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mxliv-oftheendless · 4 years

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Ruining KISStory: The False King of Persia, Pt. 1

Oh my, what could this be? Why, it’s another Ruining KISStory installment! I am officially back home for the rest of the semester, so I decided, what the hell, and finished this up for y’all! This has to be the most hilarious episode, and it’s also my absolute favorite, so prepare thyselves! Part 2 will be posted shortly! Hope you enjoooooy!!!

Tag list: @cosmicrealmofkissteria @ashestoashesvvi @kategwidt @retronova

[camera opens on Paul, who is sitting at a panel. A map of the world is hung up behind him. The sound of tuning violins plays in the background]

PAUL: Welcome to Ruining History! Today we’re gonna talk about the ascension of Darius the Great.

[camera pans out to the full panel. From left to right: Vinnie, Gene, Paul, Bruce, Ace]

BRUCE: Darius?

PAUL: Darius.

BRUCE: That’s a kinda modern name. I know like five Dariuses.

PAUL: Well, maybe they were inspired by this guy.

BRUCE: [shrugs] All of ‘em are pretty average. [panel laughs]

[intro and title card]

[cuts back to panel]

PAUL: You guys know anything about Darius?

BRUCE: He’s a bass player.

PAUL: [laughs slightly] Heh, no, I mean Darius the Great.

ACE: He’s a bassist and he owes me 40 bucks. [Bruce laughs]

PAUL: He was a Persian king; he was known for uniting the Persian Empire. He’s actually thought to be the greatest Persian king. Also, I should say now: this story is not really about Darius much at all, so much as the weird chain of events that led to him becoming king.

GENE: [seriously] Is Al Capone a part of this story at all?

PAUL: [snorts] Pfft, no, Gene. This is in ancient Persia. There are a lot of characters in this one, so I decided to make models as little visual aids. [reaches under the table and takes out a small figurine labeled CYRUS THE GREAT] Now we’re gonna start with this guy, named Cyrus.

ACE: Oh, that’s a kid on Andi Mack!... Not that I watch.

[screen cuts away to a title card:

CHAPTER I:

A DEAD GUY AND HIS TWO WEIRD SONS

screen then cuts to animations as Paul narrates, while traditional Middle Eastern music plays]

PAUL [voiceover]: First, there was Cyrus the Great, founder of the Achaemenian Empire, which was sort of in this region here, in Turkey, the Middle East, and spilling into Asia. Kind of a big deal. Darius just so happened to be a distant relative of Cyrus, but the king didn’t seem to care for him. As legend tells, he had a dream about the twenty-year-old Darius, in which Darius had, quote, “wings on his shoulders, the one wing overshadowing Asia and the other Europe.” Cyrus interpreted this as a sign that Darius was plotting against him.

ACE: Pretty sure every ex-girlfriend I’ve had…

BRUCE: [nods] Yeah…

ACE: … has gotten pissed at me for doin’ something bad in a dream.

GENE: [nods] I remember that happened with Shannon once.

VINNIE: Is this the time where she banished you to the couch? [Ace laughs]

GENE: [frowns] No, that was something else.

BRUCE: Can I just say, both Cyrus and Darius look like they belong in that one Lloyd-Webber musical.

PAUL: Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?

BRUCE: Yeah, that one.

PAUL [voiceover]: But it wouldn’t really matter what Darius thought, because he was caught up in a conflict with Tomyris, the queen of the Massagetae. And after she slayed him in battle, what she did is, according to some accounts, cut his head off, then dunked it into a skin of blood like a gory Oreo, stating, “I make good my threat, and give you your fill of blood.” So… that’s it for Cyrus.

ACE: Damn!

BRUCE: What’s a skin full of blood?

PAUL: It’s like a wineskin, but with blood.

GENE and VINNIE: Ohhh.

PAUL: [picks up the Cyrus figurine] So that’s— [pulls off Cyrus’s head] —the end for Cyrus.

ACE: Oof, it came right off!

