(Set a few days before X-mas)

Holiday Prompt

The power’s out! On a cold day like today, this is the absolute last thing you needed. But, despite how beautiful that ice on the wires is, it does not make for a friendly day filled with warmth and electronics! But, there should be trucks coming out soon to fix the issues, how do you cope with the slowly creeping chill? Are you the type to snuggle up with someone you care about and huddle down to keep warm? Or are you the type to get the heck out until it’s warm enough to once more inhabit your dwelling?


People fall so in love with their pain,
they can’t leave it behind.
The same as the stories they tell.
We trap ourselves.
- Chuck Palahniuk -


Running a hand down his face, Rowan sighed heavily. He was tired, hungry, and now cold despite the multitude of layers he had put on. The day had begun like any other recently. Get up, eat a well-balanced breakfast, head to the theatre for rehearsal and that was where it stopped. They hadn’t gotten through any more than half of what they had intended to do when a large power outage struck. Of course, they waited. They waited for quite a while as each person did what they could in the small span the backup generators would last.

It wasn’t until someone came in to give everyone a heads up of the conditions outside that there was no choice but to let people go home. They had all been warned though to be ready for a call if and when the power came on. The show for the evening was not canceled yet either which mean Rowan had time to kill before The Nutcracker. He immediately grabbed his phone to toss out a text.

To: Elex
Rehearsal is canceled. Power is out. Can you come down to the theatre now? We can grab lunch instead of dinner.

He sent the text message off before hurrying to the bathrooms to change. He mentally thanked the frosted glass windows that gave him enough muted light to change in as the generators finally failed. It was a longer process than normal, but by the time he was fully changed, Rowan felt decently put together. I should toss my bag in the dressing room. Either way, I am coming back here later.

Doing just that, Rowan utilized the stairs to the dressing rooms using his phone as his guiding light. He flopped his bag in the dark room in the general direction he knew no one was likely to trip on it; against the wall. With that taken care of he made his way up to the main floor and lobby where he waited behind closed glass doors as the winter chill began to seep through every crack. Just looking outside was enough to give the dancer a chill down his spine as ice hung from wires, trees, buildings and anything else it could. He hadn’t realized that bad weather had been in the forecast. Going into DCBC theatre it had been dry if cloudy out. Whatever happened in a span of a few hours, it had obviously done some damage.

It just. kept. coming.

He washed and washed and washed, black hands impervious to the billowing steam that occluded his vision. But the blood hid from him -- in his nails, in the cracks of his palms -- and dodged every drop of water. He scrubbed with a sponge in hand until his skin felt raw. He scrubbed under his nails, wanting to peel them back from his skin wholesale if only to justify the sins sticking to his fingers. He found no relief.

He washed and washed and washed, red blood impervious to the chasing water that shrouded his transgressions.

A buzzer sounded and Faustite leaped, his skin spiking with electric nerves. That split second of panic faded with his phone's familiar chime. A text message.

It's just a text message. Drying his hands on Hopeite's kitschy handtowels, he reached for the pristine phone. The message wasn't comforting. Christ… Slamming his hand on the counter, Faustite dismissed the phone to its second home. He swallowed back the need to scream; there's no time. There's no time... Busied hands shoveled ice into his stolen Ziploc. He checked the bandages once, twice, thrice for any failures in technique. All the apartment fell silent around him, even the dog that now cowered somewhere in its bowels.

But the time for dallying passed, and he vanished with his unwanted trophy.


A half hour later, Elex Yorke looked his presentable best as he approached the grand, sweeping steps to the ballet theatre. Yet he felt, as he sighted Rowan, a thousand realities away. He felt as though a hundred lifetimes' worth of experiences drove them apart now, with seldom the most superficial threads to still tie one to the other. Was it bald idiocy to hope to braid a rope of those few threads? Was it worse still to pray for a bridge one day? As Elex whetted his lips, the answer weighed its stony silence in his stomach.

"Rowan," he greeted as casually as he could. His nerves still shook his voice. "Sorry I couldn't make it sooner. How long have you been waiting out here?" Only now had the cold pushed its way into his skin, down to his bones and further. It never felt so real as Faustite. As if to confirm it to himself, he tugged his double-breasted coat tighter about his body. Perhaps he should've considered a better scarf. Or thicker pants.

Or a relationship that wouldn't involve so much one-sided deceit.

"Let's get some tea. You look like you need it." Elex would tolerate no refusal; he absconded with Rowan's gloved hand and started toward the well-remembered tea shop.

