Chapter 5 – Congratulations, Barney!

Cheshire had grown accustomed to being the center of attention whenever he entered a salon, so it came as bit of a surprise when he found his favorite chair and didn’t gather so much as a glance.

All the normal stylists had gathered at a seat near the rear of the shop, where they were lavishing some other customer with their curiosity. Even the patrons already under dryers were straining in their chairs, trying to catch a glimpse. From his own seat Cheshire had no hope of seeing the cause of so much commotion, but he could hear a man’s voice amidst the chatter of the stylists, youthful and sweet, with a thick accent Cheshire couldn’t place.

“Mr. Bloom,” greeted Piotr, the owner, as he swept up behind Cheshire, immediately reaching for his hair tie. “I expected we would see you. Preparing for the wedding?”

“Of course! Though it seems like I’ve come at a bad time.” He looked again to the gathering further in just as everyone began to coo with delight. “Or maybe the best time…? Depending on what’s going on over there…?”

Piotr huffed as he combed Cheshire’s hair with his fingers. “It’s that Miklos again,” he complained. “For the third time this week he’s here! It’s impossible to get anything done with the whole shop fawning.”

Any disappointment Cheshire might have felt over his lack of reception was immediately scattered as he looked to Piotr through the mirror. “Uh oh, be careful. You sound a bit…jealous.”

Piotr smacked him upside the head, which hurt probably more than he’d intended, thanks to his rings. “What will it be today, Mr. Bloom?” He drew strands of Cheshire’s bangs down to the base of his ear. “You’re going to let me cut it this time, aren’t you?”

“No!” Cheshire laughed in an attempt to dampen what must have looked like an instant of panic. “No, thank you. I can’t pull off a swoop like yours, Piotr. I just need a healthy trim.”

“If you say so,” said Piotr disappointedly, and he urged

Cheshire out of the chair. “Let’s clean you up first.”

They passed the station with the mysterious “Miklos,” and Cheshire rose up on his toes, trying to see around the crowded stylists. Once again they cheered their guest with oohs and ahhs, but all Cheshire could see was a head of pale blond hair. “Should I be worried about them swooning?” he teased Piotr.

Piotr rolled his eyes aggressively. “He’s just showing off his magic,” he muttered, and he started to say more, but Cheshire abruptly reversed course toward the chair. “Oh, not you, too!”

Cheshire snuck up behind the circled crowd, where his height gave him an advantage. He didn’t know what he expected to see, what he would say or do, but he was alight with curiosity—he’d never seen real magic that wasn’t his own, and he bubbled with questions he wasn’t sure he could even ask. When he finally laid eyes on the young man, he understood immediately what the fuss had been about, and he ahh’d himself. Miklos appeared to be no more than a teen, with a soft- featured, handsome face, and a smile that held just a hint of mischief. But the root of the attention he was receiving was his hair: thick and full, and a very unnatural but lovely shade of carnation pink. Cheshire had never seen anything like it, and as he watched, it began to change strand by strand to an equally unusual and striking sea-green. The girls clapped and murmured, but Cheshire wasn’t satisfied with the same. Without thinking he reached out to touch the top of the boy’s head.

Cheshire felt a shock like static and jerked his hand back. Miklos must have felt it as well, as he startled and turned, looking back in alarm. “Sorry,” Cheshire said quickly, hoping his bashful smile would aid his apology. “Sorry, I…couldn’t help it.”

“Chesh, you scared him,” one of the women scolded, and he gulped, suddenly the focus of many angry and possibly jealous looks. But then Miklos chuckled, and like its own magic all offense was excused.

“It’s all right,” Miklos assured, smiling at Cheshire so sweetly, he felt as if he were blushing. “I’m very used to it.”

He stood, and the stylists parted for him, watching with fascination as he stood directly in front of Cheshire. “Paybacks,” he whispered, and he sank his fingers into Cheshire’s bangs. Cheshire felt another shock, though muted this time, and held very still as Miklos drew his hair down his face just like Piotr had done.

“You’re not going to let them cut this, are you?” he asked with playful seriousness.

Cheshire gulped. He’s definitely a witch, he thought, trapped by Miklos’ impossibly lavender eyes. “O-Of course not!”

“Good man.” Miklos let go and threaded his fingers through his own hair, changing its color to a rich honey-blonde, just like Cheshire’s. With a bat of his eyelashes his eye color changed to match as well, and the crowd was sent into awe again.

“There’s not much I can do about matching that jawline,” he said to his audience, “but how does it look on me?”

As the crowd hurried to praise him, Piotr leaned into Cheshire’s shoulder with another huff. “Isn’t he just insufferable?” he muttered. “If it’s magic, it’s not like he’s even making an effort, I don’t see why—”

“That’s incredible!” Cheshire declared, as excited as any of them. “Can you do any color? Can you do just part?”

“What, like this?” Miklos blinked, and one eye and one eyebrow turned bright white.

“Wow!” Cheshire beamed ear to ear. “That must have taken practice. It’s a lot easier doing it all at once, right?”

Miklos’ eyes narrowed slightly at that, his lip turning up a little sharper. His hair returned to the soft pink it had been when Cheshire first approached. “Well, yes. You would know, wouldn’t you?”

A dozen pairs of eyes turned Cheshire’s way, and he froze. Don’t go showing off to strangers, Jakub had warned him in the wake of his encounter with the intimidating Detective Alice weeks ago, and as he glanced from one face to the next, he suddenly had no idea which of them already knew about his magic, and which could be trusted if they didn’t. He gulped. “Would I?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Miklos pressed, eyebrows raised.

“I would…not.” Cheshire leaned back, smiling and hopefully looking innocent. “I just assumed.”

Miklos regarded him a moment longer, and it wasn’t until then that Cheshire fully realized that it was the shock that had likely given him away. Did all witches feel like that? He tried to think of some way he could express himself, maybe in code or something, but then Miklos brightened. “Well,” he said with a shrug, “you assumed right. It’s quite a bit harder.” He smiled at his crowd. “Someday I’ll be able to do the whole rainbow at once.”

