighter against her 'warmth', almost roughly pulling him closer.

' they will never understand. ' she breathed out. ' but you do know that they don't have to understand, no? '

he nodded, the breathy sound embraced by (name)'s own hum of affection. she combed her fingers through his hair, the action graced with the slightest aggression as she tightened her grip.

' they do not know you, ' she hushed, pressing her nails deeper into his skin. it was almost painful. ' and they may never know you at all. but i do. '

aesop raised his head, and upon doing so, he is tugged forward towards her newest, most delightful project. it was presented with absolute agony. he swore he could see the familiar hand of someone he once knew so well --- not in a lovely, flowery way.

' you have always admired the dead. respected them, paid your grace, ' (name) went on, ' yet you have never realized how ... easy it is to see the dead at their weakest. their absolute strength demolished, torn apart. look ahead, '

she urged the embalmer to look at the nearly-unrecognizable ruins of his foes.

' does it not appeal to you to see suffering and agony plaguing those who have done you wrong? '

' give it a chance, will you ...? see death as an advantage.. '

warred with confusion and his utter devotion to the necromancer, aesop was tugged between redirecting his views of the afterlife and keeping his own.

' however, ' (name) continued, ' to be dead is to be sworn, whether it'd be to fate, a new life, or ... another person. dearest, you have also failed to see this. and it is time i show it to you first-hand. '

within short, unmeasured seconds, aesop was pulled into her embrace once more before a painful pressure surged through his heart. looking down, he witnesses the scene as he was---

sacrifices under (name) had always seemed so pain-driven. except she did his so gently, so carefully compared to all the others. sacrifice? no,

she was binding them together. welcoming him to the depths of the dead and the not, pulling him to cross the border.

' you crave peace, you crave love. the love you have longed to feel. and i am here to provide all that you need, ' she hissed, holding him still. ' so long as you are bound to me, so long as we are sworn, then i will do everything it takes to set you apart from your misery with them. '

' (name), ' the embalmer could only tense up. but instead of pulling away, of fleeing, he pulled in. just as he did the first night they met, he refused to leave.

' nothing bad will happen, you are fine, ' she responded, almost softly. ' things can only delve ridiculously if you so choose to return to them. '

and with those hushed words, as if he had signed his very life away, the embalmer could only lean into her as she bound them for ... life? the afterlife? he no longer knew.

he cared no more for what would happen, so long as he is set to a path with the only one he deemed similar to him.

warming up to her touch, the embalmer's eyes fluttered ever so softly, his hand grasping hers as he sought for reassurance. his cheek was caressed.

and so were his lips as they met with the necromancer's, concluding the deal.

for eternity, they will last. they will reign; driven apart by isolation, united by the distaste of society till time's end.

✧༺♥༻ END

except, this sight was for the private eye; it is not for display. not for anyone else. far too precious, this piece was. who was he to grant the unknown a sight of this gift?

the painter continued to brush, peering every now and then at the unmoving figure posed behind his easel just a few steps away. there laid (name), a figure of absolute allure and awe. the very inspiration for edgar's current painting. his muse.

he could not believe they could stand out more than they already did, but oh was he so, so wrong. they mimicked and embodied the very definition of perfection even in the deathly sense.

edgar set his brush down, pushing his seat a little back as he stood to approach his motionless muse. his eyes soften as he took in their appearance.

"my dearest," he began. "always in the main spotlight of my paintings; how have you driven me so mad?"

the painter gestured to the many paintings of (name) around his busy studio. some being months ago, others just days.

"look around you. would you not say that i have captured the definite essence of your beauty?" he whispered. but he knew well that he has not. nothing could ever replicate (name)'s beauty, not even his own paintings.

the painter strode closer and rested his hand against the fading warmth of their cheek. with his thumb, he gently 'soothed' them, his gaze on their inexpressive ones.

"why, my dear, why do you remain so unsatisfied all the time..?" edgar wondered. "is it the lack of light here? the mess? the chaos?"

he pulled their body into his own as he sat on the grand bed, carefully adjusting them to a position he deemed 'comfortable' for them.

