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Varian has never been one for parties. Casual celebrations and festivals sure, but any event that might require him to dress up in stiff, formal clothing and politely mingle with people he either doesn't know or even like makes him want to lock himself in his lab and not show his face until the day after.
That's what he usually does during these things, anyway. Rapunzel and Eugene let him get away with being antisocial and excuse his absence by saying he's fallen ill or in the midst of a project much too important to abandon for a few mere hours of frivolity. That's how it always goes.
So a month ago, when Rapunzel had mentioned throwing a masquerade ball, Varian had brushed it off and assumed he'd be able to retreat for the night and avoid being around anyone but Ruddiger and his chemicals.
But then, a week before the ball itself, Eugene and Lance had barged into his lab— in the middle of an experiment, mind you!— and practically demanded his appearance at the event that Rapunzel had been working oh so hard to put together.
Well, okay. It was less demanding and more begging, but the two ex criminals are master manipulators, so it's not like Varian had any real say in the matter to begin with.
He did at least try to come up with an excuse to skip it, a flimsy "but I don't have an outfit" that proved fruitless when Lance came into his lab a day later, ball attire in hand.
Which is how Varian came to be here, on the edge of the dance floor with a mask painted to look like a raccoon obscuring everything above the bridge of his nose, with two holes for his eyes to peer through. It's beautifully crafted of course, clearly carved with care and pairing wonderfully with his black and gray attire. He hasn't been able to stop wondering how Lance was able to acquire such a thing on short notice.
He surveys the crowd, feeling as if he couldn't possibly be more out of place among the glamorous guests waltzing and twirling while he sticks to the edge of the dance floor, nursing a glass of lemonade that has gone warm from how long he's been holding it.
Oh, what he wouldn't give to be hidden away in his lab right now, safely tucked away among the familiar chemicals and formulas, without the discomfort that social events like this present.
Just a little longer, he reminds himself. I can slip away at midnight. Midnight, when Rapunzel will deem it time for everybody to unmask themselves, and everyone will be too preoccupied with the excitement of identity unveilings to notice Varian quietly slipping away.
The music changes. People exchange partners, and somewhere in the crowd, Varian catches a whirl of familiar purple fabrics swishing around. A moment later, Rapunzel is at his side, flushed and out of breath from dancing. She looks radiant as always, grinning beneath a colorful mask that she spent weeks making. The skirt of her dress fans out around her, the fabrics a lovely myriad of Corona's classic gold and purple. There's no question for anybody about who's behind the mask, but Rapunzel doesn't seem to mind.
"I haven't seen you on the dance floor once," she says, taking his glass from him and draining the contents. He resists a laugh when she makes a face, clearly not having expecting it to be her least favorite beverage.
"I'm alright," Varian replies. "I don't want to dance with any of these people."
Rapunzel playfully raises an eyebrow at his statement. "Not even with me?"
Varian considers her proposition. He's prepared to turn her down, to tell her that he's perfectly content to stand to the side and be a wallflower all night, but then she lifts her mask so she can manipulate him with her evil puppy eyes, and he groans.
"Fine," he grumbles. "But just one—" he doesn't even get the chance to finish his sentence before Rapunzel is squealing with excitement and tugging him to the center of the dance floor.
She throws herself into the dance immediately, falling into place with everybody else with ease. Varian very nearly forgets to dance himself, too caught up in watching her spin and twirl and laugh, lighting up the ballroom ad truly living up to her name as the princess of the sun. She's like a magnet, naturally drawing people to her as the light flashes off her dress. Rapunzel reaches for him, yanking him into one of her fast-paced spins, and he can't help but laugh along with her.
It's impossible to remain tense with Rapunzel as his dance partner, and he soon forgets his decision to only dance once with her. When the first set ends, it's Varian who pulls her into another dance, dipping her ridiculously low until they wear matching grins. Round and round they go, partaking in dance after dance until everything has blurred together and Varian can't tell one guest from the next. He changes partners at some point, going from Rapunzel to Lance to Kiera to Catalina, and the entire time his head is tilted towards the ceiling, shoulders shaking with laughter.