“Which means you’ll have no use for a salon,” Piotr interrupted, doing his best to shoo the staff back to their stations and the customers to their chairs. “So will you please carry on and let us get back to work?”

“My apologies,” said Miklos, so charming that even Piotr couldn’t help but soften a little. “But I’d still like a trim.” He returned to his seat and smiled. “These are the finest scissors in town.”

“Of course. Everyone, back to it!” Piotr rolled his eyes yet again and took Cheshire by the elbow. “You, too, Mr. Bloom.”

Cheshire allowed himself to be steered to a sink to have his hair washed. “You said he’s been here a few times?” he mused aloud as Piotr applied the shampoo. “Does he always get a cut?”

“The first time, he wanted a washing,” Piotr said, his irritation making his lathering very vigorous. “And then a shave, if you can believe that. Now he wants a trim. I think he’s only here to show off.”

“This is a good place for it,” Cheshire replied, enjoying the stronger-than-usual massage.

By the time Cheshire was back in his favorite chair, the crowd had mostly dispersed, but Miklos was still the topic of most conversations across the shop. A few even had stories of other magic users to share, which especially piqued Cheshire’s interest. In particular, a pair gossiping about a young girl who had recently departed for Jersey had his ear through his entire trim and drying. He was so engrossed that he barely noticed when someone sat down beside him; it wasn’t until a now familiar jolt went through him that he realized Miklos was leaning into his shoulder.

“I’ll be waiting outside,” he said, just softly enough that no one but them would be able to hear over the dryer. “I want to see your magic.” Cheshire stumbled over a reply, and by then Miklos was already heading for the door.

Cheshire had his breath held once he was finally on his way out. He had never encountered another magic user face to face and had no idea what to expect. It even occurred to him, as he spotted Miklos waiting on the sidewalk as promised, that it was probably unwise to trust him. He approached anyway, curiosity outweighing caution. “Hey.”

Miklos glanced over and smiled, his hair dulling to an unremarkable blond. “It’s Chesh, isn’t it?” he said. “Ready to show me your magic?”

Cheshire shoved his hands in his pockets. “Forward, aren’t you?”

“You’ve already seen mine,” Miklos said with a shrug. “We can go somewhere private, if you want, if it’s something…personal.”

“Dangerous,” Cheshire corrected him, and he was surprised when Miklos straightened, taking him very seriously. It was encouraging in the worst way, and he couldn’t help but play it up a little. “But if you really want to know… follow me.”

Cheshire turned. Already he was scolding himself for playing a bluff when the last thing he wanted was to scare off a peer, but thankfully Miklos hesitated only a moment before falling into step alongside. “I’m Miklos,” he introduced himself as they headed down the sidewalk. “Miklos Horvay.”

“Cheshire Bloom.” He didn’t like that Miklos suddenly looked wary of him, so he smiled reassuringly. “You’re the first witch I’ve met face to face in a long time. How did you get your magic?”

“I was born with it,” Miklos replied, gradually regaining his earlier cheer. “My grandmother used to say I was blessed by an angel.” He watched Cheshire curiously. “I didn’t know you could get magic any other way.”

“Ah…well….” Cheshire shrugged. “I wasn’t born with mine. This way.”

He turned down the nearest alley, and Miklos hesitated again before following. He didn’t take them far, though, just enough to be relatively safe from streetside eyes. A pile of trash against the wall provided him with a wad of old newspaper that would make a perfect demonstration.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that dangerous,” said Cheshire as he tugged one corner away from the rest of the crumpled ball, like a wick.  “Watch this.”

Even after so much practice, it was still a worthy challenge to only light part of the paper, and Cheshire couldn’t help but smile to himself with relief as a small flame began to burn along the exposed edge. He glanced to Miklos for his reaction, and was surprised and amused to see streaks of pink rippling through his blonde, as if echoing out from the gleam of fascination in his eyes. Then Cheshire tossed the newspaper further into the alley, letting the fire sear through it entirely in seconds. With a brief crackle and a poof of ash, it had disintegrated entirely.

Miklos twitched with a shudder once it had gone out completely. “No,” he said distractedly. “You certainly weren’t born with that.”

Cheshire wasn’t sure if he should feel flattered or disturbed by Miklos’ reaction, and was too antsy to wait it out. “It’s something, right?” he said easily. “Someday I’m gonna figure out fireworks.”

Miklos seemed more than willing to play along with a lighter mood. “I’d like to see that, if you do,” he said, and a hint of mischief crept into his face. “Are you free tonight? I’ll take you to dinner.”

Cheshire hadn’t been expecting that at all, and he blushed, even smiling like an idiot. It suddenly felt like he had gone a long time without someone looking at him with the interest Miklos was showing then. “I’d like that,” he said, aiming for suave but landing more in the realm of childishly overeager. “I really would, but I’m actually on my way to a wedding.”

“Oh, yes, they were saying something about that inside,” said Miklos, and even his disappointment was charming. “Who’s the happy couple?”

“Kozlow and Szpilman,” Cheshire replied as they headed back out to the sidewalk, careful to mask any sarcasm. Happy couple, indeed. “I’ve never been to a Polish wedding, but I’ve been told to show up with an appetite.”

“Oh?” Miklos’ interest was suddenly keener than ever. “Those are big families, I’ve heard. Quite the guest list, then.”

“I’m sure every Pole in Brooklyn will be there. I’m just lucky I know the best man.”

Miklos hummed thoughtfully, and once they were out on the street again he threaded his arm through Cheshire’s elbow. “Then I’m lucky I know you,” he said, and Cheshire felt a thrill he couldn’t blame on their clashing magic. “I’ll be your date.”

Did Barney say I could bring a date? Cheshire thought, but that concern flittered quickly away. “Of course!” he said, alight at the prospect. “Just be sure you don’t take away too much attention from the bride.”

Miklos chuckled. “Between the two of us, that could be a problem,” he agreed, and they laughed together as they continued on.

