Do Not Enter!
Sean's eyes were like cold steel, colder than August could remember them to be. No traces of mischief anymore like the old young Sean was gone.
His probing eyes felt like they were searching for something beneath the surface, something that August wasn't ready to reveal.
'Oh, God. Not today, please,' August thought, fear already consuming him up to half.
Sean tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as if he was on the brink of uncovering a secret. But then, just as quickly, his expression softened, and he gave a small, almost dismissive shrug.
"Never mind," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Maybe I'm mistaken."
August exhaled, forcing himself to relax, though his muscles remained tense. 'Good. I'm totally a new person, how'd he recognize me? Not like my eyes are different from any other.'
Sean turned away fully this time, walking back into the crowd, his presence still lingering like a shadow in August's mind.
August tried to shake off the unease, but it clung to him, making the grand hall feel suddenly claustrophobic.
He glanced around, searching for a distraction of some sort.
"…did you see the way Sean Glory looked? True, the News never lie. He's become colder and different from his playboy self years ago. Strange, don't you think?"
"I heard it's because his long lost lover left him… and worse.. I hear that lover was a man."
"A man? Shhh. Don't be too loud with that News. No wonder he got so excited when he saw that handsome Adonis grab a wine. The Adonis must have turned him down."
August clenched his jaw, forcing himself to ignore the gossip. 'They are calling Sean a gay?' As much as nothing regarding Sean was his business anymore, he still didn't like that they were talking about him like that.
August stood up from his seat, wanting to avoid such gossip. He moved through the crowd with practiced grace, his presence almost regal against the backdrop of the glamorous event.
The grand hall was a spectacle of opulence, with crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over elegantly dressed guests.
Waiters glided by, offering trays of champagne and exquisite hors d'oeuvres, while the air was filled with the soft strains of a string quartet.
"Hello, there!" someone called out, his voice cheerful. "You must be Quinn Louis right? You look so dashing and even better than I expected."
August offered a wry smile, not knowing how to react. He was being called someone else. "You have mistaken me for someone else, Mr. Do I look so much like this Louis?"
The man realizing laughed at his mistake. He tried to avoid August's eyes, his gaze sweeping over the room. "Absolutely not. I just thought based on the talks about him, you might be him."
"Oh," August simply exclaimed. He didn't want the man to feel more ashamed or embarrassed and the man took the cue.
"Mason and his bride-to-be have spared no expense. I overheard some interesting details about their preparations. Apparently, there's been quite a bit of last-minute organizing, including a surprise performance scheduled for later in the evening."
August raised an eyebrow. "A surprise performance? That sounds intriguing. Any idea what it might be?"
The man shrugged, his expression one of mild curiosity. "I haven't been able to find out much, but it's supposed to be something special. I heard it involves some high-profile model. Farley."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a waiter offering another round of drinks.
The man accepted a glass of champagne, raising it in a toast. "To an unforgettable evening," he said with a grin.
August clinked his glass against the man's, taking a sip. "To an unforgettable evening indeed."
*
August, having mingled with various guests, found himself slipping away from the crowd. The social whirl was beginning to feel like a blur, and he needed a moment of calm away from the clamor of conversations and laughter.
He wandered away to find a quieter place and into a side room, which, while less grandiose than the main hall, still exuded an air of sophistication.
His footsteps echoed softly as he wandered down a corridor that was tastefully decorated but conspicuously quiet compared to the lively atmosphere of the main hall.
He soon came across an ornate door, its deep ebony wood intricately carved with swirling patterns that hinted at secrets concealed within.
The door had no visible lock, just a polished brass handle that gleamed in the ambient light. It emitted an almost palpable aura of exclusivity and secrecy, a subtle warning that this was not a space meant for casual exploration.
August rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Just like the Bible story, putting a tree in the middle of the garden with a 'don't touch' rule! Tch! There's no lock on such an intriguing door, yet it practically screams 'do not enter.'"
He grasped the handle and pushed the door open, the hinges creaking slightly as the heavy wood swung inward.
The room inside was a stark contrast to the opulence of the rest of the venue. It was enveloped in darkness, with only a few shafts of dim light filtering in from the cracks around the door.
The walls were covered in rich, dark fabric that absorbed rather than reflected light, in fact, everything, Evey furniture was in different shades of black. 'Hmm, an opposite of my own room,' he thought.
August stepped inside, his shoes muffled against the plush, dark carpet. His eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, revealing a space that was both grand and unnervingly secretive.
The room was sparsely furnished, dominated by a large, mahogany desk cluttered with various documents, an antique lamp with a stained glass shade, and a leather-bound journal open to a page filled with neat, clear and pretty handwriting that looked ancient.
"What if this is some elder's room?" August muttered to him, considering whether to go in and explore or respect the old age of the room owner and just leave. 'I'd just be quick then.'
The room's centerpiece was a series of framed photographs arranged haphazardly on a wall. Their faces were turned away from him, presenting only their backs to the intruder.
August approached them with a sense of unease, drawn by a peculiar need to see why the image in the picture frames were hidden from view.
As he neared the wall, he couldn't help but mutter to himself, "What's the big secret here? Just a bunch of old pictures! Why make it seem so auspicious?"
His hand reached out hesitantly toward one of the frames. The glass was cool to the touch, and he flipped the frame around to reveal the photograph within.
"Hmmm?"