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“Rosalyne dearest, please kindly remind Capitano that the house party the Fatui is planning to host requires his presence and that is nonnegotiable.”
Capitano sets down his copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray to look up at Pantalone disdainfully. That bitch. He came to this lounge to unwind, not to listen to insufferable people come talk to him.
“The house party tonight?” Rosalyne smirks like she’s been waiting for Pantalone to ask, almost as if they had rehearsed for this exchange. “Why, Capitano sweetie, your favorite ginger is slated to show up and I’m sure he’d be gutted if his favorite upperclassmen and dour Harbinger wasn’t in the house tonight. Watching him mope is fun, but not nearly as fun when it gets so pathetic.”
“Ginger? What ginger? Don’t be tedious and get to the fucking point, Lohefalter.”
Rosalyne cackles predatorily as she stands up and walks over towards the single seat couch Capitano is sitting on, setting her hand a hair’s length from his side. His skin crawls at this exchange, already sick of her antics.
“You really don’t know who I’m talking about? Why, it’s your favorite stalker of course,” Rosalyne cooes as she settles her hand on Capitano’s shoulder. “What was his name again? Oh yes, Ajax. Last I heard, he’s been looking for your class schedule, trying to capture your fleeting attention.”
Capitano picks up his novel again. He already knows more than he needs to about the boy. “If you’re trying to force me to come, you’re not doing a particularly good job. We only need five total Harbingers at every party, and I’m sure you can easily find three more.”
“Of course, we aren’t forcing you to come, but it’ll just be your loss,” Pantalone hums, infuriatingly polite. “Plus, Pierro will be displeased if you miss another party of ours. Your pouting only gets you so far.”
Capitano grunts. Bastard has a point; their frat president would be nothing less than pissed if he doesn’t show up to any of the parties this semester.
Fuck.
“We’re leaving to set up now, you can tag along if you’d like,” Rosalyne says, dragging her nails against Capitano as she stands up. He manages to repress a disgusted shudder. “Your choice, of course.”
She slinks away without looking back, the click of her heels echoing in the room as Pantalone waits expectantly in the doorway. Capitano doesn’t need to be subjected to any more of their crowing, but he silently stands up and follows. Pantalone smiles approvingly.
Bastard.
They pass through various sets of double doors in the corridors of the English department building, different frequencies of heels clacking at different paces. Capitano ignores Pantalone as he holds doors open by shoving open the other side of the double doors every time instead.
Once they're out, Capitano revels in the brisk gust that blows into his face, despite the sun blinding in their direction. The fall foliage crunches under his feet as the three of them trek towards the frat house, an imposing mansion that Pierro spent too much time developing and too much of his money to look that gaudy.
Capitano readjusts the collar of his black turtleneck, hoping to fall slightly behind the other two but they fall in line with his pace. He sighs and the two beam at his discomfort.
“God, we were so lucky we caught you on our way out of the English building. You almost made me sacrifice my coffee run to go find you,” Rosalyne pouts. “You and the rest of the board know how I get when I’m without my coffee. Anyways, you finalized criminal justice as your major? You really should have held off on that decision; communications or something easier would have been better for you. After all, criminal justice is a hard major to pursue.”
“No need to beat him down so hard yet, he still has this party to get through. He can contemplate his poor financial decision of pursuing lackluster majors later,” Pantalone chides.
“I’m contemplating the poor decision of accompanying you heathens on this walk to the House, that’s for fucking sure,” Capitano grumbles. They both liked hearing themselves talk a little bit too much.
“Already giving up your loyalty to the Fatui? Tsk tsk, you’re already on thin ice from missing so many parties,” Rosalyne tuts.
“Like you have anything to say about loyalty, all you care about is the money and power you can squeeze out of this dumb frat,” Capitano mocks. Rosalyne grins back, a smile full of teeth, the edges of her lipstick razor sharp.
“Now, money isn’t the fair lady’s sector but mine,” Pantalone sneers. “We can leave the petty power acquisitions to her.”
“No one cares about contesting your demented obsession with capitalism, only the truly brainless care as much as you do,” Capitano scoffs. “Only you would be willing to waste energy caring about the most inane details about the parties we host, languishing over the price of tablecloths like a pauper.”
“It all counts in the long run, but I wouldn’t put it past you to think beyond the bigger picture,” Pantalone snipes. “There’s always more to profit from our parties.”
