A/N: I'm baaaaaaaaaaack! School has been murder lately but don't fret. I haven't given up on this fic yet. I am so happy that you all liked the story. Your reviews only encourage me to write more, so keep 'em coming! Oh, and I forgot to mention that the quotes in the last chapter are from "Cats" the musical's Memory. I thought it was fitting for the story and I don't own any of Webber's work that is mentioned in this chapter. If I did I would make it so that the Phantom and Christine ended up together. And I don't own Harry Potter or ABC. But enough of my rambling! Story Time!
Disclaimer: Not mine so please don't sue meh!
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Wyborn Lovat, the landlord of the humble "Pink Palace" cocked his head to the side and studied the sight before him. It was dawn and the entire property was bathed in beautiful autumnal colors, old mangled apple trees cast odd shadows on the dirt path beneath them, and the sky was streaked with light pinks and purples.
The young man rubbed his eyes in an attempt to banish the blurred edges from the otherwise perfect picture. The whole yard had a certain foggy sense to it so Wybie had to step lightly to avoid the many potholes in the weathered pathway, leading into the orchard. He supposed it was just hereditary, but Wybie loved looking at natural beauty. Blooming flowers, a tadpole becoming a frog, or the tedious work of a robin building it's nest was magical in its own way and he intended to satisfy his curious mind, watching and committing every step of the process to his memory.
A nature obsessor like him couldn't resist the wonder that was the sky at early morning. Magic like that only happened once everyday and for a very short time. Oh, how he wished he could steal the brilliant colors out of the fuzzy abyss, keeping them close so that the majestic sight was for him alone. Wybie cursed himself for such a selfish thought and wished desperately that someone else was there to see the sun rise above the foothills in the distance.
He swore that his wish was granted when, in front of the red, rising sun, a familiar, feline silhouette appeared. Wyborn's heart swelled with happiness as the four-legged creature slinked towards him. He could almost hear his little friend's paws scraping against the cobblestone pathway, He tried to call the creature's name but he couldn't find his voice, which had changed to a low velvety tone over the years. It had changed. Just like him.
Wyborn Lovat was no longer the scrawny, loosely-put-together teenager he once was. After the first few years of adulthood he had finally grown into his large hands and feet but he was still in possession of a slightly hunched back. If his Grandma was still around, she would no doubt nag him about having poor posture as a kid and it finally coming back to slap him upside the head. But she had long departed from this world. She had left him almost everything she owned, including "The Pink Palace."
But the newly dubbed landlord was too distracted to think of his duties and countless tenets he would have to help by mid-morning. He was far to preoccupied with the return of his friend. A soft purr threw all doubts from his head and he made a mad dash towards his cat. He reached out a gloved hand to welcome him home but just when he was about to pet his feline friend, the creature looked up and instead of the brilliant blue eyes he was used to, two jet black buttons were sewn in place.
Wybie gasped and jolted awake, his alarm clock rang loudly in his ear. He sat up and looked around. He was still breathing heavily from the shock, brought on by the horrifying dream. His bare chest rose and fell with each needy and ragged breath. It was then Wybie realized that the alarm was still buzzing like a foghorn, giving him a rather horrific headache. He seized the confounded object and threw it against his bedroom wall. It smashed upon contact and left an ugly mark on the forest green paint job.
He sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands, the tips of his wide digits brushed against the few loose curls that fell from the crown of his head. His dear friend Cat had been gone for two weeks and as much as he had tried to ignore it, the devastating thought that Cat would never return home was slowly slipping into his subconscious. Groaning at this realization, he rolled out of bed and closed the blinds so that he could get ready for his day.
He didn't spare one look at the sunrise outside his window.
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By the time Wybie dressed, pulled his curly mop into a ponytail, and had breakfast it was still early morning and he'd be damned if he didn't use this jump start to his advantage. He grabbed his leather jacket and headed out to the garage where he kept his motorcycle. It was a mangled thing, made and repaired with parts he found at the dump and the leftovers from his beloved childhood dirt bike. But the young man was proud of it just the same. After he fastened the helmet over his head he sat on the torn, leather seat and started the cycle up. It hummed contently and Wybie smiled as he rode out of the garage and onto the cobblestone driveway.