Rowan looked at Elex with surprise when he came up the stairs to the theatre entrance. “I wasn’t waiting long at all, no worries. In fact you got here a bit faster than I thought you would on such short notice.” He watched as the boy tugged his coat closer obviously cold and not quite dressed to deal with the weather at hand. That would explain the waver in his voice.

Without a second thought, Rowan unraveled the scarf around his neck just as Elex seized his hand to lead him off. “Hey now. Wait a second.” He remarked teasingly as he stopped, forcing Elex to do the same if intentions were to hold on. “Here.” He released Elex’s hand and took the liberty to wrap the still warm accessory around the younger boys neck. “There’s an ice storm that goes through here and you don’t even bother to dress appropriately.” Rowan tsked before grabbing hold of Elex’s hand again after popping up the color of his own jacket to protect his neck.

“Right then. Tea sound marvelous! I just hope they didn’t get hit by the power outage too. Otherwise we’ll be roaming around in the cold longer than we’d like.” Rowan contently followed along with Elex. Every now and then as they made their way down the sidewalks he’d cast a furtive glance at the dark haired boy. The words Sinope had said to him still spun in his head like a sickness that festered the longer it went untreated. But how to treat this problem? Should he treat it? Ignore it? Did it really matter in the end? Rowan had no real qualms with the Negaverse and if Elex was a part of them did it make a difference?

It’ll drive me crazy with second guessing myself and him. That’s what it will do. Especially if something happens to change my opinion on this whole ridiculous war.

Still, as he watched Elex bundled up against the cold walking beside him, hand in Rowan’s own, it was terribly hard to imagine the petite boy as any sort of negaverse officer or corrupt let alone as someone who would rip souls from people.

As they walked they finally turned a corner and found the buildings and shops there still glowing brightly with lights. “Oh, that’s a good sign.” Rowan said with relief. “Too much longer out here and I don’t know if I’ll feel my poor nose.”


When they finally reached the shop it was thankfully not too terribly full of people. Many came in to get drinks but left with their hot beverages in hand and arms laden with bags from their day of shopping. “I’ll get the drinks.” Rowan said as he pulled his gloves off and stuffed them into the pocket of his coat. “What would you like? Seems they have a few holiday specials.” He nodded at a black dry erase board with colorful writing on it. “Gingerbread gold tea, sugar cookie black tea, a peppermint chai...I am not sure how I feel about that last one…”

He isn't wrong. I've forgotten what the cold feels like.

The lights pressed their Christmas cheer onto Rowan's face as they passed under the awning. Inside, mood lighting was a boon to the customers that chose to stay indoors. Curiously, man of the patrons chose to leave -- Elex wondered if the ballet theatre had faulty wiring if the rest of the city block went unaffected. It seemed as much, for how little their patrons stuck around. Abbott's house had power just as well, though she lived on the other side of town.

Elex never cared much for the self-seating scheme, but a booth by the window remained open long enough for the pair to claim it. As he sat, Elex chose to keep his coat on. Even with Rowan's scarf wrapped around his throat, the chill needled its way through his skin and burrowed there.

Rowan's voice invited him to look at the menu. Smiling, he shook his head at the danseur's objection -- a gesture the other man was sure to understand in a moment. "I'll have the peppermint chai." It's not just art we disagree on.

I'm lucky he picked up the drinks. Until the pair sat in the tea shop, he never once paid mind to his mother's cessation of funds. Seldom did he need them for his Negaverse duties when Schörl supplied single-use gift Visas. He hadn't yet received his next one, nor had he considered how money-poor he really was now. But if he had no rent to pay, no utilities, and his parents still paid his phone bill, then was there a need for it? Thought paralysis, he reminded himself sharply.

So he pulled his phone from the depths of his coat and opened the lock screen. As soon as he finished his password, a too-familiar Safari page cropped up with instructions on icing amputations. He swept the page away and settled for his messenger app.

I never leave myself enough ways to kill time.

After depositing his coat at his seat, Rowan went up to deal with the drink orders while Elex sat at the chosen booth attempting to warm himself up. Tea, for the most part, didn’t take terribly long to make. When asked for a mug preference Rowan opted or the ceramic assuming they were going to stay for a bit to kill time. When their drinks came up, Rowan happily took them on their tray over to their booth. With care the tray and it’s two mugs were slid onto the table before Rowan sat down in his own chair opposite Elex.

