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It's silent, when the night falls. Outside the window the moon rises over the dark treetops, illuminating thin clouds that glow spookily as if shining themselves. Sometimes, when the night is clear, stars litter the black velvet sky, like tiny pearls that someone clumsy spilled.
But not tonight.
Michael looks at the mirror in his horrible hand. It was meant as a gift once. Now it's a curse. Not because it shows his mirror image, oh no, it doesn't. That alone would be cruel enough with how much he has changed. But no, no, it shows him something so beautiful he can only cringe in pain watching it.
Watching him.
Alexis is asleep in his little bed. Nestled in soft beige cotton and brown wool he rests, his lips parted, his dark, curved lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. They look pale in the weak light of the lantern on his bedside table. Pale except for the deep, red marks that sharp claws left on him.
They will come for Michael, he knows it. It's only a question of time now. He has hurt one of their own, and they don't care how much they've hurt him themselves. It's fair if they do it. It's unacceptable if someone else does.
As if he didn't regret it. His claws will never forget the feeling of soft flesh. His eyes will never forget the sight of blood running down this pale cheek like crimson tears. His ears will never forget the thin sob, the soft-spoken word, the startled "Micha-".
He hurt him. He lost control. He was in so much pain, it seems he could only hurt Alexis. He knows they'll come for him and he deserves it. At this point, he won't fight. He has to pay and if it's his life they want, then they shall have it. They can end it all.
Alexis, in the mirror that shows Michael what he needs to see, stirs in his sleep. His lashes flutter and his lips move, forming a word that Michael can't hear and won't see.
He puts the mirror down, so hard he hears the glass crack. So that's it. He'll never see Alexis again. But it's fine. He should've never let him into the castle. He should've never opened the gate, much less his heart. He knew no one could love him. And wasn't he proven right?
On the low table, the blue rose, protected by thin glass, lets its head hang. Time is running out: it has shed most of its blue petals as if winter were coming for them. It might as well. Ah right! It's his birthday by the time the clock in the corner strikes midnight. The curse will be fulfilled: on the day of his eighteenth birthday, his transformation can not be reversed. He'll be a beast until the day he dies. But hasn't he, one way or another, been just that all his life?
When Alexis came to the castle, Michael let him in. He hid in the shadows that are always so deep when the windows are tinted with dust, and the chandeliers haven't been lit in years. He talked to him from the corners of the rooms, avoiding the weak shine of the lantern Alexis had carried. It was just bright enough to reveal gemstone red eyes, curly hair, dark lashes… Oh, how fast Michael had given his heart to this beautiful boy.
And what a fool he was.
He knew that Alexis would not save him, would not be able to lift the curse that had turned Michael into a monster made of claws and thorns, more animal than human. No one would be able to love a beast like him, and still, love would be the only way to break the spell. An impossible feat, really. Alexis would have to be a magician to do it.
(He fell, Alexis. Stupid, clumsy, beautiful Alexis. His lantern broke, the flame died in the dust.
"Get up, fool," Michael murmured, a growl, holding out his hand from the shadows of midnight. The soft glow of the moonlit clouds outlined it just enough for Alexis to recognize the offer. How soft his hand was when he placed it into Michael's horrible one. But he didn't hesitate. In the past days that he had stayed at Michael's castle he'd never once appeared afraid of him. So even when he felt the sharp claws, the thorns growing from Michael's skin, he didn't pull his hand back. He let Michael help him up.
He smelled so sweet! He felt so warm from up close, standing in the dark that the broken lantern had left, unable to see Michael's terrifying face, but isn't fate ironic?
In just that moment, the clouds parted to give way to the round moon, bathing them in white light. Alexis' ruby eyes sparkled, widened, his lips parting for a sharp inhale when he saw Michael for the first time. It happened too fast to withdraw back into the dark corner of the room.
But Alexis hadn't been afraid before, and he wasn't afraid now. He raised his hand to gently caress the twisted horns and comb through the thick mane. He didn't shy away. Neither claws nor fangs nor thorns could keep him from looking at Michael and then smile at Michael and whisper:
"It's blue. Such a beautiful shade of blue.")
On the low table, another petal falls. There's only one left now. It's almost midnight. It's all almost over.