PAUL [voiceover]: Now Cyrus had two sons, Cambyses and Smerdis. Cambyses was described as, quote, “an ardent, impetuous, and self-willed boy, such as the sons of rich and powerful men are apt to become.” And Smerdis was described as… I dunno. His brother.

ACE: [bursts out laughing, as does Vinnie]

PAUL: [takes out figurines labeled CAMBYSES AND SMERDIS] So we got this guy, [holds up Cambyses] Cambyses, who’s got sort of a superior look. And Smerdis, [holds up Smerdis] who’s just sorta chill.

ACE: Me Smerdis! [panel laughs] Kinda got a Charlie Brown sorta tunic on.

PAUL: Yeah, he does. [moves Cambyses and Smerdis to be on either side of the headless Cyrus figurines] I’ll put them here with their dad.

GENE: “Oh, Papa’s head’s missing! Ha ha ha ha!”

PAUL [voiceover]: Being Cyrus’s firstborn son, Cambyses inherited the throne, and very quickly decided to invade Egypt. This made people think he was crazy; and honestly, it’s kinda fair, because he was a bit of a reckless guy. While in Egypt, for example, he asked to see their sacred bull… and then he stabbed it to death.

ACE: [bursts out laughing]

BRUCE: [laughing] Oh my god… Jesus…

ACE: That’s so funny.

VINNIE: Kind of rude. Ancient Egyptians didn’t deserve that.

PAUL: Yeah, it is rude. You show up, ask to see their sacred bull…

ACE [tapping the table] “Can I see your sacred buuuuull? I promise I won’t touch it!”

VINNIE: It would take a long time to stab a bull to death, so I bet they were just like, “Please stop stabbing our bull…”

BRUCE: [laughs] Yeah, and he’s just staring them in the eye and just— [pretends to stab. Gene laughs]

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses was also known for his fits of blinding rage and making rash decisions that he would later regret. Take for example, the story of Croesus. Croesus had been a close friend and counselor to Cyrus, who asked him to watch over Cambyses. With that in mind, one day Croesus decided to offer Cambyses some constructive criticism. He warned the king that he’d been treating his men cruelly. Annnnd you can probably guess what was bound to happen to him.

GENE: How so? How was he treating them cruelly?

PAUL: He was known for being really reckless. There’s one story where a guy told Cambyses that he thought he drank too much…

GENE: I’m sure it didn’t end well for that guy.

PAUL: And Cambyses went, “Okay, if that’s true, I shouldn’t be able to shoot a bow.” So he called the man’s son in, and had him stand against the wall, and he said, “If I drink too much, then I’ll probably miss this shot.” And then he shot the man’s son in the heart.

GENE: Oh…

VINNIE: The man’s son?

PAUL: Uh huh.

GENE: Oof… that’s way worse than what I was imagining. I was just imagining him being a bratty dick or something. But no, that’s worse.

PAUL: Yep.

ACE: Maybe he was aimin’ for the face, an’ he really was too drunk. [Bruce laughs]

VINNIE: [laughs] “Oh, I just meant to take out an eye.”

ACE: “Aw man, did you guys see that?!”

GENE: Or he had to play it off like that was his plan all along.

ACE: Wakes up the next morning an’ he’s like [rubs his eyes with his hands] “Ugggh, what did I do last night?” [panel laughs] “Tell me I didn’t murder anyone’s kid.”

PAUL [voiceover]: Anyway, Croesus warned the king that he’d been treating his men cruelly, and that it wasn’t a great way to keep their loyalty. Cambyses responded by telling the supportive old man that he’d always hated him. He pulled out a bow and arrow, and Croesus fled the scene.

VINNIE: Does he just have a bow and arrow on him at all times?

BRUCE: [laughing] He takes out his bow and arrow; “Where’s your son, man?” [panel laughs]

GENE: Love how this guy knew what was coming and was like, “Aw shit, it’s heart-shootin’ time! I’m gettin’ outta here!”

