Chapter Text
When the day had finally come, Miguel found himself incredibly anxious. Much more so than he had ever been for any mission he had gone on. His stomach had been twisting itself into all kinds of knots that with the hands Miguel had, he could never untangle. He could hardly focus at work and Lyla had picked up on it and made quick work of him.
“How’s your weather meter Miguel? Are you having a rainy day?” Lyla projected a rain cloud above his head that showers tiny weightless orange droplets onto his shoulders.
“Be quiet Lyla.” Miguel huffed, glaring at her with his vibrant eyes.
“You gotta tell me Miguel! What’s the weather today” Lyla curled her hand into a fist and placed it at Miguel’s lips like a microphone.
Miguel was dead silent, doing his best to pay no mind to her.
“Don’t keep the reporter waiting! Although, I can already tell that your sky isn’t a sunny one.” Lyla chuckled, prying to get more information out of Miguel.
“Come on grumpy pants.”
“I guess it’s foggy with some clouds.” He finally caved reluctantly.
“Tell me more!”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No. Now go.” Miguel snarled at her.
She took that as her cue to leave and she poofed.
Miguel started to think about his answer to Lyla’s silly little question. The day had been foggy for him because he wasn’t able to focus on what was in front of him. He felt that his vision had been clouded by what was to come in the near future. It had felt, metaphorically, like a slow and sticky day that seemed to have no end. Every eventful moment stuck to his skin like the dew in the morning. And it all took its time and Miguel was stuck waiting for it to catch up.
It had been cloudy for multiple reasons. Peter B never showed up in his office that day like he always did around lunch time, meaning Miguel didn’t get lunch today. The last thing Miguel wanted to do was leave his office to venture into the wild cafeteria. What a dangerous place. Of course, with Peter not showing up, Miguel had begun to worry that maybe Peter wasn’t going to the dance at all. And he had decided that if Peter B wasn’t going, then neither was he. So Miguel hoped to hell that he was still going to.
Miguel began to shut down the office. He had let everyone out two hours earlier than normal for the dance, but didn’t allude to the fact that he was going to be attending.
Once at his own place, Miguel shed his suit and slipped into the burgundy tuxedo. Miguel garnished the look with a crisp white pocket square he had kept with him since his days in high school. It was still very much so the same white it had been before because he had never had another excuse outside of high school prom to wear it.
Miguel looked at himself in the mirror one last time before heading out the door for that evening. The closer he got to the destination, the more irritable he became. Miguel desperately wanted to turn around and head back to the warm comfort of his home. He seriously considered just staying in his car and not making in appearance at all. Surely he would be missed. He thought to himself.
Miguel's car rolled up to the parking lot of an extremely grand hotel. Lukewarm yellow lights leapt from the base of the building, illuminating it upwards. The bushes out front had been perfectly pruned and shaped. And the building itself was the second most ridiculous show Miguel's eyes had ever feast upon. The first being Peter B. The walls were lined with hand done intricate gargoyles and chiseled roses that crept up the corners.
Miguel did feel it wasn’t a most welcoming entry. He looked at the building towering in front of him before finally saying out loud to himself,
“Whatever.”
Miguel stepped out of his car, adjusted his suit and strolled into the over the top hotel through the obscene bronze doors littered with shimmery drops of evening dew.
As Miguel entered, right away he felt the eyes of not only the spiders, but the hotel staff as well. He wasn’t what you would call, “average” in terms of his physical appearance and the staff picked up on that right away. After all, it was hard not to. Miguel chose to ignore them the best he could and instead focused his attention on the thrum of the music coming from further down the grand entryway. Miguel took his sweet time admiring the detailing in the walls. The gold painted trim stood out wonderfully against the eggshell white walls that looked like someone had sneezed pollen all over them, thanks to yellow hue the lighting cast over the walls. Plants were stationed in between each break in the windows. It went, window, plant, window, plant all the way down until one was greeted by a singular door on the left.
Miguel gingerly pushed it open and within was the source of it all. The music blasted garishly against his ears and it took everything in him not to wince. People looked his way as he came in. He watched and heard them whisper to each other, their eyes dead set on him like a hunting dogs on its prey. He looked down at the ground and walked with his forehead rather than his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them collect their drinks and dissipate further into the crowd and further away from him. It made him uncomfortable, the way people openly avoided him, especially in the casual-non-work related setting they were currently in.
Not wanting to draw anymore attention to himself, Miguel pushed himself up against a wall with a drink in hand and just observed. He kept his eyes peeled for Peter, and yet there was still no sign of him. Miguel waited for another thirty minutes before the awkward standing became too much for him.
Miguel threw his half empty drink in the trash and briskly tried to make his way out of the crowded room. Before he was able to reach the door, a firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder.