Dead Man's Mansion

Audacieux

One of the top fashion brands in the world, rising to such popularity in record time. In only a few years, was making billions of dollars and was loved for it's diversity and inclusivity of all people. Audacieux was created and owned by one of the youngest people to have such a successful clothing brand at that age—Ezra Soln.

Ezra was one of the best—brilliant, handsome, rich, and a lover boy in every sense. He was known for his bold outfits, his bold statements, and his love for ALL people. He had models of all shapes, all sizes, all ethnicities, and made it his mission to make them all feel beautiful. It was clear Ezra cared for all people and all cultures in making his clothing. And clothes weren't the only think Ezra made. He had a huge line of purses, bags, jewelry—everything to like.

But this story isn't just about him, it's about me too.

My name is Joseph Cromwell. And unlike Ezra, I'm a failure. I didn't grow up rich or with real dreams. I grew up will yelling, fighting, drinking, and smoking. I knew how to fight before I knew how to talk.

"Get up, boy!" My father would yell after punching me to the ground.

I figured out how to take a hint and a hit, and knew how to pick my battles at an early age. My father believed the man should be the toughest around, but I didn't want to fight. And to my dad, that was the biggest insult to the family. I was forced to hurt my sister and my mother while they cried. And I did too, but learned not to after being starved for "showing weakness".

And I had to be born with a certain trait that makes everything worse. I have vitiligo. And if you don't know what that means, I have patches of lighter skin all over my body. Not just one or two on my arm—full, big patches on my face, my hands, my neck, my hands—everywhere. I also have scars marring my body from my younger years, so that on top of my vitiligo doesn't look pretty. And my father made sure I knew it.

"Disgusting piece of shit. I can't believe we share blood. You're lucky I don't rip that horrid skin off of your skin." My father spat at my fouryearold self before leaving me to rot in some basement.

I hated fighting growing up, mostly because my father made me. I hated hurting my family. I hated living. I tried to end it all several times, but it was all futile. Then, my fighting got serious.

"Let's give it up for Cromwell! The undefeated champion in the Claw!" Some MC would yell while crowds cheered for me. But I always tuned them out, knowing they were all sick bastards, and I was too.

I was in underground rings by 19. My father said it would make me stronger. And honestly, it did—but not in the way he wanted to use it. Where I come from, police aren't present, and if they are, they're lazy and don't bother anyone unless for their own enjoyment. So when I turned twenty, I did something that sickens me to this day, despite it feeling like the best decision I ever made.

"AHHH!!" I heard my mother scream from inside the house. I was smoking in an alleyway and knew what she had seen. My father—dead on the kitchen floor.

I didn't look back as I drove away in my dad's car. I didn't feel guilty or remorse for what I did. I felt nothing. I needed a fresh start, away from all the fighting, all the pain, and all the scars. I moved to New York. I don't know why, but it felt right. I tried rebuilding my life. Didn't have much money but used what I had to buy new, presen

Many jobs I applied to rejected me because of my appearance. I had a particularly large patch on my face, covering one of my eyes and nearly half of my features. And I had a scar that cut across my forehead, ending at my eyebrow.

I started to grow out my hair so I could cover my face. I also started wearing baggy, long clothes everywhere to avoid comments about how I looked. I hated how I looked for a long time, until I met Lillia. Lillia was someone I met at a cafe. She worked there and I always ordered a black coffee from that place since it was cheap. She was a bit older than me, black hair flowing down to her waist, and huge eyes that anyone would fall for. She definitely noticed I was struggling. She offered me a place to stay and eventually became a close friend. Lillia helped me with money and a home and eventually a job at the same cafe. I was eternally grateful for her even if it was hard to show.

But right now, you're probably wondering how I'm connected with someone like Ezra in any way. And the reason still boggles me to this day. It started at an event where Ezra was making a public appearance showing in America. I've never cared or even heard of him or his brand. But Lillia had always loved his stuff even though she never actually owned anything of his. It was all too expensive, but I knew how much she wanted to see Ezra in person. So I saved a bunch of money and she used some of her own to buy tickets to attend.

Apparently Ezra was gonna give some speech and then model some of his own clothes in a big showcase. And then there would be a signing for fans to get a signature on anything. And best of all? The event was happening in New York. Lillia was super physched for it and couldn't wait. And I was happy because she was happy.