He's out of breath by the time the tempo finally changes to something a bit more mellow. He takes his leave from the dance floor, seeking out another glass of lemonade before returning to his previous spot. He grabs a glass from a passing server, prepared to take a break, when something makes him pause.
Halfway shrouded in shadows and standing almost exactly where Varian had been before Rapunzel whisked him away to dance stands a boy in an emerald mask. He's covered in green from head to toe with gold accents on his jacket that are a shade nearly identical to his hair. His face is tilted upwards, not interested in the dancers in the center of the ballroom, but rather something high above them. Varian follows the stranger's gaze to one of the many chandeliers illuminating the room, and… hm. He can understand the boy's admiration as he watches the light dancing off the crystals and spilling onto the guests below in a way that can only be described as… enchanting.
Varian forces his gaze back to the stranger who still seems captivated by the chandelier.
He's in my spot. He should probably go talk to him, right? It's a really good spot, one that Varian does not want to give up. But also, it would be rude to kick this guy out, since he was probably unaware that the spot he chose was already claimed. It wouldn't be very nice to deprive a fellow introvert of a place to hide, since he would hate if someone did that to him, but also Varian doesn't plan on choosing a new spot. Which means they'll both be sharing a spot, and it would be pretty awkward if they both just stood there, sharing a spot, refusing to speak all night. Therefore, the most logical thing to do would be to start up a conversation.
Okay, great. Easy stuff. You got this, Varian!
He sidles up to the stranger, making sure not to stand too close because hello, he isn't trying to come off as a creep, and takes a deep breath to gather his courage.
Which is ridiculous, actually. He shouldn't need courage to talk to someone, stranger or not.
Varian clears his throat. "Uhm, hi."
The boy looks him up and down before responding. "Hello." His tone is cautious, like he's trying to decipher Varian's intentions.
Maker, those eyes are intense. They're green, but not like Rapunzel's. Rapunzel's are a softer kind of green, like the paint she uses on her canvases. This boy's eyes are striking, more fierce, with subtle flecks of gold sprinkled about. Suddenly Varian can understand what people mean when they talk about getting lost in others' eyes, because Maker Varian can't focus on anything up.
"I—" he swallows hard, hating how his voice cracks. Get it together, Varian! "You're in my spot."
"I'm sorry?"
"N— not that I'm kicking you out, it would just be rude to— I'm just— what I'm saying is—" Varian lets out a frustrated groan. "It seems we're both looking for a place to hide tonight."
The corner of the boy's lips quirk up into what almost resembles a smirk. "It seems so. Why are you hiding?"
Varian sags against the column. "Not a big fan of socializing with people."
"But you're socializing with me," Mystery Boy says, and yeah, he kind of has a point.
Varian smiles. "Well, that's because you're in my spot."
He laughs, and Varian's heart skips a beat. "So you've mentioned."
"Why are you hiding?"
"I'm not big on dancing." The blond shrugs. "I'm content to just… watch."
Varian nods in agreement. "I'm not much of a dancer, either. I'd rather be in my lab right now, to be honest."
"That's not true, I saw you on the—" he pauses. "You have a lab?"
Varian perks up at the sudden interest. "Yeah, I work with alchemy."
"Me too!" The blond exclaims. He blinks and clears his throat, trying for a more casual response. "Uh, m— me too. I like science. It's easy. Predictable."
"The complete opposite of dealing with people," Varian mutters, and the other boy laughs. "Science is— is logical, and it reacts the way it's supposed to. I know what I'm doing. People are…"
"Erratic?" The blond supplies.
"Erratic," Varian agrees. "And dishonest. And challenging to figure out, but not the fun kind of challenge."
"You must hate it here then, if you think people are dishonest." Mystery Boy gestures to the people around them. "People are more likely to act like someone they aren't when they have the privilege of hiding behind a mask."
Varian frowns. "Actually, I like to think it's the opposite." When the blond raises his eyebrows in question, he elaborates. "I just personally feel like it's easier to be whoever you really are when you have the safety net of a disguise to fall back on. There aren't any real consequences to face for acting like your true self."
