POINT BETWEEN DANGER AND RELIEF

POINT BETWEEN DANGER AND RELIEF
 “Aside from the make-up, is there something else on my face?” the man asks after noticing I’ve been staring too long at him.

He has on a vampire costume. But the makeup isn’t so thick, as his actual features aren’t well hidden.

He used foundation to make his face pale, then there’s his thick eyebrows, his blueish lips, and his red eyes. There’s also a black shade and a few cracks around his eyes to represent a furious vampire. As he speaks, his fangs come in view as well.

Sadly, the green of his eyes are hidden. It would have been better had he exposed them.

“No, you just… you look familiar,” I tell him out of instinct. True, he does look familiar. But there’s no way I would have met him.

Blank chuckles. “You’ve definitely watched a lot of vampires shows.”

I have.

“You accused me of ditching my cake, but you don’t seem to have yours,” I softly say while sitting back down.

The man is still seated on the backrest, so now he’s behind me since I’m too less composed to face him head on.

“I know. I developed a fear of people over the years, so I’m looking forward to going home tomorrow.”

“You can’t just go tomorrow,” I utter quickly, “you’re introducing your art piece tomorrow. People would crowd you. They would want to see your face. Especially since you announced you would attend the event in person.”

“Watch out, then.” Blank leans out of the chair then comes around to sit beside me. “The purpose of this convention was let both the introverted and extroverted mingle, but you are always on your own whenever I see you.”

“I came with a friend. I’m more worried about you who just admitted to be people-phobic.” I smile smugly. “Besides, since artists are more introverted, I think this convention is aimed at making them question what kind of people they really are. Some of them may have been born extroverts, but are inclined to be introverts due to home training or their love for artistry.”

“I have another theory: extroverts may have no will to be artist.”

“Are you saying all artists are born as boring introverts? Hey, that’s unfair.”

“No, it’s not.” Blank shuffles in the seat as if coming closer. He may think I didn’t notice, but even the smallest action of his doesn’t skip my attention. “Artists are naturally absorbed in their art to the point they tend to forget or not care what the rest of the world does. To confirm my theory, try checking out other forms of art aside ours. For example, writers.”

“I have a writer friend who flows well with people,” I lie just to prove a point.

Blank shrugs. “Set me up with them, then.”

“I am an artist, and I have my own good share of friends. We just tend to stick to our circle.” Saying that, I push my face upward at Blank without even knowing it. I think I intended to show my utmost loyalty to my argument. However, my action backfires me when he leans in as well, our face now less than an inch close.

“Would it be okay for me to be among that circle, then?” he asks, each word of his breathing hot air on my face.

Aside from the visuals in front of me, I try to wrap my head around the question. I just said my circle are my friends, so is he asking to be my friend, or is he flirting with me? My brain can’t process that well.

“I… I don’t understand,” I stutter, leaning away and facing my front in a bid to avoid the man.

But he exhausts the new space I created as his voice falls lower than usual. “I’m saying, Nectar, that I want you to dance with me.”

Wait. He knows my name.

“You know my name?”

Blank shrugs. “You’re Zeath Lupin’s daughter, and his other daughter isn’t old enough to attend an art convention like this one.”

Oh. So he carefully checked out my family. He browsed through all of dad’s children after finding out I was one of them.

Or I’m just being delusional. I mean, most people would know how many kids the richest man in the world had.

“Cool… cool,” I stutter as Blank slides out a pen from his breast pocket.

Our cards are tied around our wrists, so he writes his full name on mine before handing me the pen and presenting his own card to me.

The action stuns me. He really meant it when he said he wanted to dance with me. And even though I’m stiffened by shock and overjoy, I write my name on his card too.

Blank doesn’t take his eyes away from me throughout the process. And I can feel my face burning.

My buttocks itches for me to stand up, and I do without hesitation, about to take a step far from Blank before he grips my wrist.

“You do know dance partners are meant to spend the rest of the night getting to know each other, right?”

Right. I read it in the rule pamphlet. The events usually start by seven thirty each night and ends at eleven thirty. Everyone would be asked to retire to their rooms until daybreak by then.

Since the art reveals has taken up to three hours of the time so far, I have an hour and some minutes to spend with Blank.

The question is: can I survive it? I mean, he is THE BLANK PATRIARC.

“Oh, yes…” I chuckle in an awkward manner.

“I’ve been looking forward to that, actually, to know each layers of Nectar, including the ones she doesn’t even know.”

“Ah…” I sit down again. My response could have been ‘and I want to know what Blank actually looks like’ but I didn’t say it. Still, the fact that the man’s facials are familiar haunts me.

“Earlier, how did you recognize that I was the girl you met at the garage?” I ask instead.

Blank reclines in the seat and takes in a heavy breath before replying. “Your solitude. The vibe around you feels familiar for me. That vibe is like a scent drawing me to you,” he mumbles. “I’ve been meaning to ask you the same thing. How did you know I was Blank when I approached you earlier?”

“Many things,” I respond immediately, “your voice is one factor. Then there’s your walking pattern and your figure.” ‘and the way my heart beats around you,’ I would have added if I didn’t stop myself on time.

“All outward things.” Blank sighs in a joking manner. “Don’t I have a feeling around me?”

The major feeling I get from the man is mystery. I think it’s because he has been living off a name online for the past two decades.

“You’re mysterious, sir,” I say softly. “Besides, I’m not finished. I was going to add that you have an air of elegance around you. And you fit more in an artistic scenery than the rest of us do.”

“Well, now I feel flattered.”

“Don’t blush yet. The feeling comes and goes,” I joke while laughing.

Blank joins in the laughter. “Will it solve the mystery around me if I tell you my christened name?”

I quickly stop laughing, turning to look at the man. “Blank isn’t the name your parents gave you?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I gave myself that name twenty years ago.”

Twenty years ago was when Blank came to light. Mom said that while the Project Empire trials moved the world to chaos and back, Blank’s artworks remained the point between danger and relief.