But a few days before the event, Lillia got horribly sick and had to stay behind. I didn't want to go without her, mainly because I never really cared about Audacieux or Ezra Soln.

"Please, Joseph. I know you aren't into his kinda stuff, but I would kill for a real signature from him. Please... I need one." Lillia begged me. I couldn't say no to her, especially after everything she'd done for me before. So I ended up going on my own. The event would be broadcasted live so Lillia would watch it from the apartment.

I showed up at the event, the place filled to the absolute brim of people. The place was like a theater, and the whole event was like one. There was a short movie talking about Ezra and the brand. Then some representatives and other important people arrived. I didn't really pay attention to any of it, looking down at my phone pretty much to whole time until the signing. But when the time came for the signing, Ezra wasn't there. And from what I heard from other conversations, Ezra hadn't shown up at all.

Instead of Ezra himself signing whatever people brought, there were probably thousands of previously signed items like shirts or things from his clothes line. I probably waited in line for an hour before finally getting a top that I knew Lillia would like that had Ezra's signature on the bottom.

Everyone was bummed out and pretty disappointed that they didn't get to see Ezra in person. Some people complained but I couldn't be bothered. Then, things escalated. People started shouting at security, and Ezra's partbers had to be escorted out because the crowd was becoming more and more chaotic. I managed to slip out, having to push through the dense crowd for a while before finally reaching an exit. The exit led to the alleyway next to the building. I took a breath, grateful to be out of the hectic environment.

I still had the shirt, in a small bag, glad that I didn't lose it in the crowd. As I started walking back to the road and to my car, I noticed someone slumped against the brick wall of the alley. They were curled up, knees pressing tightly to their chest and their head down. They were wearing all black with a hood over their head. Their foot was tapping impatiently on the ground, like they were nervous about something. Usually, I would turn the other way because I don't really care about other people that much. But for some reason, I tapped the person on their shoulder.

"Hey, you good?" I asked, my voice louder than necessary to snap the person out of whatever they were thinking. When they looked up, I noticed it was a guy. He was definitely younger than me, and he looked anxious and defeated. He wasn't doing good, and I knew how it felt when people just walked away. So I sat down beside him, close, but not close enough to touch. Just a presence next to him if he wanted to talk.

"Have a bad night? It is pretty loud, ain't it? How about we get outta here? I was gonna pick up some drinks for me and my friend. You want one?" I didn't know why I was being so nice to this kid. Maybe Lillia was rubbing off on me, but I felt like being a Good Samaritan. The guy nodded, looking back up at me, and I noticed a shift in his face. I already expected the look everyone gave me when they saw my face. I knew it wasn't a pretty sight. But his eyes widened, not with disgust, but with something akin to awe.

"Oh my... fucking fuck..." The guy suddenly said, his eyes raking over every part of my face. That's when I got uncomfortable. This guy was either high or some freaky weirdo. And the comment still made me feel bad about myself.

"Sorry for my language, your just–"

"Ugly? Yeah I know. You want a drink or not?" I cut him off, not wanting to hear it from his mouth since I already knew what he was gonna say. I noticed the guy had a slight French accent, but didn't pay much attention.

"What? No, you're not ugly. Not in any way. I've never seen someone with features like that. It's so beautiful. An art, a true one. You could make millions with a face like that. Oh fuck, I didn't even introduce myself, my name's–"

I cut him off again, his rambling making me confused. "Wait, what are you talking about?" Of all the things I've been called, 'beautiful' wasn't one he ever heard before. And what was he on about money and stuff. Then, I started tot hink he was just trying to make me feel better about myself, but he sounded too sincere about it.

"You know what? I don't want to talk about me anymore. I feel nice tonight, so get your ass up and let's get a drink. I can take you home if you don't have a ride too. But you shouldn't stay out here, it's not safe." I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. I stood up, and the guy stood up with me. We were about the same height, though I was a bit taller.

"The names Joseph, by the way." I introduced myself, already walking towards the road.

"I'd rather not share my name." The guy hesitated, keeping up with my long strides. I didn't press for his name, knowing that I was a complete stranger to him. We both walked to my car, and we could still hear the rioting people inside. The guy seemed to tense up and he pulled his hood lower as the people grew louder. He was clearly on edge about something, and I couldn't help but wonder what.

When we got to the car, I got in the driver's seat and he looked confused before reaching out to open the passenger door. Once we were both in, I started the car up, and when I looked over, they guy had finally taken his hood down. He looked relieved. But also, the guy was really handsome. He was quite the looker.