“Maybe you’d make more money from the parties if you didn’t spend absurd amounts on the ones you host. I know common sense was never your strong suit, but you can at least make an occasional attempt at rubbing together the last of your brain cells,” Capitano jeers.
“Like you have anything to say about brain cells. Having conversations is already taxing enough for yours,” Rosalyne simpers. “You don’t even attend enough parties to actually have anything to say about the finances.”
“You’re feeling awfully kind today, aren’t you, Rosalyne,” Pantalone brays.
“If I have to listen to you two yapping, at least spare me your weird fucking flirting,” Capitano says with disgust. The two snicker together—terrible sounds, truly—before they all finally arrive at the house.
Navy blue curtains are draped against the ceiling to floor windows with fake candles set up along the railing of the two staircases that frame the sides of the room. Further in, a bar area outfitted with a stainless steel wine closet and shelves of a smattering amounts of various liquors sits on the right side of the room. Small circular tables that hold smaller bouquets of erigenia bulbosa flowers are vaguely littered on the left side of the main floor and separate the hall from the doorways leading to the other rooms in the house. The deck area at the top of the staircase is still bare, most likely where Capitano and the other Harbingers will wait before the party begins.
A flurry of underclassmen are still running around, rustling textiles and discordant metallic screeches ringing under the voices reverberating throughout the main hall. The room looks set up for the most part, just a few final touches needed. Capitano rolls up his sleeves and heads over to the bar area, Rosalyne and Pantalone clicking away from his direction. He and a few other people finish arranging the last of the bottles on the clear glass shelf, ready to receive patrons and orders at the bar. Capitano dusts off his hands and glimpses around, the whole place ready and the atmosphere buzzing with anticipation.
Capitano goes to the closet next to the kitchen to find his hidden masquerade mask, his uniform. He secures it around the bridge of his nose before going to join the other four Harbingers awaiting at the top of the stairs. The doors are opened with an underwhelming creak and hordes of gullible underclassmen flood into the house, the main floor just barely big enough to fit everyone. Before the crowd has a chance to get too rowdy, the lights are dimmed from below and the noisiness simmers down.
“Thank you for graciously providing your quarterly contribution at the door tonight and for coming to Phi Alpha Tau, or as you may better know us as, the Fatui,” a nameless frat member announces to the roars of the riotous partygoers. “In the case of an emergency, please feel free to locate any of the Harbingers, who are wearing masquerade masks.”
Spotlights are shined onto him and the other Harbingers present the white light burning like a heat lamp. Capitano stares into the crowd, watches as people flinch as they quickly notice where and which Harbingers stand above them. The host introduces the Harbingers and their positions, the soulless faces staring in trepidation at Capitano’s introduction and position as unofficial official security. The host drones on about the house party rules and consequences, which Capitano tunes out, before they start wrapping up their little speech.
“... And your hosts for the night are the Knave and the Regrator. And now, let the festivities commence!”
The music blares and the masses immediately swarm towards the free flowing alcohol, raring to loosen their inhibitions in preparation of their many mistakes through the night. Capitano sweeps down the staircase, hoping to quickly make rounds before the crowds get completely unbearable.
Most of the underclassmen generally ignore him, used to his presence, but a few stares linger on him. Maybe he should flag some of the partygoers for being a bit too drunk for so early in the night, but he’s never been particularly anal about the rules. The less shit he has to deal with, the better.
The crowds look relatively normal so he makes his way to the bar. He can’t exactly get piss drunk and down shots, but a slight buzz never hurt anyone. He sees a flash of ginger hair and the edges of a masquerade mask, a violation of dress code for regular party goers, but chooses not to look too deeply into it. He’ll address it when he has to later.
Capitano hails someone to pour him a glass, the bass in the room making the bar table shake. He collects his beer and sets out in pursuit of the light blue hair lingering on the other side of the bar.
“Arlecchino, I’m going out for a smoke break,” Capitano declares, walking away and not waiting for her response.
“You better go get that ginger kid when you come back,” Arlecchino responds just as quickly.
Capitano salutes at her and goes through the crowd, stepping around those fumbling over their own feet and going down the slim path created from those parting a way for him.
Capitano steps aside past the sliding doors, setting down his beer and lighting up a cigarette with a click. The grating sounds of the bumping music are thankfully more muted now, the whir of cars passing by screaming above it all.