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses ordered his officers to chase after the man and kill him. They did chase after him, but knowing the mad king would likely regret having his friend killed, they instead hid Croesus away. A few days later, when, as expected, Cambyses expressed remorse over his actions, his men revealed that—surprise! Croesus was still alive! Cambyses was overjoyed. He then had those guards executed for disobeying him.

[whole panel bursts out laughing]

BRUCE: Jesus Christ!

GENE: What the fuck…

VINNIE: Literally killing the messenger!

ACE: “You’ve brought me such joy… Where’s my bow and arrow?” [panel laughs]

BRUCE: “Bring me my bow and your sons.”

PAUL [voiceover]: Anyway, back to the story. Cambyses decided to bring his brother, Smerdis, along with him to Egypt. It’s thought that Cambyses was jealous of Smerdis, and worried that if he left him alone in Persia, he might stage a coup and seize a throne. Since both brothers were away from their hometown, Cambyses left a magian in charge of keeping an eye on his palace. Magians were basically just a priestly class.

PAUL: I’ve actually got a big Persia set. [takes out a cardboard set that looks like a Persian castle]

VINNIE: Oooh, nice.

PAUL: Thank you. [takes out a figurine labeled MAGIAN and puts it in front of the Persia set]

BRUCE: Wait, so Cambyses is worried that his brother’s gonna seize the throne… so he prevents this by giving the throne to a stranger?

PAUL: I mean, I assume it was someone he trusted.

GENE: Why does—Why does the magian have red eyes? Is that a—artistic thing?

PAUL: He’s a spooky magician.

GENE: Okay.

ACE: [giggling] Or he’s just high as fuck.

GENE: [snickering] So in his free time, he’s a pothead magician.

BRUCE: All magicians are potheads.

ACE: I dunno, I always thought magicians were more cocaine guys.

PAUL: [thinks and nods] Yeah, I guess that makes sense. They’re got a lot of energy.

GENE: Not David Blaine.

ACE: Ah, yeah, that’s true.

GENE: No one’s ever had to tell David Blaine to calm down.

PAUL [voiceover]: Meanwhile, in Egypt: Cambyses had a troubling dream about Smerdis, in which he saw his brother, quote, “seated on a royal throne in Persia, his form expanded supernaturally to such a prodigious size that he touched the heavens with his head.” Fed up with Smerdis, he ordered him to skedaddle back to Persia. And then he seemed to remember why he was concerned about Smerdis being alone in Persia in the first place. So, he called upon one of his men, Prexaspes

[panel ooohs as Paul takes out a figurine labeled PREXASPES]

BRUCE: Oh wow, I didn’t know we had a stylist here!

VINNIE: That’s a great robe he’s got!

PAUL: [looks at the camera] Full disclosure: none of these drawings are historically accurate.

BRUCE: [looks at the camera] All of these drawings are historically accurate.

ACE: They might be. Prove ‘im wrong.

PAUL: Prove me wrong!

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses called upon one of his men, Prexaspes, to track down Smerdis and secretly assassinate him. Prexaspes would do so, and he succeeded. He returned to the king and gave him the good news: Smerdis, his one serious threat to his power, was now dead.

PAUL: Also, [laughs] I don’t know where this fits in the story, but Prexaspes was the guy whose son was killed by Cambyses.

ACE: No way?! [bursts out laughing as the rest of the panel laughs]

GENE: That’s hilarious!

VINNIE: Also [giggles] the name Prexaspes sounds like a medication of some kind.

ACE: [laughs] “Ask your doctor if Prexaspes is right for you.”

PAUL [voiceover]: Shortly after, though, Cambyses would receive more news, some rather shocking news given the circumstances. In his absence, his throne had been taken… by SMERDIS?! Yep, by Smerdis.

ACE: [looks comically shocked] The dead Smerdis?!

BRUCE: Oh shit!

PAUL: So we know have this mysterious Smerdis. [takes out a figurine identical to the Smerdis figure, except it is labeled SMERDIS(?)]

ACE: So someone,, posing as Smerdis… See this is why people get verified on Twitter.

