Dance to Anything--Rydon

Are you worth your weight in gold?

La Cage de Toxiques read the sign over the nondescript brick building across the street, and I had a French-English dictionary in my hand as I stared at the window. "The Cage of Toxins?" I murmured under my breath, snapping the dictionary closed. "I wonder what sort of place that is."

After breakfast the next morning, I asked my landlady about it. "La Cage de Toxiques?" She shuddered. "A filthy cesspool of underground culture." Then she appraised me cool eyes. "Though I suppose a young man like you would enjoy yourself there."

"So it's club?" I asked, ignoring her disapproving tone.

"Something like that," she said stiffly. "I'm sure you could easily find someone willing to take you there if you're curious. Mr. Greenwald, in Room 18, is a common patron, I believe."

I thanked her and made my way up the stairs to Room 18; I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but there was something about the place that intrigued me, and I knew I had to find out more about La Cage de Toxiques.

A haggard man answered my knock. "Yes?" he said, drawing the 's' out into a sort of hiss. "What do you want?"

"Mr. Greenwald?" I asked in a timid voice and the man nodded. "I'm Brendon Urie. New tenant. Mrs. Palmer said you could take me La Cage de Toxiques."

Mr. Greenwald paused and a gaunt smile crossed his face. "Only if you ask very nicely," he said. "Then maybe I'll consider it."

You're one of those types, aren't you? I thought to myself and tried to smile at the man. "Please, Mr. Greenwald," I said. "May I come with the next time you go to La Cage de Toxiques?"

"I'm going tonight. Meet me here at 8 o'clock sharp. Dress your best."

The door closed in my face and I remembered that I had meant to ask about Mrs. Palmer's strong dislike for La Cage de Toxiques. Tonight, I told myself. I'll ask him tonight.

The hours dragged by and come 8 o'clock, I was standing outside Room 18 in my best suit. I had raised my hand and was about to knock when the door opened to reveal Mr. Greenwald in a top hat and with a cane in his hand.

"Good," he said shortly. "I've always appreciated promptness."

As I followed him down the stairs, I took note of the self-centered aura he gave off. I hope this is worth having to put up this fellow, I thought to myself. He certainly isn't my first choice of companion.

He led me to a cobblestone courtyard before the building. "La Cage de Toxiques," he said grandly, spreading his arms wide to each side. "The Cage of Toxins!" And raising his cane in the air, he rapped loudly on the wooden door.

I watched as a masked doorman opened and door and, nodding at Mr. Greenwald, waved us in. "Hey Alex, who's the new boy?" he asked gruffly.

"Just a curious new tenant at Palmer House," said Mr. Greenwald shortly.

Blushing, I ducked my head and followed him inside to a large half-dinning-room, half-dancing-hall. "Wow," I breathed, gazing up at the crystal chandeliers and large swings hanging from the ceiling. It was like a giant birdcage. "What is this place?"

Mr. Greenwald chuckled. "When Mrs. Palmer called it a filthy cesspool of underground culture, she wasn't exaggerating," he said in a low voice. "It's run by a certain Mr. Wentz and his Decay-Dancers, or his Dancing Dogs, as he sometimes calls them. A delicious combination of exotic drinks and carnal desire. Come," he said and led me to a small booth. "My usual table. The show shall begin about …" He checked his pocket watch. "A quarter of an hour."

"Is this … is this a whorehouse?" I asked cautiously, and Mr. Greenwald laughed.

"Only if you want it to be." He flashed me dark smile and placed his top hat on the table.

Do I want it to be one? I ask myself and turn curious eyes towards the center of the dance hall, where elegantly dressed waiters were scurrying to and from tables, carrying trays of drinks and food.

Mr. Greenwald leaned across the table as a waiter headed towards us and said in a low whisper, "The lobster is particularly good this season."

I jumped in my seat, startled, then turned and forced a smile. "Thanks, "I whispered back. "I'll keep that in mind."