Capitano leans against the textured drywall, the bumps sharply digging into his back. He takes a drag of his cigarette and exhales forcefully, the sting of bitter air a balm against his crackling nerves.
That ginger. Ajax, Capitano remembers Lohefalter purring at him, her hand gripping at his shoulder with nails sharp enough to pierce his skin. Ajax, freshly nineteen and already the best hitter in collegiate baseball. Ajax, whose eyes have been trailing Capitano around campus, leaving his back itchy from the intense gaze.
Capitano sneers and taps his cigarette to knock off the loose ash. He keeps seeing the boy everywhere out of the corner of his eye, a sprite he can’t seem to get away from. He hadn’t meant to pay attention to the ginger underclassmen at all, their circles vastly different anyhow.
Yet, just like a parasite, Ajax made it into his periphery, his red mask glittering even in the darkness. His whole facade reeks of desperation, but Capitano will have to address it sooner or later.
Capitano takes another drag to clear his mind before the sliding door clicks open. Columbina comes out and settles against the wall next to him, mask hanging off her wrist. The air of her outfits always understate her viciousness, and her little black leather dress and matching fishnet socks and sleeves tonight are no exception. Capitano offers her a cigarette and a light and lets the silence fall comfortably between them before she speaks up.
“The boy might not be able to attend any future events now. The rules are the rules.”
“Kid sure has guts wearing a masquerade mask, especially because the rules probably covered it earlier,” Capitano remarks, picking up his neglected glass of beer and gently swirling it in his hand.
Columbina takes in a long drag. “He’s waiting for you to address it. He isn’t afraid of the consequences and whatever punishment he receives, as long as he receives from you.”
“That’s just what being young is like,” Capitano snorts. “Reckless and unafraid to make stupid mistakes.”
Columbina tilts her head slightly, her dangling silver sword earrings tinkling softly. “You’re trying to actively ignore his advancements.”
“What is there to acknowledge? It’s barely amusing at best.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of amusement on the side. Lord knows the boy would eat up anything you offered,” Columbina drawls. “Who knows, maybe you’ll actually get some fun out of it.”
Capitano grunts and takes a pull of his beer in acknowledgement, relishing the slightly sweet taste of his beer. For all his bullshit, Pantalone at least knew to buy good alcohol with all that money.
Capitano lets the silence settle again, let the issue at hand die out, before he changes the topic.
“Don’t they need you for the music? Leave idiots unattended, and you know what happens,” Capitano trails off, side-eying Columbina.
Columbina waves it off. “I told Arlecchino I trusted her to take care of it. She’ll be able to figure it out, sooner or later. Just how soon, we’re about to find out.”
“And it’s a wonder people don’t think you’re a devil.” Columbina smirks. Capitano shakes his head and tilts his head back against the wall. They nurse their drinks until their glasses are empty, and they remask before going back in to get refills.
The party is still in full swing when they part ways, the room uncomfortably warm in contrast to the cool outside air. Capitano can feel Arlecchino glaring daggers into the side of his head as he saunters through the crowd. He spots a flash of the mask he saw earlier, and ambles over to grab his victim from the clutches of the crowd.
“Ginger. Come with me.”
He nods and demurely follows as Capitano takes him up the staircase and into one of the guest rooms for privacy. Capitano waits for him to enter first, letting the door slam closed behind them.
He stands across from Capitano, hands clasped behind his back. His sheer shirt glitters under the light, chest bare and leaving nothing to the imagination, and his black leather jeans hug his legs like a second skin.
“Hand over the mask.”
The mask is all sharp edges and covers more than half of his face, just two pairs of slits for his eyes and cheeks, exposing the barest amounts of skin. The blood red color makes his hair appear firey in the light and the gold highlights in the middle accent the pale skin that hides underneath.
He takes off that mask tantalizingly, slowly pulling it down to reveal every inch of skin before his face is bare. Red crystal drop earrings frame the side of his face, its slight swaying betraying his projection of absolute stillness. Desire paints his features as he hands over the mask, the fleeting brush of his hand excruciatingly hot against Capitano’s.
“You know this was against the rules. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“It was worth it,” Ajax finally speaks.
Capitano raises an eyebrow from behind his mask. “Worth what?”
“Getting you to finally see me.”