“Ok, I have to admit, even though the peppermint chai sounded dubious, it smells pretty good.” The scent of peppermint was the strongest of the two drinks and wafted up from Elex’s mug. “Let me know how it tastes. I’ll let you be the tester.” He reached out and took his own mug which was filled with the sugar cookie black tea. Being a teahouse meant each table was well stocked with basics and Rowan grabbed the small pitcher of creamer and some sugar. He was light with the sugar but put enough creamer in to make his dark tea a pale cream color.

“Are you warming up at all? The tea should help.” with a smile Rowan took a hesitant sip of his tea. It was hot but not burn your mouth of hot. Certainly too much so to take more than a sip at a time though. Ah well, they had time.

“Alright. I am antsy and can’t wait any longer. I was going to give this to you later on, closer to christmas but my work schedule is a bit hectic through the holiday. This little reprieve is actually a welcomed blessing. I thought our meeting tonight was going to have to be short and sweet so this is nice.” He smiled before he reached back and pulled out a box wrapped in matte black paper with gold ribbon. It sat easily in his palm as he held it out to the youngest Yorke boy. “Merry early Christmas, Elex.”

"You'll let me?" Elex asked dubiously, quirking a brow. "So it isn't my drink. Is it on rent?" He took the ceramic from its tray nonetheless. A quick sip confirmed that the two bold flavors competed for dominance, much like the unwitting Rowan and Sinope.

"But yes, I'm getting warmer." The conversation faded into something more benign -- something that demanded nearly none of his awareness. Something that left his eyes and mind to roam toward more interesting observations. Disappointment in Rowan's choice of conversation dampened that interest, however. He takes his tea like it's coffee. How British. I don't know what he chose, but it doesn't have a smell to overpower this one. But I don't have time to waste on idle observations and small talk. Is it so familiar that it's comfortable to you, Rowan?

Do you relax yourself with empty words and nonsense phrases? I could recite Jabberwocky for you.

The statement cut into his daydreams with its dissonant tone. Elex's gaze snapped up to meet golden eyes, attentive, expectant for the message that broke his thoughts. He knew not what he hoped for, but it wasn't more commercial ritual. Unease wrapped its sticky fingers around his gut, clenching tight as his partner produced a black box. He warned himself to relax, to take the gesture with all the rehearsed stride of Elex Yorke, yet the simplicity of it drove a wedge between them. That wedge widened and widened and widened with every passing second, reminding Elex with its grievous distance that he didn't belong. That he couldn't belong. That he was youma now, forever indebted to the Negaverse, forever chained to energy draining and starseed ripping and ear amputations --

"I'm surprised," he admitted as he felt his face go numb. His words sounded the selfsame uncanny distance belonging to old radios. "Thank you. If I had known…" The syllables stumbled and tangled with one another while shaken hands accepted the gift. Words were invitation enough -- Rowan expected him to open it. Here. Now.

Elex popped one of the folded corners, then tore the paper across the gift. Contrasting the black paper, he unveiled a pristine white box with textured latticing. He broke the tape's seal, then upon opening it, found a pocket watch embedded in a velvet inlay. Its crystal face was protected by an intricate cover -- one that allowed a quiet glimpse at the watch face. He took it from its housing, wary of how fingerprints smudged on polished silver, and unlatched its cover. Wind-up, as was the watch he presently kept. "Thank you," he returned, with as much meaning as he could muster around his welling nerves. Presently he set to work adjusting it; 12:15 was far from the present hour, but promised him time yet to humor Rowan's sentiments.

Carefully he cleared his throat. "I'll make sure yours finds you by Christmas."

Rowan smiled as Elex opened his gift. Excitement and nervousness bubbled like a cauldron in the pit of his stomach as the watch was procured from its packaging. Dark eyes gazed at the pocket watch, taking in all it’s details as thin finger moved carefully over the polished surface in an attempt to keep the soon-to-be unavoidable smudges upon its case. Eventually those long fingers moved to wind the watch to what Rowan assumed was the appropriate time.

“No worries!” Rowan said at the mention of a gift for him. “I, well I know we haven’t been together long, and while I intended to get you something this was just one of those things that caught my eye while shopping for my mother. I know you have your own watch and, truthfully, I wasn’t sure if it was a sentimental piece on top of being functional, but I decided to take the chance.” He paused, eyes watching the dark haired teen carefully. “If it’s not your style, or you prefer the one you have, that pocket watch can be easily returned and no hard feelings.”