Over the soft roar of the engine he could hear the robins singing to the world around them. He watched as the birds paired off and flew beside him, dipping up and down against the cold morning wind. Once he had eased into the swing of things, the way his bike tilted and weaved as he gunned down the hill, he began to relax and enjoy the ride. Zigg-zagging down the road, purposely hitting every bump, Wybie traveled neck-breaking speed to the end of the property, all the while trying to push the dream out of his mind.
Finally, he got to his destination, the mail box.
As the landlord, he had many duties to perform around the "Pink Palace" and for the house's occupants. From heavy maintenance jobs like repairing the shingles on the roof, harvesting apples from the orchard, to simple errands and favors the people living in the old apartments would ask of him. One of those simple, easy jobs was delivering each tenet's mail to them, so he parked his motorcycle and did a routine check of the continence of each tacky, labeled mailbox. He took several white envelopes (Most likely bills.) from his own separate mail holder before he moved on to the others.
He hummed a nameless tune as he dumped all the magazines, letters, and one medium sized package into the basket he had welded to the back of the seat and started up the road to the Pink Palace. He lessened the pressure on the gas pedal so his precious bike wouldn't strain to ride over the steep hills and valleys that he had sped so carelessly down not fifteen minutes ago.
The property had not changed much since he was a boy. Even in the wake of another hot and humid summer the ground stayed soggy and infertile, as just in the dead of winter. Patches of grass were spread here and there, the garden was overrun by weeds, rocks clung to the sides of the mountainous terrain, threatening to fall onto the path, and even the rotted stump near the old well stood firmly in place after all those years.
The buildings on the property had not been renovated since the blizzard of 1908, when the entire roof on his grandmother's own charming townhouse, (Located a quarter of a mile from the old well.) was blown off. But aside from that and the restoration of the apartments in the boarding house, when indoor plumbing and electricity was installed, they remained the same.
Not that Wybie was complaining. On the contrary, he loved logging in his grandma's old home. As much as he would like to believe that he had matured over the years and that he was no longer interested in exploring dark creepy places or spending his free time hunting an arrange of bugs that inhabited the property, the mere fact that he still lived in the old place and not in an apartment in town showed that he still had a childish interest in the house. He adored the wooden outer walls and window shutters, painted Dark green, his favorite color. He still entertained himself by studying his grandma's knic-knacks, that sat and were continuously dusted up on the house's many shelves and he spent hours in the house's attic, going through old boxes of clothes and other objects of importance to the deceased landlady.
The Pick Palace loomed in the distance and as he slowed to a stop he turned and hit a large muddy puddle, whooping at the top of his lungs as dirty water splashed all around him. No, Wyborn Lovat hadn't changed in the slightest. He stopped the bike and parked it. His black sneakers were covered in mud like the rest of him but the mail was miraculously clean. He gathered it up in his arms, but not before he patted down the loose strands of hair that had escaped from their elastic band of a prison.
"Wybie!" He looked up and saw a short girl in a floral night gown, standing near the stairs to the lower apartment, and shaking an umbrella coated with mud. He smiled and with his arms full of mail, he ran to the annoyed tenet.
"Good mornin' Kristin!" He exclaimed happily. Kristin closed the obnoxious, red umbrella and shot him a teasing look.
"Good Mornin'? Wybie, your idea of a "good mornin'" might include bein' covered in mud," She wiped a spot of dirt from her sleeping attire and at the same time, displaying the many tack rings she wore daily on both her hands. "But for sure, mine doesn't. So kindly keep me out of it!" Wybie laughed at his friend's germ phobic antics.
"Why Miss. Spink! What on earth are you doing out of bed?" he joshed her. "Is that good for nothing niece of yours sleeping-in again?" She stuck out her tongue and pouted when he started to laugh again.
