With: @antonpleon [ feat. REAL BOY Jasper]
A pair of beaten sneakers bounced up the steps to the front door, nearly catching on the lip of one, but was spared through some divine intervention. The door was open, and Jasper pushed his way past a cluster of cotton spiderwebs into the festively-decorated space, tied together with the ominous score from Anton’s speakers. The gathering paled to his envisioned plans for Halloween night, but the night was young.
Jasper, sporting a bloody punch wound, button-down Hawaiian shirt and tailored red leather jacket, grinned at the older man triumphantly. He pinched a set of car keys high in the air with the hand not burdened with another few hours’ worth of snacks.
“Told you I’d have her back by eleven. Didn’t I, old man?” The keyring flew for the hands of its rightful owner. Jasper pushed past the costumed guests and spilled out of his armful of goodies onto the dining room table, itching to lighten the spoils stowed in his waistband. “I’ve uh, gotta visit the little ghoul’s room. Don’t wait up.” He parted with a giddy pat on Anton’s shoulder, skating his gaze beneath the older man’s under the kitchen light.
He snapped the door to the bathroom shut, locked it tight, and kicked the toilet lid closed. In a series of practiced movements, Jasper balanced one foot on the left edge of the seat, and brought the other up to stand in reach of the air vent above. He produced his own keyring from his pocket, finding the one filed to a thin, flat edge. Wincing around his tongue, Jas worked the key into the screw holding the vent in place.
A knock at the door nearly left his skin in a puddle.
“Uh, fuori servizio, mate.” He yelled over his shoulder, teetering precariously on the toilet seat. A beat of silence, a muffled laugh from the distant belly of the house. Jas turned back, and his stomach plummeted. His hand must’ve slipped in his surprise, leaving a scratch near the screw eyelet. Shit. It was paper-thin, near invisible to the untrained eye. Anton’s was anything but. Rubbing it did nothing to erase it. Only for tonight, repeated the mantra of the hour. Resigned to the consequences of Anton finding the mark sometime down the road, he set back to work.
“Well, what did I miss?” Jasper asked. After grabbing a reserved soda from the fridge, he’d shouldered his way back to Anton’s side. Dark eyes scanned the crowd, watching the festivities slide by in a vibrant hum, fighting to identify any deep pockets with keen ears Anton might’ve invited. The party had pooled out onto the patio, where an envisioned stage beckoned under the moonlight. The musician’s heart fluttered, ready to sing for his dinner. “Just say the word and I’ll put on my show pony saddle.”