“Hey,” said Cheshire. “Do you know how to braid?”

***

The wedding took place in a red-bricked church close to the creek. As expected every pew was packed with family, friends, and curious strangers from all over Brooklyn, eager to present an image of showing support. Even the Fouchers had driven out for the occasion, many more than Jakub had ever been aware of existing. Barney and his bride, Wanda, were dressed in traditional attire, both wide-eyed like rabbits as they made their way down the aisle. When it was Jakub’s turn to follow with Wanda’s sister, he picked a spot in the stained glass behind the altar to focus on, determined not to think about the many eyes on him. For some stupid reason he wondered if they might notice his new jacket, and had rehearsed his explanation for it beforehand.

Cheshire wasn’t among the guests; he had declared it his duty to see to the reception while the ceremony went on, a role much better suited to him than irritating Barney through the mass. As Jakub took his seat near the front, he felt foolish for missing him.

The ceremony was long and uneventful. Jakub couldn’t remember the last time he had attended a wedding, and he especially wasn’t used to the standing and kneeling of a Catholic mass. He kept his eye on Hannah the entire time, following her lead to know what was required. It earned him a few glares in return, and he wondered if she was just as self-conscious about the flowery dress she’d been required to wear as he was his suit coat.

At long last, the formalities concluded, and the entire procession crossed the street to the dance hall reserved for the occasion. Though little had been offered in the way of decoration, there were enough people to fill the place to capacity, and Jakub had no choice but to let the crowd herd him to his place at the head table. From there more traditions commenced: the presentation of bread, the toasts, the songs, the gifts. Jakub endured in a haze, until the servers circulated with shots of vodka.

“I’ve been saving this for today since the boat,” Kasper declared as everyone lifted their glasses. “Which makes it perfectly legal!” He drank amidst cheers, and then everyone followed suit. It wasn’t to Jakub’s taste but he downed his anyway.

As the glasses clanged to the tables one voice rose above the others in raucous laughter, and Jakub’s attention snapped to it like a hunting dog catching a scent. He spotted the back of Cheshire’s head at a far table, and was inordinately pleased to see part of his hair drawn back with a pair of well-manicured braids. So, he got his wish, he thought, but then remembering who must have done it for him, his humor faltered. At least he looks happy.

Dinner came next, and Jakub took the opportunity to slip away from the table. Cheshire’s corner of the room seemed to have already drawn strays, making it the liveliest area of the hall, and he almost abandoned his approach. It wasn’t as if he had any jokes to entertain the Szpilmans, wide grins to flash and charm with.

But like always, the laughter drew him in. It mystified him sometimes, how someone could be that open that easily. The entire table was absorbed in Cheshire, and Jakub was debating on whether he was really interested in interrupting when a member of the audience turned toward him.

“Rég nem láttalak, Jakub,” he said, and Jakub didn’t recognize the voice, but there was still only one person he could think of that would speak Hungarian to him. Breathless, he looked to the young man and couldn’t help but stare openly.

“You don’t recognize me, do you,” said Miklos, smiling. “I know I—”

“Jakub!” Cheshire turned in his chair, and having the both of them watching him so closely made Jakub nearly light- headed. “Let me introduce you! This is—”

“Of course I recognize you, Miklos,” Jakub finally managed to get out. “I’d know you anywhere.”

Miklos grinned wider as he stood, and he wrapped Jakub up in a firm hug. Recognition or no, Jakub wasn’t prepared to find them chest to chest, not when his mind was reeling with memories of tiny Miklos Horvay, thin as a rail and tucked under his arm. The ground seemed to buck beneath his feet as if from ocean waves, and without thinking he hugged Miklos back. “You’re taller than me, now,” he said, mystified.

“I grew up!” Miklos leaned back so he could look Jakub over; his face was brighter than Jakub had ever seen it, and it warmed him all over. “You look good,” he said. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”

“But how….” Jakub glanced past him, and felt another pulse of heat when he remembered they weren’t alone: the entire table was watching them, and especially Cheshire, whose eyes were wide and saucer-like. He cleared his throat. “This is… Miklos,” he said, no idea where to begin or how to explain. “I know him.”

Cheshire shook himself. “I guess so!” he said, back to normal. “We met earlier, but I had no idea that you….” He gleamed with curiosity.  “You’re old friends?”

“Something like that.” Jakub tried to disengage, but Miklos still had a grip of his shoulders, and refused to be brushed off that easily. “It’s a long story.”

“We came over on a boat from Europe together,” Miklos explained, and everyone humming with interest had Jakub sweating. “Six years ago. I only came up to here on him.” He tapped Jakub’s chest and smirked. “I’ve changed a lot since then.”

What an understatement; Jakub well remembered his companion’s affectionate nature, but they had both been so young then, his smile devoid of the spark it had now. He had no idea what to make of it or how to respond, and the stare Cheshire was fixing him with had him red with embarrassment. “I’ve been showing off all week, hoping the gossip would reach you,” Miklos carried on. “Luckily, your friend Cheshire here showed up with perfect timing. He’s been telling me about your adventures.” Jakub gulped as speculation ran circles around his stomach. “In fact, he was right in the middle of a story. Maybe we should go back to your table so we don’t interrupt him.”

Cheshire straightened in his chair. “It’s okay,” he said quickly as the rest of his audience glanced between the three, as attentive as theatre spectators. “I think we’d all—”

“No, go ahead.” Miklos flashed them all a grin and then took Jakub’s hand, tugging him away from the table. “Please. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Oh, okay.” Cheshire briefly made a face that Jakub couldn’t identify, and then he turned back to the table, all cheer again. “Where was I?” Jakub allowed Miklos to lead him off, his feelings in a tangle.

“Sorry to interrupt like this,” Miklos said as they made their way back to the head table. “You’re the best man—you probably want to spend tonight with the groom. I was just so excited to have a chance to see you again.”

“No, it’s—it’s fine.” Jakub glanced to Barney, who was deeply engrossed with his round-faced bride. “It’s good to see you.”