Mystery Boy is silent for a bit, thinking over Varian's answer. "I see your point," he finally responds, and to Varian's surprise, he sounds truthful. "I guess it is easier."
Varian tilts his head to the side. "Being brave or being genuine?"
Mystery Boy mirrors his action. "They're the same thing, are they not?"
"Well—" Varian hesitates, an argument on his lips, but he relents. "I guess you're right."
His eyes rake over the dance floor, studying the way the guests twirl with grace. It's a slow waltz now, one Varian would never partake in under any other circumstances.
But then he risks a glance at the intriguing boy beside him, who seems to be watching the dancers as well, and something lights up in his chest, like a match that's just been struck.
Under any other circumstances, he wouldn't even tolerate the idea of partaking in a slow waltz. He would be absolutely mortified if anybody recognized him on the dance floor, and besides, it's not as if he has a list of partners lined up to dance with. Nevertheless, he does know how, and these aren't exactly any other circumstance. It's not like anybody would recognize him out there— save Rapunzel and a few of his friends, but they hardly count— so there's really nothing to be embarrassed about.
It's easier to be brave when you have the chance to hide behind a mask.
He could be brave now. He doesn't exactly have much to lose.
Varian takes a deep breath and tries to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants before realizing, oh yeah, he's wearing gloves, then extends his hand out to the other boy. "Do you want to go and be brave with me?"
The blond goes quiet. He stares at Varian's hand so long he begins to wonder if he's done something to offend him. Then, quietly, "I don't know this dance."
Varian blinks in surprise. A gentleman who doesn't know how to dance? He must not be a native citizen of Corona, because everybody in this kingdom learned to dance the moment they could stand.
He decides against commenting on it for fear of offending the boy. "I can teach you, if you'd like."
Green eyes flicker to the crowd. "I can only imagine how ridiculous we'd look conducting dance lessons in the middle of the ballroom."
"Then we won't go to the middle of the ballroom." Feeling bold, Varian takes Mystery Boy's hand in his own and gently tugs him through the crowded room, making his way through the crowd of nobles with the finesse of someone who has experience making himself invisible.
They eventually reach the back of the ballroom, which is a bit emptier thanks to the large set of glass doors that have been opened to let in the cool night air. Varian tugs his guest outside and away from the noise, leading him further out until they reach the gardens.
The fresh scent of florals envelopes them as they stop in front of an elegant fountain, the water sparkling under the moonlight. Mystery Boy seems just as enchanted as this as he was the chandelier, if the way he wanders to the fountain is anything to go by. He gently pulls his hand out of Varian's to sit on the edge, and Varian tries desperately not to reach for him again.
He stands there, just… watching the boy. Admiring him. Curiosity burns in his chest, and a million questions bubble to the surface, all demanding to be answered at once. The one he decides on is, "what am I supposed to call you if you won't tell me your name?"
Mystery Boy smiles at that, and Varian's stomach does a somersault. "I guess you'll have to get creative with a nickname."
"Would you hate me if I called you Blondie?" He asks, immediately thinking of Eugene's endearing nickname for Rapunzel.
"Would you hate me if I called you Blue?" Blondie shoots back, gesturing to the streak of teal in Varian's hair.
Varian snorts. "I guess not." The other boy's eyes don't stray from his own, so Varian is the one forced to look away for fear of his heart beating out of his chest. "Where are you from, if not Corona?"
"How do you know I'm not from Corona?"
He looks back at the blond. "You don't know how to dance."
Blondie huffs. "I said I don't know this dance."
"I don't think you know any of the dances," Varian softly retorts. "You haven't partaken in a single dance all night."
Blondie blinks, clearly caught off guard by Varian's observation. "Maybe you just didn't take notice of me."
Varian knows for a fact that if this boy had been on the dance floor, he would've noticed. He wouldn't have been able to tear his eyes away, just like he finds himself unable to now.
But he doesn't say this, only a soft "maybe so."
The other boy squints at him for another solid second. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"Not at all."
"Fine, then." He crosses his arms. "I'm visiting family."
"Which family?"
"I'm afraid that would give away my identity, Hairstripe."
"Touche, I guess." Varian tries his earlier question again. "Where are you from, then?"