Mr. Greenwald ordered a dish I had never heard of and I, as per his suggestion, ordered lobster. "Your orders will be ready about five minutes before the show begins," the waiter told us, dipping his head in a slight bow and leaving us alone.

"Um, Mr. Greenwald?" I began. "Can I call you 'Alex?'" He nodded stiffly. "Can I … ask why Mrs. Palmer hates this place so much? Other than the fact that it's a, uh … 'filthy cesspool of underground culture.'"

A dark smile crossed Alex's face and he chuckled quietly. "A couple years ago," he said. "Her daughter ran away to join Mr. Wentz's Decay-Dancers."

Coughing in surprise, I tried to imagine a younger version of our elderly landlady in this place.

"Amanda," Alex continued. "A small girl with tattoo eyebrows. You may notice her once the show starts." He paused. "Then again, maybe not."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure your eyes will be on the Matched Set," he said with a smirk.

I blinked slowly. "The what?"

"Matched Set," he repeated. "Two enticingly similar Dogs. Very stunning. The stars of his show. You'll know them when you see them," he finished with a wink.

We sat in silence until the waiter returned with our dishes, which we eat in silence, and I get the feeling that Alex Greenwald is a man who is only truly alive when indulging in the darker sides of the things.

Then the lights have dimmed and brightened again and there's a man in a bright suit standing atop a podium as colorful skirts and flares flood the hall. "Welcome," the man says, spreading his arms wide, "to La Cage de Toxiques!"

I scanned the dancers, trying to find the Matched Set, but all I saw was one girl spinning towards our table. Her face was powered white and she waggled her tattooed eyebrows. "Alex, darling," she purred and pulled him to his feet. "Come and dance."

Alex winked at me over his shoulder and followed the girl, who I assumed to be Amanda, out onto the floor, and I wondered if a dancer would come for me. No one did though and I finished my lobster by myself.

My surly companion returned to the table once the song ended. "Brendon," he said. "This is Amanda. Amanda—Brendon."

"Pleased to meet you," I said and kissed her extended hand.

She giggled. "Please to please ya."

I blushed and Amanda sped away as the lights dimmed. An eerie melody filled the air as the man—Mr. Wentz, perhaps—spoke. "Now tonight's a very special night," he said. "Does anyone know why?" Silence. Mr. Wentz chuckled. "It's been exactly ten years since La Cage first premiered!" A loud cheer. "And so, in honor of our anniversary, I present to you … two very special Dancing Dogs!"

An even louder cheer followed as two perches descended from the ceiling, each one carrying a slender dancer. One was wearing a silver dress, the other a black one, but both had the same slender build and dark hair, and I could tell right off that this was the infamous Matched Set.

"Gorgeous specimens, aren't they?" Alex said with a smirk. "The light one is Crystalline and the dark one is Opus. Stage names, of course."

"Of course," I echoed, transfixed by the sight of the two bodies twist and contort into beautiful shapes before swan diving down a long ribbon to the empty floor, where they separated and circled the perimeter of the hall.

"Does anyone dare to ask these dogs to dance?" Mr. Wentz asked. The hall stayed silent. "Oops," he added with a funny sort of laugh. "It's ladies' choice."

The crowd held its breath and I could tell that each man, like me, was hoping and yet dreading to be chosen.

Crystalline, on the other side of the hall, pulled a tall man from his table and draped her arms around his torso.

"Oh-ho!" Mr. Wentz said with a chuckle. "The Light has made her choice."

Opus stalked past the tables, nearing our table with each step she took. Her feet were adorned in delicate high heels and her black skirt trailed behind her. Pick me, I begged silently. Don't pick me.

"You look like a nice boy," she purred, turning her honeyed eyes towards a man a couple tables away. "I bet you're a good dancer," she told another, pursing her ruby red lips. Then she stopped and looked right at me.

She didn't say anything, just stepped up and slid her hands down my chest. "What's an innocent boy like you doing at La Cage?" she asked whisper so only I could hear. Her lips brushed against my ear and she grabbed my hands, leading me out onto the middle of the floor.

