(This is in DIRECT CORRELATION with Moll but I'll try to write it so it makes sense if you haven't read it. And if you don't know Moll is the one shot I posted before this one so yeet yeet)

My grand-pops was a man of respect, had to sweat

Just to cash checks working from sunrise to set

Gloves were not something people wore. As you read the fashion magazines, waiting for your husband to return home, you see girls in brown and yellow and pink wearing cute white gloves. But when you walk outside there was no one who'd sport the such.

But now in the castle with Maven you slide a pair of thin white gloves over your fingers, closing your eyes softly. And you ache. It's different. You wish time could go back to what it was. And as you pin the gloves tight you realize that you will never be able to return home.

Every day he'd get challenged, no trades or talents

Barely scraped by, he found faith to balance

"What was it like back then?" Maven asks. You let out a laugh, pausing before it comes out harder.

"Every morning the bimbos and tomatoes would rush over to the radio to listen to the morning show. Everyone had a radio back then. I didn't want one." You lift a hairbrush on his dresser and examine it, noticing the bland design on it.

"Why didn't you want one?"

You smile widely, licking your teeth. "My cake-eater was a radio host. I listen to him enough at night I ain't need to listen to him in the mornings too."

Maven let out a laugh before returning to organize the papers on his desk. You watch him, hunched over and concentrated. He doesn't ask more like you wanted him to. Should you even continue?

"Plus," you skip closer to him, "the flappers were so scandalous. I don't wanna bump some gums."

He turned around, sizing you up just by standing up straight. You didn't act intimidated. He could probably crush you with his gaze. But he always looks at you with the softest eyes.

"I like hearing about it. I searched at the library when I was a kid. There are no books about those times. So long ago."

You wrap your hands around his shoulders, moving your hand in the air to try and show your memory to him. "You best write one! I'll share everything I remember, I could take you back to after I died! It'll blow everyone's wig off!"

"I'll save that for you."

"I'd prefer a hotsy-totsy author over a moll."

Maven looks down at you, almost forcing you to make eye contact with him.

"Hotsy-totsy?"

With a blush, you turn away. "Applesauce, it's nothing!"

He made sure things on the surface were okay, but

Something disturbin' within his mind was lurkin'

Maven wipes the grease from his fingers onto a napkin, a light smile on his face. He is conscious of his happiness at the moment. It's almost like a vacation. Everything in the world seems to just fade away.

Maven squints, "Can I ask you something?"

You crack your knuckles, jokingly stretching, "Yes sir!" Maven leans forward in his seat and tries not to smile. He had always viewed emotions as a weakness. To him, smiling is a weakness but somehow your presence strengthens him.

"Do you talk like that on purpose to confuse me?"

You make a kissy face with your lips, changing the direction of your gaze. You want to laugh in his face but something prevents you. A magical swirly feeling in your gut.

You stop your transatlantic accent, "Would you believe me if I said absolutely."

And he smiles. You realize something within yourself. His smile always makes you happy, burning you up. You look at him with wide doe-like eyes. You realize something. You really do. And all you want to do is sit on his lap and hold him until everything is alright.

Maven chuckles.

"Should that be included in the book as well? All of those terms you use?"

He knocks you out of your loving gaze with the question. You almost don't want to answer. Your words get caught in your throat.

"Uh, ah! Yes, that would be quite splendid."

A slight twilight breeze would ease in through the curtains at night

It's like the sermon of a twisted apparition

Astronomical twilight arouses the chirping and buzzing of cicadas. It's peaceful, especially with Maven at your side. You drag him out onto the balcony with you, wishing to spend another moment with him. He seems nostalgic standing out here. He looked left and right, searching for something you didn't know. The cold breeze tickled your fingertips as you begged to run your hands through his hair.

"What does moll mean?" He asks carefully.

You hum at the question, tilting your head. You try to pick words in your thoughts that made sense to you. "A sheba of a bad man. Mafia or a serial killer," you turn your head away from him to hide your blush, "or more accurately it's what they call a prostitute. Know your onions."

"Mafia?" He asks, leaning against the railing. You are happy he didn't elaborate on the second part. You unclenched the fist you didn't know you formed.

Your accent falls a bit. "The mafia was this big group of criminals, murderers, back where I was born. They had quite the influence. Horrible people but kind friends. Butter and egg men."

