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The dim light of the desk lamp, with unintended zeal, accentuated the shadows of his long fingers tracing graceful lines across the piano keys. Precise, gentle, rhythmic; eyelids closed, brows slightly raised. A subtle tension was masterfully blended into an abundance of a clearly constructed imitation of calm—a state he indulged in during those rare moments of inaction when risk suddenly became tearfully predictable, and the entire spectrum of emotions, every unique shade in the multifaceted palette of feelings, ultimately boiled down to soulless classics.
And then, Chance played. Long, chaotically, at times off-key, but he didn't need perfection to enjoy the rhythm. He closed his eyes, surrendering to memory and all those moments of the past that smoothly flowed into the present. His tired fingers were close to numbness when Chance set his hands into a dance, tearing the thin line between serenity and madness. The warm night breeze playfully tickles his neck as he forcefully presses a key to place the final stroke. And then... Then Chance freezes. His confident smile is full of anticipation.
He isn't the least bit surprised when he feels someone's hands encircle his neck, like a heavenly blessing, as elegant fingers hover near his chest, playfully and provocatively, but not predictable enough to raise doubts, though Chance probably wished to think otherwise.
"Missed me?" — the refined notes of mischief in his languid whisper seem too intimate for Chance to blame the chill for his sudden shiver.
"Breaking my windows? Definitely."
Noli, with an easily readable reproach, taps a finger against the other's chest.
"You left it open yourself, depriving me of even that small fraction of fun."
"Oh?" — Chance sighs theatrically, as if it hadn't been his cunning plan from the very start. — "It seems like my memory is sleeping with another."
Noli doesn't utter a word—only a habitual, characteristically brazen grin remains fixed on his face as confirmation of the truth of the situation. Chance listens in languid anticipation to his hypnotizing gaze, perfectly aware of all the dirty tricks Noli loved to play in their little standoff. So, he had found his weak spots, despite Chance trying by all means to hide everything obvious and blatant that surfaced every time Noli, guided by his stubborn zeal and light mischief, so skillfully lured him into the enchanting captivity of his eyes.
A sudden snap of fingers brings Chance back to his senses. His clouded gaze illuminates with understanding, and the mischievous features in the opposite smile become increasingly evident.
"You're playing dirty," Chance finally says, not even trying to hide the notes of mirth breaking through in his clear voice.
He feels Noli slowly pulling away, and with it goes the warmth of his hands that lingered on his neck, like a blind hope. Chance makes a move to turn, to follow and finally walk beside him, but all his ambitious plans instantly cease to matter the moment a hot whisper gracefully slips past.
"I sense reproach in your words, little liar."
Chance smiles humbly, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Fair enough, man, but I don't hide aces up my sleeve."
Noli raises an eyebrow:
"Are you sure?" — and, before Chance can answer, the magician, with one deft movement, pulls an entire set of aces, shimmering with grandeur, from his pocket.
Chance isn't surprised — only a familiar shadow of a smirk on his face testifies to his satisfaction. He knows: Noli would go to any lengths to prove his point. Not just because they're both obstinate and crazy, having found each other in the endless stream of obedient strictness. Perhaps it had long ceased to be just that. What they did more resembled a sincere desire to impress rather than to convince.
In any case, Chance was up for any kind of adventure if it involved Noli's presence. And when he thought about it, probably ridiculously often, a stupid smile involuntarily spread across his face as the clearest proof.
"Our last meeting almost ended with a building explosion," Chance remarks succinctly, his gaze assessing every minor gesture from the other side.
Noli, with genuine care, traced the fragile surface of exotic paintings hanging humbly on the wall; his deep gaze, so mismatched with the frozen smile of mystery on his face, unconsciously forced Chance to bite his cheeks.
"Don't worry," Noli replied without looking away. "This time I managed to avoid such banality."
"In your style," Chance tossed out without a second thought.