“You reek of desperation, little one. What does it matter if I don’t care to acknowledge you?”
Ajax’s emotions contort clearly across his face, brooding sliding into resolve before satisfaction settles into his smile. “I just need to keep trying. After all, you’re here now.”
A twinge of irritability runs through Capitano. “If that’s what you really think, I should just kick you out of the house now.”
“Surely there must be an alternative,” Ajax says, eyes fluttering in panic. “Why don't we discuss some options to weigh?”
Capitano snorts. “Awfully bold of you to assume I’m willing to talk it out at all.”
“We don’t have to talk to resolve this,” Ajax purrs, placing a hand on Capitano’s chest. Ajax looks up at Capitano, his pupils blown, lips cherry red, and just a few inches shorter. The sourness on Ajax’s breath clings to Capitano, not enough to be worrying, but enough for Capitano to regret letting him get so close.
“You’re making a dangerous mistake, Ajax,” Capitano says lowly.
Ajax grins, somehow emboldened to slide his hands behind Capitano’s shoulders. “You think I’m scared of your age? It’s just all the more experience for me to benefit from.”
“I’m not worried about whether you think my age is an issue or not.”
Capitano leans forward and allows his hands to gently cup the sides of Ajax’s face, the skin flushed red and milky soft beneath his fingertips. He gently swipes his thumb across Ajax’s cheek and marvels over how Ajax melts into the touch, so pliant. So naive.
“It's just that you should be worried for how you’ll be able to live with subpar experiences after I’m done with you.”
Before Ajax can retort, Capitano kisses away the words, sliding his hands down to grip Ajax’s hips. Ajax responds eagerly, nearly ripping off his shirt and gripping the hair near the base of Capitano’s neck, pulling them closer together. Ajax bites at Capitano’s lips, neediness escaping through with his every gasp and the bitter taste of beer cloying against Capitano’s tongue.
Ajax’s hands skim across Capitano’s sides, searching for what lies underneath. Capitano takes it all of his hunger before pulling away to Ajax’s pathetic whine.
“You haven’t earned anything more, brat,” Capitano scolds, pushing Ajax onto the bed. “This is more than what you deserve.”
Ajax falls onto the bed with a soft ooft! and the alcohol seems to slam into him. He falls backwards on his hands and Capitano climbs forward onto the bed, into Ajax’s space, ducking his head close enough to brush his lips near Ajax’s ear.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be a good boy and go to sleep now,” Capitano murmurs. “If you’re lucky, you’ll be rewarded in the future.”
Ajax jolts and falls onto his back, the rosy blush in his cheeks deepening into maroon, enticing against the stark white bedsheets. Capitano wants to see his hand wrapped around that pale throat, to leave a string of marks for everyone to witness, but pulls out the tucked blankets and lets Ajax scramble under them.
Capitano pulls off his shirt and slides in, the sheets cool enough to regain control of himself. He settles himself a few inches away from Ajax, the king bed more than big enough to also accommodate a divider between them.
Capitano turns onto his side, taking off his mask and letting his back face Ajax. He ignores how the heat of Ajax’s stares burn into his back as he closes his eyes, waiting for the bed to dip away from him. An eternity later, it does.
Ajax turns around onto his side, their bodies now back to back. Relieved, Capitano rolls onto his back, holding back a moan when the pressure in his back releases and he can finally begin to drift off.
Capitano phases in and out of stages of awareness, the sheets rustling every so often, until in the last vestiges of Capitano's consciousness, Ajax drapes himself across Capitano. He nestles his cheek against Ajax's temple as he lets go of consciousness completely, his side warm.
Just as soon as he falls asleep, sunlight gently rouses Capitano from the clutches of sleep and Ajax. Sweat sticks to him as he disentangles himself, cringing as the cold air hits his skin. He props himself up onto his elbows and looks down at his companion, silky soft hair tousled across the pillow and still very much asleep.
Capitano presses a soft kiss to Ajax’s cheek and his face scrunches before it smoothes out and he rolls over onto his side.
Capitano huffs softly. “I hope you can keep surprising me, little demon.”
Capitano pushes himself off the bed and walks away, not without stealing a backwards glance. He softly shuts the door behind him and pads down to the kitchen for some breakfast, the air quiet in the house.
Perhaps Columbina was right, a bit of fun on the side might be worth it, Capitano muses. He’ll just have to wait and see.