Beautiful Things

Len Fardova had always loved beautiful things. Which was why the mask across the street had caught his attention.

He had nearly been hit by a car, dashing across the middle of the road. He tripped over the back of his trench coat as he waved a sorry hand at the driver.

The driver made a less-than-kind gesture in return.

Panting, Len pressed his hands against the display window, fogging it with his breath. A cheap yellow awning hung overhead, the neon from the sign above casting a weird glow over the space. The shop was dark.

Rain-dampened strands of his wind-tousled brown hair fell into his eyes. He brushed them back with his hand, leaning in closer to the window.

There on the black velvet sat a ruby-red mask. It didn’t look like the cheap costume jewelry that flooded the streets of the city. No, these were real rubies. Len sensed authenticity.

The mask would have covered half the face of the wearer. There were two almond-shaped eye holes lined with gold. The rest of the mask was completely encrusted in red jewels. The nose came down in an almost beak-like manner. 

It resembled a Mardi Gras-styled mask. Or at least he assumed, he had never been to Mardi Gras after all. 

The sides of the mask curled out into thin tendrils as if the gold at the base had been melted down, encrusted with much smaller rubies, and then laid out to dry.

Even in the grey midmorning light, the mask glittered.

The window display had tens of jeweled items, from necklaces to tiaras, rings, and broaches. But the mask, the mask stood out. Maybe it was the ruby red color. Maybe it was the fact that the light coming off of it seemed crisper, brighter.

Whatever had drawn his attention, he wanted to have it.

He turned up his left wrist tugging his sleeve down, and swore softly.

Len was late for work. Again.

With one last longing look at the mask, he made a promise to come back tomorrow to enquire about it and dashed back across the street.

***********************

“Are you going to go in and look at the thing or just stand there fogging up the window?”

Len startled. He had not heard the woman come up from behind him. 

He had come back to the window the past three days, but the shop looked closed every time. There were no hours of operation, so perhaps the owner was like so many in the city who opened when they looked and closed when they felt.

Len longed for freedom like that.

He turned to find his assailant, ready to tell her to quit pestering him, and besides the store was closed. 

But instead, he was struck with emerald green eyes, that had his mouth freezing partway open. 

Emerald eyes were surrounded by dark lashes, and set into a face that was perfectly proportioned to the wearer. Golden blond strands fell down her shoulders, damp and stringy from the morning mist. 

Her pink lips parted, letting out a small chuckle that snapped Len back into his senses.

“Shop’s closed,” was all he managed to spit out. 

So much for his scathing retort.

The girl simply brushed past him, taking his spot at the window. 

Her mouth hovered over the spot where the fog of Len’s breath was just beginning to fade.

“It is quite beautiful. I suppose I can't blame you for staring.”

Len joined her, keeping enough space between them so that they were not at risk of brushing shoulders. He nodded his agreement.

She smelled like vanilla and buttercream.

“Wait, how do you-” he started.

“The mask,” she interrupted, “what else would you be looking at?”

He shrugged, supposing she was right. It was by far the most eye-catching of the jewels.

“I’m Abigail,” she turned suddenly, holding out her hand for him.

“Len.”

He turned toward her, and she grabbed his hand from his side. She gave it a firm shake, before releasing it and allowing her fingers to trail down his palm. He suppressed the shiver that ran down his spine.

“Len,” she repeated, looking into his eyes and tilting her head ever so slightly.

“Walk with me, Len,” and then she started across the street.

A car swerved to avoid her, but she walked on as if not even noticing.

Len blinked for a few moments, in shock of all that had transpired in the past minute, before racing out into the rain after her.

********************

They had walked and talked. About what she did. About when he moved to the city. About what her favorite restaurant was. About how Len’s parents died when he was nineteen.

When he reached the brown brick building where he made his living, he stopped and she paused next to him. 

“I don’t want to go in,” he shook his head a small smile playing on his lips.

“Would it help if you knew you would see me later?”

He turned, stunned at the boldness of her words, and found her green eyes twinkling beside him, and what he assumed to be a smile on her lips.

“I think that would help a bit, yes.”

“The shop. Eight o’clock,” she gave a curt nod before continuing down the street. 

Len wanted to reach out and grab her. To pull her back and hold her close, not trusting her to keep to her word.

“Wear something pretty,” she called back without turning around. 

He let out a shocked laugh. He waited until she melted into the crowd before storming up the concrete steps and pushing through the oak doors.

The workday seemed to drag by, and even when he stepped out of the office promptly at five, he huffed a sigh as he strolled down the concrete steps.