Reaching back to his coat again he pulled out a small envelope and pushed it out onto the table. Scrawled in Rowan’s slightly messy writing was Elex’s name. “I got this for you too. Well, not that it was any trouble, but it’s one of my comp tickets for The Nutcracker. I thought perhaps you could come see it and then we can head out for a fancy dinner afterward.” He stopped a moment to take a tip of his tea before continuing. “You can pick the night, of course. That tickets doesn’t have a specific date on it.”

It was about that time that Rowan finally saw it. Elex’s demeanor, while well schooled and calm looking, told a story of something else going on. Had the gift been too much? Surely Elex had received nicer things from others. The watch shouldn’t be such a problem, unless it was the fact it was coming from Rowan himself? No. Surely that wasn’t it. He felt comfortable enough at this point that gifts shouldn’t be something out of the ordinary. Sure it was a bit nerve wracking giving it to him, but there were other worries about it.

"My pocket watch is just for function, not form." His gaze trained on the new one held in hand, and how it swung from left to right in a slow, purposeful manner. Its silver chain glinted under the mood lighting with its high polish. A few traces of gold filigree marked the end of the era for that jewelry faux pas. Elex wasn't disappointed to see it depart. "This was very thoughtful, Rowan. Thank you." I'm starting to rehearse. That's going to be noticeable.

But I can't be myself, either. How many new masks do I have to make for you, Rowan?

The pocket watch found its new home in his coat pocket, where the clasp of its chain connected to one of the coat buttons. There, it hung as a constant reminder for him to keep an eye on the time. A reminder that he couldn't linger long in this sunny world, with its societal patterns and smiling faces. He couldn't simply enjoy dinner with the man across the table. He couldn't indulge the lie with his suspension of disbelief so heavily broken -- not when he felt all the inhuman parts of himself objecting so vehemently. These niceties, these comments poured from him like dishwater -- muddied with every thought unsaid and word unspoken. One day, he reminded himself, Rowan would notice.

Next came an envelope, which he accepted with a sure hand. Dark eyes darted curiously over the messy scrawl, noting its inconsistencies. Wordlessly he dug a finger beneath the seal and pried the envelope open. From the frayed carnage, he plucked the ticket mentioned. And while it lacked a date, he noted that Rowan specified a seat number -- one of the ones nearest the stage. Between the length of the performance and the invitation to dinner afterward, Rowan asked an impossible feat. Every time I disappear, do you blame yourself?

"Please don't take this the wrong way," he ventured carefully, "but I can only do one of these." He looked to Rowan then, searching the amber of his eyes for any impending defiance. "I want to see your show, Rowan, I do. And I can see it, but…" Elex shifted, leaning back against the haughty swell of the booth. "I can't do dinner in the same night. What about the show one day, and dinner the next?"

Disappointment washed over Rowan like a sweeping tidal wave. Again, Elex was cutting into possible time together, and each time engagements were cut short or he had to change them for some reason or another, Rowan found himself wondering if there was something wrong with himself. Now...now other questions were brought to the forefront of his mind.

“Why?” He asked plainly eyes depicting his confusion and inability to accept this problem. “I don’t want to sound like a petulant child here, but I feel as if you go running off almost every time we meet. Or you always have something scheduled that unables us from spending more than a few hours together.” There was under laying anger, but the most dominating emotion spilling from the young man was frustration. This was depicted with a hand running down his face as he sat back in his seat in an attempt to collect himself.

“Is there something I am doing wrong? Or is there something more important going on in your life every single time we meet up? I want to spend time with you Elex. I genuinely enjoy your company and want to learn as much as I can about you but feel like all of this dodging is getting us nowhere.” Leaning forward again, his elbows supporting him, Rowan clasped his hand in front finger interlacing as thumbs moved to massage the tops of his hands unconsciously.

“Is there something going on in your life you don’t want to tell me or can’t tell me about?”

"You're right." The confirmation was met with gaze locked on Rowan. He waited, chilled fingers sucking the heat out of the cup in front of him. Words sucked the warmth from the air. And when so ensconced in ambience, everyone missed their wrinkle in conversation.

Elex snapped up each of Rowan's shifts in body language, each pressed into a thought. Each bound to the next until he could deduce any second tales told between knuckles, fingers, bones. Any lies in the way he shook out his hair or any burdens leaning on the curve of his shoulders. But Rowan was clean, honest -- or too well-versed in lying to be caught by teenaged eyes. That doubt was promptly shelved.

