Darius stayed far away from Delirium.
Further, he buried the glass egg in the bottom of his suitcase and promptly shoved that into the depths of his closet. Once they had departed from the show, all of his sensibilities came flooding back.
Thankfully no one looked too closely at him on the journey home. He blushed furiously in the back of the van, replaying the events on an infinite loop. Everyone was excitedly discussing the show, talking over one another to praise it. Although Darius wanted to care, that infuriating Ringleader was all he could think about.
Even two days after the show, he was still waking up flushed and aching. It didn’t matter how much he touched himself because nothing really compared to that slick heat in the shadows of a performer’s tent.
He hated everything.
“You nervous?”
Darius stopped tapping his pen, looking up to see Evan watching him curiously. The lecture hall was filling up quickly around them. Noise filtered back in as well, making him realize just how lost in his own thoughts he had become. Clearing his throat, he said, “Sorry. Just had a lot on my mind.”
“I get it,” he sighed, mindlessly flipping through the empty pages of his notebook. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep up with the Art History lessons.”
Darius wasn’t really worried about that. When your closest friends were all creatives, the fine arts just became an easy, neutral conversation topic. It ended up being the only subject he breezed through in high school.
Evan didn’t need to know though, so Darius just smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. They know all of us come from different backgrounds. They won’t fail us over something like this.”
With that, the professor called the class to attention.
And in minutes, Darius was fading away. His fingers absently ran the length of his flawless neck, stuttering over the veins that pulsed erratically.
Assignments stacked up quickly and he relished the distraction. For the first week of class, he hid away in the library, burying himself in readings and notes. It wasn’t really necessary, but it was better than jerking off to memories of a man he’d rather forget.
Each time the thought crossed his mind, Darius slammed his head against the nearest surface and willed away the tides of lust.
When he finished working at the end of the day, he made full use of his flatmates. They were always up for a movie or late-night snack. He joined them on whatever adventures they wanted, making it clear to his subconscious that thoughts of Delirium were strictly prohibited.
There was to be no more foggy recollections of gloved hands and playful smirks.
No more sweet whispers and devilish tongues and my treasure—
A week later, he finally cracked.
The clock read 5:53 a.m.
His room was dark save for a bedside lamp. The warm golden glow carved deep shadows across his squirming body. Darius gritted his teeth, trying to stay silent as he brought himself over the edge for the third time.
How was it getting worse?
He felt like a pubescent boy again and learning what sexual gratification meant. It wasn’t like he had been repressed growing up. He supposed he wasn’t the most interested either though. Was this what it felt like to be painfully attracted to someone?
Unable to stop thinking about them?
Touching yourself while dreaming that it’s them?
Getting frustrated when your own hands are lacking?
With an annoyed grunt, he cleaned up and got dressed. Tugging his hood up, he left the flat with little more than his wallet and keys. Campus was a twenty-minute walk away and by then, the library would probably be just opening.
The cool September air would do wonders for his frazzled mind as well. He walked briskly, happy to have his health back. After that abominable night, he had been anemic for days. It was easy to pass it off as nerves when people commented on his pallor, but he knew the truth and that made each remark irksome.
It didn’t matter how fast he drank juice or how often he snacked. The weakness took a while to finally fade.
That fucking leech.
Although the internet could probably provide some answers to his questions, it almost seemed like a black hole of intrigue. How far down the rabbit hole of conspiracies, novels, and forums could he go before it drove him over the edge?
The reference materials at the library were manageable in comparison. Besides, they could also give him some information on Delirium.
He can’t be the only monster, right?
It chilled him to think there were more of them lurking among the performers. With Kallum as their Ringleader, what could Darius expect? He wouldn’t be surprised if all of them were leeches. The thought of how much danger everyone was in made him grimace. Were there ever times they just went into a frenzy?
He bristled. No matter how much hate he tried to sum up, the worst one was himself.