Three hours. Three hours until he would meet Abigail in front of the shop under the tattered yellow awning. 

What were they even going to do? What would he say? Was he supposed to have an idea of where they would go?

Questions rattled on as he made the walk home to his apartment, his feet on autopilot.

After what felt like days it was finally eight o’clock. And of course, Len had arrived at the storefront ten minutes prior. 

He had tried to hide the fact that his foot tapped from the nerves. He had tried to hide the fact that his fingers drummed along his thigh and that he took deep breaths in counts of three.

But he had stopped trying nine minutes ago.

What if she didn’t show? What if she stood him up? What if this had all been some big joke and she would shown up-

“Len,” a lilting voice called from behind him. 

He turned to find Abigail walking towards him, standing out starkly from the dreary city and its inhabitants.

The world seemed to part for her.

“Abigail,” he called back in response.

When she reached him they stared at each other for a moment, before she let out a little laugh.

“Shall we?” She extended her elbow in his direction, and he took hold of it.

“We shall.”

********************

It continued like that for a week. Every night at eight o’clock they met under the tattered yellow awning, paid their dues to the ruby mask, and went on their way to dinner or drinks or a movie.

Until one night.

“Shall we?” Len asked.

“I was thinking we could mix things up tonight,” Abigail raised her brows at him, conspiratorily.

“And what does mixing it up entail, exactly?” 

“Breaking and entering,” Abigail responded plainly.

Len smiled, rolling his eyes at the dry humor he had come to appreciate. Only her lips did not quirk up slightly at the corners. Her brows did not furrow as she tried to contain a small laugh.

She simply stared at him, waiting for a response.

“What?”

“You drool at that mask constantly. Let’s go in and see it.”

“Abigail, we can’t-”

“Fine. I have a lot to do tonight anyway. I’ll just go-”

“No,” Len cut her off quickly.

He knew all too well that once something slipped away, there was no chance of bringing it back. Once their pattern cracked it would shatter.

“No,” he repeated and pursed his lips. He gave a small nod, and Abigail’s face broke into a grin.

She took his hand and led him down the narrow alleyway alongside the shop, before tugging him around the back of the building. They stopped outside of a gray door, with a yellow flickering light above it.

“How’d you know this was back here?” Len asked as Abigail fished through her purse.

She shrugged, not looking at him as she pulled a hairpin out from her bag and knelt to unlock the door. The handle was once gold, but now the coating flaked off, and the parts where it hadn’t were so dingy you could not even see a reflection.

There was a slithering feeling in Len’s stomach, but he kept it choked down. The air had cooled significantly now that the sun had gone down. The breeze was nice against his skin which was beginning to feel far too hot and far too tight.

“Aha.”

Abigail stood in the open doorway bathed in the yellowing light, the shop behind her dark. Even in the most unflattering of lights, her eyes still glistened, her skin still glowed, her hair still shined.

Len found himself before her, and she looked up at him through her lashes before darting into the shop.

The floorboards creaked under his feet and the constant noise of city sirens sounded in the distance as he followed her in. He had to keep one hand out in front of him until they made it through the storeroom and into the front of the shop. Street light poured through the window, silhouetting the racks of clothes that took up most of the shop space.

Abigail was already at the window, standing before the mask.

Len came up behind her, walking quietly enough he expected her to startle when he came up next to her. But instead, she turned toward him, grabbed his face with both hands and brought her lips to his.

This kiss was not like first kisses he had before. Those were gentle, tentative, sweet. But Abigail’s kiss was aggressive, forceful, and intoxicating.

Len hissed as she bit his lip, and a coppery sensation flooded his mouth. She smiled against his lips, pressing a final, gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before she pulled away.

He looked down at the mask. Without the window as a barrier, its pull was even more enticing. He knelt to look closer at it.

The rubies sparkled in the light, the gold glimmered beneath them. His flesh screamed to reach out and touch it, but his brain held them back. Something that beautiful was not to be touched by the likes of him.

A flask was shoved into his chest, and he grabbed it instinctively. Abigail crouched down beside him, looking at the mask in not so much the longing way Len did, but in a way of appraisal. Abigail did not long, Len had come to notice. Nothing in this world was worth her longing.

Unscrewing the flask, Len took a deep swig, holding back a cough from the burn of whatever ran down his throat. He put the cap back on and handed it to Abigail. She took it, never turning her attention away from the mask.

Len’s head was light and airy, the snake that coiled in his stomach turning to fluttering moths. His lips tingled. Whatever was in that flask was stronger than he anticipated.

“Reach out and touch it, Len.”

“I can’t,” he shook his head.

