WARNINGS! Boy/boy relationships inside, if you really can’t stand that kind of stuff just don’t read my stories. Also do not steal my characters or my story. If someone likes a character just SO much that they want to RP them that’s fine as long as it’s in private IM and not in a public message board without my permission first FANARTS WELCOME XD spams

SUMMARY Kind of a mix of Cinderella, meets Beauty and the Beast, meets....um...Halloween? Sorry again for the length. I will be posting a shorter story soon for those lazy people out there. ENJOY
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A HALOWEEN FAIRYTALE

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It was a cold autumn to begin with, the temperatures falling so low that the forecast threatened of a snow bathed Halloween. It would be rough, but it didn’t stop the children from going about their nightly business, seeking sweets to fill their snack craved bellies. It was quite a site, and seemed somewhat refreshing to see people cast away themselves and be whatever creature they most desired. For Quentin, however, this was the night, the only night, he could truly be himself.

The cold wind howled outside as the boy stared out his window for a moment, his mind caught in a daze. It had been a year, three hundred and sixty five days, thirty one million, five hundred and thirty six thousand seconds, since he had left for a party that had ever since plagued his thoughts. And this would be the night he would step out of his shell and dare to dream. Tonight, he would find him.

With a sigh he turned back to the mirror, working out the final parts of his ensemble. To say he was in costume wouldn’t quite be true, but that night, dressing such a way, would not make him stand out as much from the others. A pair of tight vinyl pants slicked themselves to his body, laces lining the side seams and climbing towards his hips. Overlaying them was skirt of sheer fabric, blended in black white and gray and hanging loosely about his slender frame. Up top he had slipped into a form fitting top, shaped to fit his torso with utmost tailored perfection. Adorned with laces and zippers, and more buckles he looked upon himself with a strange sort of pride. After all, he had spent nearly all his free time during the last three months trying to perfect his design, daunting over it from stage one of the conceptual art, to completion of his project. Finally he had done it, and with a smirk he added the final touches to his costume.

“mm almost done” he muttered to himself half cheerfully pulling his green tipped raven hair into a couple of high ponytails and holding them up with green braided hair tie extensions. With the addition of a pair of large bat wings, another pair of mini wings attached to a headband, and a quick makeup check he was ready to go. Tonight was his night. Tonight, he would become Cinderella.

It wasn’t a large town, but Rockford Falls most often had something for everyone. It had become a yearly custom at the local skating rink, for example, to hold an annual Halloween dance party for adults. Usually there was a reasonable turnout composed mostly of college age kids, and Quentin had found himself curious enough to go one year prior. He had turned 18 only two days before the event, just barely reaching the required age limit to enjoy the party one year ago. Full of excitement at the realization that for once he was truly at home and accepted, he treasured it as one of his fonder memories. But the memory was only half complete with that acceptance. No, there was something more that drew him again to this place…a face he would always have burned clear into his mind.

In a vast array of colorful costumed men and women, his eyes had been drawn to one and one only, a beautiful man sipping at a drink while perched at the snack bar. Black silk hair had hung over his features in an uneven cut, framing all too enticing dark emerald eyes. Silk fabric hung from his broad frame, showing just enough skin to catch the teen’s attention. As for his costume, it was something utterly fantastic. Scars traced their way down the side of his face, working at his collarbone and even down to one of his hands. It was so professionally done they nearly looked real under the dim lights, but did nothing to mask the man’s beauty. Somehow Quentin felt this man was no different than he, hiding away in a place like this content with being himself. It made him want to know him…to speak to him, and yet Quentin’s courage had evaded him, and he’d found himself pasted to his seat the entire time. This time, this year, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. He would find him again, somehow.

It was with confidence Quentin now stood on six inch platforms, and even then only amounting to a height of 5’11”. It was here, and he felt the nostalgia wash over him as he moved through the doors into that world of comfort. Deep down he knew it would be mere luck to find his prince amongst the crowds, and even more so that his prince would even be there. Somehow he believed it though, believed in miracles just enough that he had allowed his hopes to rise. That was until he was stopped by a hand resting on his shoulder.