Miklos chuckled. “You haven’t changed at all,” he teased, taking the seat of another groomsman who had moved to chat with his friends. “But I’m glad. Serious looks good on you.”

Jakub blushed darker as he retook his seat. “I do mean it.”

“I know you do. That’s just what I mean.” Miklos chuckled some more and helped himself to a sausage off Jakub’s plate. “You’re always so straightforward and dependable. It’s reassuring.” He softened with a bit of his own seriousness. “I owe my life to that.”

“I wouldn’t have made it on that boat without you, either,” Jakub reminded him.

“If you say so.” Miklos abruptly sighed. “God, it’s good to see you. I want to hear about everything you’ve done since then.” When Jakub frowned reluctantly, he smirked as if he’d expected it. “Or I’ll talk. Right after you left the orphanage, I was adopted—such good people. I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Please,” Jakub said quickly, and he meant that, too. “I want to hear everything.”

***

Cheshire finished his story with flourish, to a round of laughter and even some applause. So far the Szpilmans were turning out to be a great deal more agreeable than the family they were marrying into, and he was enjoying their company immensely. But as he relinquished the conversation to one of the ladies, he found himself glancing back to the head table, where Jakub and Miklos were seated close together and happily chatting.

He’d never seen Jakub look like that. He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but there was a lightness in his face and posture. He leaned in and listened intently to whatever story Miklos was excitedly telling, with all the ease and comfort he normally lacked. It was more distracting to watch than it should have been.

“You’re not even paying attention,” the lady scolded Cheshire, and he quickly turned back, charming her with his apologies.

The wedding carried on, as boisterous as any event Cheshire had ever participated in. After the dinner came music, and dancing, and more vodka, and more dinner…? And even more dinner? He’d never seen so much food eaten so quickly, and it showed no signs of stopping. Hours into the festivities and even Cheshire’s enthusiasm, which he had once considered boundless, was beginning to wane. He collapsed back into his chair after a lively dance with some of the Foucher cousins, only to realize the rest of his table had settled elsewhere: the girls buzzing around the bride, the men engaged in some kind of impromptu balancing contest with their glasses and cutlery. They did say this would go on all night, Cheshire thought, loosening his tie.  And tomorrow, too. He smiled wearily to himself at the thought as he glanced around, not sure what to do next. As the guests became more tired and more drunk they started to cluster up with those they knew best, and inserting himself among them was suddenly a daunting proposition. So he caught his breath for a while, sipping water to refresh and stay clear.

His gaze drifted back to the head table. Miklos was still there, entertaining not just Jakub, but a few of their gang peers as well with some story of his.  So much for being my date, Cheshire thought, not that he held it against him. He was gearing himself up to join them when his eyes fell on Jakub, and he stopped in his tracks.

Jakub was smiling. On anyone else it might not have even registered—just a slight tip of his lip as the others laughed at Miklos’ jokes. Cheshire had only glimpsed similar expressions from him a handful of times over two years, and he felt simultaneously relieved and foolish. Why wouldn’t Jakub enjoy himself?  It was a celebration, and he had an old friend at his side. He ought to be happy. Cheshire was thrilled to see him happy.

So thrilled, in fact, that he didn’t dare interrupt. So he stayed at the table, nibbling on cake, until a slender hand touched his shoulder.

“Hi Chesh,” said Grace, and Cheshire almost choked on his dessert.  “Can I sit with you?”

“S-Sure!” Cheshire coughed and had to take a gulp of water to regain his composure as Grace sat down next to him. She was dressed in blue that night, modest and charming, her hair pulled up in a bun loosened from dancing. Her smile had always turned his brain a bit mushy, but tonight it was hesitant, blurring everything even more so. He gulped. “Hi, Grace. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Grace blushed and tried to tuck an errant strand of hair back into her bun. “That suit is very handsome on you.”

Cheshire blushed, too, leaning stiffly into the back of his chair. “Thanks.” What had once felt so natural was suddenly a tightrope for him to walk.  “Are you having fun?”

“Yes! It’s just wonderful.” Grace hesitated, seeking something else, until finally surrendering a little shrug. “I’m sorry, I know this is awkward. I just hated seeing you by yourself over here.”

Cheshire laughed—it just bubbled out of seemingly nowhere, jumpstarting the momentum he’d lost. “Oh, no, I’m not,” he said, even though he had clearly been alone. “I just needed a breather before I hit the floor again. I’m learning to Polka!”

Grace nodded, but her face didn’t change, and Cheshire could feel the cake shriveling in his stomach. “Do you want to come back to my table?” she offered. “We were getting ready for a round of poker.”

The sympathy in her tone made his eye twitch. “No, no thanks. I’m gonna wait for the next round of vodka to fill my tank. But I’ll come over later, if you’re still at it.” He grinned. “Your table might be mad at you for inviting me. I’m not terrible at poker, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Grace replied, but without the teasing charm he was used to from her. “You have a very unconventional poker face, but it works.”

Cheshire wasn’t sure what that meant, but he came nowhere near asking. “Later,” he said again. “Save me a seat.”

“Sure.” Grace started to get up, but then she stopped herself, sinking into the chair again. “You don’t have to do this all the time, you know,” she said, and Cheshire went as still as if she’d shouted it. “This act you put on.”

“I….” Heat boiled under Cheshire’s collar as he stared back at her, dumbstruck. “I’m not…? I don’t know what you mean.”

“I just want you to be honest with me,” Grace persisted, the room behind her smearing into an indecipherable crowd of watchful faces. “That’s all I did want. You know that, right?”

Cheshire could only stare. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know. He well remembered every personal question he’d dodged, every unspoken promise she’d expected from him that he couldn’t make let alone keep. He was keenly aware that it was his own flippancy that had caused them to drift apart, and even more so that it was probably the best thing for her. She deserved better than a two bit hoodlum with branded palms.