I could feel Alex's shocked gaze burning holes in the back of my jacket as Mr. Wentz announced, "The Dark has made her choice. Gentlemen, it's time to dance!"

Opus pressed her slender body against mine, our cheeks touching, as she led me a graceful dance. I surprised to find that she was taller than me, but I supposed that it was just the high heels.

"Why are you here?" she asked, under the cover of the music and dancing. "This is no place for a innocent boy like you."

"What makes you think I'm so innocent?" I asked.

"Your eyes," she said simply. "Now tell me why."

I shrugged carelessly as Opus met Crystalline's gaze over my shoulder. "Alex Greenwald brought me," I said. "I'm a new tenant at Palmer House."

"You mean that place across the street?" she asked and twirled around me. "Owned by Fucker's mum."

"Fucker?" I repeated in shock. "You mean Amanda?"

Opus nodded; every move she made was delicate and beautiful. Toxic. "We call her Fucker," she said softly. "And she doesn't seem to care. Since she's a whore."

"Aren't you all?" I asked, then clapped my hands over my mouth, appalled at my rudeness.

But Opus laughed, a light and dainty laugh. "I suppose," she said and stepped one spidery leg between mine. "Would you care to pay for my time?"

Swallowing a gasp as her thigh pressed up against my groin, I blinked rapidly and blushed. "I, uh … don't believe I'd have the money for that," I managed. "You seem awfully expensive."

"I'd give you a discount since you're une vierge," she murmured. "A virgin."

"H-how can you tell?" I stammered out.

She winked at me, dark eyelashes against pale skin. "Your eyes," she purred. "Now would you like to buy me for the night?"

Oh god, yes! "If you'd take me," I murmured back and she pressed her lips to mine.

Crystalline, spinning past with her partner, subtly prodded Opus on the shoulder. "You are lucky," she hissed in a beautiful voice. "That no one else is watching."

Opus giggled and smiled impishly at me as Crystalline moved on. "I think tonight will be wonderful night," she crooned in my ear. "If you get my drift."

This was definitely worth Alex Greenwald.


Hey stranger, you're behind my eyelids when I'm all alone.

There is something about that boy, I thought, swinging back and forth on my perch above the dance hall, as desperate men tried to grab at my trailing skirts. I'm not sure what. But I need to know him. I will die if I don't.

"I am sorry to say, but it is time to say … 'good night,'" Pete told the audience, and I felt my perch slowly rising up into the rafters. "Good night and good luck."

I rapidly climbed out of my perch and made my way through the passage back to the dressing room as Pete made his closing remarks to the crowd, bidding them all to come again soon.

"I'm surprised at you," a soft voice said sharply and a hand grabbed my shoulder. "Breaking the rules like that. Every Dog knows better than to show affection for a customer."

I spun around to see a slender dancer in a white dress. "It's just a game, Will," I said curtly. "'Sides, you're the one who secretly as a boyfriend."

A deep flush spreads across William's face and he narrows his make-up darkened eyes at me. "If you tell Pete about Gabe, I swear to god I'll make sure you're kicked out of the company," he hissed.

"You know neither of us would dare to anything to other, don't you," I said, meeting his tense gaze. "Because what is one half of the Set without her match?" I paused, then spat on the wooden rafter's at Will's feet. "Nothing! That's what."

William sighed and followed me down the dressing rooms. "I'm surprise that no one's realized how many of us are actually boys," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm thankful more than anything," I muttered back. "Since we'd be out of a job and home if they did."

"Well done, my beautiful Dogs," Pete exclaimed, coming up behind William and I and putting an arm around each of us. "Another flawless performance."

William shot me a look, clearly saying, Not so flawless that I didn't see you kissing that boy, which I ignore.

"Petey," I said, turning to him and running my hands down his chest. "Can we talk, sweetheart?" He nodded and I added, "In private."

He gave me a surprised look. "What do you have to say that you can't say in front of Crystalline?"