"you are so, so silent now." he muttered. their body grew colder as the seconds ticked by --- much to his dismay --- to which he tightened his hold to provide more warmth. "and so, so cold..."

edgar laid them both down on the bed, his hands working to tuck (name) beneath the blanket before settling beside them. he took hold of their limp hand, the wrist marred with bruises from the struggle (name) had done hours before.

"i do understand your complaints, dear (name)," he regarded, "but what you need to accept is that i built this for us. this place --- the lack of sunlight, its location, how hidden it is --- it is all for us."

he leaned closer to them, nuzzling against their coldness.

"and you are much too precious to lose yourself in this world of greed and misery. when i saw you pulling away, being so interested in leaving, i had to ensure you'd stay. how could you wish, i asked myself, to inflict me such despair, such pain when you'd left?"

"would you have expected me to stay here and weep about my loss?" he seethed, his voice pitching just a little lower as he swore himself to them, "no, most certainly i would not have done that. with me, you shall stay. in this life and in the next few, even in the afterlife, you will stay here and not walk away from me."

regardless of whichever side, andrew has never grown used to the barrage of noise and chaos. or rather, andrew has; yet these noises he knew so well interlocked with past experiences that were not the kindest or the purest. least to say, these loud noises were something andrew would choose to hide from. it has been like that, and even he himself believes he may never part from his enjoyment for solitude.

hence why, though expected, andrew snuck away from the dinner once again. it just so happened that everything grew far too loud and his ears could no longer handle anything. with quick steps, after a certain rise of laughter from some lame joke, andrew's fleet was careful and it drew nearly no attention --- but someone's --- even as he hurriedly made his way to the library.

it was either his room or the library. either will do, he thought, before extending a heavy hand to quietly push open the wooden doors to the book haven. beneath his glove, he could almost feel each intricate line of the door's design.

upon entering, andrew very carefully closed the door behind him before approaching a certain corner --- the same one he always sat by. and from there, he could already heave a sigh of relief and comfort as his ears were finally allowed some peace.

truth be told, andrew did feel his ears hurt. but there was a certain creeping tension that threatens to overtake him everytime it occurs to him that there was just too much going on. a feeling to hide himself, to leave.

he often wondered if that rooted from his childhood.

as his thoughts brewed on, they were not so heavy that he failed to hear the library door creak open from action. he noticed this immediately, and almost so quickly, he slightly (an)drew in to himself when he heard the familiar squeaks of shoes.

" andr--! " beamed a certain voice before it dialed down to a gentle hush, as if realizing that loudness was not too welcomed in the confines of the library.

"an..drew.." it continued. the voice was accompanied by soft little bells presumably from the hat the owner wore.

recognizing the voice, andrew was ... stuck between many emotions. a straining want to be left alone, to be in solace with his overwhelming thoughts. another part of him began to panic, wanting to look his best upon welcoming new company. to not be vulnerable.

and another part wanted to welcome the vulnerability the soft voice always offered whenever it came by.

the voice was from (name). (name), the manor's most beloved jester. and andrew's too.

andrew's head ached just slightly; (name), that oh-so-bright creature. good lord. (name) always seemed to know whenever andrew ran away.

and they always knew whenever he felt vulnerable.

why were they here again?

and before any other question can form, andrew nearly felt guilty for having felt a sense of anxiousness and a hint of irritation. he was so incredibly accustomed to his own company that he has long forgotten how to welcome new ones. ones who are willing to even look at and speak to him.

andrew nearly held himself back, but before he could --- was it by an instinct for (name) only? why did he do it? --- he called out. almost too quickly, as if it was urgent.

' (name). i.. i'm here. '

the gentle yet excited patter of the squeaky, clownish shoes against the carpet grew louder, and, within a few seconds, that very familiar smile poofed into his sight from above. there was (name). how did they even manage to climb the table that quick?

' andrew! ' beamed (name) in a whisper. ' you're here again, and i'm here to sit with you this time. '

andrew's expression was one of slight shock as (name) hopped off the table and scooted to sit beside him, caring no more about the slightly cramped area (which andrew chose specially for himself).

' i brought you some omelette from the table. here --- eat, eat! ', they urged. andrew almost dropped the plate as it was so hastily given to him.