But instead of conversing further on the matter, Abigail grabbed his wrist, tugging him forward so that he dropped from a crouch to his knees. She placed his hand over the mask and reveled in the way he jolted at the contact.

The mask was cold beneath his fingertips. He brushed the tips of his fingers over the rough surface the rubies created, traced the gold of the eye sockets, and grazed over the tendrils at the end.

“I’m so sorry about this, Len,” he turned still on his knees, to find Abigail standing above him. Her face was far too blurred to read. 

He brought a hand up to her thigh, running it over the bare skin. Her skin felt cold beneath his palm, just getting to the hem of her tweed skirt before his hand dropped.

Because he heard sirens. But these sirens weren’t in the distance, not anymore.

“I’m sorry, Len,” Abigail said again, one hand going to brush his cheek, the other snatching the mask from the window display. 

He leaned into her touch, though his heart thrummed in warning. His head was getting so heavy, his limbs were growing so weak. All he wanted was to drop down onto the dirty wooden floor and close his eyes.

And apparently, that was what he did because Abigail’s black heels clicking across the floor was the last thing he saw.

*****************

“Bail’s been posted.”

There was a low buzzing noise before the door to his cell sprang open.

Len groaned as the sound made his head pulse harder than it had been.

“Coming Fardova, or am I going to have to watch your ass all night?” The officer shouted from outside of the cell.

The words had Len shoving off the bench and quickly scurrying through the cell door.

He wracked his mind, trying to think of who would possibly post his bail. His siblings were estranged and across the country. His ex-girlfriend he moved here for hated his guts and would love for him to rot in a cell. He was not close with any of his coworkers.

He walked down the hallway and followed the officer through the doorway that led to the front of the police station. The officer turned quickly, but Len did not react fast enough slamming into the body in front of him.

“I’m sor-” he started. And then froze.

Emerald eyes met his.

The officer behind him said something, but his ears were buzzing too loudly for him to process the words.

Hands ran up and down his arms as the pink lips in front of him parted and the buzzing ceased. 

“My boyfriend's always passing out in random spots. I can’t believe he broke into a shop this time. I appreciate you officers finding him. This isn’t the first time I’ve received a call like this. God, he needs to stop hanging around those friends.”

Len opened his mouth to ask what the hell she was talking about, but the narrowing of her eyes had him snapping it shut.

“Yeah, yeah just get him home and make sure he stays out of trouble,” the police officer thrust a clipboard into Len’s chest, before moving back behind the desk. 

Len dropped into one of the chairs in front of the desk and grabbed the pen that dangled alongside the clipboard.

The words swam before his eyes, doubling and blurring out. His mind was too foggy to even begin making out the form.

“Oh sweetie, I’ve got it,” Abigail’s voice curled around the shell of his ear before the clipboard was pulled from his hands, and she dropped down into the seat next to him. The sugary, vanilla scent still filled his head, even when she stepped away.

“You might want to take him to a doctor,” the officer cocked his head at Len from across the desk, “pupils blown large like that. I bet he has a concussion from whatever he got into tonight.”

Len could only turn to watch Abigail fill out the paper, his mind too jumbled and fuzzy to form any real thoughts.

The clatter of the clipboard on the wooden desk snapped him out of his haze. Abigail was shaking hands with the officer as they both laughed about something.

She turned back to Len, her eyes filled with a soft sorrow.

“Come on,” she whispered, easing him up out of the chair.

A hand wrapped around his waist, and almost reflexively he put his own around her shoulder, tucking her into his side.

The cool night air that greeted them as they pushed open the door snapped him back into his thoughts fully. 

“What the hell was that?” Len shoved Abigail off his side and whirled to face her.

She hardly looked taken aback at his outburst. She hardly looked frazzled over the night's events.

Instead, she fixed him with the look that one might show to a wounded bird.

“Oh Len,” she cooed, stepping towards him. She brought a hand up to caress his face, running her thumb lightly along his cheekbone.

Suddenly he was so tired. The adrenaline finally seeped out of his bones, and the events of the night crashed over him.

So he simply leaned into her touch and closed his eyes.

“You must be so tired,” her words brushed across his other cheek as she tucked his head into her neck, “let’s go home.”

He should have shoved her back. He should have told her to stay away from him. He should have turned and stalked off into the night, never to be seen by the likes of Abigail again.

There were so many things Len should have done differently in his life. But instead, he simply nodded against the nape of her neck and allowed her to slip his hand in his. Allowed her to brush her lips along his jaw before they set off.

After all, Len Fardova had always loved beautiful things. Even if they were bound to hurt him.