#tonyjul

AO3

Summary: A little one-shot exploring the aftermath of Tonny's invitation to the bonfire Party.

The circus was a strange place for Julia Lazarett.

Painful in its unfamiliarity, every unexpected sound, every unwelcome color scraping at her already withering moral compass, paper cuts bleeding her of everything she’d once known. Everything she’d once been.

Julia mouthed the word into the mirror slowly so she wouldn’t have to say it out loud: alive. She’d once been alive. The girl in the reflection stared back at her in bemusement, brown hair hastily braided, loosely at the roots and far too tight at the ends as though the braider had tried to correct their mistake halfway through.

Light bounced off the glass, into her eyes and for a second a shadow loomed over her. The same heavy breathing, writhing, glowing mass that had found her in the attic; the smell of rotting fruit as it sighed into her mouth. The same eyes that chased her out of her dreams, silently reminding her how she’d signed her life away; reminding her the hourglass hadn’t yet stopped spilling, grains of borrowed time gradually trickling to the bottom.

Julia tugged the tresses free and tried to weave them into submission again. One year left; that’s why she’d agreed to attend the party. At least, that’s what she’d admit out loud anyway. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the way she’d been serenaded into accepting the invitation.

“I’ve left you to deal with this madness by yourself.. I’m sorry..”

Tonny had sounded so sincere in his apology that Julia was sure she’d agreed only so he wouldn’t see how close she was to dissolving into tears. He’d been the only one to acknowledge her death, her loss, her mourning, while everyone else was quite content to sweep all this dying business under the rug when they’d welcomed her into the circus.

Julia’s hand slipped and the riotous curls tumbled around her shoulders. But it wasn’t just that, was it?

“I want to be there for all of you..”

How long had it been since someone had tried to take care of her? Shame overran her cheeks and washed down her neck, watercolor against her pallid nightgown; and she feebly bunched up her hair in an effort to hide it from the girl in the mirror.

Julia had always been good at taking care of herself, she didn’t see the need for any of that to change even after her mother disappeared. Her father had been content to accept her silent steadfastness, relied on it even during the months following the absence, as the warmth seeped out of the house just as steadily as the loneliness seeped in.

She hadn’t even noticed the switch until she’d met Kamille.

A quarter of a year had passed and her father had been away on one of his military trips, and nine-year-old Julia had convinced herself she could sew a loose button on one of her mother’s old dresses.

The house had remained eerily quiet all day, holding its breath as she bought the shiny new buttons, spare silk she threaded through the needle, and inevitably pricked her index finger with the sharp silver point.

A tiny red droplet blossomed onto the cuff of the ivory gown, blooming peony, and it was as though the room had momentarily become submerged under water. Isolation rushed through the open windows and Julia found she couldn’t hold her breath fast enough to keep the waves at bay.

Her heart spasmed with panic and she became aware of a sudden, painful tightness in her chest that seemed to have been there all along, waiting for her to notice. Her empty hands had begun to shake and the dress slipped onto the wooden floors; she couldn’t remember where she’d put the needle and half-heartedly wondered if she’d swallowed it.

The waves of seclusion threatened to overwhelm her, her father was gone and Julia was alone. Alone, alone, alone. She was all alone in this world, and she was drowning in an empty house and she was drowning and drowning, and nobody would find her because she was–

“Ow!”

The waves retreated momentarily as a voice drifted through the open windows. Her neighbour’s daughter had somehow wandered into the rosebushes, and was peering into her room with the doe-like confusion of someone who’d never lived in a flooding house.

Julia had managed to get Kamille untangled from the thorns and Kamille had offered to sew on her button. The two had been inseparable ever since; and the waves had stayed away.

But lately, Julia had begun to feel them steadily lapping at her feet, in sync with the rocking of the cart-ship-vehicular-monstrosity carrying the entire circus. Cold seeping through her socks as she crawled into bed, goose-pimples on flesh, she could feel them watching, lying in wait to take her to her mother. Even Dotty had remarked on the chill in her fingers before she’d quickly snatched them back.

Julia could always feel the water. Until she couldn’t.

“I can’t let you stay alone in this room every night... I’d like you to come to the bonfire party..”

It retreated under her bed when Tonny knocked, and sulked like a child as he fidgeted by the doorframe, unwilling to rob her of modesty. It stayed away the rest of the night too, long after he’d gone, and for once Julia’s bed had been blissfully warm.

Julia put on the fuzzy pink-and-yellow vest Plip had lent her and fastened the buttons, trying to ignore the rosy hue of the girl in the mirror. It must be the vest; pink had never been colour.

She couldn’t put a finger on what had tugged at her heartstrings (as Dotty would call it), the sincerity of the apology or how nervous Tonny was giving it.

Perhaps it was the way he sensed how Julia’s fate hadn’t been her choice, maybe even related to it a little, and was bent upon allowing her as much say as he could.

Perhaps it was even something as simple as shouldering her happiness, making it his responsibility. Offering a hand to help her up; and how she couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that for her unprompted.

“I want to be there for all of you..”

“–for all of you..”

for you.

Kamille had always needed taking care of; her naiveté had led her into more trouble than Julia had been able to get them out of, but Kamille was gentle in a way Julia had never been.

Gentle, trusting, kind.. too kind. Kind enough to be swindled by a Three– by someone like Sahed!

Julia shook her head in disbelief. That’s right, she’d never be Kamille. She’d always be Killjoy Lazarett (as her classmates kindly pointed out), but for a moment she imagined taking his words at face value.

She wondered how he’d react to the contract she signed, chicken scratch on golden paper; pondered how to bring up the conditions of her release. The girl in the mirror mouthed the words because she couldn’t. “–to kill you.”

Julia felt her chest stir as she recalled the softness in his dark, dark eyes; gentle with understanding. But would he truly understand, she wondered, if she’d said she had no choice? Would he understand what it felt like to be so wary, so afraid to take a breath for fear of it just being water? 

Would he understand if she told him the needle might still be in her throat?

I have to kill you.

Tonny hadn’t tried to scold her into submission; he hadn’t growled or grumbled or berated her for her purposefully shutting herself out from everyone else (even if some of her prejudices were warranted). He’d made her feel safe, feel wanted; even Kamille acted like she hadn't wanted Julia around lately.

Out of everyone in the circus, it had to be Anthonn Gremminger, the one person she was predestined to end. Though Julia occasionally wondered whether he had the capacity for unkindness, what with the way he let himself get pushed around by everyone- even children.

I have to kill you.

The girl in the mirror looked back at her sadly, hair undone and for the first time, Julia was struck by how much she felt like a puppet. Slick golden threads descending from above to wrap around her knees, her wrists, her neck; steadily guiding her knife to the ringmaster’s throat.

No– telling him was a stupid idea.

Julia pinched the blush out of her cheeks; who knew what these crazy circus people would do to her when they found out why she was actually here? They’d probably lock her up in the basement and perform some voodoo-magic nonsense on her until she lost all her memories and Kamille.

No, there was only one way out of this. Julia would just have to do something about it herself.

She gave herself a long, hard look in the mirror: This circus was the enemy; Tonny was the enemy; but she wasn’t about to kill him.

There must be some other way to get rid of the contract, some way to break the seal. She was sure Sahed was hiding something from her - she’d need a way to break into his room later.

Yes, there was only one way.

Julia half-heartedly smiled at her reflection and tried to ignore the ominous swooshing of water in the distance.

‘It's the wind,’ she told herself as she left to attend the bonfire party, ‘A storm must be brewing.’

Right, just the wind.

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