#looselipssinksecrets

it is, most unfortunately, not an uncommon sight to see the man trudge into the moulin rouge, dirt and blood in his trail, smearings of red around lips and lit cigarettes, leaving metal and ash in his wake. if asked, he would answer that business is merely slow but not for much longer, that good help is hard to find nowadays. if you were lucky, perhaps he’d reply with a small smile, saying he merely got caught in the rain on his way in.

(it rains blood in hell, didn’t you know? he’s humoured dancers and courtesans alike, eyes black and smile sharp. fancy taking a walk with me next time?)

but tonight the man is more irritable than usual, steps a little heavier, shoulders a little more haggard from their normal form as he sits in front of the bar, jaw set and bruised, cut, bleeding onto the counter.

“the usual, please, genie. perhaps two. and tell that damn girl across the room to stop making eyes at me.”

AU Meme || @looselipssinksecrets

i. She’s been sent to marry the Prince of the neighboring nation, to someday be it’s queen. She’d never meet him before, though he seemed pleasant enough in the few interactions they’ve had since she arrived. Pleasant, but distant.

ii. It’s not that she misses home. It’s not that she’s lonely, exactly. She’s used to isolation, but sometimes it’s hard. She doesn’t know anyone here, or any of the customs, even the food is strange. She’s taken to wandering around the castle, darting away on silent feet if she hears anyone coming down the hall, exploring her new home. Which is how she found the garden, and how Genie found her.

iii. “I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, already trying to back out of the little grove. The prince’s sister shakes her head, smiling at her. “Please, stay. You’re not intruding.” She’s giving her an evaluating look, but it doesn’t feel judgmental or dismissive like the looks she’s been getting from the rest of the court. “You don’t quite fit here, do you?” she says, insightful and sympathetic all in one. Grace looks down for a moment. She’s been trying so hard not to let that show. “Is it that obvious?” Genie shakes her head. “You just need some pointers. I’ll help you.

iv. “Do you want to know a secret?” Genie whispers in her ear as they’re lying in the grass, staring up at the clouds. Grace turns to her, nodding. “I don’t fit here either.”

v. Neither of them planned it. Grace needed help, Genie wanted to give it to her, they both needed a friend. It wasn’t supposed to turn into more, but somehow it did. Lingering glances became wandering hands became tentative kisses. For the first time, Grace felt there was someone who understood her, who truly loved her, and it was paradise.

vi. It was hell, having to pretend that they meant nothing to each other in public, that she was in love with her fiancé, not his sister. Genie was adamant that no one be able to see what they were. At least the prince barely noticed her enough to tell that her sweet words were hollow and fake.

vii. “What’s the worst that could happen if we told them?” They’re lying in Genie’s bed, and Grace feels hopeful, lighter than she ever has. “Maybe I could marry you instead.” Genie’s hand had been stroking her hair absently, but now it stills. “They’d kill you,” she says, her voice so soft that Grace thinks she’s mishearing at first. “You’ve been promised to the crown prince. This would be seen as treason.”

viii. A fairytale ending: the stuff of dreams and children’s stories, one that is perfect and sublime, two lovers riding off into the sunset. A fairytale ending: the stuff of nightmares and reality, one that is dark and teaches a lesson, one girl having to pay for a crime, the other helpless to save her.

          Max glanced up from his work, brows pulled together in concern. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” To him, words like those were heartbreaking. Was that really how she saw them? It was so cynical, so sad. He believed in love and its power with every single fiber of his being. Maybe that made him naive; maybe he was too innocent for a place like this, but he so desperately wanted every member of this family that had been frankensteined together to be happy and have the privilege of feeling love the way that he did.

          “Genie…” he sighed and set his work aside. The bar was always a convenient spot to work when the club was closed. He could tinker with something on the flat surface in relative peace, but the sudden turn that their conversation had taken was much more important. “It’s not a matter of what we can and can’t afford. We’re people. People deserve to love and be loved.” He reached across the bar to lay a hand on hers, stopping her from polishing the glass she’s holding for just a moment. 

          “That includes you. That includes all of us.”