The doors creak open, and a gust of warm air wraps around him, pulling him forward. Music swells and candles twinkle overhead, and a kaleidoscope of colorful gowns twirls around the dance floor. Masks sparkle and gleam, robes ripple hypnotically to the dreamy waltz of the orchestra in the corner.
He fiddles with the black satin coat he’s worn for the occasion. An elaborate ivory mask matches his shirt and gloves, and his chocolate-brown hair curls perfectly over his forehead as he surveys the crowd.
And there she is. Auburn hair done up elegantly, brown eyes shining behind a mask of cobweb, she reaches for him.
It’s muscle memory. A broad grin steals his face, dimples forming as he slips a hand round her waist, dipping her quickly before a lift and twirl that left echoes of her delighted laugh bouncing off the corners of the room.
The waltz picks up with his heartbeat as the weight of her sinks into his arms. Her breath ghosts across his cheek. “Dance with me, darling.”
The couple spins across the floor, melding seamlessly with the other partygoers as the music drifts ever faster. Brown eyes lock with green as they drift across the sea, steps never faltering, in a world of their own making.
The music swells and he pulls her closer. “Always,” he whispers, brushing a wisp of cobweb from her shoulder.
Her gown floats behind her, the cobwebbed lace melting into air just before it hits the floor. She runs one impossibly cold hand through his curly chocolate-brown hair, and her gentle smile is tinged with sadness as she savors the feeling of his sturdy embrace.
“Just tonight,” she whispers.
His response is to pull her closer, holding her tight to him as they whirl their way through the circle of dancers, music growing in intensity all the while. His arms curl protectively around the small of her back. She’s so, so cold.
“They think I’m mad,” he says. He looks down at her, eyes searching as he tries to memorize each mesmerizing detail of her face. But it blurs in his mind almost immediately, leaving only the warmth of her smile and the mischief that always glinted in her gaze. “But I can’t be mad,” he continues desperately. “I can’t be mad, because you’re here. You’re here, and it’s like he never – like you never – “ He swallows with difficulty, shaking his head. “How many times has it been now? Every night I find you here, and you never come back. Why won’t you come back?”
The music grows discordant as it reaches a new peak. Her face is worried, and she drifts back when he goes to twirl her again. “Theo…”
“Come back,” he breathes. “Come back, Gin. I never got to tell you I –
*
He gasps sharply, eyes wide as a cold draft shrieks through the ballroom. Cobwebs shroud the chandeliers, and moonlight streams through the open window. A thick layer of undisturbed dust lies where the orchestra was playing just moments before, and one set of frantic footprints wraps its way around the room, telling the story of the night.
He stands silent, listening in vain for a whisper of a ghost long gone. But there’s no one there to listen as Theo stands alone in an abandoned ballroom on the empty estate, the ghost of I love you dying on his lips.