However, Noli seemed to ponder for some reason. The elegant play of his narrowed eyes, as well as the light, barely perceptible movements of his body, slowed for a moment. It wasn't a radical blunder, but Chance noticed. Before he could grow concerned, the other's glistening lips stretched leisurely, and a certain soft expression of satisfaction reflected on the magician's face, like silent approval. Though Chance didn't understand the essence of this mysterious gesture, an incredible calm suddenly settled in his soul.
"You're saying foolish things, cardsharper," Noli says, turning away from the paintings.
Chance shrugs.
"Maybe so, but you seem to like it."
Noli finds no words, because speaking now is too dangerous. Like any self-respecting magician, he undoubtedly loved danger, but perhaps wasn't desperate enough to elevate his insane, trembling soul to a pantheon. Trying not to think too deeply, Noli returns to the familiar manner of their carefree conversations:
"I came to make a bet."
Chance's gaze immediately lit up with an interested sparkle — this made Noli chuckle.
"Until the moment the full moon rises above the horizon..." — Noli drawls, succinctly pointing to the ticking wall clock. — "That is, within half an hour, I will impress you so much that you will forever forget about that highest limit of feelings that cheap thrills and a stack of bent cards gave you. You will plunge into a state of incomparable delight."
At these words, Chance's heart involuntarily beat faster. It seemed this was the starting point.
"And what are the terms?"
"If I lose," — Noli leaned in so that his trembling lips almost touched Chance's skin, — "I will do whatever you want: anything and any way — no exceptions. But if I win... Well, you will have to stoically accept defeat and admit that my skillful chaos is more beautiful than any winning hand of yours."
Chance knew he would be doomed if he agreed. A strange feeling diligently scratched at the taut strings of his soul, like a little demon sitting on his shoulder, slyly egging him on to do something definitely questionable, something that obviously shouldn't be done, but Chance does it.
"Deal."
Noli meets his unconditional agreement with an approving smirk. The muted light of the chandelier casts shadows on his elegant figure, and Chance is ready to swear he has never seen anything more beautiful in his life. As if in slow motion, he watches as Noli unhurriedly walks towards the balcony; his darkened features gradually become illuminated by moonlight, and his hand, involuntarily frozen in the air, suddenly touches his fingers: barely perceptibly, tip to tip, until Chance's mesmerized gaze gives him the resolve to join their hot palms in a firm lock.
Both freeze for a moment, absorbed in the moment of intimate unity, until an unobtrusive pressure from the magician forces Chance to move. The next moment he finds himself hanging on an emergency staircase. The flickering lights of the night city blur before his eyes — Chance tilts his head back and, carefully holding his hat, raises gaze to the boundless sky.
The view takes his breath away. Myriads of stars line up in a disorderly row, all within reach, sparkling and beckoning. Chance involuntarily reaches his palm towards the light, but his trembling fingers expectedly pass through emptiness. Noli's laughter, as if shuddering the heavens themselves, brings Chance back to reality.
"Hey, up there in heaven, careful!" he calls out, watching as Noli completely carefree hangs by one hand.
"Why," — Noli goads, trying to shout over the sudden gusts of wind, — "won't be able to catch me?"
Chance smirks:
"I'm afraid I won't be able to let you go."
Noli rolls his eyes with a smile.
When they reach the roof, the moonlight has already managed to break through to the horizon. Chance involuntarily looks down — the huge city merges into many small burning dots, chaotically moving from one place to another. The thick, overcast sky loomed over the area, and the barely visible features of the enormous moon made the scene slightly ominous.
"The city lives its own life," the magician suddenly says, looking straight down: the light from headlights, streetlamps, and windows — all merges into one, flickers and moves, not stopping for a second.
Noli smiles mysteriously:
"I think this landscape is too disorderly. True chaos is the eighth form of art. A little editing is never superfluous."
And then a resonant snap follows. In one short moment, the shimmering city lights suddenly freeze in place: no whistle of cars, no hum of the crowd — only the sound of one's own breathing testifies to the reality of what's happening. Noli slowly approaches closer; his cold palm barely touches Chance's hot cheek, and when he snaps his fingers a second time, the ephemeral sensation of this light touch lingers on his flushed face for a long time.