' ... thank you. '

however, to their absolute distaste, (name) found andrew not eating. they knew how little andrew ate sometimes and they were more than willing to be persistent, so long as he ate in comfort.

(name) grabs the spoon, cutting a piece of the omelette before scooping it up and urging it closer to his lips.

' open, ' they commanded. when andrew seemed lost and baffled, they only urged further, ' hheyy,, come on..! you need to eat, you know? you barely do. '

' um- '

' eeeaaatttt, '

and within moments of hesitation, andrew opened his mouth just a little. being spoonfed wasn't expecte---

(name) pulls the spoon away cheekily. despite the fact that (name) wanted to help, they could never seem to get rid of their silliness.

the cycle repeated; name gently easing the spoon closer, then pulling away, ... then closer again, then pulling away---

andrew was eventually fed up and grabbed (name)'s hand with his own larger, gloved one, guiding the spoon to feed himself. after a few bites, andrew let go of their hand.

he loved omelettes. and perhaps a little more, just from having a lovely hand give it to him.

' aaah!!! you're a cheater. you're not supposed to do that, ' they complained, shaking their head in disappointment, rattling the bells of their hat just softly. ' cheater, cheater, cheater! '

but (name) moved on from that quickly.

' you know, you should really reach out sometimes; it's quite obvious you've been --- you look bothered. (name) doesn't like thattt,' they whispered lightly, leaning in a little closer as if to examine andrew. ' (name) doesn't like sad, saaad people. '

it pushed andrew to seek for the comfort he has been hiding. despite his attempts at toughening his exterior, seeming unapproachable and even a little intimidating, there had always been a sense of vulnerability andrew never got rid of.

andrew's other hand hesitantly covers (name)'s. and almost immediately, (name) scooted just a little closer.

was it really wrong to accept vulnerability, even for just a little while?

' just the games, ' he murmured. ' i ... i'm tired of them. '

and of course, (name) understood well where he was coming from; they themselves are tired despite having shown their beaming nature.

' oh, the games! yes, yes, they are exhausting... ' they sighed dramatically. ' .. a hell of repetitive despair. we can't do anything but rely on ourselves to make use of what we have here, no? '

and they nuzzled against the lonesome gravekeeper. ' come on, don't be so sad! not everything here is a bad thi---'

but (name) realizes they might be pushing too much. so they backed away a little bit, disengaging themselves from andrew. ' sorry, '

... only to be met with a soft tug. and in a few seconds, the bells on (name)'s hat softly jingle as they yelp upon being grabbed so suddenly. the feel of leather --- andrew's glove --- stroke against their hat as they suddenly felt themselves wrapped in a heap of warmth. (name)'s hand was grabbed,

' i'm tired of the games, and sometimes, the players. ' he whispered against their palm. ' but never you. '

maybe even the slightest change of environment can heal the nightmares of the manor.

thinking of the joyful memories the occasion might bring, (name) departed that evening, dressed lavishly in the finest, most suitable clothing they could dig out of their closet. such preparation could not prepare (name) from what was to happen next.

over and over, (name) found themselves calling out the name of their friend --- " (friend's name), (friend's name)!! " --- only to be met with the haunting sounds of the village they wandered off to: caws in the distance, the faintest sound of the undead --- all stirred their head to believe that their own footsteps were a part of the halloween facade.

they were desperate. and hopeless.

panic began to overfill, and next thing they knew, (name) began to wander on their own, the initial joy of having come here fading like a forgotten hymn, their eyes somewhat hazy through the dark filters of the area.

but it seems that even their panic was to be extinguished,

" hey, you there, " beckoned a sickeningly sweet hum, " how about a little taste? "

(name) nearly flinched upon hearing the sudden call, observing all around to search for where the voice may have come from.

a figure emerges from behind one of the many homes that have been taunting at (name) like an endless maze. a lithe, seemingly non-threatening man. but his pose proved otherwise as (name) was soon offered ... a handful of candy?

