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The Beautiful Ones	By : TaimaMarie Category: Individual Celebrities > Criss Angel Views: 1682 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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AN: Ero, I sort of doubt JK would be posting. I think she might poke around but, posting? Yeah, I don’t think so. I don’t think Criss or Johnny would be TOO upset. …I hope, lol.
Those movies are most certainly on my Christmas list. This means I’ll probably buy them for myself when I leave for the holidays in a couple weeks. I rarely spend Christmas at home anymore. My best most darling friend lives in another state, and I usually go and stay with her. My mother gives me spending money and I buy whatever I want for Christmas down there. (I’ve found some GREAT stuff because they have such beautiful antique stores.) I don’t just love Old Hollywood; I love old things in general. Well, not really old people, not all of them, anyway. Old Hollywood is part of the reason I like to dress up even when I’m just walking the three blocks to go and buy some iced tea. Old Hollywood is the reason I like clove cigarettes, they smell so delicious and make me feel so elegant. I still play dress up at nineteen, isn’t that sad? Wow… People were horribly skinny then. O.o. Its sort of startling to think about, isn’t it?
No lie, I’m only a semester into my schooling and I already want to quit. I’m already scared that I’m not smart enough, that this is going to be too hard, that I just can’t do, why should I even bother? It keeps me up at night sometimes. I have every ounce of faith in you, you’re going to be a wonderful nurse, I just know it.
I’m on Thanksgiving break this moment. I go back on Monday to the grind, lol. I’m starting to sell back my books though, because we’re getting ready for final exams. *chews nails*
Wow, this is a wall of text… Anyway, everyone, this WHOLE chapter was inspired by the song Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event. In fact, that song is most of the reason I started writing this fic. PLEASE go and listen to it!...Please?

Leigh had selected a long white gown for her to wear. It was the most gorgeous think that Cassandra had ever seen in her life. It clung to her ever curve, and it had a long filmy cape flowing from the shoulders.

Leigh herself came to Dimitra’s house to get her ready for the Ball. Cassandra sat on the toilet, smiling for the first time in a long time. Dimitra flitted around the two of them, handing mascara and powder, suggesting a different shade of lipstick, wondering if maybe her hair should be curled.

“You’re going to look so pretty!” the woman grinned at the assistant.

“I bet sometimes you miss not having daughters, don’t you?” Cassandra said with a smile.

“Yeah,” she sighed. She smiled and then fluffed out Cass’s hair. “But now I have you, and it isn’t so bad. Once Criss comes to his sense then--,”

“Dimitra,” she cut her off. “Don’t. He won’t come to his senses because there isn’t anything that he did wrong. He was right. I lied.”

“You have to have a little more faith in him than that, Cassandra.”

“This isn’t about faith. This is about me paying the price for what I said and did.”

Leigh could only bite her tongue as she removed the pins from the curlers in the girl’s hair. She knew her boss had spent every night with this little spit fire sitting awake. When he did manage to fall asleep, it was usually in his office chair, Hammie curled up on his lap. Leigh didn’t tell them that Criss was clearly aching for her to come back. He stared out the window, he paced the room, and he forgot what he was saying in the middle of sentences.

“There,” the make up artist smiled at the lovely picture of a young woman before her. “Go and look in the mirror.”

Dimitra had a full length mirror on the back of her bathroom door. Cassandra approached it. She gasped when she saw herself. Her lips were full, her eyes were open wide, and her hair was curled and pinned away from her face. She looked like a full grown woman.

“I can’t believe it!” she stared at herself for a moment. “You guys do amazing work.”

“Well, I think we had some good stuff to work with.” Dimitra looked fondly at her.

“Yeah, it is a nice dress.”

“She means you, Cassie.” Leigh said quietly. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I know you don’t.” she rubbed the back of her neck. “Come on; let’s just get you into your shoes.”

**

The limo ride over left her breathless. She stared out the window as they sped towards the hotel where the ball was to be held. Everything had a Cinderella-esque type feeling to it. Cassandra worried that her dress, her make up, even her shoes would crumble to dust at midnight.