Darius liked it. Felt addicted to it. His body heated up at the mere idea of Kallum getting his hands and teeth back on him.
I’m no better than a monster.
He muttered a hasty greeting to the sleepy librarian and launched into the local archives. The scent of dust and aging leather hit him immediately. Darius scanned the shelves, looking for newspapers from the turn of the twentieth century. In his awful web searches throughout the week, he had failed to find an exact date for the opening of Delirium.
It was conspicuously absent, but these archives had to have a local newsprint about it.
That’s what led Darius to heaving the heavy box of archived newspapers down to the worktable. He picked up the first one in the intimidating stack, beginning the arduous process of skimming.
He knew he was becoming obsessed with a stranger who got him off. But to add insult to injury, said stranger was a blood sucking creature whose motives were unclear. Darius hadn’t wanted to open that tangle of feelings. Someone as beautiful as Kallum didn’t randomly choose people. He could have anyone, so why settle for a simple college student?
Trying to understand what Darius could possibly possess to make him valuable was scary. Why did he welcome me home? Shaking his head, he continued to trudge through newspaper after newspaper.
Somewhere between silently berating himself again and the hundredth newspaper, he paused.
Front page. 1910.
Darius froze, not even taking in the other details written. Instead, he was stuck on the image of Delirium and its striped tents. Standing in front of it were at least ten people. No one’s features had been clearly captured, but the Ringleader’s costume was unmistakable.
Maybe it was purposeful. They knew what they were. Why would they allow their faces to be photographed in striking detail?
He muttered a curse, sliding the newspapers all back into the box. It was certainly tempting to go through all the other boxes. Maybe he could find more article clippings about them. At the same time, how far did he want this to go?
I’m already in too deep.
On the other hand, was there anything else he’d rather do with his weekend?
He cracked open the next box.
***
It was late afternoon when he crawled out of the archival cave. Prior to that, the librarian had generously invited him up to the tearoom and he had been more than ready for a break. The caffeine and sandwiches were greatly appreciated.
She asked about his research and he answered with half-truths. It didn’t seem like she minded though. Maybe a lot of students were secretive?
Darius stifled a heavy yawn as he shuffled home. Daylight was fading faster these days. He had a stack of notes under one arm, each page filled with musings. Originally, he didn’t think he’d need more than a single sheet of recycled paper. What poor planning on his part.
The walk home was refreshing and when he reached the front door, he was in a moderately better mood.
There was a lot to mine through, but at least he had faced the truth. It wasn’t possible for him to just live life ignoring it. Nearly two years of this bullshit circus stalking him was more than enough. He didn’t want to feel crazy anymore.
“I’m back,” he called, sliding off his shoes and locking the door.
“Hey! We have a guest!” Evan’s voice had a hint of panic nobody could’ve missed. It was just shy of shrill and coming from the living room.
Darius slowly turned the corner, still standing in the entryway when his eyes landed on their visitor. Even out of costume, they couldn’t blend in well. Or maybe they can blend in better than any of us. He scowled at the thought, tensing up.
A handsome man lounged on their worn-out couch. He looked thoroughly out of place in his pinstriped three-piece-suit and carefully styled hair. Not a single honey blonde strand was out of place. Pitch black eyes took in Darius slowly, and a little smile curved his ashen lips.
Did we meet back then? I can’t remember.
“He’s from the circus,” Evan explained hastily, appearing quite flushed now that Darius got a look at him. His eyes were darting about, hands fidgeting.
“I see,” Darius responded tentatively.
Rising silently, the visitor extended a black gloved hand. “Adrian. I’m a knife thrower. You must be Darius?”
“What do you need?” he asked, deliberately not taking the hand.
A full-fledged smile worked its way onto his face. Clearly unperturbed by the rejection, he lowered his hand and instead reached into his inner breast pocket. “He said you might be a little irritable,” Adrian chuckled, tugging out an envelope.