Maven speaks without a second thought, "sounds like a horrible time to live in." You could tell by his tone that it was a jab. A playful tease. And you worked hard to just brush it off. A sweet silence rang through the air for only a moment before Maven spoke again.

"Was your husband in the mafia?"

You let out a laugh you didn't expect. It was an uncomfortable laugh that you never meant.

"The ladder."

It takes him a second to understand what you mean, the other two options shifting through his head. But your sadistic smile leads him to understand the answer. He retreats for a second, an action he soon regrets as you eye him up and down. His heart raced in his ear. But a thought crosses his mind. How is he any better?

You pick at your fingers nervously, taking off the light pair of gloves that you never use to wear before.

You give him a charming smile, lifting your accent to more than you wanted, "I ain't got his handcuff no more, you don't need to be scared."

He doesn't respond so you look up at the moon, which slowly makes it's way to the sky. The purple air eases you mildly. It's nothing simple. Nothing that makes you feel safe. With another glance at Maven, you turn around, sitting on top of the railing. The cold metal is uncomfortable. Anything to feel the wind.

Maven watches as you slowly start leaning back, losing your grip onto the slippery metal and moving out of his sight. The sound of a train singing out booms through he reaches his hands out and tries to catch you. Leaning over and looking at the ground, there is no sight of your falling body. Just a doe on the grass bed that looks up at him before trotting off into the forest.

Was urging him to listen to the train in the distance

The next morning Maven anxiously glances out of his window. He was in a hurry to get rushed and every second put fear into his heart. The train hasn't made a noise since last night. It was the call of your summoning. Where did you go?

Maven bounced around the castle trying to find something to distract his mind. You wouldn't leave him, would you? You wouldn't go back? He felt a small ting in his chest, something that left him sore and needy. He loved your presence. He loved the silly words you used and he loved the accent you put on just to make him smile. He blinks slowly, trying to process the thought.

He tries to imagine you getting hurt, how he'd react. What would he do if you cried in front of him? Does he care about you? Are you a friend? An antihero?

He doesn't know how to feel. And for a second, he wishes his mother was able to tell him.

With time people noticed he was actin' berserk

Samson glances his way, eyeing the silent stone he sits upon. With a silent grunt, he turns away from his bothered cousin. He was too curious for his own good, wanting nothing but to see what was bothering him. Was it that red that he was once so obsessed with? Those nightmares he used to get as a child?

He rolled back and forth on his feet in a desperate attempt to get the king's attention. But Maven just stared forward in a lost gaze, his finger to his temple as he rests his elbow on the armrest.

Be sure this seed is sown deep down into his dome;

Don't ever, ever walk to the train tracks alone

Maven found himself jumping at even the slightest of sounds. The servants take his dishes, the clinking off metal setting off an alarm he didn't know he had. Samson spares him another worried glance, lifting an eyebrow. He tries to hide his smirk behind a wine glass but Maven catches it. They share no words but a quiet acknowledgment. Something is wrong and neither of them will ever figure it out, Maven concludes.

And at the far end of the universe, you sit at a bar stool, the wood familiarly uncomfortable. A mug of whiskey is bitter down your throat. Rough. You adjust the feather that pokes out of your hat. With your head on the counter, you try to ease the heartache. Headache, you mean. It's your head that hurts. You almost want to slam it against the wall.

A man approaches you, tapping you on the shoulder. You look up slowly. And your heart sinks slowly.

"You look oddly familiar," the figure flirts. He has evil, blue eyes that you have seen for more than a hundred years. His smile shows teeth, fangs you know only bare evil.

It eases you. The evil brings you back to Earth. Your heart belongs to one. And you need to stop falling for people who are ahead of your time.

A gambling man that burned both ends of the candle

Folded his hands in, it was too hot to handle

You walk onto the train tracks with the man calmly. You try to balance on the beams but slip every once in a while. He's always there to catch you. He walks calmly by your side with a hop and a skip in the middle of the tracks. He had a cane in one of his hands, humming to himself and quickening his stride.

"Where are you taking me?" He asks. His voice is chipper. You swallow hard. You remember the old times with him. Baking pies. Going to the movies. The arguments. The days you'd wash the blood from his clothes and join him in the shower. The way he held you close when you got sick. The rumbling of the train you laid on when he prayed into your ear, watching as you passed away.

You look at him now and he looks back, a calm smile on his face. He doesn't recognize you but you know exactly who he is.