And he wanted to tell her so, but the look of sincere and somehow hopeful disappointment on her face was chewing holes through his lungs. He smiled and said, “I’m sorry,” as much because he wanted her to stop looking at him like that as because he meant it.

It backfired, but only briefly: all but the disappointment drained from Grace’s expression, strangling him, but then she stood from her chair.  “I know,” she said, and she turned to go. “I’ll see you around, Chesh.”

Cheshire leaned his elbows against the table, watching as Grace rejoined her friends for their poker game. Should have just gone over there when she asked, he thought. Another drink and you’d’ve been fine. But seeing them laugh and lean on each other mysteriously turned his stomach, and he couldn’t move an inch. There were a couple other familiar faces nearby, but none turned his way, no eye for him to catch. They probably wouldn’t have welcomed a clumsy intrusion from him, anyway.

He did, however, spot a server with a fresh bottle of vodka, and was very happy to welcome him over.

***

Jakub frowned as he watched Cheshire down another shot. Not that he was worried about that part—Cheshire could more than handle his liquor—but the sight of him at the table alone made Jakub’s chest feel tight. If he didn’t want Grace’s company, he’s not going to want mine, either, he thought, leaning against his palm. He looked like he was having so much fun just a while ago….

Miklos poked him in the shoulder, and he startled to find him very close, intently staring. “You okay, Jakub?” he asked.

“Fine,” Jakub replied quickly, tearing his gaze away. “What were you saying?”

Miklos regarded him for a moment, then cast a glance at Cheshire and back. “We can go back over there, if you want,” he suggested.

“No.” Jakub leaned back in his chair, turning just enough to make it clear he had not been keeping an eye on Cheshire all evening. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? Because it looks like—”

“Jakub!” Barney grabbed his shoulders from behind, and Jakub flinched, foolishly worried that he had overheard them. But Barney was far more interested in trying to shove him out of his chair. “Come on, get up!” he said, laughing drunkenly. “It’s time for oczepiny!”

“For what?” asked Miklos, and Barney grabbed him, too, urging them to their feet.

“I’d rather not,” said Jakub, even as he let Barney drag him toward where the other single men had started to gather. He glanced back and spotted Cheshire getting up from his chair as well. He gulped. He’s going to get it anyway.

“You have to,” Barney insisted. He was grinning so widely it was almost intimidating. “Make sure you catch this tie, and then I’ll be best man at your wedding!”

He pushed the two of them into the rowdy group, and as the music began to pick up he climbed onto the head table. Jakub grimaced as the boys began to cheer and shove, no intention of making a real effort. Then he realized there was one voice missing from among their laughter; he took quick stock of the room, but Cheshire was gone.

***

Outside the hall, Cheshire took a moment to rub his face and catch his breath. He just needed a little air to collect himself, he thought. A little more liquid courage so he could re-enter the room and join into the festivities with fresh vigor. And in the meantime, better that no one else spot him sitting at a table alone like some kind of outcast.

“Bloom.”

Cheshire startled, glancing down to realize he wasn’t the only one who had temporarily abandoned the party: Hannah was sitting on the curb, her bridesmaid dress bunched up in frills around her knees, her expression sour. She was a little askew and waving a cigarette at him. “Light it.”

Cheshire gulped; Hannah had never been fond of his company, especially when drunk, but he was just drunk enough to risk taking a seat next to her on the curb. Don’t you dare explode this cig, he thought as he cupped his palm around the end. It took all the concentration he had, but he managed, and

Hannah took an eager breath of the tobacco. She let it out with a sigh.

Cheshire watched, mystified by the image of Hannah in her makeup and dress, scowling around her cigarette. “Some party,” he said, hoping to sound neutral.

Hannah snorted. “Then why aren’t you in it?”

“Uh….” Cheshire hadn’t expected needing to gather his wits quite so fast, but the push was surprisingly welcome. “They’re doing the ozzypinny,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t think it’d be fair of me to participate. I’m not really the marrying type.”

“Yeah, not like Barney would want you to win anyway,” Hannah agreed. “He fucking hates you.”

Cheshire’s heart gave a painful thud. “…Really?”

“What, you didn’t notice?”

“I mean….” He caught himself starting to shrink, and instead leaned back on his palms. “Sure, I noticed. It just sounds so mean when you say it like that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Hannah passed him her cigarette, almost as if it were an apology. Cheshire gratefully took a puff, and just as he was wishing it was more vodka, Hannah grabbed up a bottle she’d been hiding on her other side. She took a long swig and then traded it for the cigarette back.

Cheshire drank, even knowing—especially knowing— that he wouldn’t be able to keep that up much longer if he was going to have any hope of making it home. “So what about you?” he pressed. “You’re not going to kick and claw your way to Wanda’s veil?”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Why not?” he pressed. “Because you know you’d win?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Because you would, you know. Those poor girls wouldn’t know what hit them.”

“Christ, Bloom, let it go,” Hannah grumbled. “Don’t you get that I’m out here because I wanted to be left alone?”

Cheshire shut up. They sat together awkwardly for a while as he fought up the courage to walk away; it wasn’t as if his confidence to rejoin the party had lifted, and he was probably better off making off with the vodka into the night. But then Hannah sighed, and she tugged on his jacket even though he hadn’t tried to go anywhere yet. “You can stay,” she muttered. “Trade.”

She handed him the cigarette, and he the vodka, so they could each partake. It seemed to be the final gulp needed to loosen her tongue. “I got a letter from my sister,” she confessed, and Cheshire kept his mouth shut, watching with unobtrusive interest. “She got married last year. Probably pregnant by now. I wouldn’t know—it’ll take another letter weeks or months to get here, if it makes it at all.”

Cheshire took another puff of the cigarette. “Older or younger?” he asked, trying to picture.

“Younger.” Hannah made a face. “Youngest. Of five girls.”

“Wow.” Another brief silence passed that Cheshire was eager to crush, before his mind could wander. “Well,” he said with awkward cheer, “just because she beat you to it doesn’t mean that’s the end. I’m sure you’ll meet someone who—”

“That’s not what I’m upset about, you stupid oaf!” Hannah snapped. “I miss my fucking sister!”

