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Shiro

The President's Annual Garrison Ball was something we, as Garrison children, had heard about since we were little. It was this glorious event that only the rich and wealthy and famous were allowed to attend. My father attended one, but left early, telling me it was a waste of funds. But I had always admired it.

Back when we hadn't the money to buy luxuries, I would gaze through storefronts and marvel at the silk dresses and velvet suits. Now, as we rode in long limos to the Garrison, I could barely contain my anxious excitement.

There were 13 of us in total- Adam and I, Ezor, Zethrid, Matt and Pidge, Lance, Allura, Veronica, Acxa, Coran, Hunk, and Keith, of course. Beside me, Adam was quiet. He'd been to these before. when he was little, his mother always brought him to the infamous ball. It made me proud to think that now I could be the one leading him in. We were split 6 and 6 in the limos, Keith leading the way in his gloriously expensive motorcycle.

For the first time in weeks, I was reentering the Garrison. Tonight, it was adorned with colored lights and gold streamers, dripping in wealth and anticipation, nearly bursting with excitement, as if it was waiting for us. Adam squeezed my hand and I looked over at him.

He was wearing a light blue suit with a white tie, his hair slicked away from his face, his eyes wide and beautiful behind his glasses. I branded this image of him into my mind. This was it. This was finally it. I had finally become the man I promised him I'd be. Adam's smile lit up my heart.

Muffled classical music grew louder and louder as we approached the round-about entrance of the Garrison. Around the sides of the car, women and men walked towards the double-doors, draped in luxury fabrics and heavy jewelry, their cat-like eyes tracing our limos with vague interest.

At the Garrison, learning how to ballroom dance was a requirement. Back in my school days, I'd danced with a pretty girl from our class and all the other boys had asked me how it was. The truth was, I had imagined Adam's face, voice, arms instead. I never came out to those classmates. Still, even though the dance classes helped, I had been clumsy and the only dance I'd truly done well in was the simple waltz. I assumed that I would be staying on the sidelines of the ballroom tonight.

The limo slowed to a stop and a young valet opened the door for us, letting us out with a flourishing sweep of his arm. The music cleared to a glorious orchestral piece in my ears as we were led through the Garrison entrance.

I felt my head go fuzzy at the scene in front of me. The gaping lobby had been cleared completely, leaving a wide, open room that was nearly filled with people. The cavernous walls were adorned with flowers and balloons, the usually scuffed floor free of scratches- instead polished like a mirror.

The lights were a low, calm, yellow-gold, casting the lobby in soft, twinkling light. All around us, people wearing dazzling outfits of gold, copper, and russet, as the theme this year was harvest colors. I guess we hadn't gotten the memo- my performers and I wore bright colors nowhere near the sparkling fields in autumn.

The patrons carried thin flutes of rosé and champagne served on platters by waiters perusing around. I felt my breath leave my chest as I looked around in pure awe. This was what I'd been missing out on? I felt Adam's fingers slip over my palm. I squeezed his hand but instead looped our ars together, his hand on my arm like the classic couples around us.

When I looked over at him, I was surprised by how happy I was to see a rare blush on his cheeks. I led my performers out of the entrance and into the fray.

...

Keith

I had been reluctant to leave my motorcycle with the valet, whose eyes had traced over it in eager temptation. It had been a gift from my father and I cherished it like it was my own child. But, after realizing that I could easily lose Shiro and the performers in the crowded lobby, I'd settled for giving the valet a stern look and a tip before hurrying inside.

I'd attended this ball every year since I could remember and it had definitely lost its 'wow'-factor over the years. However... I had to give it to them: this year, they'd spared no expense. Everything was gold, gold, more gold. It was gorgeous, but the dull conversations of those who I'd had to socialize in years past made me resent the clamor and glamour of the whole production.

I was yet to see the performers (one in particular) as I'd ridden ahead of the limos, but they were not hard to spot. Though the other guests of the ball had dressed to impress, wearing various shades of gold, silver, yellow, orange, and even pale green, Coran had dressed the troop to stand out.

Shiro and his husband, Adam (who I'd only recently met but already liked) were wearing matching pastel suits and let the performers through the sea of people. Heads turned and mouths dropped.

Acxa and Veronica wore matching purple wrap dresses with impressive slits, their dark, beautiful eyes watching the crowd, cloaked and secretive, though I could see the anxiety behind the facade. Hunk, the bodybuilder who fixed me with a tremendous smile, wore an impressive orange suit, Pidge beside him looking mature in a long, flowing pink skirt and a crisp white blouse. I could see the outline of her multi-purpose Swiss Army knife in a small satchel slung around her shoulder. Matt, beside her, matched her color scheme in a suit with a pink tie and suspenders.