"Outside of Corona."
"How far?"
"Far."
"How many days would it take to get there?"
"A few."
"Can you get there by balloon?"
"You can get anywhere by balloon."
"What are your parents named?"
"Dear old mom and dad."
"Any siblings?"
"Not as far as you know."
"Who taught you alchemy?"
"I did."
This makes Varian halt his questioning. "You taught yourself alchemy?"
"And engineering." The other boy finds a sudden interest in his gloves, tugging on the fingers. "Well, my mentor was the one who provided me with the resources to learn, and she did teach me a fair bit, but for the most part… yeah. It was me."
Varian feels a gentle smile breaking out across his face at the notion of finding someone just like himself. "Me too," he whispers.
"You're self taught?"
"Mhm." Varian shoves his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling shy. "It uh, definitely wasn't easy, though. My dad tried everything he could to stop me from pursuing it, and it kind of gave me a bad reputation in my village for a while."
Blondie hums. "People are just afraid of what they don't understand."
"I know!" Varian exclaims. "Sun, it was so frustrating. I just wanted to help people, and that was the only way I knew how."
"Well, you're a hell of a lot more selfless than I am."
Varian quirks an eyebrow. "How so?"
"You just… are." He stops fidgeting with his gloves and sighs. "I don't think I've ever used my talents for anything good."
Varian frowns at the desolate tone the blond's voice takes on. "I don't believe that."
"Ah, but you don't know me."
"I could, though." Varian taps his mask. "Armor, right?"
The blond only looks back to the fountain water, and Varian can only just barely hear him when he says, "I really don't think you'd want to."
"You don't know that," Varian whispers, daring to move closer. "We're being brave together, remember?"
Blondie snorts. "That's stupid."
"It wasn't stupid back in the ballroom."
"Well, it's stupid now."
Varian rolls his eyes. "That's just because you're scared."
The other boy's head snaps back at that, eyes sharp despite the quiet words that follow. "Don't pretend like you know what you're talking about. You don't know me."
"So let me change that," Varian all but begs, sitting by the blond. He doesn't know why he feels so strongly about a boy he only just met, only that he does, and that he wants to clear that familiarly tortured expression from his face.
The same tortured expression that Varian used to see in the mirror every morning, that he still wears whenever he's reminded of all the terrible things he did.
He wonders if maybe this boy is like him.
"It doesn't matter, you know," Varian says after a sense of understanding starts to bloom in his chest. "Whatever you've done."
Blondie swallows hard. He doesn't try to deny anything, which Varian takes as a good sign. "How do you know that?" He whispers, quietly, like he's afraid he'll break if he speaks any louder.
Varian gently reaches out to rest his hand on top of the other boy's. He halfway expects his offer of comfort to be denied, but after a small moment of hesitation, the blond turns his hand over to clasp Varian's own.
Varian tries very very hard not to seem too happy about this.
"Because I've done some truly awful things," he whispers in reply. "Like, really bad. And I know a few people who have also done some pretty bad things. What I've learned is that people usually have reasons for doing what they do, and that usually, they aren't wholly themselves when they do those bad things." He represses a shudder at the memories the conversation brings back. "I know I wasn't."
The blond is smiling now. A small thing, hardly noticeable to anyone standing further away, but Varian notices and considers it a hard-earned victory. "I can't imagine someone as…" He shakes his head. "I can't imagine someone like you doing anything terrible."
Varian snorts. "You'd be surprised."
"Do tell."
Varian very nearly does, despite it not being very wise to do so. Revealing something like this would probably send this guy running for the hills and leave Varian with a hollow feeling in his chest, that doesn't change the fact that he almost opens his mouth anyway just because the other boy asked.
Sun, he's got to get ahold of himself.
Instead, he shakes his head. "I thought we weren't revealing our identities just yet. All you need to know is that I've been there, and I know what it's like to do something because it feels like there's no other way. Trust me," he offers a friendly smile. "There's always another way."
The blond snorts and shakes his head, ducking to hide the amused smile he sports. "Maker, you're definitely Coronan through and through."
Varian laughs. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You have the same impossibly optimistic view of the world that your princess does."