He turned to face a young woman, also about his age standing next to the door. At her side was a box full of masks and she pulled one out with a sweet smile. “Our manager thought it would be fun to have a masquerade this year” she explained, handing him one of the many masks and prompting him to put it on.

He didn’t want to, though, and stared at the piece of plastic and cloth, cursing his fate. Miracles…how could he find anyone if he couldn’t see their faces. With a nod he reluctantly put it on, peering out through the eye openings with his slate colored eyes, giving in to fates cruel games with a defeated sigh. His prince…where was he?

It was with this new defeated mindset that he found himself seated at a table alone. His confidence he’d felt only moments before had completely exhausted itself, leaving him alone without it. This was how things were, and with a groan he lowered his head down onto his arms. This wasn’t at all what he had wanted. This wasn’t at all the feeling he had remembered and a thought crossed his mind. Perhaps dreaming really was for fools. His desire to smile or dance melted away, leaving instead small droplets of warm liquid pooling in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry over something so small, but his heart ached. This was why others had rejected him once, in the days where high school had defined who was anybody, and money and style shaped a person’s worth. He’d never been able to control his emotions, so when a time came that he felt like crying, he did. Fortunately in college, few had seen this side of him, most likely because he’d refused to get close enough to anyone for such a thing to happen. He had painted an illusion, dressing as he had to hide how truly weak he was. The dark clothing, piercings, and makeup were enough to keep people away, to keep them from hurting him…but the loneliness, that hurt too.

Gloved fingers moved up to touch his earlobe, running across several different kinds of spikes and studs in reminiscence of why he had done it. A small part of him had enjoyed the subtle pain of the studs piercing his skin, and had drawn him to do so over and over. What now though? With a frown he closed his eyes, willing the tears away as he buried his face deep into his hands.

“Excuse me miss” The voice Jutted Quentin out of his spell as his eyes looked up to meet a badly dressed vampire. The man himself didn’t seem too unappealing, but it was obvious he had mistaken the boy for a woman. This wasn’t the first time and he was sure the mask only assisted in hiding his masculinity. “You have a beautiful neck, may I sample it?”

The boy growled at the bad joke, but stood up nevertheless taking the other’s hand and dragging him sourly into the crowd. “Let’s dance” he commanded, before beginning to move to the music. It wasn’t that he wanted to continue deceiving the man, and he didn’t particularly like being thought of as a girl, but maybe this would be an opportunity to get his mind off other things.

As soon as it started, Quentin thought he might either die of laughter or slap the other man from annoyance. He himself wasn’t much of a dancer, but the second the vampire made his attempts at drunken swing dance he’d had enough. The techno beat continued on as he sneered at him and pushed angrily past. If it was going to be like this he may as well have been dancing with himself. He did just that, for once intentionally getting drowned by the crowd until he was surrounded by tightly pressed moving bodies.

It took a moment before he was situated, but once he was his eyes closed and he began a dance of his own, feeling the music as it entered him and allowing it to take complete control. He was in a trance, being led by the primal repetitive beat, and caring not to open his eyes. Clumsy as he was, when he danced, he moved like liquid, gracefully led from one move to the next. Arms swung elegantly, his body twisting and turning, and before long tiny beads of sweat began trickling down his face and flying into the air as he spun, glistening from the lights in a fairies’ dance around him.

It was only when the music stopped, that the boy opened his eyes, and as before it only took an instant for his confidence to be forgotten. There was not a single set of eyes in the club that wasn’t watching him. He could feel their burning gazes and it made him want to curl up and vanish into himself. It felt violating, and uncomfortable now just like it had then. To be the center of negativity, it was nothing new, but here, in his haven on the one night of the year he could be himself, even here he felt it. He wanted to run, to escape those eyes. With reddened cheeks he spun around, trying to find any pathway he could to the nearest exit, wondering why he had come.

