Chapter Text
The door swings open, Dominique overbite clamps on his own tongue by mistake. Maestro rushes in, ignoring the clutter of the artist’s studio just so he can reach the stool where the tea cup and saucer are sitting.
A gasp escapes him when he sees it’s empty. “Dominique! Did you drink that!? Are you alright?”
Stunned, Dominique fumbles around with the phone, trying to turn it off before Tom’s voice can come through again. “Uh, I… I spilled and dumped it by accident, so I didn’t drink it.” A lie would have to do.
“Who gave it to you!?”
“Um, no one did. I just found it at the store—”
“That is not possible. Do not lie to me, Dominique!”
Paint starts coming up, the urge to vomit from anxiety rises.
“Dominique… please do not make me use force on you to get the truth. I have no issue asserting myself as an overlord among the others, but out of all of those I own the souls of, you know I dislike being aggressive with you the most.”
Paralyzed, Dominique lowers his head and shakes it, only for blue flames to surround the artist sinner, forming a collar and chains. Maestro gently tugs at them.
“Tell me who gave it to you!”
“I… I don’t…”
He pulls on the chained leash a bit harder, making Dominique spew paint from his lips even more. Maestro waits for him to stop vomiting before asking him again, not wanting him to choke on his own confession—
The phone near Dominique’s bed buzzes.
Maestro stops, looks at the caller. Tom Trench. Dominique loses the color in his face. With the chains in one hand, Maestro uses the other to reach for Dominique’s phone. He isn’t exactly good with modern technology, never owned a cellular phone, but Zeezi taught him at the very least how to answer, that was easy enough.
“Hello? Dominique? You suddenly hung up on me. Did you throw up again?”
Although his fury is boiling, Maestro tries to keep his patience.
“Good evening, Mr. Trench.” He answers, making the venom and sarcasm in his voice blatantly obvious. “Do you mind telling me something?”
…
“Sure.”
What a surprise, he thought for sure Tom would play chicken and stop the call. In fact, he sounds… oddly confident? Someone like him is never so sure of himself when it comes to interacting with overlords.
“Did you give Dominique one of Velvette’s disgusting Love Potions?”
“Yeah, I did that.”
A small gasp comes out of Dominique. Maestro seems equally surprised by how readily Tom admitted it.
“Couldn’t stand Dominique being my pet so much that you have to drug them? First you get him drunk the other night, now this!?” Maestro shouts, his flames rising. “I knew I should not have trusted you around him no matter how much he reassured and begged me! Katie is right about you, you really are nothing but a maggot! I should kill you and—!”
“Cut the fucking crap, Maestro.”
He stops, staggered to hear Tom interrupt and talk back to an overlord such as him.
“You think I wanted to drug Dominique? Are you kidding me? I would have done it by now if that’s what I was after, fucking moron!” He laughs. “Do the math for a second. They offered tea when you came home, then didn’t drink it themselves. Do you get it?”
Maestro nearly drops the phone. His dead heart began to sink.
No, surely that wasn’t…
“Do you know how annoying it is to hear him so hyperfocused on you? And you ignore him. You’re lucky that they’re too nice to pull that stunt, ‘cause I would have done it with no hesitation!”
What little stomach is left begins to churn, Maestro for the first time, understands the sick feeling of dread that Dominique himself always gets.
“You want to argue with me about it? By all means, come and get me. Go fuck yourself, old man.”
With that, Tom Trench hangs up and Maestro loses his grip on the phone, dropping to the floor. The collar and chains keeping Dominique in place fade away.
No, no. It couldn’t be true… someone so passive and anxious like Dominique? Taking a Love Potion drug from Tom to use on Maestro? But he didn’t go through with it. That’s what mattered, wasn't it? Or was Maestro upset that Dominique didn’t assert himself once again?
Did Maestro want Dominique to be as much of a demon as he was, or did he want them to stay submissive?
Only after processing that question, does Maestro recognize the greater implication of Tom even suggesting that Dominique drug the music overlord in the first place—
And why he didn’t do it.
“Dominique…”
He’s just a crumpled, miserable pile on the floor covered in paint by now, not willing to move out of his own despair.
“Dominique… I should be the one apologizing. You do not need to look so miserable.” Maestro sighs. “It… must have been painful for you these past few weeks, seeing me infatuated with another I had only just recently encountered. I had no idea.”
The crinoid doesn’t budge. Maestro leans down to stroke his back.
“It’s fine, I know she’s prettier and has a softer voice than I do.” Dominique whispers. “That’s the angel of music you’ve been looking for, the one you dreamt of. I would… rather you be happy and pursue it. I couldn’t stand the thought of drugging you with that stuff when Tom brought it up.”
No. No, that isn’t true. That’s not why Maestro can’t pursue his minion.
He needs to be honest.
“Conventional attractiveness is not what has to do with it, Dominique.” As much as Maestro struggles to bring up his discovered auralism. “You made a deal with me, to help you find your happiness and keep you from feeling empty. As long as you continue your self-loathing and pitying, you will not find it. It isn’t healthy. And while I am a cruel overlord, I cannot stand to see another person of talent spiral out of control.”
Raising his eyes to Maestro, Dominique struggles to speak. While he stares, Maestro tries to lift the artistic sinner to his bed.
“In other words… I cannot love you until you learn to love yourself for who you are. If you can do that… then I am more than willing to be by your side.”
Brushing his warm, cyan hands against Dominique, Maestro pulls the shabby bed blankets over him. In turn, Dominique goes through his apron pocket, fishing out the half empty Love Potion.
“I only put in a drop,” Dominique sighs.
If that was true, which it probably was… then where did the other half of this liquid go?
Sleeping off the stress of what happened after the night of his life, unable to please himself, Maestro tries to act like everything is normal for the next couple of days.
Dominique had pretty much become a shut-in since the incident. Every now and then, they were checked up on by servants, and it seemed they had shaved, reverting back to neutral pronouns and they were cleaning their room. Little improvements like that are good, but it would be nice if they came back outside and interacted with others.
But while Dominique seemed to be doing okay, the others suddenly woke up one morning and started looking at Maestro with discomfort.
The ladylike sinner with the elegant scarf and many eyes turned up her nose and avoided Maestro. The violin girl gave him a sad expression before looking in the other direction. The only one who bothered interacting besides Maître, was the grandfather clock.
He’s holding a newspaper, rolling it up when he’s finished. There’s nothing of note on it, just the usual nonsense being peddled that he throws into the fire when he’s done with it. “The others are getting information on the internet, a shame that the papers have become so drab. I suppose I should cancel it?”
“Yes,” Maestro suggests to the sinner. “Are the others acting a bit off, or is it my imagination?”
“Ah, well, like I said, the young'ins are getting information off the internet. Real silly stuff. They’re saying you fell in love with a seraph and went on a date with her! Hogwash! Balderdash! As if you would…”
The clock gentleman watches Maestro’s reaction.
“Sir…?”