"Is that a bad thing?"
The other boy is quick to shake his head. "No, no! Not at all. I mean, you're a little naive, yes—"
"Hey!"
"—but I wouldn't say it's a bad attribute to have. It's refreshing, if nothing else."
Varian narrows his eyes, searching the other boy's expression for any hint of a lie. He doesn't. "Well then thanks, I guess."
They fall silent once more, both content to listen to the running water of the fountain and the music drifting from inside. Varian tries really hard to be casual about the fact that they're still holding hands despite there not being any real reason to do so, but he can't stop his gaze from dropping to their conjoined hands every so often, nor can he stop the panicked beating of his heart that commences after.
"Are you… enjoying yourself?" Varian asks. He wants to keep this boy talking for as long as he can, to learn as much as the blond will let him.
The boy laughs a little. "Uhm, well." He taps his finger against Varian's hand, something he doesn't even seem to be realizing he's doing. "I guess?"
"You guess?"
"I mean, it's a nice evening, don't get me wrong. Way nicer than I'm used to, at the very least." The second part is quieter, almost mumbled like Varian wasn't supposed to hear it. "But honestly, I can't help but feel out of place."
Varian tilts his head with a curious smile. "How can that be true?"
The silence stretches between them, but Varian is patient as he waits for an answer. Finally, the boy responds, "I think I feel more comfortable looking from the outside in on events like this than I do participating."
"Well, don't worry," Varian quips, "I won't tell my sister."
"Your sister?" Mystery Boy echoes with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows. Varian nods, and his eyes light up with understanding. "Oh," he says softly. "The princess is your— I didn't know she had a brother."
Varian shrugs. "Not by blood."
The blond looks back towards the castle, then at Varian. "So, that makes you Corona's royal engineer?"
"Varian."
"Varian," the boy breathes, and wow, he never realized just how nice his name could sound coming from another's lips.
Varian releases a shaky breath. "You know my name now," he whispers. "It's only fair if I get yours in return."
The other boy grins, shaking his head. "That's because you gave yourself away, Varian. I don't owe you my name."
"Answers then?" Varian asks. "To my questions."
"I gave you answers."
"Vague banter doesn't count as answers, Blondie."
"I responded to your questions."
Varian huffs. "And yet you haven't told me anything about yourself."
"That's a lie—"
"Vague comments and allusions to things I don't know about don't count. I know that you don't know how to dance, you have some sort of mysterious past—" he counts each thing off on his free hand as he lists them, "—and that you're good at deflecting and changing the conversation. Like, scary good at it."
The blond looks away.
"Is that what you do?" Varian asks with no real accusation in his tone. "Put all the attention on others so no one has the chance to see beneath your surface?"
The other boy scoffs. Varian half expects another deflection or vague answer, but there's authenticity in what he says next. "Sometimes it's easier to stay in shallow water. It's warmer, more pleasant. Familiar. I like familiar."
Varian considers this. "True. But it can be dull to swim in the same waters day after day, even if they're familiar. Especially if they're familiar."
As the words leave his mouth, he can't help but realize not only the truth in them, but that they apply to him as well. Maybe that's the reason Rapunzel and his friends have been so adamant on getting him outside of his comfort zone, why Eugene and Lance dragged him to this ball. Because all he's been doing— for who knows how long— is swimming in the same shallow waters day after day after day.
Maybe he needs to listen to his own advice.
"Right." The blond's eyes search Varian's own before he blinks fast and clears his throat. "So. Uh, any chance you're still offering those dance lessons?"
There's that deflection that Varian had been expecting. He doesn't respond, only smiling softly and nodding.
"Come," he says, standing and pulling the other boy to his feet. They move a little bit away from the fountain so as not to bump into it, and then they just… stand there. Awkwardly.
"Uhm." Mystery Boy glances at their conjoined hands as if just now realizing neither of them ever let go. "What now?"
"Well, to do any sort of waltz, you have to be a little closer to your partner." The blond does just that, and then their faces are only inches apart and Varian can count the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose and he momentarily forgets how to speak. "A— and then a simple box step."
