Page 94 of Unmasking My Dark Knight

She looked up at me with admiration and desire. “I’m proud of you too, clown.”

“Brat.” I grinned, pulling her closer. I took her right hand in mine as we swayed to the sounds of whatever song was playing, but I couldn’t hear it.

All I could hear was Ivy Jade whispering into my ear, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I buried my face into her hair, kissing her.

She never needed me to be saved. Her independence was all her doing.

And I never needed to be saved, either. All along, all I needed was for her to find me, embrace my mask finally being unveiled, and show me that I could be loved just for being me after all.

One year later

Ivy Jade

The lights flickered on and off, a lonely chair sat in the middle of the stage, and the entire crowd was silent; only a low melody of music played.

A loud hum swished around the theatre, and the lights exploded; the room was pitch black. We all gasped until a single spotlight fell on the chair—this time with the most handsome, tortured man I’d ever seen sitting on it.

He delivered his final lines beautifully; every single person in here shed tears, and there was no doubt about it. Sniffles, tissues, all of it. My throat knotted a few times.

Romeo tore my heart out during the final performance in his play—it was opening day. He was some kind of beautiful up there, bowing with all his co-stars. I stood along with everyone else, clapping for him. Clapping for the man who took a chance on himself, who stood up to the challenges when adversity met him. I loved him more than anything in this world. I loved our life in New York.

We lived humbly and were filled with so much unconditional love I’d never experienced before. Neither of us had expectations of the other, except for one—be happy each day. That was our golden rule.

As the crowds began to disperse after their final goodbye to us, I walked out to wait for Romeo and his cast to come out to greet the eager audience.

When I saw him at the Scare Park last year, dressed in his costume, scaring the living shit out of everyone, I knew he was meant for this artistic life. I didn’t realize how well he’d fit in until now, after the first stage performance that he’d been rehearsing for the last few months.

Once the cast came out, they received all sorts of praise, bouquets, and more. Then he spotted me and cut through the crowd towards me.

“Baby, I’m so proud of you,” I told him, getting on my tippy toes to kiss his painted lips.

“Did I do okay?” he asked.

My man still craved the love and reassurance I could provide him, and I’d happily do that for the rest of my life.

I nodded. “You did amazing!” All the excitement around us died down as we found ourselves in our own bubble again. “You looked so seasoned up there, and there was not a dry eye in the audience. I swear!” I cupped his cheek, which was still painted white, reminding me of High Jynx, and it stirred so many emotions in me.

“Thank you, Princess. That was such a rush,” he began. “I never would have thought I’d be here a year later. Up on stage like I always dreamed of. It’s crazy.”

“You made it happen, baby. Look around you. This is all you! You believed you could, you put in the work, and we have the most perfect home together, because of you.”

“We’ve got roommates. It’s not nearly perfect,” he said.

I didn’t care that we had roommates. I technically always had roommates—my parents—and they were annoying. Mami and I briefly spoke every once in a while when she’d call. That woman had so much pride. My skipping out on Antonio didn’t devastate their life; they continued earning like they wanted. It was merely the control and appearance of a grander existence they strived for. I was happy not to be part of that life anymore.

Our current roommates, who were Romeo’s co-stars, invited us to live with them a few months ago. They were so easy to get along with. We lived in a moderate house outside of the city—super close to the subway to get to Midtown. Ro and I shared our own bedroom, which was perfect to me. Living with him made me realize that I never needed all the things I grew up with. They were simply distractions, and my life had much more meaning now.

And I was a writer now, and though it was an incredibly exhausting experience, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world—not even poolside margaritas. I just finished the first draft of my debut novel, 'The Prince of Scare Park', and was about to send it off to an editor to review.

Romeo was right.

I was good at telling stories!

“Ro. I love our home because you are my home.” I kissed him once more. “Now do me a favor, don’t take this makeup off. I want to make love to you like this tonight.”

He arched his brow with a devious smirk. “You miss High Jynx?”