Michael sinks down in the corner, staring at the full moon outside the window and waits for the end.
.
"Kill the beast!" they screamed, loud enough to wake Alexis from his sleep. "It injured an innocent human! It's out of control! Only a question of time before it comes to slaughter the babies in their cradles! We need to kill it before it has the opportunity! Kill the beast! Kill the beast! Kill the beast!"
"No!" Alexis gasped. His face still hurt. So did his heart. It didn't matter. He got onto his feet, into his shoes and cloak, grabbed the lantern from his bedside table and ran.
And now he runs. Through the forest, through the night. He was always fast, his joints flexible, and his reflexes quick. They often said that he would make for a formidable hunter, but he hates the bloodshed.
He likes stories, Alexis. The kind that drag you in. The kind that are fantastic, enchanting, dreams banned on paper. About fae and witches and magical places. That's why he went to see the enchanted castle in the first place.
The forest is thick here, the way long and overgrown. Back then it took him a few hours to find the castle. That's how he knows he can outrun them, even though he stumbles and almost falls, again and again. His arms are full of scratches, his clothes catching on twigs and thorns, the underwood relentless. His lungs hurt from the cold. It's december after all. But he can't waste a second. He needs to reach the castle before the villagers do.
He needs to save Michael.
Michael, this gentle, aching creature. Who calls himself a monster, but Alexis knew he is nothing like that even before he saw the fear in his blue eyes.
Michael doesn't behave like a monster, no matter what he says, no matter what the villagers say. He wouldn't harm the babies in their cradle, he never harmed Alexis, not on purpose. He was cold in the beginning, yes, but only because he's so scared that people see him for what he is. He let him stay, when Alexis intruded the enchanted castle, the cursed castle, with a cloak, a lantern and wide, curious eyes. He let him roam the rooms, the salons, the ballroom, the library. "You can have them," he said, from the shadow, "all of them. I can't turn the pages with those claws." He let Alexis stay, even when Alexis found out he's not human. A monster wouldn't let him have the books. A monster wouldn't be so scared yet so friendly.
A monster wouldn't be so easy to fall in love with.
In the distance he can see the torch lights, can hear the yells. The villagers brought pitchforks and axes, scythes and daggers. They are many, but that makes them slow. If Alexis hurries, he can find Michael, can warn him. Can help him escape.
Alexis doesn't know what happened after he fell unconscious. All of a sudden, there was so much blood. Then everything went black.
But it must've been Michael. When Alexis regained consciousness, he was in his bed, back in the village, his wounds tended to with ointment smelling of herbs.
Michael must've brought him back to the village. He brought him home. So someone could care for Alexis? He couldn't do it himself with how sharp his black, shiny claws are.
The villagers got the wrong idea. It's true that Michael hurt him. But it wasn't his fault. It was Alexis', who went to his chambers, despite Michael forbidding him to go there. Alexis saw the rose, this withered, heartbreaking thing. Alexis found what Michael was most afraid to be seen. The reason for his curse, because that's what it is.
Alexis knows it: it's in the fairytales. The story of the fae, or a witch, in disguise who knocks on people's doors to ask for food, a place to stay or for them to buy a rose she picked. If the person lets her stay, feeds her or buys her rose, she grants them a wish, or puts a spell of luck on their house. But if they decline, send her away, she puts a curse on them that lasts for ten years. In some tales, it's a bucket of blood over their heads, red that's impossible to rinse off for ten years. In some, it's the lifestock dying, the crops decaying or the soil to bear no fruit for a decade. In others, she turns the person into a beggar, to sleep in the dirt until the curse is broken or they die. In some, she makes the person a monster.
In this one, she asked a little boy to let a stranger into his house. Tomorrow, it's Micha's eighteenth birthday. The curse has almost been fulfilled, the rose will lose its last petal and die, after ten long years.
Alexis saw it. And Michael snapped.
The moon is bright, lighting the way for Alexis as if it wanted him to arrive at the castle soon. As if some unknown power wanted him to right the wrongs.
When he finally arrives at the castle, his lantern dim, he only faintly sees the torches in the distance, can't even hear the yells. But he knows that the villagers march with the dedication of wrath, with hate that makes them blind.