Cheshire shut up again, a familiar pang in his chest. “I haven’t seen her since tata sent me over,” she carried on, and Cheshire was shocked to see tears welling in her eyes. “I might never see her again the rest of our lives! Any of them! I don’t even know what any of them look like anymore, fuck you. Stupid ass.”

Hannah took another drink and then shoved the bottle back at Cheshire, reclaiming the cigarette. “I don’t want to get married,” she muttered, smoking and wiping her eyes. “I miss my sister.”

Cheshire sank into his shoulders, bile at the back of his throat. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Me, too.”

Hannah turned and punched him hard in the shoulder. “Fuck you!” she snarled, “you don’t know my sister! You’re supposed to just sit there and nod, okay? Stay away from my sister! Fuck you!”

“I’m sorry!” Cheshire shielded the booze as she continued to drunkenly beat on him. “Sorry, I meant, I bet I’d miss her, too, if she was…my sister. You know?” When she let up a little he couldn’t help himself and added, “But only if this charm runs in your family.”

Hannah hit him a few more times, but her strength wasn’t in it, and finally she stopped. “Fucker,” she grumbled, and she gave him back the cigarette so she could wipe the tears off her face with her skirt. “If I wasn’t drunk I’d kick your ass.” Cheshire didn’t really have his strength, either, but he downed the rest of the vodka, and took one last puff on the cigarette before stamping it out on the street. “Too bad,” he said. “Because right now I’m drunk enough to enjoy it.” He couldn’t stand the thought of staying there any longer, stewing in drunken honesty, so he hauled himself upright. “Guess it’s time to go back in and look like an idiot some more.”

Hannah glared at him and then at last lifted her hands to him. He helped her to her feet, but even once there she was unsteady, leaning against him for balance even though he wasn’t ready for it, either. They stumbled together and had to rely on the building wall to recover.

“I’m not going back in there like this,” Hannah said, for the moment sounding lethally sober as she tried some more to rub away the evidence that she’d been crying.

“I can take you home,” Cheshire offered, and Hannah tensed, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Just walking!” he hastily added. “Honestly!”

Hannah considered that for longer than seemed necessary or innocent, and her hand slid downward, squeezing his bicep. It was Cheshire’s turn to tense up as she stared hard into his face. “Okay,” she said, and she stepped back, separating them. “But if you tell anyone about this, I’ll rip your nuts off.”

“We’re just walking,” Cheshire assured as they started off, staying close enough that they could catch one another if they stumbled without looking too eager. “To the building we both live in.”

“Left one first, and then right,” Hannah replied, and

Cheshire shivered. “Believe me, Bloom.”

“Oh, I do.” Cheshire chuckled nervously, and when his shoe caught on the concrete, Hannah grabbing his elbow to steady him made him sweat. But then she didn’t let go, leading him on their way down the sidewalk. He followed, full of curiosity and dread for whatever she might have planned.

***

The wedding party went on into the night, with food and music and games enough to satisfy even the most veteran merrymakers. Out of a sense of duty, Jakub stayed for all of it. It was nearing early morning when he and Miklos trudged back to his small apartment and collapsed on the bed, full and drunk and exhausted. He wasn’t built for so much activity and attention. He wanted to sleep for weeks. Mostly he wanted to know where Cheshire had gone.

“He probably snuck off with some new girl,” he muttered, trying to strip out of his jacket without sitting up. “Or two. Had their own party.”

“Huh? Who?” Miklos rolled over and pushed on Jakub’s shoulder, lifting him up enough to work his jacket off. “Oh, your friend Chesh?”

“Yeah….” Jakub finally wriggled free and tossed the jacket onto the floor, worried that it would somehow start to smell like Cheshire if he kept it too close. “It’s not like him to just leave like that otherwise.”

Miklos propped himself up on his elbow to watch Jakub. “You were pretty concerned about him all night,” he said, his tone slightly teasing in a way that made Jakub cringe. “If you wanted to spend time with him, you should have said so.”

“It’s not like that,” Jakub protested. “I just don’t want him getting into trouble.”

Miklos chuckled. “Yeah, I can see him being the trouble type.” He smoothed down the front of his shirt. “But he seems nice—he did lend me this tie for the party. I feel bad about abandoning him after convincing him to sneak me in.”

Jakub’s attention darted to the necktie: deep purple, textured. He could have kicked himself for not recognizing it sooner. Without thinking he reached out, drawing thumb and forefinger down its length. It was rougher than the silky, maroon-striped tie he’d unintentionally stolen from Cheshire almost a year ago…and still kept in a drawer, cleaned and cared for. He blushed at the thought of it and quickly drew his hand back.

“He has good taste,” he mumbled. “Have to give him that.”

Miklos continued to watch him carefully, and he blushed darker; certainly Miklos couldn’t guess in an evening what he’d been struggling to keep hidden for so long. But then Miklos smiled, slow and maybe mischievous. “He really does,” he said. “Though it’s not his fashion that interested me most about him.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, and the soft pink shades that had delighted Barney’s guests all evening changed to Cheshire’s honey-blond, luminous even in the dark of the apartment. “He let me braid his hair before the party,” Miklos said, and Jakub felt a lump in his throat. “He must take better care of it than even I do. I hope you’ve told him not to cut it.”

“Yeah,” Jakub said distractedly, and he couldn’t help himself, reaching forward again to draw his fingers through Miklos’ hair. It was soft and almost liquid-like against his rough skin. “I’ve told him.”

Miklos’ irises darkened to brown. “If you’re that interested in him, you should just say so,” he said, and Jakub went hot and prickling. “He spoke very highly of you.”

Jakub tried to shrink into the mattress, boiling in embarrassment. “He doesn’t like men like that.”

Miklos laughed. “Sure he does. He brought me to the wedding as his date, you know.”

