Chapter Text
Everything is so loud, but in a fancy kind of way that makes Daniil a little sick. It isn’t just the sound, absolutely everything in the ballroom that Daniil’s standing limply in is fancy. The carvings on the white wall decorated with golden interiors screams rich, and the ballroom is fill up with a golden hue that just lingers over people. People that are dancing, talking and laughing because there is just so much goddamn gold. To say the very least, the ballroom is absolutly marvellous. The ceiling is so tall to a height that Daniil does not even want to guess, with it being vaulted and obviously decorated with golden lines of gold with paintings of angels in the four conners of the ballroom. Although to be the very honest, Daniil does not care about any of it. The people, or the drinks and food or the fake talks or the laughing or absolutely anything.
Anything but him.
The ballroom is filled to the very brim with ladies and gentlemen dancing together, moving to the music. All the gentlemen were in suits, which is the least to expect honestly, and the ladies were laughing and twirling in their beautiful, sparkly ballroom gowns with their hair all done up pretty and neat. There are chatters everywhere. Ballads are playing. Daniil fiddles a little with his black bowtie. He only stares where his eyes wants him to stare.
Standing not so far from the opposite side of the ballroom of where Daniil’s standing and nursing his wine glass, is a man. No, a boy. He looks so young. He’s standing there in his black suit with black shiny shoes, looking out towards the ballroom where couples were dancing. Once in a while a hand would run through wavy, soft-looking golden locks of hair that Daniil just wants to touch. The boy looks so timid, standing there by himself, ignoring the chatters from the people around him, hands together at the front. Daniil put his glass of finished wine on a random table and slowly made his way towards the boy. We are the same, Daniil thinks, With no one to dance with, with no one to talk to.
He really doesn’t have anything to lose.
“Tonight is really bland, don’t you think?” Daniil asks, standing besides the boy now and wow, he’s only slightly taller than Daniil’s shoulder.
“Is it really?” Asks the boy, who glanced up to the taller through his strands of hair with a beautiful smile. Daniil thinks he himself must be crazy because the gold that the ballroom is covered in is all the way too much and it hurts his eyes, but this boy’s hair is a different golden. A bit like the sun that Daniil wants to bathe in. Maybe he’s being a little dramatic. Oh well.
“More or less, don’t you think?” Daniil smiles back at him.
The boy, because Daniil still haven’t yet got to ask for his name, has got beautiful eyes. They look so clear. They’re icy blue. His eyelashes are so long. They’re a little golden too, curling, curving up femininely. Daniil knows women who would more or less kills for those eyelashes. He’s got freckles darting on his face and, and he’s got a straight nose, with straight white teeth shining when he smiles and Daniil just can’t help but think-
“So how much will it be?” The boy asks. Daniil still doesn’t know his name. He should know, by now.
“Pardon?”
“Sorry, I mean how much are you offering?” The shorter asks. All he has been doing since the moment Daniil started talking was asking questions really. He’s looking out at the ballroom again, this time with something in his eyes. With a sense of yearning? Longing? The music has changed. Still ballad, but a different one. More and more couples fills the ballroom. Shoes tapping. Heels clicking. Laughter. Talking. Dancing.
The boy runs his left hand through his hair once more, the sleeves of his black suit and white button down slightly pulled up, revealing bracelets almost covering his whole wrist. Did Daniil mention he has a bowtie too? But what is it that Daniil’s offering? He still doesn’t quite get it.
“How much are you offering?” He asks once more and looks up at Daniil this time, eyes a little narrowed, hands rubbing eachother almost seemingly nervous? Or calculating, Daniil couldn’t tell. His lips is a thin line. After all of that, and Daniil still has absolutely no fucking idea what they are talking about. Maybe he’s an idiot. But really, he’s confused. He frowns. Daniil’s mouth is open and words were on the verge of leaving them when someone interrupted them.
“Andrey! My number one hero!”
Stumbling towards them is a big, fat old man who’s suit jacket barely fits, not to mention the inner button down shirt that is on the very verge of popping from his obnoxiously big beer belly. He stinks of alcohol, mix with an unhealthy amount of cologne that makes Daniil suffocate and sick to his stomach. The old man’s face is red, one hand holding a glass of champagne, the other rubbing his pregnant looking stomach. Daniil loathe this man, and he’s never even seen him before. Next to him, the boy goes stiff, hands clenched so hard on his sides that his knuckles are snow white. His face is a mask of no emotions.
“Aw come on, don’t be prissy. Come, let’s have some fun.” The man smiles and Daniil wants to vomit. The old bastard doesn’t even peek an eye at him, just moving forward, one hand still grabbing onto the champagne glass with chubby fingers, the other reaching out to grab hold of the short boy’s arm. The boy yanks his arm back, disgusted, takes a step back and frowns.
“No, Ivanov, you’re drunk.”
“Oh come on! What happened to that good little whore who’d have fun with me? Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.” Now Daniil seriously wants to vomit. The man was repulsive. The bastard grins, advancing and for some reason, Daniil just wants to knock his head off.
