His hand rested on the unused knob for several seconds before he turned it. The ancient wooden door creaked open to reveal a stale, dusty room. He stepped inside, holding the candelabra aloft.
How ironic it was to be the one holding the candelabra and not be the candelabra. He blinked into the darkness, willing human eyes to see. He was still adjusting to the human part.
Another step and he sneezed. He chuckled in spite of himself as he placed the candelabra on the simple small wooden table next to the single bed.
"Zut alors, what a feeling," he mused.
Every breath, in and out, of his seeming new, old nose was a miracle. In the dim light, he closed the door and stared at himself in the mirror on the back of it. Unsure of how many years the curse had been on the castle exactly, but at least a decade, he regarded himself. The face, which had been gilded metal for so long, that gazed back with shining blue eyes hadn't aged a bit. The warm light from the three candles a foot away gave his pale skin a healthy glow. He flashed his most debonair smile, his teeth straight and white-unlike poor Cadenza's.
"Oh, but you are a handsome fellow, aren't you, mon cher Lumiere?"
He chuckled softly and removed his white, elaborate wig-yet another strange thing to finally do, as his wig had been part of his metal ornamentation for so long, unable to be separated from the rest of him. Setting it on the bed, he ran his hands through his surprisingly soft, matted auburn hair. The texture of the hair on fingers-pliable, padded fingers-on dextrous hands...another amazement. To be able to touch without a flame, to run his hands through his thick, glorious hair, such a simple thing and yet it had not been simple at all when under the spell.
He stopped when he reached the ends of his hair, curling just above his shoulders. Now he wondered why he had bothered with the wig, glad to be rid of the thing. Back in the day, Lumiere had donned several fancy wigs, caught up in the style of the time, a woman on each arm, knowing he was dashing and charming. The castle had held its share of balls, and even servants could dance, as long as it wasn't in the middle of the ballroom.
He was never shy about dancing. At least that was one thing he had been able to do with Plumette while under the spell. They had waltzed around the empty ballroom on numerous occasions, usually to Cadenza's music. The harpsichord couldn't not play music, just as Lumiere couldn't not burn his candles. The light never ran out, and that was true for a man who always hoped the castle and its inhabitants would one day be free.
His fingers fumbled with his golden cravat as he loosened it and removed it, tossing it next to the wig on the bed. He took a deep breath, the restricting feeling gone around his neck. Next came his golden coat. He worked his way out of his clothes, down to his shirt-sleeves and breeches. He turned away from the mirror and pushed the scattered garments aside. He then dropped onto the edge of the bed and released his feet from his confining shoes. He wiggled his toes and rubbed his feet, groaning with pleasure.
Freedom. Freedom from the curse meant so much more than just being human again, for it was remembering everything that came along with that glorious blessing, as if for the first time. Under the spell, his sense of touch had been dulled, perhaps because of his metal body. Over the years, his movements grew more restricted, although he fought with every ounce of passion and gusto against it. To see and hear unencumbered was a tease, a glimpse of what he was missing.
How long had he gone without eating? Hunger hadn't yet set in, but come morning, Lumiere wondered if the smells and tastes of the rich cuisine would be too much or if he would indulge like a man starved for too long.
He supposed he ought to sleep, but again, his nerves were firing too much to be tired. He could turn inanimate when he was a candelabra, but it wasn't quite like sleeping. He didn't dream during those times. It was rather like his mind blinked out of existence for a while.
Still, he fell back into the comfort of the bed and let it embrace him like an old friend. His room in the servants' quarters, a place he never imagined he would miss, was like opening a gift on Christmas morning. To be in a bed again! No more "sleeping" while standing on a table like a piece of the decoration.
He allowed his mind to wander. Those first waking moments when he was human again...kissing Plumette. How could he even describe it? As much as he could when under the enchantment, he cradled Plumette in his metal arms, yet he had no fingers to run through her hair or caress her soft face-not that she had either of those then. He brought his hard lips to her feather-duster beak, and they touched...but it was not a kiss. One hard surface pecking at another was a cheap imitation of the sensual, warm, all-encompassing feeling of a true kiss.
Lumiere smiled to himself and allowed his eyes to drift shut. Maybe he was more taxed than he realized.
A knock from the door jolted him to full-wake. He sat up in bed, his hair sticking up and his clothes wrinkled, but he didn't mind. To have real hair and real clothes to grow messy was wonderful.
"Mon Dieu, who could that be at this time of night?" he murmured to himself. "Who is it?" he asked more loudly.
"Mon amour, please open the door."
"Plumette?" Lumiere stood, his heartbeat thudding away in his chest. Oh, the feeling! He bounced to the door and opened it.
Plumette stood there, her dark eyes gleaming in the low light. Her natural black hair hung in tight ringlets around her shoulders, and she was clad in her nightclothes. Before she could say a word, Lumiere grasped her hand and pulled her into the room.
He wrapped his arms around her. Their bodies touched from head to toe. Lumiere wasted not a second and kissed her rapturously. Plumette responded with her lips and ran her fingers through his hair. Lumiere savored that delicious kiss for several moments, their breathing heavy as their hands explored the contours long-forgotten of their respective bodies, revitalizing the memories.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested against each other. Lumiere gazed Plumette's eyes and saw himself reflected back. He smiled. "What brought you here at this late hour, mon amour?"
Plumette gave a sheepish smile. "I couldn't sleep."
Lumiere chuckled, leading her to his bed. They sat on the edge, but with her so close and on his bed, nonetheless, the warmth he knew from his long days as a candelabra began in his hands and head and coursed through the rest of him. "Ah, I understand, but you, ah… That is to say…" Why couldn't he find the right words? Ever suave, he was a man who knew romance like his twin.
Plumette placed a hand on his cheek and smiled. "Lumiere, you are smoking again...from the top of your head."
"What?" He reached up, and sure enough, his head was smoking, although his hair was fine.
Plumette giggled and patted his head, until the smoking stopped. She took his hands and immediately dropped them. "Your hands are like fire."
"Desole, my darling. I don't know what came over me." He half-smiled.
"It must be the aftereffects of the curse. I still find the stray feather here or there in my hair. I am sure it will pass."
"Let us hope so. We lived long enough under the enchantment. Now that we are finally free, I want nothing more than for us to truly be together, Plumette." More relaxed, Lumiere's hands cooled.
"Then why are you so nervous?" Plumette's tone was teasing.
Lumiere shrugged. "I feel so much. To have my humanity back, maybe it's a little much right now. Then you, ma cherie, walked in here like that, and I couldn't help myself. There is a fire in me, burning always, but I want to be sure you want to be with me in that way. Freedom brings with it so much. You are here, in my room. We can do whatever we like."
She smiled and leaned into him, running her hands through his hair, down the sides of his neck, and over his chest. Lumiere eased back into the bed as Plumette lowered herself on top of him. Nuzzling his ear, she whispered, "Je suis la tienne, mon amour. I am yours."