BRUCE: [laughs and nods] I mean, yeah, you’ve got a point. [to Paul] You should put a blue check mark over the real Smerdis.

PAUL: [grins and points his finger at the Smerdis figurine. A blue Twitter checkmark appears on the head as well as a text box that says VERIFIED]

GENE: Wait a minute, did he ever consider that the guy lied about what he did?

PAUL: No, he trusts that guy.

GENE: I just think it’s odd that he immediately thinks its an imposter, instead of thinking the guy was lying.

[screen cuts away to a title card:

CHAPTER II:

TO BE SMERDIS OR NOT TO BE SMERDIS

screen then cuts to animations as Paul narrates]

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses was, at first, greatly confuzzled by this recent development. Until someone reminded him of an important little detail, that made it clear to him that this must have been a power grab by an opportunistic usurper. I’m gonna leave that detail a mystery for now so that you continue to watch this video…

GENE: How does no one in the kingdom know this isn’t the real Smerdis?

BRUCE: It’s the beards, man. [Ace and Vinnie laugh]

GENE: Are you sure? I feel like…

BRUCE: Nah, man, everyone’s got a beard, ya can’t tell anyone apart.

ACE: “Alright, if you’re Smerdis, what did I give you for your birthday last year?” “An urn.” “Damn, it is Smerdis!”

To be continued in Part 2!

#kiss unsolved #ruining kisstory #yeah I had to split it up into chunks this time #again #hey ryan and shane stop making your videos so dang long #i'm trying to adapt them here #anyway...#hope you enjoyed part 1!#that twist tho lol #well if you wanna know what happens you're just gonna have to read part 2 lol #that's kind of why I decided to cut it off here #also the bow and arrow running gag is hands down my favorite part of this whole thing XD #kiss au writing #my writing #thanks for reading!#stay tuned for part two!

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 7 years

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King And Queen Of The Weekend, Chapter 2: Time We Danced With The Truth

Peyton x Blaine, post-“Some Like It Hot Mess.” Part angsty fix-it-fic, part smut, with just a dash of songfic along the way for flavor. A plot bunny that would not be denied, this was heavily inspired by Lorde’s Melodrama, especially “Sober.”

Summary: Blaine’s turn. What happens when you and your ex both decide to drown your feelings rather than facing them...in the same bar, with an unoccupied piano? "No matter what can be said about the wasted potential that is Blaine Debeers, he is not and will never be exactly like his father, because the old man would never sidle up to a piano in a dive bar and start playing quietly for his own entertainment.”

Cross-posted on AO3; fun with tags + more notes can be found there.

“So even if I faked losing my memory, you wouldn’t be a little mad?”

“I don’t know. I’m just–I’m so happy right now.”

“I have good news. Major is going to get his memory back…and the good news doesn’t stop there. This is me. This version of me, small business owner, amateur lounge singer, guy that feels lucky every time you walk through that door.”

—-

Blaine keeps moving, on autopilot. What other choice does he have? The show must go on, right? He quits playing piano, though, when the customers complain. They want more upbeat music and he just…doesn’t care. He’s tired of faking it. Hello irony, oldest of friends.

It’s the brain biz instead, again. Scheming and clawing his way back to being king of the hill is what comes naturally, so that’s what he does, burying his feelings.

He’s a villain; they’re not supposed to have feelings anyway. Idiotic to have let himself believe otherwise.

Branching out suppliers while he tests the blue juice leads him south to a small town for the weekend. He could’ve sent Don E., but he wanted the distance. The time. Once business is concluded, he heads straight for a bottle.

The town’s only bar was easier to find than a solitary bottle of Jack, so he settles in a corner, sulking over his whiskey while the entire place seems to be filled with couples.

They kiss, they cuddle, they share shots like the world might end tomorrow–little do they know–and they’re everywhere, physical reminders that against all odds, he actually got the girl, only to lose her again.

Technically, he remembers, he’s lost her twice now. That’s when he decides this particular establishment isn’t doing him any favors and gets up to leave…until he sees the piano.