That really rubbed Will the wrong way. "Don't call me that!" he spat. "My name is William."

"Excuse me, Mister Beckett," Pete drawled, his mocking use of the word "mister" hitting home exactly as he intended it to. "Come, Opus." With an extravagant sweep of his arm, he beckoned me into his private office. "What it is?"

"Don't call me 'Opus' when I'm not on stage," I said, feeling every bit as injured as William. "That's not my name."

Over dramatic as always, Pete heaved a sigh and gestured me to sit down on the dumpy divan in the corner of the room. "Fine, Ryan. What do you want?"

I remained standing and watched him watch me with appraising eyes. "I want to be sold out tonight," I said bluntly.

"What?" He gaped at me in shock.

"I want to be sold out tonight," I repeated. "The gentleman I danced with has asked for my time."

Pete shook his head. "Impossible!" he snapped. "You know that. Boys like you and Crysti don't get sold out."

"I am going to be sold out tonight," I told him firmly.

"Oh and I suppose you're going to make sure he's so drunk that he won't notice that you have a fucking penis!" Pete shot back.

I bristled; the image of that boy—my boy—intoxicated infuriated me. "No," I growled. "But I am sure he will not tell."

Quick as a flash, Pete was standing behind me with his hands tight on my shoulders and his lips against my ear. "Don't get attached, Opus," he hissed. "It will kill you."

"I'm not attached," I said coolly and brushed him off me. "I simply want a thrill for the night. 'Sides, once I've got this vierge hooked on me, I'm sure he'll become one of our best patrons."

Pete still seems unconvinced. "I'll let you sell yourself out tonight," he said, then hit me across the face, hard enough to sting but not to bruise. "But if this falls down on your head, don't expect any sympathy from me!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," I muttered back and slipped from the room, tripping on my high heels as I ran for the dressing room I shared with William.

"What was that about?" Will asked as I closed the door behind me. He was already changed out of his costume and was in the process of washing the make-up from his face with a rag.

"I'm being sold out tonight!" I told him gleefully as I let my black dress fall from my body.

The rag dropped from his hand. "Congratulations," he said coldly, watching me change with frigid eyes. "You just got promoted into whoredom."

"Don't be like that," I said bitterly.

"Like what, Ryan?" he spat back. "Don't be like what? You want to be a fucking whore? Being a drag queen like this is bad enough! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Overwhelmed by his rage, I sat down on our queen-sized bed, feeling small and worthless and dirty. "It's the nice boy I danced with," I said in a sad whisper. "I thought … I just thought he could be my saving grace."


I led a revolution in my bedroom.

She was dressed entirely in black when she showed up at my room that night. "Hello, Brendon," she purred and locked the door behind me. "How are you this fine and pleasant evening?"

Mouth dry, I didn't know how to answer her and instead gaping silently at her unearthly beauty.

"What?" she asked with a slight smirk and dragged a light finger down my chest. "Am I so beautiful you're lost for words?"

All I could do was nod fervently and she laughed, bringing her dark red lips to mine in a soft kiss.  

"I … you … " I stuttered out. "God, I want you so badly."

Opus nodded and began to shimmy out of her dress.

"Wait," I said huskily and stepped towards her. "I … can I undress you?" I wasn't sure why I asked that; it just seemed right.

"You can do whatever you like," she murmured. "You're paying for my time."

"Thank you," I whispered and kissed her on the cheek, reaching for her dress. I felt her slender boy freeze under my hands and when I looked into her large eyes, I saw pure fear. "What—what's wrong?" I asked.

Opus bit her lip and stared at me in terror. "I … I've never …" she stammered and her voice sounded differently. Beautiful still, but differently. "I've never before," she whispered and covered her face, as if ashamed.

"I'm not sure I understand," I said slowly.

Her hands fell from her face and she looked at me with teary eyes. "I'm a virgin!" she screamed and immediately went back to crying into her hands.

Confused, I put my arms around, unsure of what else to do. "Shh, shh," I murmured, rocking her back and forth in my arms. "It's okay. We'll get through this together." It was as if we had known each forever, not at all like a virgin with a prostitute for the first time.