Coran, the genius and ever the extravagant, wore some sort of... tasseled jacket covered in embroidered lions. He looked very proud of his handiwork in dressing the performers. Ezor and Zethrid, the stagehands who were more capable than I knew, wore scarlet pantsuits with plunging necklines and sashes across their chests that read "RIGHT HAND (WO)MAN". I chuckled to myself at their smug expressions.

My eyes fell to Allura, who was dressed in a flowing gown with off-shoulder sleeves, the color of the dress sinking from black to rich maroon. But Lance wasn't beside her. As I walked closer to the group, my eyes skimmed over faces again, checking to make sure I hadn't missed his bright eyes or freckled cheeks. I felt my stomach drop. Had he not come?

Shiro clapped me on the back when I reached them and, instinctively, I looked around. A lot of eyes were on me- this was my first actual "outing" with the circus in public and, unfortunately, I was pretty sure I could name almost every person in the room. They knew my parents and they knew me and they knew I had to be out of my goddamn mind to be with Shiro and his performers.

And yet, I was happy to be with them. I was relieved. I was content.

I wanted to be there, but only if they were there with me.

"Lance?" I asked Shiro over the hundreds of voices around us.

Shiro glanced around. "Probably bathroom," he replied. I nodded, relieved. I wanted to talk to him, to see him.

At that moment, the sound of a loud gong burst through the patrons' conversations and we all looked up at the balcony above, where a portly man holding a mallet stood. He grinned. "The President had arrived! Please proceed to the ballroom to be announced."

Luckily, we were right near one of the doors that opened up into the ballroom, so we were one of the first to enter.

If I had thought that the lobby had been extravagant... the ballroom was on a whole other league. Towering pillars rose up to the ceiling and melted into it like candle wax, from their tops springing a giant conjoined Renaissance painting. There were windows on three sides of the room, the sunset spilling through the panes and into the room.

The floor was checkered with creme and ochre tiles, which shone in the reflecting light. Golden streamers and balloons floated down from the ceiling and walls and huge arrangements of summer flowers spilled out onto the floor, their blooms infusing the air with sweet fragrance.

There were a few tables to the sides of the floor filled with food and drinks, but other than that, the dance floor was almost completely bare. The 'almost' came from the giant chair situated on a raised platform on the far wall, facing the ballroom and the staircase on which we stood upon.

In the chair sat Alfor, the president.

Alfor was an aging man with white hair and kind eyes that seemed to stare directly at you even from across the room. He was a man of incredible intellect and had led the country astonishingly well for the past few years. As a seasoned diplomat and father, he cared for each and every citizen, ambassador, and leader with utmost respect and sincerity. I'd seen him before but never spoken with him. This would likely be my first verbal exchange.

Shiro led us forward to the announcer, handed him the letter of invitation, and then... "Mr. President, Takashi Shirogane and his Circus."

We descended down the curved staircase (the whole time, my mind screaming at me DON'T TRIP DON'T TRIP DON'T TRIP). Shiro led us like soldiers to war across the wide ballroom to the chair at which the President sat. Alfor stood and smiled broadly.

"I've heard much about you and your show, Mr. Shirogane. Why is it that you haven't traveled yet?"

Shiro chuckled nervously. "I'm glad my reputation proceeds me, sir. And I've been hoping to begin traveling, even though I think we attract enough attention in our spot here."

Alfor nodded. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you and I hope to talk with you later." He paused, eyes flicking up to the staircase. "It seems one of your performers was running a bit late."

I turned, as did the rest of the performers.

Of course, he had to make an entrance like that, didn't he?

Lance seemed to float down the staircase. My eyes tracked his nervous face but then moved down to the stunning outfit he wore. A brilliant cobalt blazer over a mesh shirt, matching blue pants, and a cape of the same material kissing the stairs behind him. His hair had been slicked back, but a stray strand formed a cowlick on his forehead.

As he approached, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment, I noticed that he was wearing makeup. A dark blue smokey-eye on his eyelids, his lips glossy... I felt my heart beating rapidly in my chest and turned away. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

"Excuse my tardiness, Mr. President, sir," Lance said nervously, making a move that looked a bit like a bow.

Alfor chuckled. "Not to worry. Enjoy the ball, my guests."