amicably_absent | The Ball. And Doom.

The Ball. And Doom.

For some reason, while Cain was stolen by Ahamo, Jeb and Tutor to get ready for the ball, while Glitch found himself hurried off by Raw, DG and Azkadellia.

The girls had clearly been scheming for a while, because there was beauticians ready, girls with steam things and hot things and clothes and al kinds of things that Glitch was sure he hadn't to go through to get ready for balls before.

Raw was stripped out of his furs and washed, doing a remarkable impersonation of a cat getting a bath with the yowling and complaining and eventual compliance with pouting. He cheered up when they got to blow drying and brushing through, his wild fur and hair neatened and brushed out and settled. Glitch insisted they weave ribbons through it, bows that Azkadellia clearly didn't entirely approve of and made DG pull that face that said she was laughing inside but wouldn't hurt feelings by saying it. Glitch thought it was cute, especially was Kalm was given the same treatment.

Then the mirrors were taken away and he was set upon by the ravenous hoards. Combs and brushes pulled at his hair past yells from DG telling them to mind the zipper. His face was scrubbed with some sweet smelling, rough stuff while his nails were buffed and filed and cleaned. Steam blasted over his scalp and oil that smelt like satusma was carefully worked through it to 'give it definition', whatever that meant.

The girls were being done at the same time. Azkadellia was quiet and elegant. DG complained and yelped as her hair was curled and pinned up, her make up up expertly applied. Glitch stopped questioning after a while when they descended on him with brushes until he was whisked away by a team of dressers, away from the girls and into a side area to be put in a suit.

He didn't mind the tight fitting, long sleeved under shirt. He dealt with the formal pants and thin piping on them and the polished black shoes. He didn't even grumble at the shirt that was done up att the way, professional and proper and not at all how he usually wore them.

The coat caused a stink. It was heavy, with small hooks instead of buttons and a deep wide swing and beautiful trim like he thought his old coat might have had before his head casing. It was a rich colour and lined with rich silk.

And it had medals. And that was the problem. He had no idea what they were for, but he was assured they were his and he had to wear them because Her Majesty had asked him to.

Which is why he's dressed up so fine, with shining medals and just enough make up to accentuate his features and his hair in disarray, with loose curls and gleaming zip, because he's used his fingers to undo the neat work the hairdressers did hiding his zipper with Ambrose's old side part.

And he was dragged in there to be there with the Royal family. So naturally, he's lurking near the corner of the Royal Dais, exchanging looks with DG and hoping Cain turns up soon so he has someone to talk to against his wall.

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Glitch grabs Raw, whispering that Ambrose is hiding something and dragging Raw off with a grin at Kalm and Jeb.

They get back to the workshop, Glitch taking a steadying breath and relaxing as Raw's hand touches his face.

It's almost instant now, feeling Raw slipping through his mind, familiar and almost worn in, then the sharp, ecstatic awakening of senses, of memories, of thoughts. Everything coming to life and making him sharp.

And he can think. And he can remember. And the surge of painful awareness, the flickers from Raw, the hints from Jeb, the words that Ambrose tried so hard to hide form him..

Raw jerks away from him. Glitch stares at him, wide eyed.

Raw runs. He runs until he gets back to the dance and hides with DG so Glitch can't yell at him.

Glitch comes back slower, steadying himself, fragments of wholeness flickering through him because of the abruptness of Raw's pull back.

Meanwhile, Jeb and Kalm make their way over to Wyatt and all three of them decide to have something to snack on. Kalm climbs up and settles on Wyatt's shoulders, seeing as he's both taller and broader than both Raw and Jeb, and all the better for watching people from above. He steals little sticks of cheese and meat from Jeb's plate every now and then, zipping down and then back up, pretending as if it's raining. Some of the women nearby make small cooing noises in their throats at the cute display, but Kalm pays them no mind. Not much anyways, but they're no threat, and they seem to like just standing there, watching.

But the moment Raw comes scurrying inside, skirting the edge of the dance floor to get to DG, Kalm tenses up, jumps down and runs after him.

Father and son exchange looks and frowns. "You go find Glitch, I'll see what's up with Raw."

They part ways, each of them as determined, both of them worried in their own way.

Glitch is standing by the doorway, a few people glancing at him because he looks confused and vacant and somber, moreso than he was when most people saw him dancing with Anoria.

One of the maids will actually direct Cain though, tapping his hand. "Master Ambrose is by the entrance, he doesn't look well, sir."

But he's not glitching, that much is apparent.

"Thank you," he presses her hand gratefully before going on his way.

Not glitching, but obviously not well at all. "Sweetheart?" He hurries to his side. "Hey... What happened?"

Glitch looks up to Cain, blinking for a few moments. "Cain?"