Much like a beautiful woman, he’s always had a hard time resisting the lure of a piano. His father disapproved of such a sentimental pastime, but his mother–and then grandfather–encouraged the lessons, and eventually, every session of putting his fingers to the keys felt like fighting back.

It still does, bringing solace along with the bittersweet memories of his mother’s hands on his and his grandfather teaching him old Irish ballads. No matter what can be said about the wasted potential that is Blaine Debeers, he is not and will never be exactly like his father, because the old man would never sidle up to a piano in a dive bar and start playing quietly for his own entertainment.

“Love and other moments are just chemical reactions in your brain, in your brain...and feelings of aggression are the absence of the love drug in your veins, in your veins...”

As song choices go, it’s a bit on the nose, but he’s half-drunk and moping over Peyton, much as he wishes he wasn’t, and it’s what comes to mind. Along with it comes more moping, because he came here to forget–but he can't.

She sparkled.

That was the thing about Peyton that had first tugged at him. From the beginning, underneath her professional demeanor and through all the dark, dismal events to follow, she glowed in a way that made him want to be near her.

If he simply wanted sex and conversation he could find a beautiful woman in a bar somewhere, without getting mixed up with the ADA whose help was crucial to his plan. Slipping her his card was as practical as it was invitational, given how well he knew Mr. Boss and the danger she was courting. Against his own interests, he cared that she might get hurt because of her involvement in this scheme of his.

He never thought she'd invite him to stick around after work, as it were, to get a little sloppy on fine whiskey and do very little talking. All he’d really wanted was a little flirtation and to get rid of Mr. Boss. But when he laid out the map for her and connected the dots, she just lit up at him and took his breath away.

That was unexpected.

She made him a little tongue-tied, awkward, slightly off his game. He had better lines, smoother moves, but facing her, he was more the teenage loser of his youth than the suave king he’d remade himself to be.

The worst part was, he liked it.

“Love come quickly, because I feel my self-esteem is caving in, it’s on the brink...”

Had anybody ever come so close to sweeping him off his feet? It was a silly thought for someone who’d made a name for himself as a killer and drug dealer, but Peyton just had this way about her, part warrior queen, part soft and warm and vulnerable. The way she entered an interrogation room and demanded his release, as though anyone she came into contact with should be expected to do nothing less than exactly what she commanded.

Maybe it was a lawyer thing; he wouldn’t know. But it was hot.

And though he’d never admit it to anyone, she tunneled right into his weak spot. All he’d managed to make of himself, out of his personal hell growing up, was a cliche. The poor little rich boy, the failed entrepreneur…the thief who barely managed to graduate to drug dealer on somebody else’s turf. Once his grandfather was locked up, long after his own mother didn’t think he was worth living for, Blaine just didn’t see the point. Survival he was good at, but believing he was worth something? He'd left that behind as soon as he was old enough to understand how much his own father hated him.

Peyton was the first person to try and protect him, to stand up for him, since he was a child. It was the strangest feeling, but not unwelcome. Instead it was terrifying, because he wanted to lean into it, accept it. Her hand on his back as she ordered his father to leave, snapping at Ravi and choosing him over Major, welcoming him into their home when she knew Liv wouldn’t.

Not to mention, how she exuded cool with her shields up, so different from the woman he’d parted ways with who’d still been flush and warm and relaxed from their spontaneous encounter in her office. It should have been awkward, when they pulled back and tugged their clothes into place and she smoothed down her couch cushions, but it wasn’t.

She had grinned at him, seeming totally at ease, possibly the most confidently sexy woman he’d ever met, and asked flippantly, “Catch you later?”

Her grin was contagious. “Well,” he’d replied, “I do have a previously scheduled appointment to go over evidence with this smokin’ hot attorney. Maybe we could hook up after that?”

“Sounds good.” She linked her arms behind his neck, leaning in for a long, slow kiss. “Tell me more about this attorney.”