There's a back door, down by the empty stables. It's the one that he used when he first came to the castle. Back then, the gate opened by itself when he knocked and asked to be let in—now it's ajar, a gap he can squeeze through easily. Michael must've let it open when he returned. Alexis closes it behind him. It will not slow the villagers down for very long, but he needs every second.
The halls are spookily dark and silent, like on the day he first came here. Alexis' lantern dances like a lonely firefly in the darkness. After he had seen Michael's face, back then in the library, Michael had let him light the chandeliers, open the curtains during the day, to let light make the castle the magical, enchanted place Alexis had read about in his fairytales. Now, everything is as silent, dark and gloomy as it was back then. A grave more than a place to live. And this time, it scares Alexis.
He turns the flame of his lantern higher to find his way up the stairs and towards the west wing. He doesn't dare call for Michael in case the villagers arrive. He can't give them hints as to where to find what they call the Beast.
The castle is big, and Michael could be anywhere. But Alexis knows he'll find him in his chambers, his dusty little secret place where he not only hides himself but the blue rose as well. So he climbs the stairs, trips and falls again, but it doesn't matter how much his knee hurts. He hurries through the corridors, along the windows that are cracked in this part of the castle, comes across toppled over furniture and shards and debris that bear the same claw marks as Alexis' left cheek and that cast creepy, moving shadows from the light of the lantern as he hurries by. He's seen it all before, hours earlier, when the sun set and he couldn't find Micha anywhere. He went there to be with him, because Michael had been nervous for days, agitated and easily upset. And Alexis knew there was something going on.
It's Christmas. It's Michael's birthday once the clock strikes midnight. Alexis only found out tonight that the rose will be dead, soon.
When he finally reaches the dark, wooden door that leads to Michael's chambers, he doesn't hesitate for a second, isn't careful either. He pushes the door open with all the force he has left in his shaking hands and shoulder and enters for the second time that day.
The room's illuminated only by the thin clouds that let the soft moonlight pour into the chaotic room. Michael has ravaged the room into a havoc of anger and pain. Only the rose, under its fragile glass cover, hasn't been overturned. It draws Alexis' eyes towards it: only one petal hangs from it, clinging to the stem for dear life. Alexis can't help but think that the curse itself resists its fulfilling with how the soft glow never left the delicate flower. And even though Alexis doesn't know how the curse can be broken, it makes his heart beat fast.
Despite everything, there's still hope.
He enters the room, slowly, looking around for Michael with his lantern raised. And there, right in the far corner, there's a mass of black and blue, twisted vines of thorns that grow from under blackened skin.
"Micha," Alexis whispers, and then again, louder: "Micha!" hurrying over to the silent creature.
Blue eyes blink open, the head moves, the pointy horns reflecting the lantern's light and the faint shimmer of the blue rose.
There's recognition in the red-rimmed eyes, but Alexis already sets the lantern down and throws his arm around the beast. "Micha, I found you, I'm so glad. We need to hurry, come on, they want to kill you!"
Michael inhales with a shudder but doesn't move.
It scares Alexis. He backs away, tugs on the black and blue fur to pull Michael onto his feet. Unsuccessfully. "Get up, we need to be quick, we need to get you out of here!" He closes his fingers around Michael's arm to pull him upright, the thorns there painful but he can't care now. The sudden tug makes Michael stumble forward, but he growls in the back of his throat like a hurt dog.
"What are you doing here?"
Alexis doesn't understand. "I'm here to warn you!" he explains hurriedly. "The villagers- They're on their way here! They said they're going to kill you!"
"I know," Michael answers, his voice a deep rumble. "They saw me when I brought you back."
"Then why are you still here? We need to run, Micha, they'll be here soon. We don't have time!"
"I don't care!" The words are sharp like claws. "I don't care if they kill me! They have every right to. I am a monster, I'm nothing but filth! The me you believed in was nothing but an illusion. Get lost, you fool!"
But Alexis can't accept that. "No!" he insists. "I'm not leaving you!" Because wouldn't that be too cruel? All this time, Michael tried to hide himself from Alexis when he saw right through him from the beginning. When he never let the terrifying facade scare him away. When Michael has always been hurt, yes, but also so, so human.
When now he is.