He looks for Jeb, standing up on his toes. "Where's Jeb?"

"I'm here," he puts his hands on Glitch's shoulders, thumbs rubbing soft circles over the stiff fabric. "He's in there, checking on Raw. Something happened, Glitch. I'd like to know what."

Glitch looks up to him. "Raw... Pulled out too fast." His head was spinning. "Why are you here?"

"Because I got worried when he dashed into the ball room like he'd seen a ghost. I had to come find you, see that you're okay."

Which he obviously isn't. "Why don't we find someplace to sit. Somewhere calm and quiet."

"He just-" He looks around to Jeb again, to see if he's looking at them, disapproving without saying a word.

"I don't want to sit. I'm not a child, I've just had a shock. I'm thinking and seeing clearly for what brief time I have."

"Okay. It's okay." His hands stroke down and up along Glitch's arms, wanting to soothe. If he can just be there, it'll be all right. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Don't pacify me!"

People stop to look at that. Glitch pushes a hand to his brow, shaking, and turns and leaves in a swirl of his coat and a soft scent of satsuma.

They stop to look, and Wyatt looks back, working his jaw back and forth before setting it. He can't stay here, no matter how much Glitch may want to just be left alone. If something is wrong, someone needs to be there for him, and there's no better someone than Wyatt right now.

Even if they end up having their first fight.

He sighs, pushes his shoulders back, and hurries after Glitch, but silently.

Glitch stalks the hallway, medals pulled out and cast aside as he walks through the guarded areas of the castle. He pops the hooks and eyes on his coat, fabric billowing open as he stalks until he lets it slide from his shoulders to fan over the marble hallway outside his room.

In his suite, he throws himself to the sink, angrily swiping the touches of makeup from his face before tears become apparent in the powders.

Silently, Wyatt bends to collect the medals with patient, calm but efficient swipes, gathering them up in his hands. Then the coat, folded neatly over his arm, thinking maybe it's for the best if he doesn't crowd Glitch after all. A few seconds lingering here or there shouldn't make too much of a difference.

He takes a deep breath outside Glitch's door, hand on the doorknob. It's just stress, he tells himself. It's just frustration.

He opens the door quietly, hanging the coat over one of the tall armchairs, and arranges the medals on the table at their center. He doesn't know what to say.

Glitch is staring in the mirror over the sink, lips whispering words that not even he can hear.

"I can't do this, Wyatt."

He frowns, coming to stand just outside the threshold to the bathroom. "It was just an accident, Glitch. I'm sure it won't happen again...

"You need me to get anything for you?"

"No, Wyatt."

He doesn't look to Wyatt. "I can't keep doing this. You're my best friend... I should never have encouraged this on. I need space, Wyatt. I need to work out myself. And you need to work yourself out too."

He swallowed and made himself look up. "I'm thinking for once, Wyatt. I can think and say that this is me thinking and knowing with certainty."

Ice shoots up his back as all blood simultaneously drains from his face. He feels too hot and too cold at once, and he doesn't want to believe he's hearing what he thinks he is.

"And the rational minded you wants space." He swallows, willing this to be something better than he fears it is. He'll gladly take anything else, anything at all. "Sure. I'll move my things to my place in town, we'll work from there."

"I need space. You need space. This has just... swept both of us up so much. We need to stop this insanity." He looks up to him. "You're a dear friend. I should never have let it get this far, but after the surgery, I was just so swept up in thinking a bit clearer..."

"Don't."

It makes too much sense now. He swallows, looking away and thinking back to that one and only time he told Glitch how he felt. He never got an answer. Just sex.

His jaw works, and his face slowly regains its colour and more. "Don't bother making up excuses. You've made it perfectly clear, thank you, Glitch."

He turns around, swallows again. He doesn't quite run until he gets out the door, and not even then. He can't seem to make himself move.

Glitch does nothing while Cain turns and leaves, frozen and holding still because when Cain leaves, something in him dies.

It's only afterwards, much later afterwards that his brain release the lock on his body. When Ambrose has stopped screaming and sobbing in the back of his mind, railing against his decision and has been reduced to whispers even he can barely hear, murmur please like he did they took his mind away, broken pleads.

That's when Glitch breaks, sinking to the floor and hugging his knees, crying and sobbing so hard he can't breathe through his own grief. The cold tiles press against the metal through his scalp and the scent of satsuma fills the air.

He screams and smashes every bottle in the bathroom, until the perfumes mix in a heady, choking cloud of scent that obliterates that soft waft of satsuma forever.

Screamed out, crying, he finally falls to lie on his side, brokenly whispering like Ambrose in his mind.

"I love you." Pause. "I love you." Pause. "I love you." Pause.

Into the night.

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The Ball. And Doom.

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