Jakub had heard him say so before, but it had yet to sink in. His stomach fluttered and churned as he thought of Cheshire and Miklos walking into the party arm and arm, flirting and giggling with each other as Cheshire had with Grace, Miklos fitting under his arm…. He turned away from Miklos, muttering, “I don’t like him like that.”

“Okay,” replied Miklos, chuckling. Jakub grimaced in preparation for more teasing, but then Miklos only stretched out alongside him, leaning heavily into his shoulder. “I just thought I’d suggest it. I want you to be happy, Jakub.”

Jakub held still, a feeling of confusion washing over him—and then shame with the realization that it shouldn’t have been such a confusing notion at all. Yet in all his pining he had never legitimately considered happiness. For as many times as he’d imagined himself tucked under Cheshire’s arm, warmed and welcomed, or even pressed beneath the wide span of his body, he couldn’t picture any real life beyond that. There was no world where Cheshire knew and accepted how he felt, no future where he confessed and blushed and was sweet for the eccentric, foolhardy man he admired. He had no idea what that would be like. The thought of it terrified him.

Maybe a necktie in his drawer was as close as he’d ever get. Maybe Miklos’ shiny imitation weaving between his fingers was all he could hope for. And that thought terrified him, too.

Jakub twisted, wrapping his arms around Miklos and hugging him close. Again he was reminded of the surge of ocean waves beneath him, and he allowed himself one of those rare remembrances: of the long journey he and his young friend had taken as orphaned children, trekking determinedly across European battlegrounds with hopes of escape and maybe even peace. He remembered living as a scavenger, desperate to tend to his charge whose language he could only roughly understand. And after weeks of fighting for every day they found their way aboard a ship, clutching each other down in the holds, no earthly idea of where they might end up. He hadn’t really expected or hoped for happiness then, either.

Miklos welcomed him, soothing him with quiet murmurs and gentle hands, the likes of which he would have never thought to seek. Miklos really knew him—Miklos wanted him to be happy. Jakub burrowed into him and he wanted to be happy. But when he turned his nose against feather-light hair, all he could do was wonder if Cheshire’s was just as soft. He wound his fingers around Miklos’ necktie and thought of Cheshire’s glove-bound palms skating over his skin.

And when he drew Miklos into a kiss, he wished it was Cheshire’s mouth on his, warm and soft and eagerly receptive.

“I’m sorry,” Jakub stumbled out, ashamed and heartsick as he tried to untangle himself. “I didn’t mean to—”

But Miklos drew him back in, into another kiss, deeper than the last. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I don’t mind.”

He began unbuttoning Jakub’s shirt; Jakub didn’t try to retreat again, letting Miklos urge him onto his back. Maybe if I can just get it out of my system, he thought, trying to convince himself, while Miklos undid his pants. It’s been such a long time since I was with someone…maybe I just need to fuck, and get it over with, and stop thinking about him.

He’d had so much to drink, he doubted if he’d even be able to carry out such a plan, but all that changed when he looked down to a head of familiar-looking hair dipping below his waist. Soft, wide lips parted over his cock and it was frighteningly easy to pretend. All he had to do was sink his hands into soft honey-gold and arousal thundered through him. Cheshire would have been just as attentive, he thought, not trying to muffle the groans that rippled out of him with every firm stroke, just as aggressive. It didn’t take long before he was writhing against the mattress in want of release.

Jakub grabbed Miklos by his collar and pulled. It wasn’t enough to lie back and accept, not for him. He dragged Miklos back up his body and into a kiss, shivering at the breathless chuckle that emptied against his hungry mouth. With hasty hands he unfastened Miklos’ pants and slipped inside them, groping him hard.

“Easy, Kuba,” Miklos laughed, but Jakub didn’t want easy. He pushed Miklos onto his stomach and pressed up tightly against him, moaning at the friction of his cock against the small of Miklos’ back. With face buried in Miklos’ soft hair he pumped with his fist and rocked with his hips, eager for skin on skin. Miklos whimpered and squirmed with delight—he never would have imagined Cheshire quivering beneath him in such hungry submission, but the thought that he might drove Jakub half mad. He wanted it so badly he could have split apart at his seams, and he whispered Cheshire’s name into the back of Miklos’ neck, roughly humping until he came with a shudder.

Miklos turned himself around for another kiss. His lips were soft and sweet and Jakub kissed them to bruising as he stroked him to his own blissful climax. But as they wound down, breath on each other’s face, the illusion began to wear off and Jakub felt drained again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, hiding his face in the crook of Miklos’ neck. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Miklos assured him again. He hugged Jakub tight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were so. I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you.”

“It’s not that.” Jakub took in a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. “Thank you. I think I just needed to. ”

“Fuck something?” Miklos offered, and he chuckled, easing some of Jakub’s anxieties. “It’s fine, really.” He kissed Jakub on the cheek and sat up. “Let’s clean up and get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Jakub agreed. He stretched his shoulders and was relieved to find some of their weight had already dispersed. “Thanks.”

***

Late in the morning, Jakub awoke twisted up in Miklos arms. He was hungover and exhausted, but it wasn’t so bad, waking up next to someone. He gave Miklos a set of clothes to borrow and they left the building, seeking breakfast in a small diner across the street.

“I really am glad I found you again,” said Miklos, not for the first time, as they sat across from each other. “And now that I know how to find you, I’d like to visit again sometime. And you’re always welcome in Jersey.”

“I’d like that,” said Jakub, relieved that Miklos hadn’t suggested staying on in Brooklyn. He didn’t like the idea of his friend being mixed up in Kozlow business—liked the constant, raw reminder he represented even less. “I’m glad you’ve done well for yourself.”

“Someday I’ll have a salon of my own,” Miklos promised. “And then I can bring that mop of yours back into style.”

The front door of the diner opened with a rattle, and Jakub froze when he looked up and saw Cheshire entering. He was dressed in a fresh shirt and tie but his hair was a helpless tousle, only one of his braids still intact. He spotted Jakub and his face lit up; the bright and eager gleam in his eyes tied Jakub’s stomach into knots all over again and nothing had changed.