“What?!” he hissed, looking again around at the nameless masked faces that even now were judging him. His voice was shaken, perhaps a little frightened though he wanted so desperately to hide it. To say the walls were closing in on him wouldn’t be that much of an exaggeration. He felt like he was going to drown now in the crowd, needing a place he could breathe. “Stop staring at me!” The words resonated through the room, and led to an even more awkward silence, but as the next song began finally people began to move away from him. Some of them had guilt written on their faces, while others waited a moment longer wondering if he’d start his dance again.

That was right, the dance…he shouldn’t have tried to dance. All those eyes had been cast on him because of his own foolery. Where now? With his anger rising he shoved his way through to the far wall, and simply stood there in place. Maybe here he could at least be alone, and thoughts of leaving to return home played over and over in his mind. He had come here with such high expectations, wanting it to be like the year before. But instead he was nearly huddled into himself, feeling angry and miserable. He wanted it to end…this night had to draw to a close soon…and then he could go back to remembering the last year.

“Tell me boy, why did you stop dancing?” The voice was deep yet gentle, and so frightfully close Quentin could feel the warm breath tickling across his earlobe. With a start his eyes snapped open to meet with a tall beast of the night. His entire face was covered by a mask that resembled some ancient Japanese monster, long strands of white synthetic hair falling around him and only aiding in bringing the costume to life.

“Everyone was staring.” He responded, rather matter-o-fact. “I don’t like it when they stare.” That feeling was there again, like eyes were on him, and he turned to run, to leave, but the man stopped him.

“I see.” His smiled a little, and while it was invisible from behind the mask it was easily seen through the tones of his voice. Moving closer he offered his hand to Quentin, and took the other’s into his own. “Come with me. I can take you somewhere the eyes won’t be.”

Without knowing why he followed, pulling in closer to the demon as the crowds seemed to part of their own accord for them. He couldn’t respond, engulfed in the apprehension fluttering from within. There was something in that touch, something soft and comforting, that still managed to make his entire being tremble with nervous uncertainty. He couldn’t pull away, he couldn’t say no, and instead nodded in response, “alright.” With a gentle tug he was led by the other to a stairwell to the side. Despite the apprehension he followed through the dark passage up to the roof of the building. He paused, looking at the view about him, a city of glowing lights spread out in either direction of the skating rink. Quentin’s heart he found was suddenly racing and he couldn’t be sure if it were from the height, or from this strange man who had led him there. “Are we really allowed to be up here?” he asked.

As if he hadn’t heard at all, the man evaded the question, stepping out to look down towards the streets below. “It’s not as loud or clear up here, but you can still hear the music. If you don’t mind the cold, you’re free to dance if you wish.” Again, the smile was evident in the tones of the quiet voice, and Quentin couldn’t help but flush. He didn’t want to say no, even if he might be breaking a rule or two, because deep down he had enjoyed the feeling of the trance the music had put him into. The notes, the tones, they weren’t as vivid now, but the beat was strong, vibrating through the layers of concrete and thumping like some war cry from long ago. Closing his eyes once more, he gave into the beat, feeling freer than before. The cool breeze bit at his exposed skin, turning it a soft pink and numbing his touch, but it didn’t stop him from his motions. This was what it was like to forget everything in the world and simply be, and nothing felt more natural for him. The black wings seemed to move with him, flapping softly from the winds that twisted about him, and suddenly the boy felt as if he were trapped in a dream, moving in slow motion to a song that no longer came from a radio but was born from his spirit alone.

After a long while, he opened his eyes, drawing them to the other man with a strange fear he might be staring as the other’s had, but when he did, his eyes met something much more wondrous. Moving before him was not a man, but the Japanese monster come to life. The shredded fabric of the costume spread out into the night air clawing at the gusts of wind that brought them life. Quentin lost his breath, unable to tear his eyes away at the beautiful display of the other’s movements, and slowly that creature moved closer, animalistic in its motions before it too stopped before him. Quentin knew this was always a man and not a beast hidden buried behind layers of fabric, and yet it had negated to fully dawn on him until the other’s lips were mere inches away from his ear, and a distinctly human voice came out. “You stopped again.” He whispered, the hollow tones of his voice enough to give Quentin chills.