When he spoke again, it dispelled the length of quietude settled between them. What small connection of those spidery strands broke away immediately. He was Faustite now, for as much as he was Elex. "I disappeared a while ago. I don't know if you heard anything about it. I can't talk about that, but…" His gaze cast about on the table, looking for an anchor in the carefully-placed sugar packets. "I've been under house arrest ever since. No going out, no friends in. No more school -- only tutors. That kind of thing. I had to earn what time I had.

"This is the most they'll give me." His gaze reached Rowan again and his fingers curled perceptibly tight around the cup. He felt a vigor never dreamed of before, and it sung through him so loudly that he was sure Rowan heard it in the creak of his muscles. Is this the youma's fault?

A spread of three delicate fingers left their heat against the table. "Three hours. That's all I can have. If I go over by one minute, I lose it all. So when I'm careful, Rowan, think of it as an investment in you."

A story of house arrest. Likely instilled upon by parents who had been worried sick over a child that had gone missing for whatever reason. It seemed...odd to Rowan that Elex would wander off on his own. To leave his family and the life he had been building on a whimsy. If it had been more than that surely he wouldn’t be here today with him, abiding his parents strict rules, or even still within the city limit.

Or perhaps, his little adventure had taught him lessons he had not expected and coming home was his only real option. Maybe the restrictions were the better option?

Maybe there’s something else going on here? Have you gotten yourself into something much deeper? Sinopes words of warning were hard to shake off. Sitting there, watching Elex as he shifted his gaze from one point to another before settling on Rowan himself in the end. Those dark eyes seemed to blaze with something that was imperceptible to the older teen.

“House arrest and you just accept that?” He said finally, breaking the silence that had settled between them after Elex’s explanation. “IT sounds to me like your parents have turned your home into a prison for you. Was what you experienced during your disappearance that horrifying that you’d abide by such restrictions? Or…” He paused, licking his lips as he mentally battled with himself on whether to proceed.

“Did you get yourself tangled up in something that hiding under your own roof is your best solution?” The topic had been breached if ever so tentatively, but why stop? Why continue to let doubt, concern, and curiosity fester within him? This was his chance.

“Look, I’ve...heard rumors you got yourself involved in an organization that...well, for lack of better words is in the market of stealing souls when convenient for them.” Rowan’s eyes never left Elex’s as he spoke. He searched those dark orbs for anything to hint whether this was all true or some sort of concocted story by Sinope to make Rowan doubt Elex and effectively creating a wedge between them. Maybe the Dark Mirror senshi had already succeeded and this whole conversation was the nail in the coffin?

But Rowan needed to know. He was frustrated with the time restraints, the doubt, curiosity, and most of all his lack of ability to do anything about it.

“I want you to be safe and if you need help or something please don’t hesitate to come to me.” Reaching out over the table, Rowan’s right hand found one of Elex’s. The desire for physical touch too much to ignore as he yearned to bridge this gap that had consistently been there between them. “I worry about you.”

For once, Rowan caught him off-guard -- that his companion would not only pursue the subject but pick apart his explanation was unprecedented. When they first met, Elex was the one pushing Rowan to think and question the muted world around him. Now Rowan turned Elex's own advice on him, and tore at him with questions better left unasked.

Rowan's raw arrogance rankled him first. Rowan doggedly pursued that disappearance when Elex warned him once already. The subject wasn't Rowan's to discuss. Elex struggled, his livewire righteousness snaking hot hands over his own, begging movement, begging action. Impulse flooded him that he could not at once phrase, and he didn't try. He didn't want to know what it told -- no, demanded -- him to do. So he looked on, features stony in concealing his molten rage. Rowan could march on all he wanted about this topic. He wasn't getting answers by making conjecture, Elex decided.

'Look, I’ve...heard rumors you got yourself involved in an organization that...well, for lack of better words is in the market of stealing souls when convenient for them.'

His burning piqued, his skin paled to frothed milk, and Elex struggled against pitching vitriol across the table. Sinope. You couldn't leave it alone. You had to be the Enemy. The martyred one. The catalyst. You ruin every chance I get at success because it brings you schadenfreude glee to see me suffer, doesn't it? So you tell Rowan I'm in the Negaverse. So you ruin two lives with your poisoned words.

I hope you're watching. I'll put on a show, just for you. He wrenched his hand from Rowan's and struck it open-palmed against the table. Elex stood at once, and blustered out of the booth. "Worry about yourself," he tossed dagger-sharp over his shoulder. For as fast as his legs carried him, the exit felt a thousand miles away.

A thousand miles paved across roiling fear and hate and embarrassment and sorrow and rage.

Strickenized