" no need to be so tense, " the man murmured before completely revealing his form upon another step. his voice seemed so close that of a tease, a test. with him, he carried an atmosphere of grace and .. something else. " a day as such is a day to enjoy, no? "

(name) couldn't help but take a step back from the sudden contact. but it seems to be that the man held no regards for hesitation or any dramatics as such, for he stepped forward, urging the pile of candy to (name) once more.

" take one, " he gestured, though his tone delved at a deeper level, almost as if he was barely holding back. (name) looked up ever so slightly, noticing the deliberate grin that graced the man's lips, along with the anticipating gaze of the man's teal eyes. his words, despite their politeness, were nothing but a demand.

(name) hesitated. but, once more, this was all an event, was it not? surely nothing bad can exactly happen if they were to take some... candy.

the man could barely stifle a chuckle as he delightfully, so proudly watches (name) pluck from the offered batch of sweets. their hand seemed so frightened, yet so ... eager for a sense of confirmation.

joseph had been watching (name). he knew well that they have been left by their friend at some point in their curious journey.

an unfamiliar blur plagued (name)'s mind out of the blue.

" sweet, is it not ? "

yes, it was quite ... sweet .. ?

" a delightful taste to fill your mouth, please your taste, ..."

what?

" is ... fun..."

the voice seemed to fade. it was then replaced by a faint laugh before (name) could feel the guide of someone else. were they being held? was their body being guided as it collapsed? regardless, they could no longer think too well, and exhaustion plagued their bones so deeply that they felt so sleepy.

then, came a final, ghostly chuckle.

∴.·:¨¨:·. ☙.·:¨ ¨:·.♡ .·:¨ ¨:·. ❧.·:¨ ¨:·.∴ . . . . . . . . . . . .

11/24

The days at the manor wore long and thin, the torturous, mind-sick games played by whoever curses this hellhole constantly putting a test to the state of everyone. Even the most enthusiastic and the most joyous fell into the hands of inevitable despair, left to crawl their way back up to a farce image of hope and remembrance, only to get sent back down to the gates of their demise.

Leaving the manor was simply not an option. One must always reside within its premises, lest they wish to endure the unheard punishments of those who have gone missing under the words of the baron. For Mike, this rule was quite easy at first, an unchallenging promise held by Oletus Manor to protect its residents. Bedrooms for all, meals for everyone, a garden to wander about; what could so terribly go wrong?

The air was moist, granted the faint traces of fog emitting an air of eeriness and tension at the Arms Factory. That was day 1. 2, 3, 4, 5, ... 100, ...

The numbers increased and the atmosphere in the marvelous building grew colder. But that was a normal state of a place, was it not? Nothing was truly wrong.

Lakeside Village, they called this map. Mike often wondered to himself whether or not it had always been nighttime here; the trees dead, the remains of decaying boats, and the dry soil all hinting at a catastrophic event he missed. That was day 602, ... 700, ... 821... 9..? nine-hundred what?

The days grew less countable and manageable. Nothing was wrong. Perhaps his emotions, and he could feel the faintest bite of longing for his home. Day by day, his sought to return to the circus grew bigger, more desperate. It's okay, he told himself many times, the letter promised. The baron promised he would see his home again, no?

As if the graces of the gods themselves, Mike's mind snapped away from his deep thoughts and soon, as the match begun, him and his teammates plunged into a new map. Around him, the air felt ... fresh but cold. The smell around him intensified and there was almost a swift balance between nostalgia and joy. Upon entering the map, Mike's mind beamed. No mistake was it that he felt a certain desperation and sadness engulf his stiff body, hid hold tightening on the explosive in his hand.

A familiar tune filled his ears. It was the carousel. He remembered that very song the machine played as it spun gently, the horses cascading up and down in turns. Mike turned, catching sight of the glorious roller coaster. Waiting there were the empty seats. In an instant, it seems to be that nothing else was ... important. Considerably, there was no one getting chased just yet. Perhaps one ride wouldn't make too much of a difference...

Upon getting into the polished seat, Mike fumbles with the controls just as he always knew how to, and soon, he feels himself remembering the very moments he once felt his body in the air with other passengers of the roller coaster. The breeze remained just the same as ever, and at the highest point, he could see it all. He leaned over, eyes beaming at the sight of his home. Moonlit River Park at its best. Hullabaloo. He has returned here. Just as he has always belonged here..

