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A myriad of voices could be heard as guests all interact with one another, many from royalty, others from lesser known kingdoms - all united under one roof to relish in the moonlight with caviar, champagne, and companionship. All of them wear masks of all different arrangements, each unknown to the other as they chat the night away. There is one man who resides amongst the corners of the ballroom - Hector, blending into the crowd as he fears what may be brought if he were to indulge in the festivities. He thinks it is best to keep his distance, already feeling his throat tighten at the mere thought of interaction in fear it might turn sour. How, you may ask? Even he is not entirely sure himself, yet he prefers if he doesn’t find out whether it be caused by his demeanor, stature, his appearance - oh, perish the thought of it. The masked man observes the sea of colorful masks, adorning the faces of their owners. He finds a sort of endearing beauty in them, these masks - it’s as if a hidden appearance could sprout a personality entirely new. One that could replace your previous identity, acting as a rebirth of one’s self. He briefly smiles at the thought of it.
The bustling energy of the room seems to sweep him away, as if nothing could break this comfortability he’s found for himself - aside, yet present. That is, until, he spots a mask out of the corner of his eye which wasn’t apparent to him before. Though the wearer was a distance away from where he was standing, he could see the mask was adorned with beautiful embellishments. Beautiful, gold paint enhanced the outline of the mask, with crushed bits of white diamond accenting the edges, predominantly near the holes of the mask. Swirling patterns covered the display, displaying the curves of the mask and the diamonds that shine upon it. Hector silently admired its craftsmanship, feeling as if the skills he used to make his own mask were rusty compared to whoever created such a work of art. He sees the way the mask outshines any other in the room, all thoughts or reasons of his own seeming to vanish by just a mere glance in this mysterious person’s direction. It was as if he was in a museum of exceptional works, making you the greatest piece of artwork to uphold. It isn’t until you turn and meet his gaze for the first time that he truly stops in his tracks.
He feels his breath hitch in his throat, unable to move in this moment. Everything else seemed to fade - the laughter, the chattering, the clinking of glasses, the rustling of footsteps - all gone as soon as you visually acknowledged his existence in your world, your gaze being the only key he needed to enter it. The light of a glass chandelier hanging above your heads reflects light onto many of the patrons, including yourself. When it casts its refraction in your direction, it’s as if the heavens itself couldn’t contain such a beauty that was the shine in your eyes. A mere brushstroke to an already perfected canvas, seeming to enhance your features all the more. It’s as if time stops itself, leaving nothing but your existence to grace his very being.
You stand there, still, observing the man before you just as he is you. Out of all of the places to glance at within the crowded room, his impression stood out by far. He wore a mask similar to your own, adorned with a myriad of black diamond and shattered turquoise, as accents shaped like gusts of wind accompanied the shape of his mask. You couldn’t bear to blink and tear away from this mysterious man’s eyes, fearing a moment without his gaze would surely suffocate you. You didn’t know what was so captivating about his presence, but in your heart you knew to keep it no matter the cost. The man seemed unsure of himself, a high contrast to many of the male suitors in attendance. It’s almost as if the air itself could cut right through him, yet he didn’t appear fragile - far from it, actually. While there was uncertainty in his eyes, you could also see a great passion, a deep fire within the very reflection of his soul - his eyes mere pathways to enter it. You’d never been able to read someone in such a manner before, yet something told you that this was it - this depiction was the man standing before you, his reason of existence yet to be written in this world.
The mere chance to acknowledge one another, to truly get to know each other’s souls, the possibility of intertwining them as one whole being - it was calling out to you both. Both of you craving it, hungry for it, ravenous at the mere thought of what could be, all from the result of one encounter - an encounter that hasn’t even verbally taken place - it was if your lives flashed before your eyes. Yet you both stayed still, feet planted right where you were, scared of moving as if to frighten off the other. So there you stayed, admiring from afar, yearning for a life that hasn’t officially started, and yet you wait.
What feels like hours turns out to be a mere few seconds, as a patron accidentally bumps into you as they call for the attention of another. You exchange a soft apology to one another, turning back to meet the eyes you quickly grew to cherish. Only they aren’t there. And neither is their owner.
Panic ensues as you scan the area at which the eyes once stayed, eventually scanning the whole ballroom, yet no one’s eyes seem to match the ones you saw from afar. ‘Surely he couldn’t have gone far’, you think to yourself, hoping he didn’t get cold feet from your mere glance alone. You search the corners, the tables, the masses and the singular patrons, but to no avail. You stand there, in the center of the ballroom, with no eyes to hold, and no mask to adore - and yet you wait.