He had dark brown skin, lighter than mine, like a nice mocha color. He had dreads that framed his face nicely and there was some minor decor on his dreads. And he had some light makeup on as well, but didn't look any less masculine. I noticed his sharp jawline and neck muscles that disappeared under his jacket. But I snapped out of it, focusing on getting on the road. While I drove, I couldn't help but ask questions.

"Hey, not to pry, but why were you in that alley? You looked anxious, scared even. Someone do somethin' to you?" I asked, my protective side coming out. I hated it when people hurt others just for the fun of it, it was disgusting.

"Not exactly. I was nervous, but that's just because I get... well, stage fright." The guy seemed reluctant to answer at first, which made Joseph even more curious about this guy.

"But it's nothing to worry about. You made me feel a lot better. I don't get to have interactions with people like this often." The guy chuckled, but I wasn't connecting the dots. He talked like he was some underground celebrity, or a heavy introvert that was socially anxious. There was no way this guy was out of college yet, so maybe he some presentation he was nervous about. But it was too late at night for that.

"Hm. If it means anything, this is a first for me too." I told him.

"First time picking up a stranger off the road?" He asked, his tone lighter than before.

"Yeah," I nodded. "But you're also the first person to see me and not either freak out or call me some sort of name or slur. You're a nice kid." I smiled softly, and the other guy laughed.

"People are really dumb these days, and blind apparently. Who could call you ugly? I've seen tons of pretty people, men and women alike, but never someone like you. And trust me, I know true beauty when I see it." He said, his voice sincere and kind. There wasn't a hint of mockery or deception anywhere. And that made me feel better about myself in a weird way.

"You a weird kid. But I don't like talking about myself, so let me hear about you. Where you from? Or where's your family from?" I asked, turning onto the street where we would pick up the drinks.

"I'm from France. Pretty far away, yeah?" He replied. "I'm from a mixed family. My dad's French while my mom was Korean. So I grew knowing three languages. I can speak fluently in French and mostly in English. I'm better and understanding Korean than speaking it." He explained, sounding proud of his heritage.

"Damn, that's cool as hell." I complimented him, stopping the car in front of a cafe. When I stopped, the guy quickly put his hood back up. I didn't know why, but I didn't push it.

"You wanna stay in the car?" I asked him, and he nodded. I went into the cafe and ordered me and Lillia's usual drinks. And I realized I didn't know what that guy would want. Did he like coffee? I mean, everyone liked coffee or you were weird. But that guy was pretty weird. I ended up buying an extra iced latte and a chocolate shake. Whichever one the guy didn't want Lillia would probably drink.

Once I got back to the car, I saw the guy slumped in the seat. Either asleep or really tired. But as I opened the car door, he opened his eyes, looking up at me with a soft smile.

"I didn't know what you liked. So I got a latte and a milkshake. Chocolate." I told him, setting the four drinks in the cupholders between us.

"Hey... Joseph. You've already helped me a lot and I don't want to be a bother. But do you think, I could stay with you tonight?" The question was random and threw me off guard. I settled in the seat and shut the door before looking at him. I didn't know his background or if he had a place to stay. But I also didn't want to bring some random person into an apartment that wasn't even mine. But Lillia was really understanding and might let him stay a night. I let out a deep sigh.

"I don't live alone. I have a roommate. But I'm sure she'll be fine. But this is a one night thing, alright?" I said, my words final. The guy nodded and thanked me a lot. It didn't take long for us to get back to my apartment. Once we arrived, I carried the drinks and the bag with Lillia's signed shirt.

"So, why were you out tonight?" The guy asked me. I shrugged.

"My roommate, Lillia. She likes this guy—Ezra Soln—and wanted to go to his showcase. But she got sick so I went to get a signed shirt. The guy didn't even show up. Lillia's probably gonna be rambling about that for a while, so be prepared." I forewarned him, and he suddenly stopped. I turned to look at him and he seemed anxious again.

"You good? What's–"

"Sorry, I've actually gotta go. But thank you for everything. It means more to me than you know." The guy suddenly blurted out before turning to walk away.

I was confused as hell but wasn't about to run after him. I walked up to the apartment, greeted by a coughing Lillia who was already going on about the event and how Ezra never showed. I listened but could care less.

But I couldn't get that weird guy out my head. I wondered if our paths would cross again. But that was a thought for another day.