Heart racing all over again, he looked down ashamed. After all this time he had been the one staring. “I’m sorry…” he muttered, trying to explain, “its just you looked so…” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t call the other man beautiful even if he were being mistaken for a girl that night. If the other man discovered the truth he’d…

“So did you when you danced,” he whispered, offering out his hand to take hold of the boy’s. “That’s why they were all staring at you…”

“No!” Quentin yelped in retaliation. He didn’t want the other man to think he was insulting him. “It wasn’t like that…it wasn’t like that at all.” He bit his lip. “Its just…when I saw you dance…I thought it was really beautiful.”

“Then I’ll repeat,” he answered, his voice growing softer as he spoke. He was still achingly close; his fingers intertwined with Quentin’s and showing no sign of releasing, “so were you. Didn’t you know? They stared because they were under your spell.”

The teen could feel his face heating, and couldn’t help but turn his gaze away. He was unused to compliments and was oblivious on how to properly accept them. But what was really bothering him was those fingers wrapped around his own. Did this man even know he was a boy? It seemed a bit like he were deceiving him, and it felt wrong. He prayed it wouldn’t matter…that this gentleness wouldn’t change if the other knew the truth. “What are you talking about?” he asked letting out a chuckle. “I don’t even know how to dance, why would they think it was beautiful? The winds picked up again and a few flakes of snow fell softly on a downward path from the sky. It led the boy to wrap his exposed arms around himself in an attempt to get warmer. “Maybe I should head home, its getting cold ou…”

A yelp left his lips and cut off the end of his sentence as a pair of warm arms wrapped firmly around him, pulling him to that warm body and the comfort of those silken fabrics. The clawed hands of the monster seemed even more real in the dim light of the full moon, making this mystery man all the more inhuman. “Don’t leave so quickly before telling me your name.” he pleaded.

The crimson was there on his cheeks again. Those strong arms holding him, would they stay there when he answered? With a name like his, there was no more mistaking his gender. He wanted to lie, if to make these moments last only a little longer. But then what? This kindness would end soon…and with that mindset he looked up to answer. “It’s Quentin.” He hoped the other couldn’t hear him over the breeze, if that was the only thing god could offer him for the rest of his life. Instead of that, it was something more unexpected.

The embrace still held firm as the man rested his cheek to the other’s. “Well then, Quentin, it only seems fair I tell you my name as well.” He brushed his hand through the loose strands of the boy’s hair, adoring the silk locks for what they were. “Kendrick, my name is Kendrick.” He released his hold and turned the other so they were face to face, and with care he removed the glove from his left hand and ran his now bare fingers against the exposed part of Quentin’s soft cheek. “Well Quentin, I only have one more request for you.” The Japanese monster paused, waiting to see if the boy would pull away and continuing when he didn’t. “Close your eyes.”

Still under the other man’s power he complied as if unable to disobey. Long lashed eyes lidded and then closed, giving in to the other’s desires and uncertain what to expect. It most certainly wasn’t what came next though, and shock overran his ability to think as a pair of the softest sweetest lips pressed a feathery kiss to his own. It lasted a mere moment, but Kendrick’s kiss left him feeling overwhelmed. He felt a need to press into it, but instead felt his body betray him pulling away to end the contact. Slowly his eyes opened, wanting to see the man with such soft lips, and instead came face to face again with the masked creature.

He should have been mad, but he wasn’t. Perhaps it was simply because he wanted it too, or maybe it was that his mind was so overwhelmed with the unexpectedness of it he hadn’t the time to be angry. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, and when words finally returned to Quentin, all he could muster in response to what had happened was “why?” His voice was shaky, flustered, fingers coming up to trace where the other man had been. He was caught in reminiscence of the event, mind unable to clear itself enough to think of anything else. “Why did you kiss me?”