"Just the petting pantry."

He claps, enthused. "I love the petting pantry! Such a fine choice for such a tomato like you."

You blush softly, fiddling with the watch on your hand. You check the time. Your heart begins to race. Everything will be okay. You just need to be calm.

Looking down the road, ain't never gonna go back

You step off of the railing, stand next to the tracks. He stops walking and turns to you, almost refusing to follow you off. He reaches out for your hands, which you took. His touch was warm. He was gentle. But you know what those hands have done. With your eyes close, you take a deep breath.

"I love you." You whisper loud enough for him to hear. He draws back a bit, removing his grip from yours. You open your eyes to see his confused expression.

"Phonus balonus!" He gasps, resting his weight on his cane. He stands perfectly on the tracks. You whistle, refusing to stop making eye contact with him. You take a step back. He doesn't feel the rumbling, doesn't hear the ringing of the train as it nears. And you look away, refusing to see the train make contact with his lean body.

You take a deep breath. You smooth out your dress, stepping away from the train. It's time to go back to Maven, the only man you'll ever truly love.

When I was a tot, my mom dropped fables and stories

To warn me of the dangers that were layin' before me

Maven sits alone in his room, scared as to what you were doing. He hasn't heard from you in days. He doesn't know what to do. Should he scream out your name, hoping you hear? He runs a hand through his hair. Why can't he stop thinking about you? Maybe you got tired of him. Maybe he just needs to calm down. You wouldn't leave. You wouldn't want to. His mother had always warned him about love. But he never seemed to be able to stray away.

He takes a deep breath. He smoothes out his top, stepping out of his door. It's time to go back to the tracks, the place he knows he'll find his forbidden lover.

Back when I was younger, it had my brain wracked

As I stumbled off in the night towards the train tracks

He races down the stairs, not caring for the musty air or the drooping liquid that lingered on the walls. The escape tunnels were never his favorite place until he knew you dwelled. It's empty. Quiet. If he couldn't find you here then what? How would that end? Would he just give up?

He pushes the thought away as he continued down the tracks.

I scurried off; I was on the verge of madness

I raced, fast-paced, and the landscape was strange

The tracks, once old and bare, he noticed now looked new and worn. Like a train had come recently. Did he miss the sound? Could he have slept through it? Did he miss your return? Maven found himself walking faster. He continues straight, ignoring the twists and turns the hallways provided. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew to follow his heart. And this is where it leads. It leads to him being alone in a place he never once thought as peaceful. He realized then that he would do anything just to see you again. All he wanted was you.

Within the foggy distance, I saw a silhouette that got bigger as I stepped

He sees a figure, someone walking, almost dragging themselves. They walked the same direction he was but was walking much, much slower. Maven recognized the frizzle sleeves, the long shaw that dangled off of your shoulders. He caught up to you quickly, walking by your side. You didn't say anything but your smile was all it took for him to smile back. It was silent, just the way you liked it.

This is what he said as he started to walk past me:

"Such a nice night for a walk." You tease, pointing out your elbow for Maven to put his hand through. He follows your lead, holding you close to him modestly.

"It is so kind of you to join me."

Your heart pounds relentlessly in your ear, your desire to touch him going beyond any teasing words you through his way.

You bounce by his side. "And what is an old soul like you doing out by the tracks?"

"I've been quite lonely here without my favorite companion." Maven whispers like he was just admitting it to himself.

"How devastating. I hope they return."

"It seems they have without alerting me beforehand."

Or I could be the bee to your bonnet, your best friend forever

Two peas in a pod flockin' birds of a feather

You stop walking and grab Maven's shoulders, turning him to face you. His eyes are wide, curious as to what your intentions are. How you've longed to see him again. Being away from him for so long pained you more than you could ever imagine.

"I'm back for good now."

Maven steps closer to you, closing the distance and holding you tight. Your heartbeat quickens. It sounds like an alarm. Everything is telling you to move. It's telling you it's dangerous down here. But you know what you need to do.

You kiss Maven, holding him tight. His taste is sweet, precious and delightful to the touch.

It pains you to move away but you have to. All you want was for your lips to combine for the rest of your life. But the low rumbling of the train track brings you back to the twisted reality you belong to.

Maven wraps his hands around your waist as you start to fidget with the clock on your wrist.

"And you'll never leave my side."

The call of the train sends you flying.