“You know, maybe this time I’ll pay you extra for sucking my dick. That’s all you want right? More money? For your sick mothe-”
Before the gross bastard can continue, a fist meets his face. Daniil’s eyes widened, looking at the boy who’d just punch the fat bastard. The boy’s bristling, shaking like he cannot control his anger. Stumbling backwards and unable to balance himself, no doubt from all that fat, Daniil thinks meanly, the old man fell with a big crash, champagne spilling all over this suit, glass breaking. Multiple gasps can be heard around them. Music continues to play, feet continue to tap, but some of them stop to watch the even that’s unfolding. Surprisingly, Daniil still doesn’t have any idea what the fuck is going on. What the fat bastard said about, about the boy got to him and his head a little. What the fuck is actually happening, Daniil deadpans in his head. The old bastard gets up with immense struggle, and wow, he’s really furious with how his face has gone several shades of red brighter, people around him backing away.
“You motherfucker!”
The fat prick launches himself at the young boy. Now we’re drawing a big crowd, Daniil thinks solemnly. The boy’s eyes shut close, hands bracing for the impact and before big, chubby hands can reach his collar, Daniil comes forward, side-step and pinches the fat fuck’s ear and drags him backward. Daniil is tall, very tall and not many people can escape his steel grip. The old bastard had the audacity to yelp like a little school girl and the boy’s icy blue eyes peeks open. Then they proceed to widen. All around them, people stand and stare, some of them with their hands covering their mouth in concern, some watches just for amusement, probably.
“Now, now. That’s a bit rude. Little boy here has done nothing wrong to you and if he did, I wouldn’t have known. Anyways, that’s not the point. The point is, you shouldn’t talk to people like that. Well, to your credit, he did throw the first punch.” Daniil frowns. The Russian might be regretting this later on, when he really takes some self-reflection and realises how dumb he is, digging his own grave by pointing his nose where he shouldn’t. He should have stepped away, it’s not his problem, but he knows if he followed his brain, his heart would’ve jumped out, give him a beating and, Danya, you damn idiot! Yeah that boy threw the first punch but don’t lie to yourself. That old bastard is repulsive. You know it yourself.
Heart: 1 – 0: Brain
Suddenly, there are other guys in suits running towards them, pushing people aside and oh, that must be this bastard’s bodyguards. Daniil’s snickering already. Now this is a fun night. Maybe he’s secretly just wants some fun? Daniil doesn’t really know. He turns back to the boy and tells him,
“Stand back and don’t get yourself hurt.” The boy visibly gulps, a little afraid. A little confuse.
The first guy really does not hesitate when throwing the first punch, his whole body launching. Daniil just moves his body sideways while still holding a death grip on the old bastard who’s still crying out in pain. The guy certainly does not expect that because he loses balance and all it takes was for Daniil’s long leg pointing out for him to trip and crashes into a table full of food. The table of food collapses. Women around him starts to scream. They’re so dramatic, Daniil can’t help but think, rolling his eyes. He finally let go of the ear he was holding and the pathetic bastard fell to the floor with another cry. Punches come flying at him. Daniil laughs a little. Uppercut. Right hook. Left hook. Guys are falling. Daniil feels like he’s in an action movie. He laughs a little, the adrenaline coursing through his body, his suit jacket flailing as he moves. Everything is still so fucking loud. People are screaming, Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2 in E-Flat Major by Chopin is playing and Daniil thinks this might be an eventful night. After all, he’s fighting guys he doesn’t know in a goddamn golden ballroom, protecting this boy that he’s interested in that he doesn’t even know the name of, and undoubtedly getting himself in massive trouble just because he wants some fun. Probably. The boy is standing there watching, looking extremely frantic and Daniil knows he doesn’t have time to look at him because he’s in the middle of fighting but the boy just looks so beautiful and wow, great music, Chopin was really a fucking geniu-
He gets a fist to his left eye.
The Russian stumbles back, grunting as his vision is impaired along with pain that is beginning to explode. It looks like whatever trance the boy is stuck in has been broken and there he is, running towards Daniil like a saviour and before the Russian can get another fist to the face, someone is pulling the bodyguard back by the collar.
“Get the fuck off of him!” Screams the boy, scrambling to push the bodyguard off. He grabs Daniil’s hand and the next moment, they were running out of the ballroom. The sound of the people, the screaming, the chatters, the noise, and along with Chopin’s music that Daniil actually really likes all begins to fade away. They’re running down the corridor, hand in hand and tonight must be the one of the most random and spontaneous nights Daniil has ever had. He begins to laugh and surprisingly, so does the boy. They run and they run until they’ve escaped to the grassy field behind the big estate where the ballroom is located. Daniil’s exhausted and so is the boy, whose name Daniil still doesn’t know but they’re laughing, laughing hysterically, breath huffing, bending over because they’re short on breath.
Turns out tonight wasn’t so bad for him.