Chance shivers finely when the vanished sounds instantly wash over the area with a solid wave of frequencies. His eyes involuntarily close, and only a ringing laugh reaches his ears. However, the ability to think clearly doesn't help Chance come to senses: his bewildered gaze darts from side to side when instead of one cheeky magician, two appear before him.
"Guess which one's real!"
Their echoing voice makes Chance's ears ring. Before he can utter a word, both Nolis, laughing, do a backflip and merge into one. Mesmerized, Chance silently watched as the other's chest rose frequently and rhythmically, as nimble fingers clenched and intermittent sighs escaped — this sight alone was enough to make his astonished heart flutter absurdly.
"The moon is already approaching," — Noli points to the moonlight breaking through the gloom; wild excitement is easily read in every chaotic wave of his slender hands. — "Watch closely."
And Chance watches. Not at the moon but through it. His enchanted gaze doesn't linger on the huge celestial disk for a minute. Every step, every light movement of the magician doesn't go unnoticed. Chance silently, with unconcealed admiration and slight excitement, watched his graceful stride, until Noli suddenly froze right at the edge.
The gambler's eyes narrowed.
"What are you up to?"
And before he can think, Noli, with a confident smirk, steps off the parapet. Chance's heart skips a beat. However, Noli didn't fall. He stood on the thinnest, translucent tightrope, where even one awkward movement could lead to death. Yet, this didn't diminish his confidence in the slightest. Illuminated by bright light, Noli strode without hesitation straight towards the moon.
Not just a magician — a true master. Perfect, straight posture, arms spread wide, and laughter echoing off the walls elevated him to the absolute. The tiniest silhouette against the giant moon froze like a warrior facing the elements. Chance couldn't look away; his trembling palm touched his chest in a futile attempt to calm the insane beating of his heart. For a moment, he forgets how to breathe.
This was true beauty. Beauty pure, insane, unique in its kind. Chance was ready to accept his defeat without argument and with all due sincerity admit: Noli and his element is true magnificence. Chaotic, impossible, and beautiful.
When Noli jumps back down, slightly staggering from the oncoming numbness, Chance can't hold back the surge of feelings that overwhelmed his entire being: his hands find their way to the magician's tense shoulders, and their ragged breaths almost merge into a single rhythm.
"You've lost," — Noli concludes with a satisfied smirk, so mismatched with his tired appearance.
Chance exhales, and a familiar smile touches his lips, but the mischievous sparkle in his eyes for some reason fades, giving way to something new, still very fragile and unsteady.
"You're..." — For the first time, Chance can't find words to fully express his impressions. — "simply unbearable."
"A-and...?" — Noli prompts expectantly.
Chance rolls his eyes but admits without objection:
"And absolutely gorgeous."
Noli chuckled, and his quiet laughter vanished without a trace into the night. A light gust of wind tousled his stray locks, and Chance, without realizing it, reached out to tuck them back. The touch is light, barely perceptible, but for some reason, both felt a jolt run through their skin. Chance's gaze wandered, now rising to the crown of his head, now lingering lower —where the professional makeup of the magician began to fade ever so slightly.
When he realized he had probably been staring openly all this time, it was already too late: Noli caught his wandering gaze in his tenacious threads.
Chance didn't move. He just looked. Looked with such intensity as if trying to decipher a secret of universal scale. Noli felt this gaze with his entire being. Combined with the hanging silence, it made the scene slightly tense.
Chance suddenly loses all his former confidence, hesitates, first leans closer and almost immediately pulls back, repeats again and again for several moments, until Noli can't stand it, grabbing him by the tie with one deft movement.
The black hat silently hits the rough surface of the cold roof and, carried by an oncoming gust of wind, flies away. In the pitch darkness of the thick sky, only two tightly pressed figures, frozen in the moonlight, flickered on the horizon.