He observed the other man, not seeming to regret his actions in the slightest. “Forgive me” he answered quietly, “When you said you were leaving, I thought I might never get the chance again. I wanted something to remember you by.” He leaned in a little closer again, the false hair on his wig brushing the boy’s cheek. “Did you mind?”

“Of COURSE I…” But that wasn’t true, he didn’t mind at all. He didn’t feel the slightest pang of anger. In fact he wished only for this night to last a little longer. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to walk away without finally getting to see who the mysterious man behind the mask was. He wanted to know, if he saw him again…he wanted to know so that he might never forget. “You kissed me,” he answered instead, moving his own hand to run down the front of that well made mask, “but you won’t let me see you.”

The words came out strangely sour and a little heartbroken. He had come here unable to find his first prince and now was faced with a new one…but would this fantasy end after only one night as well. The other didn’t respond, the snow growing heavier and looking more of winter than fall. The soft flakes danced about causing a thin layer of cold white dampness on the dark parts of Kendrick’s costume. Was he even real, or some fairy tale creature formed from the boy’s own thoughts?

“When it’s time,” he finally answered, “for our masks to be removed…I will show you then.” That was right, the time would come, if he was patient just a little longer, and it fueled Quentin’s desire to stay if only long enough to see the face that encased such a sweet soul. His mind lost track of his original reason for coming, all that mattered now was the masked man who had called him beautiful. Slowly he moved towards the door, breaking free of Kendrick’s touch and spell to move down the stairs.

“Until then” he whispered, stepping down and once more into the crowds. The music was again roaring in his ears, thumping and beating though now the dance floor had cleared some. People had either left or gone to rest at tables overwhelmed by the heat and exhaustion. The warmth inside tingled against his cold skin lighting him ablaze after the numbing feeling of the frost bitten air. It brought him again to life, and he looked behind himself half expecting the monster to have followed him. But there was no one, Kendrick vanishing as if he had been a ghost or illusion. Maybe this was pointless, staying until the end, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He had to know. Sadly he moved to the dance floor again running his fingers against his lips one last time before forcing his way to a chair against one of the far walls. He could wait this out just a little longer if he tried.

And as if answering his silent prayers for the moment to come, a voice came over the speakers, overpowering the music to announce the time to remove masks. He looked around searching for his monster but there was nothing. Kendrick had vanished like the ghost he represented. It left Quentin feeling uneasy, not wanting to remove his own mask. He didn’t want to be seen if the other wasn’t there with him. But there was no escaping it. One by one the other guests removed their own to show the identity that lay beneath. If he didn’t follow it would only draw more attention to himself and he wished for anything but. So, with silent hesitation, he lifted the covering, head lowering as he let the mask fall to the floor. There it was again, that horrid silence, those penetrating stares. Kendrick couldn’t have been right. They stared because he was different. Beauty had nothing to do with it anymore, he really was just that repulsive. And the other had tricked him into this…he had known hadn’t he, that the moment Quentin removed his mask it would be like this. He turned to run, to escape only to be stopped by his monster.

Quentin’s eyes narrowed at the site of the still masked man. “Were you mocking me?!” he asked, voice angry and spiteful towards this other man. He wanted to disappear, to run away and vanish from their eyes. “Listen I know I’m a freak! That’s why they’re staring isn’t it?” The tears he had felt earlier that night had returned as he lifted his hand and slapped the other hard. “Why do you pretend to be nice to me?”