Darius held up a hand. “Whatever that is, I don’t want it.”
He paused, surprised for a brief moment. It quickly melted into amusement though. “Sorry, I’m under orders and those are law,” Adrian mused, waving the envelope around faintly. “You don’t have to read it of course. I’m just the delivery man.”
A part of him wanted to argue further, but fear stopped him. The ticking vein in Adrian’s forehead was reflected in the hungry tremble of his lips. Darius had immersed himself in enough lore now to be certifiably paranoid. Reluctantly, he snatched the envelope, tucking it into his small pile of notes.
Adrian gave the papers a careless once over. Darius’s heart skipped a nervous beat and he began to rapidly chant a mantra of he can’t see he can’t see he can’t see.
“Well. That’s all I came here for.” Adrian shrugged, smiling with almost boyish charm. It felt like a mask. “Ah! Actually, I do wonder if you liked our show. It felt so nostalgic. I think I got a little emotional during it.”
“Adrian was telling me that they hadn’t performed that show in over ten years,” Evan chimed in, expression clouding slightly. “They said it was from their parents’ time.”
“Is that right?” Darius grunted, clenching his notes tighter.
“Apparently the circus is totally family run!” Evan went on, rambling as if it would cut the invisible tension. “A group of friends started it a long time ago and generations have inherited the business. Most of the performers have been together since they were born.”
Darius was no longer looking at his flatmate. Questions burned on the tip of his tongue as he tried to glare the answers out of Adrian. In return, the man had the arrogance to nod along as if it were all true.
“I’m tired,” Darius finally bit out. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
Evan called after him, but he didn’t respond, hurrying down the hall and slamming his door shut.
It felt like he was being played and that alone pissed him off. The pointless lies and flamboyant gestures. Dragging his innocent flatmate into everything just for laughs. Darius rubbed his face, exhausted and livid at the same time.
The soft buzzing of his phone caught his attention.
He had left it behind in his furious departure that morning. Wincing, he set aside the notes and letter, retrieving his phone to find a slew of messages and missed calls.
Some were from his parents, another from a group chat, and the latest was from Lara. Deciding to answer in reverse order, he called up Lara first.
“Dare?” Her familiar voice boomed through the speaker.
Tugging the device away, he laughed a little. “Hey. What’s wrong? You sound worried.”
“Well you’ve haven’t been keeping in touch at all,” she complained. “How are you doing? It’s been about a week, right?”
Sighing, his shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. “I’m good. A little tired, but good.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. In reality, he was a manic mess and chasing after bloody folklore.
“You sound sort of stressed.”
For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t very well tell her what happened. Actually, yes. The leader of the circus that’s been stalking me finally caught up and drank my blood for the second time. He also went down on me to return the favor and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m both enraged and horny. It’s awful.
“I hooked up with a terrible person,” Darius settled on saying. He sank down on his bed, relaying in very normal terms how they met during a social event and by happenstance let things go too far. Now he was stressed because it was great, but the guy wasn’t and who needed that drama? Darius certainly didn’t.
At the end of his rant, Lara was laughing.
When the static quieted, Darius demanded to know why.
Lara’s smile was practically palpable. “Because dummy, you finally sound alive again.”
“Alive?” he repeated.
“Yeah. I thought college apps stole your soul. It was hard to see you like that. And well, even afterwards, the club thing happened,” she trailed off, clearing her throat and surging forward, “you remember. Anyway, I thought you were a little listless. I’m glad you’re sounding livelier. That’s all.”
“But I’m just angry,” Darius argued, annoyance spiking.
“Hey, better than being lifeless,” she chortled, “seriously. You’re not taking whatever this punk did to you lightly. That’s important. Fight for your respect. Don’t be a pushover.”
If only you knew what was really happening. Darius shook his head, unable to help the smile that crossed his lips. “Thanks.”
“Keep me updated, yeah?”
Darius nodded softly. “I will.”
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