The masquerade had ended, but the flutter in Chris's chest hadn't.
The moon still hung high as they walked back through the dimly lit village, cobblestones slick with dew and laughter echoing from the last of the dancers. Chris could still feel the ghost of Damian's gloved hand in his. He wasn't sure if he should blame the wine, the music, or just Damian's ridiculous smile—but something had changed.
He'd danced with other people before. Women, men, nobles, barmaids, even a goat once during a harvest festival dare (he still denied it). But dancing with Damian—knowing his face beneath the mask, knowing his sharp tongue and wounded past—had felt like…
Something stupid. Something dangerous. Something real.
Damian walked just ahead of him now, silent for once, his shoulders a little stiff. He hadn't taken off the silver mask, though it had slipped to one side, revealing a sliver of cheek and a faint flush that could've been the cold.
Chris couldn't hold it in anymore.
"I think I like you," he blurted.
Damian stopped dead. Slowly, painfully, he turned his head, one silver eyebrow arched so high it nearly flew off his forehead. "Excuse me?"
Chris winced. "That was… probably the worst way to say it. Uh—back at the dance. I meant—look, you didn't not enjoy it, right?"
Damian said nothing.
Chris fidgeted, which for him meant kicking a loose pebble and then punching a tree like it had insulted his mother. "It's not just the dancing, okay? It's how you're… sarcastic and sneaky and way too smug, but also smart and kind when you think no one's watching."
"I'm never kind," Damian muttered.
"You saved me from a ghost. You risked your life for a stupid knight who can't shut up. You definitely tried to cover me with your cloak during that fire spirit explosion two towns ago, even though you claimed it was because I smelled bad—"
"Chris—"
"—And, gods help me, I think your scowl is weirdly endearing. Like a pissed-off cat."
"CHRIS—"
"I like you, okay?! You make me want to be better. And if you want to stab me for it, I'll die knowing I got to say it out loud."
Damian stared at him. Just… stared.
Then he turned around, walked to the nearest wooden barn on the edge of the road, and screamed into his hands.
The next moment—
BOOM.
The entire side of the barn exploded. Flaming straw and charred wood shot into the night sky like confetti from hell. A goat bolted out of the structure bleating in terror, singed but alive.
Chris hit the ground. "WHAT IN THE ACTUAL—"
Damian stood in front of the wreckage, eyes wide, hair frazzled, one hand still glowing faintly purple.
"…I panicked," Damian muttered.
Chris lay there for a moment, half-laughing, half-sputtering on barn dust. "You exploded a barn because I said I like you?"
Damian whirled on him, mortified. "No! Well—yes—but not because of that! I wasn't prepared! I thought I'd have more time! You were supposed to flirt badly for a few more weeks while I pretended not to notice and spiraled emotionally in secret!"
Chris sat up, grinning despite himself. "Wait. So… you do like me."
Damian groaned and sank down on a nearby rock, burying his face in his hands. "This is a disaster."
Chris moved to sit beside him, ignoring the faint smoldering embers nearby. "Hey. It's okay. I'm not expecting a poem. Just don't explode anything else."
Damian peeked between his fingers. "I'm… not good at this."
Chris gently nudged him. "Neither am I. But I'd like to try. With you."
For a moment, Damian just sat there, breathing slowly, eyes fixed on the stars above. Then he said, very quietly, "I haven't liked anyone in a long time. Not since… before I was a shadow mage. Before I became something to be hunted."
Chris's voice softened. "You're not a monster, Damian."
Damian gave a wry smile. "Tell that to the goat."
They both laughed.
The ruined barn crackled behind them, a fitting metaphor for the chaos of their feelings. But in that shared silence—smoke, starlight, and all—something unspoken settled between them. A fragile trust. A spark of something dangerous and real.
Eventually, Damian stood and offered a hand to Chris. "We should leave before someone accuses us of arson."
Chris took it. "To be fair, you did commit arson. Romantic arson, but still."
Damian rolled his eyes. "Shut up."
"You like me~"
"I will throw you into that fire."
And as they walked off together, bickering under the crescent moon, hand in hand… the goat watched from a distance.
Judging them both.
~~~~~
Ahhh the poor goat 😂😂😂😂