He jumped when he felt Kendrick’s hand again wrapped tightly around his wrist. “Do you really believe that?” he questioned, the pain evident in his voice. “I wasn’t mocking you Quentin…and these people…” He looked around as well, all those eyes full of something but not disgust, “they stare because you are unique…you are beautiful…”

The grip grew tighter as the demon pulled Quentin close to him again, reaching those strong arms lovingly around him. “I was watching you last year,” he now whispered, “You were the only one who didn’t seem repulsed by the scarred man…I admired you for that.” Even Kendrick was trembling as those words left his mouth, his eyes closed as he whispered to the other. “You left before I had a chance to speak with you so this year I came to find you…”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped, pulling away. “Let go of me!” He knew very well whom the other spoke of…the man dressed like him, the one he had admired from afar. Suddenly he found himself disappointed that he had been unable to find the man he had come for. He wanted to go home…he wanted to give up on his fantasies. “How could anyone be repulsed by him? He was beautiful now let go!” His words were demanding, his struggle even more so, and Kendrick could only do as he was told, releasing the boy. Before the monster had a chance to remove his mask, Quentin was already running towards the door. His bat wings caught on any number of decorations and people, tearing apart the wire and fabric, but he could hardly care now. He shouldn’t have come. All his idealistic childish fantasies had served to break him and now it had him running from someone who really had accepted him. He couldn’t stop though. His body was disobeying him and moved from the building to his car. It wasn’t until the keys were in the ignition, the engine started that he regained his sense. He needed to go home…after a display like that. He couldn’t face Kendrick again.

The drive home was a harsh one. The winds had picked up the snow falling somewhat regularly now. His eyes were blurred from tears as he cursed and hated himself. He couldn’t stand himself for being such an idiot, running from something wonderful for what? Fear? Insecurity? Why had he come if he was going to be like that? Trying to track down someone he’d only seen once, was it good enough reason to leave the other? He had known before he’d left he probably wouldn’t see the scarred man, but he had tried. He had tried, and failed.

That acceptance, a chance to fit in, even on Halloween it had been ruined somehow. Last year had been a dream. This year…even Halloween…and his mind wandered off to the man in the Japanese costume. How could he have run away? Kendrick had been truly accepting and he had run. Was he really that afraid of who lay beneath that mask? After all that was why he had waited, because he wanted to know. Instead he had run out like a fool. His mind kept replaying the situations over and over, and with time, his tears finally coaxed him off to sleep.

The morning sun shone through Quentin’s window, casting fingers of gold about his messy apartment and tickling his body with joyous warmth. Groaning he rolled over, forcing himself to sit up as he realized he hadn’t taken off any of his costume aside from the massacred batwings flung in the corner of the room. His feet were sweaty and sore in the heavy boots and his hair had formed into a messy mass of tangles wrapped about his braided hair-ties. Painfully he slipped out of bed, removing his boots, and taking down his hair. It had really happened. That horrible wonderful night had been real and he wished it hadn’t been. Because then he would be able to forget Kendrick.

His sleep had even been disturbed with dreams of what had happened, leaving him tired and exhausted. With a moan Quentin ran a brush through his hair, working out the tangles and bringing back its silken texture. He wanted to forget his stupidity, and instead the thoughts replayed in his mind reminding him of what he had run away from. With a loud rumble he was jutted from his thoughts and to the more pressing matter of filling his stomach. It wasn’t until he reached into his pocket looking for his wallet, however, that he realized his biggest mistake of the prior night. “Shit” he growled, realizing there was only one place the missing billfold could be. He didn’t want to go there, he didn’t want to think it was there, but it had been the last place he’d seen it. Hissing he picked up the phone, dialing the number to a place he wanted to avoid.

“Hello?” Quentin could easily recognize the voice as that of the girl who had given him the mask the night before. He paused a moment clearing his throat as she asked again, “hello?”

“E…excuse me” he finally answered, fumbling with the phone and trying not to let his frustrations show through. “I think I might have left my wallet there last night. I don’t suppose on any off chance someone turned it in did they?” It wasn’t like it was stuffed with money or anything, but he needed it, if for his license and nothing else. He prayed it was there, that a well meaning soul had discovered it on the dance floor. And yet another part of him would have been more relieved if it were gone forever. At least then he wouldn’t have to return to that place.

“There was a wallet turned in,” she answered softly, “do you think you could describe yours?”