“Hmm…” He let his gaze wander down her body and back up to her deep hazel eyes. “Well, she’s gorgeous, and smart, and brave...”

Peyton interrupted him. “Brave?”

“Definitely. Not just anybody would take on Mr. Boss, let alone face him solo in her office without caving in to the fear. He threatened you,” Blaine reminded her gently. “And you stuck.”

She shrugged. “It’s my job. I’m good at it.”

“That’s kinda my point. But it’s more than that. You’re in it for more than the title and salary. I can tell. You really want to get him–just for what he does to this fair city of ours. That’s an admirable quality.”

“Well, we share it.” She gestured at her outfit. “So. Do I look like someone who just had sex on government property?”

“Huh. Presuming I know what that looks like,” Blaine replied, “no. I think you’re good to go.”

Nodding, Peyton stepped back toward him for one last kiss. “Then I’ll see you around.”

“Love come quickly, because I don’t think I can keep this monster in, it’s in my skin...”

He almost went for it that night on the couch. He almost couldn’t help himself, his hands full of Peyton and everything he secretly wanted most beneath his new persona. He couldn’t do it, of course–what if she regretted it? he knew he would regret it–but he almost did before he managed to pull back.

He wasn’t exactly known for his impulse control, before her. But he really did want to be better. Worthy of her company, let alone her affection. Worth that smile she shot his way that warmed the darker parts of his soul.

She made him feel poetic.

There was nothing he could do about how damaged he was long before they ever met, or what he did before and after becoming a zombie. But he was just a man now, and he wanted a real chance with her. So he stopped it.

He spent the night tossing and turning on the couch, cold without her, and wishing he’d never lied in the first place.

“Love and other socially acceptable emotions are morphine, they’re morphine, cleverly concealing primal urges often felt but rarely seen, rarely seen...”

When she took his hand the next morning, and led him to her room, he couldn’t believe it. And he didn’t try to stop it. She chose him, knowing his past, knowing the new man he was trying so hard to be–her hands were in his hair, her lips were parted against his, and they were kissing in the muted daylight where it felt like a dream.

He didn’t ever want to wake up.

His old life and the new one where she treated him like a decent guy who she was interested in were worlds apart. Despite her best friend being a zombie, Peyton had managed to stay surprisingly untouched by the violence surrounding her. She fought the seedy underbelly of the city…and he belonged in it.

But not anymore. He’d gotten his second chance, and he was determined to keep earning it, every day with her. Standing in her sunny bedroom, he lifted her shirt up, letting his fingers trace her skin as it was exposed. She stretched into his touch and he wondered if she did yoga, then refused to get distracted by how sexy the idea of her doing yoga was.

He was such a lost cause when it comes to Peyton Charles, it was ridiculous.

Unlike the last time, Blaine didn’t ask if she was sure, because he knew her well enough to know that this wouldn’t be happening if she weren’t. Instead, he indulged, the way they didn’t during their fateful one-night stand, when things were too new and frantic and fueled by the risk of getting caught at any moment.

Now, he could take full advantage of the light warming her bronze skin, drinking in his fill of how she looked in her bra and soft cotton pjs, before he slid those down her endlessly long legs and followed them with kisses.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

She was so beautifully responsive, angling toward his every touch, humming her appreciation. It made him want to stay with her for days, finding every sensitive spot and claiming it for himself.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she breathed back.

Peyton was already exploring him in return, dispatching his t-shirt and running her hands over his chest, leaning in toward him as her hands drifted lower.

Their lips met with excruciating slowness, neither of them rushing toward the bed. He traced her lips with his tongue, and when they parted she sighed. Then their tongues met eagerly while his fingers roamed down her back to caress her ass.

Her hand grazed him through his boxers and he jolted, growling against her mouth, their kisses growing more passionate. With an easy flick of his fingers, Blaine opened the front clasp of her bra and slid the straps off each shoulder.

They finally began inching toward the bed, still linked at the lips, her hands in his hair as the full length of her pressed against him. He kneeled next to her when they landed, running his hands over her chest and following his fingertips with his mouth.