"I want," she breathed into my ear. "I need to tell you something."

"Anything."

She stepped away from me. "Perhaps it would be better to show you," she said in a musing voice and let her black dress fall away from her body.

Blinking in confusion, I stared at her, unable to comprehend board shoulders and flat chest. "What a-are you?" I asked in a shaky voice. "Who are you?"

Opus collapsed on my bed with a sob. "It was stupid of me to come here," she hissed angrily and I could tell suddenly that her voice was lower, huskier, completely different. "I just thought … I don't know why I thought that you could save me. Stupid!"

"I'd like to save you," I whispered and sat down beside the trembling boy, reaching out to place a tentative hand on his shoulder. "But … who are you?"

The boy turned a tear-stained face, smudged with make-up, towards me and grasped at my hands. "My name is Ryan," he said in a rush. "Or Opus. One of the two. I can't tell anymore. I just can't tell!" He was crying and shaking and scared. Young. Far too young for this life.

"Ryan," I said slowly, trying out the name on my tongue. "How did you … how did you end up at La Cage de Toxiques?"

"Pete found me and Will—that's Crystalline's real name—living on the streets," Ryan explained, holding on to me for dear life. "He was struck by our similar looks. Made us a proposition. It was better than being homeless and starving to death."

"But now it really has become a cage to you, right?" I asked and he nodded.

"You have to save me!" he begged. "I'll do anything. Please!" He began pressing desperate kisses to my lips, running his hands up my shirt. "I could give you what you want," he whispered in my ear, seductive and sounding exactly like Opus.

Poor boy. It's no wonder he can't tell whether he's Ryan or Opus. "Stop it," I told him firmly. "I don't want you to do this to yourself."

He pulled away immediately and stared guiltily down at his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's just … you're the first person who hasn't treated me like a sex object. And I … I am asking so much of you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I said softly and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead to let him know that I meant it. "I want to help you. Really I do. I just don't know how."

"Take me with you," he breathed in my ear, voice raw as his fingernails dug into the skin of my arms. "When you leave this town, hide me away with you. Save me from La Cage."

I pressed my lips to his soft hair, trying to calm him down, comfort myself. "I wasn't … planning on leaving," I tell him. "I just moved here, and I …"

Choking on a sob, he shivered and pressed his body to mine. "Then let me live here with you," he pleaded. "I won't be much of a bother. I'll find a job—a real one—and pay for my share of the rent. Oh please, you have to save me!"

"Okay," I said simply and suddenly his lips were on mine again. "No," I said sternly, pushing him away. "I told you that you don't have to do that to thank me."

"It's not 'cuz I want to thank you," he mumbled against my lips. "It's because I want you."

"You barely know me," I protested feebly as his hands twisted in my hair.

"You're my saving grace," he whispered. "And I love you."

I had never believed in love at first sight. This was the second time we had met. "I love you too," I whispered back and let his hands roam over my body. "I promise you I will save you."


You got both your guns, and when you shoot, I think I'll die.

Only the important things, Ryan, I told myself, still wearing my black dress from the day before, as I filled my suitcase with clothes from my days on the streets. Pack only the important things. Take only what you can carry. Brendon promised me we'd leave town, once I told him of my fear of Pete's wrath. "He's a madman, Brendon! He'll kill me!"

"I'm gonna safe you properly," he had said and sealed it with a kiss. "I'm not going to let you hurt anymore."

"What are you doing?" Will's voice reached my ears and I turned to see him leaning in the doorway. "What's going on?"

William. Crystalline. The lighter half of the Matched Set. My oath-brother. Sister. Surely I could trust him. "I'm leaving," I told him quietly. "I can't stay here anymore."

"How—?"

"Brendon," I said and continued packing. "Told you he'd be my saving grace." I turned my head to give Will a giddy smile.

His eyes were narrowed in my direction. "Why would he do that for you?" he asked. "You just him. Gabe wouldn't even do that for me."