It's easy, dancing with this complete stranger who doesn't feel so much like a stranger anymore. Varian is patient for once, something he's very rarely been with anyone in the past, and he laughs when the blond makes a snarky comment about his height, and holds his breath when a stumble has them much closer than they should be.
Mystery Boy picks up on things quickly, adapting fast to every complex step and twist and spin that Varian teaches him, and he does it with such grace that Varian can't believe this boy hadn't been taught how to dance before.
When the blond gets more comfortable, he begins to take the lead, guiding Varian along to the music that drifts from the ballroom easily, like he's done this a thousand times before. Their eyes never leave each other, and Varian starts to keep count of the beat they dance to just so he has something to distract him from just how alluring those green eyes are.
He's beautiful, and he's smart, and he's funny. The more he relaxes, the more he begins to joke, and maker when he laughs, Varian swears there are fireworks going off in his chest. He's hyper aware of every point their bodies are touching— where the blond's hand ghosts along his back, when a move has them stepping so close their torsos brush together— and he can't help but think that he's never felt like this before. Like there's some sort of unseen electricity crackling between them, like there's a thread that grows thinner and thinner every time Varian's gaze drops to the other boy's lips. He's never been one to enjoy physical touch, but with this boy, he craves it.
When Mystery Boy closes his eyes, Varian can't help but comment on it. "Impressive that you're dancing with your eyes closed already."
"The student has surpassed the master," the blond responds, a smile on his lips. "Impressed by my superior dance skills?"
"Not if you're going to go getting a big ego about it," Varian says with a laugh. He watches the other for a moment. "What are you thinking about?"
The other boy opens one eye. "You want the honest answer?"
"Of course."
"I'm trying to memorize this as exactly as I can. I have very few good memories, and I'd like to add this one to my sparse collection."
They slow to a stop in time with the faint music, and when the blond opens his eyes, Varian is already staring.
"I think you're the most interesting person I've ever met," Varian whispers. "Please tell me your name," he tries again, knowing it will be fruitless. "I don't know how else I'm supposed to find you again."
The other boy freezes, his shoulders tense. "That— that won't be possible."
Varian's heart plummets. "Anything is possible."
"Not this." The blond shakes his head almost mournfully. "Just trust me, okay? It's for the best."
Varian wants to argue— wants to pull away and shout and fight until he makes this boy see sense— but the resolve in the blond's eyes is enough for him to know that arguing would only push him away faster. So he doesn't argue.
Instead, he does something else. He stands on the tips of his toes and plants a firm kiss to the other boy's cheek, letting his lips linger for a moment before forcing himself to pull away.
The blond is stunned, mouth forming a funny little o. He looks at Varian like he couldn't possibly fathom why he would do such a thing, and Varian would almost be afraid he did something wrong if not for the way Mystery Boy's grip on him tightens.
There's contemplation in his eyes for a moment, and then his hand is sliding from Varian's back to his arm, all the way down his sleeve until he reaches his hand. Varian only watches, breath held, as his glove is slowly removed. The blond raises Varian's (now bare) hand, and brings it to his lips.
"Please tell me your name," Varian begs, feeling desperate. He can't remember the last time he wanted— no, needed— to have an answer this badly, but he does. He needs it more than he needs oxygen, because there's something about this boy that he can't put his finger on, and Varian knows he can't let him slip away without at least trying to get some kind of information that'll make it easier to track him down again.
The blond hesitates. He lowers Varian's hand a bit, chest moving fast like he's breathing too hard, and he opens his mouth and begins to speak and—
And the ringing of bells from inside interrupts them. Both heads turn towards the sound, and Mystery Boy is the first to speak.
"What does that mean?"
"It's… midnight," Varian responds. He'd almost forgotten about Rapunzel's big reveal. "It's time for everyone to remove their masks." He pulls away from the blond, who seems dazed as he stares towards the ballroom. "Including us."
Varian lifts his hands to his mask and pushes it up to his head, grateful to finally have the chance to remove it. Blue eyes meet green, and the blond sucks in a sharp breath.
"Your turn," Varian whispers.
All at once, the other boy sputters to life. His eyes widen, and he looks almost frazzled as he steps back. "I— I have to— I need to leave. Now."