When she arrived, Criss was there. He snatched her arm and led her over to the red carpet they would walk over to enter the Ball.

“Just smile, okay?” he hissed in her ear. “Just smile and agree with whatever I say.”

“But--,” before she could protest, he was dragging her down that carpet. She tried not to squint as lights flashed in her face. Now and then, someone would ask them to stop and pose. Usually he hugged her tightly. Obviously, no one was to know that they weren’t exactly a happy pair.

Once they entered, Cassandra had to stare. The ceiling was strung with golden lights, and there was a live band playing in the corner. The women all wore lovely gowns, and the men were dressed up. Everyone was smiling and laughing. She bit down on her lower lip, instantly feeling that she wouldn’t be able to fit in. Everyone would be able to see right through her fancy dress and her pretty make up job and know that she was just a girl from a small town who hadn’t even gone to college.

Criss, true to his normal self, had worn nice jeans and a button down white shirt. His hair was brushed down around his face, and his eyes seemed unnaturally bright and alive. He looked gorgeous, and Cassandra wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and ask him to dance.

But he only took one look at her and walked away.

***

Criss stayed at the bar, clutching his scotch. He watched her out on the dance floor, dancing with anyone who asked her. So far, people had thrown him a few questioning looks, but he only gave a bland smile and shrugged. What can you do, women like to dance? After all, she certainly didn’t look miserable. She was laughing as she danced, chatting happily. The girl certainly did blossom under attention, that was for sure.

Sometime around midnight, only a little while before midnight, Cassandra walked up to him, her hands held anxiously behind her back. She stood next to him for a few seconds before he bothered to look her way, to acknowledge her existence.

“Hi,” she gave a weak, frightened smile when he looked her way.

“What do you want?” his voice was sullen and weary.

“I just—I just wanted to know how you are.” She lifted her chin, trying to appear more confident.

“Fine,”

“Do you want to dance?” she gestured behind her to the dance floor, to all the couples turning and spinning to the music.

“Not with you.” Criss turned back to his drink. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her f ace fall, watched her heart break. She didn’t speak for a moment, only bit down on her lip again and looked up at the twinkling lights.

“Fine!” It was halfway between a hiss and a sob. She turned and hurried back to the dance floor, that cape almost dragging on the floor behind her. He was so close to reaching out for her wrist, so close to whispering that she could come home. She could come back with him, could lie in his bed again, and could become whole with him again.

It would have been so easy. He could taste her skin beneath his tongue, could smell her clinging to his hand. Cassandra was right in front of him. His whole world was within arms reach. But he didn’t reach out and take it, couldn’t let himself. He couldn’t bring himself to do that.

She had hurt him, and now he was going to break her. Criss threw back the rest of his drink and slammed the glass on the bar, feeling more than hearing the bartender fill it up again. Was it his third or fourth? Probably sixth or seventh. He wasn’t sure anymore.

Cassandra was out there again, spinning and dancing. She kept glancing at him, her eyes showing something that wasn’t quite pain, wasn’t quite anger. It was something familiar, something that made Criss feel prickles of heat down the back of his spine. But he couldn’t place it. It must have been the alcohol.

Finally, right at midnight, she was putting her hand in someone else’s nodding shyly. She took one look at him, and they walked purposefully towards the door. She didn’t glance at him again, though he knew she must have felt his eyes boring a hole into her.

And suddenly, Cassandra was gone. There was not a trace of her. Criss turned to the bar and drank another two, one right after the other, ignoring the burn in his throat, ignoring the pain in his gut. He wanted her to come back. He wanted her there with him.

****

The Ball was over. Everyone was gathering their coats, giving air kisses good night, wandering out. Criss took his last drink and stumbled towards the exit. Costa put an arm around his waist.

“What the hell is your problem?” he demanded.

“Cass,” he slurred, pushing his brother away. He made it outside, staring blurrily at all the lights. He stood for a moment, wondering where she was. Could he find her? Did she even want him to anymore?

“Come on, Criss.” Costa had him again, was leading him to the car. The last thing he was aware of was being put into the limo. He leaned against the window and let him eyes close.
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The Beautiful Ones