"He loves me."

He choked on a crazed laugh. "And tell me, how hard did you have to fuck him until he said that?" he asked coldly. "You dirty, filthy whore."

"No! I'm not!" I began, terror rushing through me as William turned and darted away. "Will!" He was already gone. "He won't tell Pete," I told myself as I searched the room for my overcoat. "He wouldn't."

It took me a couple more minutes to find everything I needed, and I looked around at the room for the last time, suitcase in hand. I won't miss you, I thought with a small smile and reached for the doorknob.

It wouldn't budge.

My suitcase fell from my hand. Will. He must have … "No!" I screamed, pounding at the locked door. "Let me out of here! Help!"

"Why should I let you out, Opus?" Pete asked and I whipped my head around, trying to find the source of his voice.

"I just … please!" I cried, clawing desperately at the wood.

Pete's chilling laugh resonated through the room and my eyes finally found him crouched in the rafters about the room. "Poor, little Opus," he crooned. "Thinking she could escape. It's called La Cage for a reason, sweetheart."

"Help me!" I shouted, slamming myself into the door, trying to bust it open. "Brendon!" I screamed in desperation, knowing there was no way he could hear me from Palmer House.

"He can't save you, Opus," Pete hissed, disappearing into the shadows. "No one can."

Floundering helplessly on the floor, I curled up in a ball, rocking myself back and forth. He said he'd save me. He said he loves me. Help me. Help. Help. Help.

"Ryan," a soft voice said coldly and I hear the door swing open. "Get up."

Raising my head, I looked up to see William staring down at me with cool eyes. "You," I snarled, getting to my feet. "How could you do that to me?"

"I didn't," he said shortly. "You may be a slut, but you're still my oath-brother. I would never betray you to Pete. It's not my fault he likes to watch us from the ceiling. Now get up and get out of here, because he catches you."

"Thank you, Will," I murmured and kissed him quickly on both kisses.

"Go!" he hissed. "I'm giving you one chance."

I met his gaze, a mirror of my own, and his eyes softened. "I love you, Ry," he said quietly and kissed me on the forehead. "You better live a life good enough for the both of us. Got it?"

"Ryan?" a desperate voice called and I looked up and out across the vast expanse of the dance hall to see a dark figure at the front door, held back by two of Pete's henchmen. "Ryan!"

"Brendon!" I called back and stepped from William's embrace.

"Not so fast, Opus," a low voice growled in my ear as a strong hand gripped my wrist. "You're not going anywhere."

"You can't keep me here anymore, Pete!" I hissed back and broke from his grasp, sprinting down the hall.

"Stop!" Pete bellowed, but I wasn't listening.

Brendon watched me with large, scared eyes. "Ryan!" he cried, face paling as I bolted towards him. "Stop!"

And I froze. "Why?" I asked in a quiet voice, stuck in the middle of the dizzyingly large hall. "What's wrong?"

"He has a gun, Ryan!" Brendon shouted, trying desperately to break past the doormen. I met his brown gaze and saw my own fear reflected there. I began to run towards him again. "He'll shoot you, Ryan!" Brendon howled, stamping his feet. "It's not worth it! I'm not worth it!"

"I don't ca—"


Drop our anchors in the storm.

"Ryan!" Brendon screamed and watched in horror as the slender body cascaded to the floor, the skirt streaming out like a black sail in the wind. "No!" Finally managing to break past the shocked doormen, Brendon ran for the fallen boy in the middle of hall.

"Bren-don," Ryan choked out, blood spilling from his lips. "Bren-don."

"You can't leave me!" Brendon cried and held Ryan's limp form to his chest. "I love you, Ryan. I. Love. You."

Ryan stared at Brendon's face, using the last of his energy to memorize all the lines and creases of the boy he loved. "I l-love you too," he whispered hoarsely and felt the blood drip down his chin.

"You can't die, Ryan!" Brendon sobbed out and pressed desperate kisses to Ryan's bloodied lips. "We were going to live together. We were going to share a world."