“Uh,” he thought for a moment before continuing. “It’s black with a red dragon on it. Is that the one?”

The woman confirmed from the other end nodding though he couldn’t see it. “And when would you be coming in for it sir?” She was amused, her voice laced with mischief. “We’ll be in all day if you’d like to come pick it up now.”

“Give me an hour and I’ll be there. Thank you for your help.” He hung up the phone, stepping towards the shower though he didn’t feel much like getting ready. The hot water beat against his skin leaving a trail of red spots that eventually spread to cover his entire body with warmth that washed away his aches. When he was finished, he stepped out, much less concerned about his appearance as he blow dried his hair and allowed it to fall however it wanted. His outfit was not nearly as complex as the one the night before but still showed a taste of the same fashion. Tight black jeans were still decorated with buckles near his knees, and his shirt fell a little more loosely, a picture of a dancing woman painted on the front. He completed it with the boots from the night before, and headed out the door. Did he have to really go? But he knew the answer and found himself driving to the skating rink.

When he finally arrived, it was with dread that he stepped to the door and knocked. A closed sign marked the building, but someone had answered the phone. He would scream if it were just another joke. That was why with growing impatience he waited, holding in his overpowering emotions. Finally, the knob turned and the woman stood before him with a smile gracing her features. “You’re here for your wallet correct?” she asked. Her voice was just as sweet, if not a bit tormenting from the hidden agenda that lay behind it. She led him to the snack area and paused. “Please have a seat. I have to go speak with my manager for a moment if that’s okay.”

The boy found himself obeying, waiting semi impatiently in the darkness as the woman disappeared behind one of the many doors in the building. This was ridiculous. Why did he have to wait for a manager to retrieve his wallet? But that wasn’t the real reason he was angry. His eyes wandered the room, falling to the place where the scarred man had sat one year ago. He couldn’t help but think of that beautiful man, but now this place brought memories of someone else as well. “Damn it.” He growled beating his fist onto the table for a moment before putting his head down. Kendrick…that other man…he had been the same. He had come in search of Quentin and he had so easily shoved him away. He sighed; wanting to turn back time that he might tell the Japanese monster he was sorry. But, it was too late for that now. The man, who had accepted him with those soft loving lips, was lost forever.

“Hmmm” a voice sounded as a hand came down to place the dragon patterned wallet next to the boy’s head. That hand, it was where Quentin’s eyes fell first, only to stare at the pale long fingers that rested beside him. “Sir, your wallet?” But that voice, it took the attention quickly from there upward. He knew that voice…the one that belonged to the Japanese monster from the night before. The face he met was not what he had expected. His gray eyes grew wide with astonishment as they met the emeralds glimmering in the shadows. “You’re…”

A smile formed on a scarred face as the man stared back at the boy. “You were the first one who has ever called me beautiful,” he answered with a bittersweet smile. “Knowing these are real, do you think so still?” When Quentin didn’t so much as flinch, Kendrick found himself smiling just a little wider, and tenderly his fingers brushed against the boy’s with the soft perfection of his left hand. Silently he lifted the boy’s chin and moved a little closer… “Please don’t run away from me again…”

Quentin couldn’t control the beating of his heart as he realized the truth. The man he had been searching for, and the kind heart hidden behind layers of costume, they were one in the same. He smiled brightly, standing to wrap his arms around his long lost prince charming and burying his face into his chest. “I’m sorry…” he cried out, “I’m sorry Kendrick I won’t leave you again….so please…” He looked up his eyes pleading, “Please say you’ll forgive me.”

Kendrick’s eyes softened as he smiled and nodded. “As long as you stay with me, there’s nothing to forgive.” As softly as the night before, he brushed his lips to Quentin’s. In the dark of an empty skating rink, they held each other tightly. “I guess, fairy tales are real,” he whispered in his deep sweet voice, “and I am the luckiest beast, to have found such a beauty.” In the silence, without words, they had each found their comfort and place of acceptance. And now that they had each other, they would never let go again.
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HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Senny