His eyes glow from anger and he leans forward, his fangs and thorns, his horns and claws threatening. "Are you out of your mind? I hurt you. I could've killed you! You were lucky that I didn't rip your throat out! I can't control myself. I'm a monster, a beast! I've always been one, and I'll always be! So stop coming back to me! Go and never return!!"
"No," Alexis defies him again. "I won't do as you say." He's surprised how calm his voice is. It's as if he's understood something now. The more angry Michael gets, the less Alexis is scared of him. It's easy: this is his human side. These are his honest feelings. He's unable to hide what he really is. Just a scared, hurt, lonely boy.
So Alexis looks at him. This big, looming figure made of thorns and claws and pain. "You're not a monster, you're not filth. You're made of flesh and blood, like any other human. You may be broken, but I…" He takes a step, despite the bare fangs and glittering eyes. Are those tears? "I can fix the broken parts of your soul. I, too can cast a spell on you, like the one that turned you into this." He raises his hands, and Michael lets him weave his fingers into his mane. There's blood on them: scratches from when he ran through the forest. From the sharp thorns when he pulled Michael onto his feet. Oh, he has bled so much for him already. But if that's what it takes, it's worth it. "Can't you see it, Micha? I don't care if you are a beast. I don't care if you're broken. Maybe that is my curse. It's my magic. It's my love."
There's a thin inhale, and a soft, bluish glow. Alexis tilts Michael's head down, pushing up on his toes. His voice is just a whisper when he says:
"I love you."
He places his kiss under the twisted horns, right on Michael's forehead. He feels as if he was floating. As if there was something making him weightless, like a petal that drifts in the wind to never touch the ground.
The clock in the corner strikes midnight.
The villagers break the gates down.
The last petal falls.
It's over.
But it's not!
The blue glow intensifies. That strange feeling, this weightlessness, it takes ahold of Michael, too. It lifts him up, plays with the fur and the robes, dishevels both their hair, Michael's dark blue mane and Alexis' curls. Helplessly, Michael reaches out for Alexis with his claws, but they're not claws anymore! No, they're hands, pale and slender and human. The thorns dissolve from Michael's arms, the blackened skin glowing first blue, then cooling down to a pale flesh color. His legs thin, paling, and his feet return to those of a human. And his face, his face! Alexis watches how the fangs retreat into human teeth, the mane replaced with long, pale golden hair. The skin looks soft now, the blue glow disappears and with two insecure steps, Michael is on his feet again, two beautiful pale feet.
Alexis stares at him, with wide eyes, like on the day the moon first illuminated Michael and Alexis took his hand.
He takes it again. There's dark lines on one of Michael's arms, thin black vines with thorns, but they are soft to the touch. They go all the way up to his shoulder, to his throat, and there, Alexis recognizes two blue roses etched into the flesh. He looks at Michael's rose blue eyes. Under them, there's still a little red, like he had before he turned back into a human. And his hair.
His hair!
"It's blue," Alexis whispers, combing his fingers through the soft blond hair with blue tips gently. "Such a beautiful shade of blue."
Tears fall, impossible to tell whose they are, when Michael leans in to kiss him.
The petal fell a second too early. The curse couldn't be undone completely in time. It left traces. Blue and red and black on Michael's hair and skin. But it doesn't matter.
There's no beast the villagers can kill.
"It's gone," Alexis says whey they find the two of them eventually, clinging to each other, in the corner of a rampaged room, the dry stem and petals of a blue rose in their laps. "There's no beast here."
They leave. But Alexis and Michael stay. Now and forever.
The fine, black lines never vanish from Michael's skin. But that's fine. Alexis likes tracing them with soft fingers, until he's not so sure they were ever real thorns. They stay to remind them, just like Alexis' scars. Those, too, can never be undone.
There's no way to forget the pain. The fear and the trauma. The dark and the cold. Michael suffers from what he went through. He wakes up at night, screaming, clutching at his throat, but there are no thorns there. Not anymore. Nowadays there's only Alexis' soft kisses and his low voice. "I'm here. I'll never leave your side."
Michael has been that for ten years. It will haunt him all his life. He was cursed as a little boy, and he carries that burden even as a grown man.
But Alexis is there. He'll always be. Because if there's one thing that can soothe the curse, it's his very own magic. If there's one thing that can break a curse, it's love.