"Please don't leave!"
Whether it's the sharp panic in his voice or the words themselves, Varian doesn't know. But it doesn't matter, because it makes the boy stop. He turns slowly. His eyes lock with Varian's, and he seems to decide something. He rushes back over, and Varian doesn't know what to expect, but he doesn't have time to prepare for anything because then the boy is standing right there and he leans down and he kisses Varian furiously.
Varian leans into the kiss immediately, grasping green fabric and letting out a soft breath when he feels cool hands on his face. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss as he's filled with a desire strong enough to rival anything else he's felt tonight, and just as he's beginning to think he's won, he feels the other boy pulling away.
Varian tries to follow after, desperate not to end the kiss so soon, but he's left unsatisfied when they part and he nearly stumbles in a pathetic effort to keep them together.
He looks divine, Varian thinks, with his lips flushed and moist from being kissed. He can still feel those lips on his, firm and soft and wonderful, and he's so caught up in processing whatever the fuck just happened that he doesn't even notice Mystery Boy running away until he's disappeared from the garden
Shit.
"Wait!" He screams, breaking into a sprint after the boy who just flipped his brain inside out.
Scenery blurs past him as he dashes back into the ballroom, immediately scanning the crowd for any sign of his green ingenue. He catches a flash of green coattails and immediately goes to chase it down, not caring one bit about the offended looks and nasty remarks from all the important guests he collides with.
He slams into Eugene at some point, nearly sending the older man flying to the ground. His cousin steadies him with two firm hands on his shoulders and a concerned look that only intensifies when Varian tries to run away.
"Whoa, whoa, where's the fire, kid?" He's instantly scanning the ballroom for anything Varian could be running from, which only makes Varian want to scream in frustration.
"Eugene, let me go!" He shouts. "I have to get to him before he leaves!"
"Who?" Eugene asks, and Varian would almost feel guilty about the concern in his eyes if he wasn't so preoccupied.
"I—" He never got his name. "I never got his name, Eugene, let me go, I have to get his name!"
Eugene is so startled by the vehemence in his voice that his grip loosens, which is all Varian needs to wrestle his way out of his cousin's grip and continue his pursuit.
He swears under his breath as he makes his way through the crowd. Eugene's interference made him lose so much time, what if he's already gone? What if Varian never sees him again?
It is only when he bursts through the front doors of the castle that he stops. His legs ache and it feels like there's acid in his lungs and his head is spinning and he's going to be sick and tears are threatening to spill over and he isn't here.
He isn't here.
Varian let him get away.
His shaking legs finally give out on him, and the warm summer breeze feels cool against the hot tears running down his face. It's so, so stupid to be crying over this, but he can't help it. He's feeling too much all at once— too much frustration and hope and anger— and it's all boiling over as he breaks down on the palace steps.
He had something good. He had something so good, someone who understood him and made him feel things and now he's gone. He's gone because Varian let him get away.
And he didn't even get his fucking name.
Rapunzel finds him later, miserably staring at his one hand devoid of a glove because Mystery Boy must've taken it with him when he escaped. He tells her everything and she holds him tight and he apologizes for getting snot and tears all over the dress she had made for this specifically, but she shushes him and reassures him that it's okay to cry.
"Maybe he'll come back," she offers, and against his better judgment, Varian prays to the Maker that he does.
**
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit, Cyrus is going to kill me.
Hugo is out of breath when the wagon breaches his line of sight, along with a burly man pacing in front of it.
His movements stop when he sees Hugo, and his eyes narrow. "Where were you?!" He barks. "You were supposed to be back over an hour ago!"
"Relax," Hugo wheezes, ripping off his mask. He comes to a stop, bending over and clutching his chest, which feels much too constricted in the formal clothing he's in. "I'm here now, aren't I?"
Cyrus' expression doesn't soften, and Hugo swallows back a twinge of anxiety. Despite how much he loves to antagonize the older man, he's Donella's second in command for a reason. His glare hardens.
"This is exactly why Donella was hesitant about giving you an out-of-kingdom job, kid."