"Tell me, about it," Ryan whispered.

Brendon looked into the beautiful doe eyes that had enchanted him since the moment he saw them. He saw the life quickly fading from them, and he imprinted their image into his brain forever. "We lived on the water," he murmured, caressing Ryan's hair. "In a little beach house. It wasn't much, but it was everything we needed. We adopted a baby girl with the bluest eyes you've ever seen. I wanted to name her Elizabeth, but you wanted to name her Talia so we did. She was so beautiful and smart and funny and you loved so much. We lived together, the three of us, in our little home for many years. We were so in love."

"So in love," Ryan echoed, a single tear sliding down his cheek. "We were so in love." And there was a smile on his lips as he closed his eyes for the last time.

"Good-bye, Ryan," Brendon whispered and kissed the boy's closed eyelids. "I love you." He buried his face in Ryan's black dress in a half-hearted attempt to hide his tears.

"I am so sorry," a soft voice whispered and Brendon looked up to see William standing beside him. "Can I …" His voice trailed off, but Brendon understood.

"Yes," he said and the two carried the body between them as they made their way out of La Cage de Toxiques.

"You whore!" Pete screamed after them, but neither of them was listening.

Brendon and William buried Ryan the next day. Just the two of them and sea breeze blowing between them. Here lies Ryan Ross, the most beautiful man in the world, William had written. He was so full of life and love, Ryan added. He will be missed by all.

"I'm never going back to Pete," William told the grave and tried not to cry. "Never again. I promise you. I'll live a life good enough for both of us. Promise." He blew a kiss and then walked away, his heart in his throat.

Brendon.

"I love you," he said simply and pressed his lips to the gravestone. "And I hope you're waiting for me, because there is no one else in the world for me. Only you."


We are a hurricane.

"Was he a good man, Daddy?" the girl asked, clinging the hand of her father. "The man buried here."

Her father squeezed her hand and laid the bouquet of black roses at the foot of the headstone. "Yes, Tali," he said. "And he was a beautiful man."

"How beautiful, Daddy?" the girl asked, tracing the faded words on the gravestone.

"He was like the moon on a clear night," her father told her and picked her up, placing a kiss on her cheek. "The prettiest thing you'd ever imagine."

The girl leaned into her father and touched her nose to his cheek. "I wish I had met him," she said earnestly. "You talk about him all the time and I'm sure I would've loved him too."

"I know you would've," her father said and set her back down on the ground. "And he would've loved you too."

"I love you, Daddy," the girl said, hugging his legs. "Can I go play in the sand?"

"Love you too, Tali," he said. "Go and play. I'll be right behind you."

"Okay!" she said with a bright beam and skipped over to the beach, leaving the man alone with the grave.

He said down next the headstone, touching light fingers to the cool stone. "Isn't she beautiful?" he asked in the air around him. "I named her Talia, you know. Just like you wanted. Though I did sneak Elizabeth in as her middle name. You know I'm stubborn like that." He laughed, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "God, I miss you," he said with a loud sniffle. "I wish … Well, I wish a lot of things. It's not important." He paused and bit his lip. "You should see William now. He and Gabe moved to the countryside. Goat-herders. Who would've thought? And Pete … I wish I could say that he got thrown in jail for all his shit, but we were too chicken-hearted to turn him in. I hear he's still running La Cage de Toxiques, though it's gotten quiet run down. Not as hot anymore. And me? I'm the same as I always was." He choked on a bitter laugh and leaned into the headstone. "No. That's a lie. I've been different since the moment I laid eyes on you, ten years ago, dancing in your black dress. Opus, I called you. It wasn't until that night that learned your real name. Yes, things have changed for me. But that's okay. You changed me for the better. I don't regret you." He shrugged. "I love you, Ryan, and that's all there is to it."

"You coming, Daddy?" Talia called, spinning in circles across the sandy beach.

"Yeah!" Brendon called back and slowly got to his feet. "I'm coming!"