"Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing."

.

I found him laying on the couch. An empty bottle on the floor.

"Erik," I called.

He didn't reply. He didn't even move. For one moment I wondered if he was really awake.

I took one step closer.

"I heard about what happened to the girl."

A sound that vaguely resembled a laugh denounced that he was awake. It didn't sound happy. That wasn't surprising. In all the years I knew him, no sound I heard from Erik sounded the smallest bit happy.

"You couldn't have helped her."

"What makes you think that I would even want to help her?" He replied, his voice sounding irritated. After some silence, he added: "No one ever cared for my life, why would I care for anyone's life?"

"Because you have a heart," I replied immediately.

That same sound, that resembled a laugh, but full of something else. I couldn't tell if it was anger or sadness.

"I think your sanity is starting to abandon you, Nadir."

"It abandoned me when I met you."

I waited for an insulting reply, but it didn't came. It worried me, Erik never missed a chance to insult me.

An uncomfortable silence followed. It was him who broke it.

"She chose this. She would rather die than touch me."

"She would have reacted that way to any other man."

He shook his head.

"It's probably for the best anyway. I destroy everything that I touch." He paused. That sound again. "You too should leave me, before I destroy you too."

I realized that the sound was more a sob than a laugh.

I approached him, until I felt the scent of alcohol in his breath.

"You're drunk." I purposely ignored what he said.

"I drank a lot, but I'm not drunk," Erik retorted. "I never get drunk."

Shaking my head, I sat down on the floor in front of the couch. I was a little worried if the alcohol could have a bad effect on his already naturally unstable mood.

He seemed to realize I was staying, but didn't protest. As he didn't say anything else nor moved, I allowed myself to relax.

A few minutes passed before it started. A melody. It was so low that it seemed to come from my imagination. Maybe I was already dreaming. The melody was so soft, so sweet... so beautiful. It got louder, and I realized it was Erik who was humming it.

After a while, he started singing. The words were in a language I didn't understand, but the song moved me even so. His voice was so full of feeling that even without words I could hear all the loneliness, all the longing.

It was not the first time I heard him sing. I already knew his voice was beautiful, of course I knew it. Even so, every time I heard it, it still surprised me, that the same man that shouted so many threats and profanities could produce a sound so pure and beautiful. That night was no different. I didn't dare to move, afraid to break the moment. When he stopped, I felt my heart ache.

"It was beautiful," I said, when I was sure he finished. Erik didn't reply. "Are you sure you are not drunk?"

"Shut up."

"Was it French?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied in a low voice.

"Do you miss your home?"

He took a while to reply.

"You should go home, Nadir. It is getting late and I don't want you sleeping on my floor."

"It wouldn't be the first time," I reminded him.

"Are you afraid I might do something you consider 'improper' if you don't keep an eye on me?"

"If you really want to do it, there is little I could do to stop you."

"I am glad you know."

"But I can still try," I added in a whisper.

I couldn't tell if Erik heard it. He became silent. Once again I let myself relax. It was really getting late, and this job of keeping an eye of him was tiring...

I don't know how much time passed. I doozed off. When I opened my eyes, I saw Erik was not on the couch anymore. He was standing near the window, his arms around his own body, singing again the same song. Slowly, very slowly, his body was moving, following the melody.

There was a beauty in the scene. I saw myself once again hypnotized, by his voice and by the grace with which he moved.

"You are awake," he suddenly said, surprised. The mask never allowed me to see his facial expression, so with the years I learned to read his emotions by the other signs he gave. His body language was showing an unusual insecurity, that he didn't try to hide.

I was at a loss of words. My next ones seemed to come out on their own.

"This is not your place, Erik. You should be on a stage, not here."

He snorted.

"There is just one stage someone like me could be on." He walked back to the couch. "Go back to sleep. We will have a busy day tomorrow."

"We?"

"Since you're staying anyway you might as well help me," he explained, laying down.

"Ok. Good night, Erik."

"Good night, Nadir."