Reflections of a Nightingale
An FFVIII Fanfiction from Julia's POV
Disclaimer: I do not own Julia, or FFVIII, or Eyes on Me. They belong to Squaresoft.
I put down my pen and smiled. The lyrics to the song I had spent so much time working on were now written. All I had to do was give it a title – and I already had one in mind.
"Eyes on Me," I whispered. "This is a dedication to you, Laguna Loire. Thank you for giving me my voice and the strength to sing."
I reflected on the events that had given the inspiration for this song – the first I would ever sing. It was for him, after all. The person who gave me my voice. The person who inspired me. Yes, I would sing this for him, and only him. My gift to him. I softly raised my voice and began to sing this song, remembering that time so long ago…
******
The Galbadian Hotel bar in Deling City. It was in every sense a tiny little bar. It was quiet, but elegantly and tastefully furnished, that I often wondered why people preferred to head over to the outlandish, gaudy pubs. It was a small but homely place, and it was where I worked, playing my songs, letting my fingers run over those smooth black and white keys.
There were many who wondered why I did not head out to a bigger bar where more people would listen to me play. After all, that way I would earn more. But I didn't want that. I wanted to be in a quiet place where I could lose myself in my music. The Deling City bar in Galbadia Hotel suited me perfectly.
Especially after I met him.
A shy man in the attire of a Galbadian soldier. He walked in one night with two others – his friends, I presumed – and sat down at a corner seat. That was when I felt the presence of someone looking at me. Not staring, just looking. Somewhat shyly, but the feeling was good. So I stole a peek out of the corner of my eye. It was him. His eyes…were on me…and was he smiling? I hoped he was, that I wasn't just imagining it…
Every night when I played, I'd see him and his two friends walk into the bar and take that same corner table. I'd always feel that same sense of someone watching me in silent encouragement. I'd always play my very best.
Just for him.
The nights just passed like that. I was happy to play there and steal looks at him, and he was happy to sit there and watch me play. Until that night. I had just finished playing my first song. Then I saw his friends give him pats on the back. He was shy, no doubt. He hesitantly walked up…to me.
Then the poor man got a cramp in his leg and hopped around before returning to the table where he and his friends were seated. It was then that I stood and went over to his table. Apparently his friends had seen me coming over, because they left. He looked confused for a while, but then turned when I greeted him.
"Did I interrupt anything?" I asked him, as he limped over to the side. I hoped not. I didn't want to burst in into the middle of a conversation between him and his friends.
He shook his head, and said he was fine when I asked him about his leg. Apparently he was nervous, so I told him to relax. "You don't need to get nervous around me," I said, and he nodded. I could feel everyone trying to listen in to our private conversation.
I leaned in and whispered, "Would you like to talk somewhere private? I have a room here…"
He was very shocked, and spluttered in surprise "In your room?"
I nodded. "We can't talk freely here. Why – You don't want to?" I felt a little bit crestfallen as I said that. I wanted to know more about this man who walked in one day and came to watch me from then.
"Of course I do!" he insisted fiercely, and my spirits soared. " Then I'll wait for you in my room. Ask for it at the front desk, okay?"
He nodded, and I left the bar.
In my room, I poured out a small glass of wine, and waited for him. He entered, looking rather shy and tight-wound.
"Thanks for coming," I told him, smiling as I offered him the glass of wine.
"No…not at all..uh…thank you for inviting me," he returned.
"Have a seat."
He walked about trying to find a comfortable position, first taking a chair, then changing to the bed, and I smothered the little-girl giggle rising in me. Finally he stood up.
"Going so soon? We haven't even talked yet," I said softly.
He stopped pacing and stammered, "No, it's not that…I'm a big fan of yours…So I'm kinda nervous."
I was momentarily stunned. A fan…of mine? Working in this quiet bar, I wouldn't have expected to have had fans. Then I knew, and I voiced my thoughts out loud.
"So that's why you came to hear me play so often."
"You…You saw me?"
I gave a slight nod as his pacing started again. "You were the one who was smiling while listening, right?" I looked at him. "You have such beautiful eyes…Don't worry, I don't want to eat them. I just want to talk, gazing into those eyes."
He was pleasantly surprised and pinched himself, muttering "I must be dreaming…"
We talked about a lot of things. About what he wanted to do – he wanted to become a journalist, because he didn't like fighting. He said he wanted to write about his travels, and he was telling me about it when he stopped short.
"What about you? Your dreams for the future?"
I stood up and went to pour myself a glass of wine. I sipped it and said slowly, "Me? Well…I want to sing. Not just play the piano, but sing."
He smiled and said "I'd really love to hear that…"
I shook my head sadly. "But the problem is, I'm no good at writing lyrics."
Laguna looked sympathetic. "That must be tough," he commented. I don't think he was prepared for what I said next, though.
"But thanks to you, I think I can come up with something."
He repeated numbly, "Thanks to me?"
"Yes," I nodded, "For all the faces you've shown me. Happy, sad, worried, hurt…your smile, your face, your eyes…I think I can finally come up with a song."
He pinched himself again as he gasped "I really must be dreaming."
Dreams were so fleeting, and I murmured, "It's not a dream. Is it?"
Just then, someone yelled, "Laguna! New orders! Meet by the Presidential Residence on the double! Now!" It broke the spell of serenity in my room.
"Can we meet again?" I asked him.
"Of course! I have to hear you sing!" he replied, before running off.
I watched him go, sadly.
I never saw him again…
******
I finished practicing the song. I had to sing it for him…one week later, I would be married to General Caraway. This was the one song I could sing for him. I made up my mind – I would show the world my song for Laguna on the eve of my wedding…
******
"We have Miss Julia Heartilly here to sing a song for us."
I had managed to pull strings so that people would hear my song. I took a deep breath, and began to sing with all my heart. Would he be here?
Whenever
sang my songs
On the stage, on my own
Whenever
said my words
Wishing they would be heard
I
saw you smiling at me
Was it real or just my fantasy
You'd
always be there in the corner
Of this tiny little bar
My last night here for you
Same
old songs, just once more
My last night here with you
Maybe yes, maybe no
I kind of liked it your way
How you shyly placed your eyes on me
Did you ever know
That I had mine on you…
Darling so there you are
With that look on your face
As if you're never hurt
As if you're never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly but sure
If frown is shown then
I will know that you are no dreamer
So let me come to you
Close as I wanna be
Close enough for me
To feel your heart beating fast
And stay there as I whisper
How I loved your peaceful eyes on me
Did you ever know
That I had mine on you
Darling so share with me
Your love if you have enough
Tears if you're holding back
Pain if that's what it is
How can I let you know
I'm more than the dress and the voice
Just reach me out and
You will know that you are not dreaming
Darling so there you are
With that look on your face
As if you're never hurt
As if you're never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly but sure
If frown is shown then
I will know that you are no dreamer
I looked around. He wasn't here. Silently I hoped he would know this song was for him when he heard it – because I now would have no other link to him. Yes, it was my last night here for him, and I scanned the crowd again, looking for his familiar face.
He wasn't there.
Somehow disappointed, I slipped off the stage, wondering if he would ever hear this song, Eyes on Me…written by a woman for the man who gave her the strength to sing.