"Don't call me kid," Hugo hisses, immediately straightening. "I just lost track of time, that's all."
"And now we're behind schedule because of it. What am I supposed to tell her when we get to Ingvarr later than expected?"
Hugo's jaw clenches. "Blame it on bandits. Say the wagon got hijacked by the Baron's men."
Cyrus huffs. "You expect me to lie to Donella? On your behalf?"
"What's the alternative?" Hugo asks, crossing his arms. "You were the one who let me into that ball in the first place. If I get in trouble, you're going down with me."
Cyrus tenses, his nostrils flaring. He looks angry now, but Hugo doesn't back down. He knows he's right. The idea of Donella finding out that he'd screwed up his first big job is nothing less than terrifying, but there's still a way out of it.
Because in a way, it is Cyrus' fault. He was the one who let Hugo sneak into the ball for a bit since they were ahead of schedule and had time to kill. Albeit, he'd done it begrudgingly, but he allowed it nonetheless. Hugo was the one who messed up and lost track of time, but Donella wouldn't easily forgive Cyrus for giving him the opportunity for such a mistake. They'd both be in trouble if she knew.
He seems to realize this, because his posture softens just a fraction. He sighs that sigh he usually does whenever Hugo has done something particularly annoying, but his voice is less gruff than before. "What happened?"
Varian happened.
Hugo runs a finger along the glove in his hand, and he hides it behind his back. "Nothing," he lies. "Just got carried away, I guess. Won't happen again."
"Better not." Cyrus sighs again. "Alright. Alright, fine. I won't tell her what really happened—"
Hugo perks up. "Really?!"
"—but you're the one who's going to tell her why we're late." Upon Hugo's scowl, he shrugs. "We're in this mess 'cuz of you, kid. You're the one who's going to have to get us out of it." He turns to go about loading up the wagon, not pausing when he says, "I hope they were worth it."
The blond freezes. How does he— "What?"
"Whoever's glove you're trying to hide. I sure they were worth the trouble."
Hugo blinks away his shock. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Cyrus chuckles. "Whatever you say."
"I don't! You're crazy if you think I'd put the mission at risk for some pretty boy."
When Cyrus turns, there's a smirk on his scarred lips. "I never said anything about a boy."
"Let's go," Hugo hisses, face aflame. He jumps into the back of the wagon, sinking against their cargo and sulking like a pouty child.
They get moving along the bumpy road, and soon the palace of Corona is but a spot in the distance. The ride is silent, nothing like the journey into the sun kingdom when Hugo had been delighting in being a pain in Cyrus' side. The older man is probably grateful for it, but he doesn't speak on it. Hugo wouldn't answer if he did; he's too occupied thinking about something— or someone— else.
The boy he met tonight was like no other, as corny as that sounds. Sure he was kind and smart and eager, but what surprised Hugo the most was how sincere he was, how sure he sounded when he insisted upon seeing the good in Hugo despite the blond trying to tell him otherwise.
If he knew that Hugo was only there to steal, that he's nothing but a lowly thief who's only out for himself and nobody else, surely he wouldn't have said any of those things. He's the royal alchemist for Maker's sake! And even if he'd somehow been able to get over Hugo's choice of occupation, there's a high chance Varian would've turned him in anyway due to some sort of moral obligation to the crown.
It just wouldn't have worked out, and Hugo needs to accept that. He has to stop thinking about it. A thief and a noble could never, in any universe, work out.
Despite these thoughts, Hugo raises his fingers to his lips. The lips that had kissed Varian's, that would never be able to touch them again. It had been a lapse in judgment— allowing himself to kiss Varian— because now that he got just a taste, he knows he won't easily forget it.
A groan escapes him as he allows his head to fall back onto the crate of stolen goods behind him. It's for the best that they'll never see each other again. Varian made Hugo feel things he didn't know he could feel, made him think— just for a moment— that he could possibly have a choice.
But he doesn't, and he never will. Despite the soft ache in his chest, it really is for the best that he gets as far away from Varian as possible.
And so, with a heavy heart, a mask, and a stolen glove, Hugo settles in for a long ride back to Ingvarr and tries to make peace with never seeing Varian again.