Peyton moaned when he tugged lightly on one nipple and circled it with his tongue. He was stroking the other with his fingertips, shifting his legs so that one was between her knees and pressing against her. She rocked against him a little as their lips met and parted, breath growing thick and more desperate.

Her hands gripped his back, digging in as he continued to explore her, running his tongue along the crease of soft skin beneath her breast, then blowing lightly on her nipple before taking it back into his mouth.

Her hands moved up to his neck, running through his hair until he ceded control of the kiss to her, and she left him panting for breath. Then she was gripping his shoulders as his mouth found the curve of her neck and lingered there, leaving behind the faintest of marks.

She arched up toward him, nails digging into his skin, and he moved over, making room to slide down and let his mouth journey south. His lips left a heated trail down her taut stomach and over to her hip, where he planted a firm kiss that made her shiver.

Peyton released her grip on him and reached out to run her fingers along the waistline of his shorts. With her eyes closed, she waited until he leveraged himself up and then she tugged them off. He kicked them away, sucking in air as her hands found him and caressed the sensitive skin beneath his balls.

Blaine teased his fingers along the edge of her satin thong, then slid it aside to circle her clit with his fingers. Peyton started to shift along with his movements, quaking against the sheets.

“Oh, God. Blaine,” she murmured, taking him in her hand and stroking. His fingers kept moving against her until he was hard and ready, and their mouths clashed as he lifted himself.

She was wet and hot when he slid into her, and he found himself whispering endearments in her ear, just like the last time.

They moved together with an easy familiarity that didn’t make sense for only their second time, but he didn’t question it, straining with her toward their lush, convulsive peak. To Blaine, she felt like coming home.

“Love I beg you, lift me up into that privileged point of view, the world of two...”

Nothing she said was wrong. He was selfish, and greedy…and sad, most of all. He was angry at her for the way she tricked him into confessing–lied to him, led him into a trap–but he couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm for it, because he'd done far worse. And she was right.

He hadn’t been thinking about her friends, or making a fool of her, when his memories came back and he pretended they hadn’t. He’d been thinking about himself, which, once he had his memories back, he knew was what he always did. How he’d always been, before.

It took everything he had not to chase after her. Not to go looking, to make his case, the way he might with anybody else. But this was Peyton, who won arguments for a living, and he knew it would just make things worse. So he covered up the wound with jokes and business and liquor and tried to move on.

“Love don’t leave me, because I console myself that Hallmark cards are true, I really do...”

The liquor isn’t helping much. It never really does. Must be the Irish in him; drinking just makes him maudlin.

He sips again anyway, because he’s here and has nothing better to do, closing his eyes and remembering the way Peyton leaned back that first night, her skirt shifting and catching his attention when she crossed her legs. Her voice was sultry between sips, inviting--more intoxicating than the alcohol.

He’s not sure which is more of a tragedy, the fact that getting his memories back means he lost her, or the fact that having them means he remembers so clearly what he’s lost.

Putting his own flourish on the melody with one hand and sipping with the other, he catches movement in his peripheral vision that makes him dizzy.

He must be more drunk than he realizes, Blaine thinks, if he’s starting to hallucinate. This one isn’t exactly the way he would’ve imagined it, if he had a choice in hallucinations…which is how he knows he’s not that drunk.

Peyton’s come back to him, in all her fierce and shining glory–but she doesn’t look happy to see him. In fact, she seems just as stunned as he is, striding toward him with an accusatory finger outstretched.

He can’t help leaning into the chorus as their eyes meet, as she approaches without hesitation and all he can feel is the dull ache of missing her.

“I’m gunning down romance…it never did a thing for me, but heartache and misery—ain’t nothing but a tragedy.”

She carries herself like a fighter ready for the next round, despite her slightly glassy eyes and the tequila on her breath. If this is Peyton Charles on tequila, no wonder she wouldn’t tell him about it that first night.

She raises her voice over the piano he’s still playing, heedless of the heads that turn their way.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

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