Miklos noticed as well, and as Cheshire headed their way, he slid out of the booth. “I’ll give you a minute,” he said, despite Jakub’s silent pleading, and he headed for the restroom.

Cheshire watched him go, a smirk quirking his lips as he took his spot in the booth. “Morning, Jakub,” he greeted cheerily, despite the wince in his brow proving he was just as hungover as any of them. “That was some party, huh?”

Jakub gulped. There was a hint of something extra in Cheshire’s exuberance that he sometimes got when trying to keep a secret, and it was making him sweat. “I guess so. But you were gone for a lot of it—where did you go?”

“Oh, yeah.” Cheshire blushed and then tried to hide it by pretending to scratch his nose. “I was just being a gentleman. Did I miss much?”

“Just more of the same.” Jakub frowned as he tried to remember who else might have disappeared from the party at the same time, without success. He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “So who was it?”

“Ah. ” Cheshire winced bashfully as he tried to arrange his hair into something more presentable. The flutter of each strand defying his attempts was hypnotizing. “Well, I promised I wouldn’t say,” he admitted, and Jakub didn’t have time to feel any bitterness before he added, “But I already know who you were with.”

Jakub stiffened with panic. “I’m sorry,” Cheshire rambled on excitedly. “It’s not like I was trying to overhear, but the walls in our building aren’t so thick, you know? I wish you would have told me!” He laughed, each note in his voice plucking Jakub’s strings. “And I sure wish Miklos would have told me what he was up to. If I’d known you were the one he was after all along, I wouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

What the hell was happening? Jakub stared at him, the gears in his mind jamming and grinding helplessly against each other. He couldn’t remember if Cheshire’s name on his lips had ever reached more than a breath. “I don’t know…what you’re. ”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Cheshire assured him in a softer, more sincere tone that Jakub couldn’t remember ever hearing from him before. “I’m just so glad to know, now. Not that it’s any of my business, but I always kind of thought maybe you just weren’t into…anyone, you know? Which is fine!” He chuckled to himself some more. “So when I heard you two—well, you know—I just about lost my marbles! Couldn’t believe it!”

Jakub still couldn’t do much more than blankly stare. Maybe he hadn’t heard quite everything after all. Cheshire just looked so attractive in his delight, so happy for him, he felt as if his ribs were imploding. Couldn’t he at least muster an ounce of jealousy?

“I know you don’t like to share much about your personal life,” Cheshire continued to prattle, still on the edge of laughter. Jakub internally cringed harder and harder with every word. “But I’m glad, really. Miklos sure is handsome, and what a charmer! Of course, I don’t want to assume anything, but I’m really happy for you. If you ever wanna—”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” Jakub blurted out.

All he’d wanted was for him to stop, just for a moment so he could catch his breath and his wits. And Cheshire did stop—stopped so immediately that Jakub could hear his jaws clap shut. His smile faltered and there was a flash of hurt in his eyes that hardened Jakub’s stomach to lead. It was only a moment but it was heartbreaking.

“Sorry,” Jakub apologized immediately. “I just…I’m not comfortable. ”

“It’s okay,” Cheshire replied, his expression rearranging back into friendly understanding. Jakub couldn’t fathom how he was able to construct it so easily, and suddenly he doubted every smile Cheshire had ever cast his way. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t be prying. I’ll leave you two alone.”

He climbed out of the booth, and Jakub stumbled over his tongue, his heart pounding. “Wait,” said Jakub. “You don’t have to go. Have breakfast—”

“No, I gotta go anyway. I just wanted to say hello.” Cheshire offered another, less convincing smile and turned to leave. “I’ll see you later!”

Jakub wilted, ill and distraught, already stewing with bitter regret. He didn’t notice Miklos rejoin him at the booth until he asked, “What happened?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” said Jakub, digging his palms into his eyes. “This is so stupid!”

Miklos waited for him to gather himself and look up before replying. “Is it really that hard?” he asked gently. “Telling him how you feel?”

“Yes it’s that hard,” Jakub retorted, rubbing his face again. All he wanted, all the time, was for Cheshire to be near him—and then whenever he got his wish, he was an asshole for no reason. Why Cheshire even continued to seek his company, he had no idea, and the thought of trying to explain himself made him want to vomit. He couldn’t bear to be that honest and watch Cheshire paint his smile on, or even worse, laugh it off. Say how flattered he was. But no. How could he continue to face Cheshire at all if he said no?

The waitress brought them coffee, and Miklos ordered a simple breakfast for them both. After she had left, he sighed. “Jakub, I’m sorry,” he said. “To be honest, I have no idea what you’re going through. I don’t feel for other people in that way—I honestly don’t think I’m capable. But it seems like—”

“It’s fine,” Jakub interrupted. Even if Miklos meant well, the last thing he really wanted was good advice. “Thank you, Miksa, but I need to…stop pretending. I think I should just stop.”

Miklos eyed him doubtfully. “Is that really how it works?”

“It has to be.” Jakub snatched up his coffee and took a long drink, as if willing it to symbolize his conviction. “We’re friends. That’s it. That’s enough.”

“All right,” said Miklos, and the sour sympathy he was fixing Jakub with sent him back to his mug. “But if you ever want to talk more about it, I’ll listen.”

“It’s fine,” Jakub said again. “I’m fine.” He leaned back and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

They ate breakfast together, and afterward Jakub walked Miklos to the station so he could catch a train out of town. Then it was back to the hall, where a second, less extravagant day of wedding celebration was already underway. Barney was quick to wave him over to a table where a group of their usual gang members were sitting down to cards. “Join us,” Barney insisted. “Without Bloom we all have better chances.”

Jakub’s resolution was barely an hour old and already his heart thudded at Cheshire’s name. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Who cares?” Barney began dealing cards. “Not like we need him braying all day long.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Hannah, intent on her cards.

“Don’t worry about him.”

“I’m not.” Jakub settled into a chair and collected his hand. “Believe me,” he said, eyes downcast. “I’m not.”