By the side, he saw a child in possession of a sweet treat beside her mother, giggling with the joy Mike knew by heart.

Another boy waited in queue until the carousel was open. Another waited in line to enter the tent in which a performance was to play out soon.

Then, as if a direct arrow to this peaceful day, was a resounding scream from afar along with a loud pop and a blaring siren following right after. Just by his ear, he could hear the faintest pleas of some voice he hadn't...

Mike gets off the roller coaster, stopping at a 'station' and heading down the stairs with a satisfied smile on his face. At the very bottom of the stairs, children played, ran, and tagged as if it was their last ever game.

During his mini-journey to, Mike nearly stumbled upon a metal plate on the floor. As he looks down with curiosity, Mike flinches back as it flung open, revealing a dark passage beneath. In the back of his mind, he knew what this was. The... the dung--- e...?

What would ever be the reason that he goes in it if it sends him back to the manor? That cursed place filled with the trauma he beheld this very moment.

Why would he ever choose to--? He was right here, at Moonlit River Park --- at Hullabaloo, his home.

It seems to him that the baron kept his promise after all.

"The answers to your biggest questions will be answered", and it was answered. This was it. Perhaps no one was truly responsible for the doom of the circus. Maybe it was a foolish vision he'd seen before --- his home lit up in flames. Perhaps it'd never happen.

Why would he leave at all?

Forget the manor. Forget it all. Forget that monstrosity of a game mode called 'rank', called 'duo hunters'. Forget the food, forget the rooms he had once been so grateful for, forget it all. Forget the guilds, forget the people, forget the baron's recent request for a new hunter.

This was all that mattered. Mike was at home. Nothing else mattered, not even the screaming figure that he swore he saw. It faded slightly like a ghost. Brown hair, an animal beside the figure...

"Mike!"

Nothing else appeared of importance to him.

"Mike! Leave! What are you doing?!"

Around him was his home, his childhood, his dream!

"Mike---!"

As if practiced and planned, his hand reaches into his pocket, retrieving a device that held many commands upon the press of a button. It came blandly, less in colors and more on purpose, far from the colorful explosives Mike had but its use is just as destructive. Maybe even a little more.

He remembers something so well, this exact moment was not the most foreign. It was as if this was meant to happen --- or it has already happened. A memory to reenact.

"MIKE!"

With a simple press of a big button, all that Mike heard was a firework. A huge, booming firework to conclude seeing his home again. Then another, and another, another... A true parade it was. Colorful, enlightening, the very moment all the guests awaited. A beautiful star set to burst upon its death.

Here, Mike is the star, the key to the very joy of this place. Mike is in the spotlight like he had always been. Mike is the same man who remained tied to his home.

He was tired, exhausted, sick of the manor. That hell-bound manor, he was done with it. Now, he was given the chance to be at home again.

And he will do whatever it takes to ensure he never loses the circus again. He's lost it before; it won't happen twice.

∴.·:¨¨:·. ☙.·:¨ ¨:·.♡ .·:¨ ¨:·. ❧.·:¨ ¨:·.∴ . . . . . . . . . . . .

hum, hum, hum ...

hum, hum . . .

Smoke wafted in the air. The once-harmonious music around the circus, mixed by different sources all around, sounded broken. Some items seemed dirty, drained of the life they once had. The tent of the stage was close to ripping completely, tears and holes from areas here and there. The carousel's tune drifted off its exquisite norm.

Stretching of flesh and metal could be heard, along with the hums of a strained voice. Following the bundle of rotting flesh and pieces of materials bundled together, was its shadow. The shadow of the creature that hovered, that haunted the remains of the ruined circus.

But in its eyes, the circus remained just as beautiful as it had always been. There was no difference, not a single speck of it was out of place. In his eyes, the guests never left. They were always here. Truly, they'd never leave. never gone.

Drifting over to a secluded corner, the creature stumbles upon the very familiar hatch on the ground, closed, sealed shut. Its color remained rusted, except it seemed older. Bit by bit, the appearance of the closed dungeon was interrupted with clear droplets, interfering with the creature's already-broken vision. He wept for a reason he couldn't realize. It was such that:

Mike may have gotten what he wanted,

flip . . .

PHOTOGRAPH 2: in the hallway

taken at the very heart of an old estate; an image which replicated the bond between two young boys. a blotch on the photograph's sides seemed to have stained this piece, causing the damp areas to loosen overtime. beneath the photograph wrote, 'joseph, cl..', interrupted with an erasure dash.

a quiet shuffle of a hand grabbing glass . . . gulp . . . flip . . .

PHOTOGRAPH 3: (no name)

a rose-blessed garden to celebrate the favor of winter, his most beloved season. in the picture was a tree, branches broken and leaves fallen just a few months back. its roots have been covered by a thick pile of pure snow. within the snow, was a buried piece of stone. a small, hard piece of grey among the white field ---

sniffle , gulp . . .

the photographer's hand trembled, his chest beaten with hurt.

his clothes shifted against the velvet couch as he stood; with his drink he took him, the photographs on the other hand as he stumbled slightly.

through the halls, he took himself. the halls cursed for infinity with darkness; black and white completely clothing the once-bright place. in this world, joseph was the only one of color. the remnant of his very own past was himself, for nothing else was preserved.

a gentle touch to the railing. it felt numb to do so; the railing was hard and void of anything else. he dragged his finger emptily across the grey loops and hoops, points and crevices of its intricate design.

stopping at the middle of the hall, the photographer leaned against the railing, taking in the lonely, weakly-preserved remains of a peaceful point in time that shouldn't have been taken away from him.

right there, he took in the monotonous world and the sights he built for himself. there was no one; though the manor was filled with decor and fine china, statues placed and unmoved from where they've been rooted on.

a solemn world. it was a world with only him, and the brother he wished he could find. he created this world, sacrificed certain individuals to test his theory, and sealed the final deal by living in it. was it worth it, however?

yes.

yes . . . ?

the store was filled with the most colorful, inviting packaged meals. blue, red, yellow --- all of it seemed magical, like a god placed a hand upon this damned manor and blessed it free of curse.

"well, goddamn," and with a mutter, he was quick on his feet to observe and touch, caress and read through every single label. "noodles", "crackers", "cotton candy"--- the list seemed to never end!

with a gruff scoff, the prospector shoves bottles of what he guessed were canned fish and other questionable food into wherever they could fit, when a light shove halts his 'sneaky' spree. spooked, he nearly drops his items.

"you," he called to the man in a green hood. "of course you'd be here..."

wait.

pause.

"what the hell are you doing?" the prospector rose, disbelief on his face. the mercenary's position did him no justice; a bulk in his pocket, a few more beneath his hood, "are you---"

"me? what the hell are YOU doing?" scowled the mercenary with just the same disbelief.

"don't return the question; you're robbing the store!" sneered the prospector.

"i don't have a damn basket!"

"there were 3 left at the front!"

"my hands are full," naib muttered. through his years of practiced stealth, he had long forgotten what to do when caught.

norton's eyes fell to the mercenary's .. un-full hands; it seemed to be that the contents made their way to the pockets instead.

"yeah. full of what? full of bullshit?"

the mercenary returned nothing other than an unimpressed scoff, the murderous look on his face just as unmoved as ever. as always, he said nothing further, resuming his thieving acts with false nonchalance.

"you think you're the innocent one here?" he said, peering just a bit to his sides to ensure his acts have caught no eye. "you're here for the same reason."

this one silenced norton for a little bit. well, yes, he was. but no one really needed to know that.

"... it's not like we get nice food everyday," scoffed the prospector. "and, be honest: which of us here devours every single thing provided? yeah, probably you, isn't it?"

"and which of us would lick a floor for a glass of milk and a piece of bread, you piece of--"

"hey! excuse me, you two,"

uh-oh.

the two exchanged side glances. this may as well have been their only time agreeing on something: fucking book it.

and so they did. their 'escape' was a mess: naib clearly being more efficient than the prospector's poor excuse of a fleet. staggering, tripping, pushing each other as they ran for the exit.