"Really Wybourn." She attempted a trademark, dramatic gesture she had often seen her aunts perform. "Just look at you! Now, wot would your dear Grandmother say?"
He smiled sheepishly and handed her the package. "Uhhhh, Here's your mail?"
The grimy landlord studied his appearance, charcoal colored sweater and baggy jeans, both smeared with dirt, as Kristin dusted off some imaginary filth from the top of the box. She shrieked in surprise as she read the packaging label.
"Finally, it's 'ere!" She hugged the cardboard square to her chest and jumped excitedly. Wybie, who was trying to arrange the rest of the house's mail in his arms so he wasn't in danger of dropping a crisp white letter into the mud below, watched her with confusion. She gave him one last radiant smile and thanked him before running into the downstairs apartment.
"What is it?" He ran after her, his curiosity getting the better of him again. He was careful not to trip on the wet, stone staircase and caught the door with his foot before it closed. The vertically challenged blonde had forgotten about him and his arms, currently in a state of uselessness in her excitement. Slowly he inched the door open and stumbled into the dimly lit room.
Tea lights were scattered all about the apartment, their flames flickering from the cold gust of wind that followed him into the room. The shelves that were once occupied by the owner's stuffed, departed dogs were cleared and in their place, more posters of the elderly actresses (Which Wybie could tell, were still asleep because the telly in the other room was turned off and there was not the constant clicking of Miss Spink's knitting needles.) and a few statues, music pieces; yellow with age, and one record player accompanied the framed photos and were all dusted neatly by Kristin.
With two noisy dogs underfoot, she bustled to the dark wood coffee table and proceeded with doing away with the many packaging pieces in the box. Wybie made himself as comfortable as possible on the ancient sofa and watched as she dug vigorously into the cardboard box. The Styrofoam peanuts fluttered to the floor and into the paws of the over-enthusiastic schnauzers. Fearful that his friend's pets would try to sample them, Wybie pushed the canines away and began to pick the pieces that had fallen near him. The landlord was mid-reach under the table when suddenly...
"AH-HA!" Kristin's exclamation was accompanied by a loud bang, Wybie came up from under the blasted piece of furniture and rubbed the back of his head where there was no doubt a large bump forming. Deciding he had suffered enough, Wybie grabbed the thin paperback from the girl's hands.
"Wybie!"she shrieked and tried to retrieve her new score.
"Relax! I'm clean, I'm clean!" He placed his hand on her stomach, holding her back while straining to read the cover page in the dim light around him.
"LOVE NEVER DIES"
BY Andrew Lloyd Webber
"Tha-ah! I'm not kiddin', Wybourn! Give it back!"
He cocked an eyebrow at his still squirming friend, then he flipped through the first few pages of the book. The complicated music notes made his head ache. He was mid-measure when Kristin, painfully poked him in the stomach and loudly whined,
"Wyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyybiiiiiiie! Please, give it back." She fell limp as a rag doll and tried to look as pathetic as possible. Wybie gladly handed the score back to his friend, smiling apoligeticly. She joined him on the couch, reading with much more enthusiasm than the sour landlord. He could only watch and imagine what beautiful ballad she was piecing together in her head. His eyes widened as she began to hum the Phantom's bitter love song in a matter of minutes.
The day starts. The day ends. Time crawls by, midnight spent pacing the floor. The moments creep but I can't bear to sleep, till I hear you sing again.
"I can't believe you can make sense of that mess!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the seemingly random scribbles on the page. She smiled and almost lovingly placed the score, open on the coffee table. Then she motioned for Wybie to come closer.
"S'not that 'ard." They both hovered over the page and Kristin pointed to a half note on the bar. "See, now that's a G." She hummed the note and then went down the line explaining how to match notes with sounds. When Wybie still didn't get it, the young musician scrambled to the other side of the apartment and pulled out her purposely concealed saxophone. She crossed the room again, more aware of her aunt's bedroom door (It was more a curtain of stringed beads then an actual divider.)The soft snores assured the jittery girl that the elderly actresses were still asleep so she ventured out of her room and down the hall, into the living room. She smiled at her reflection in the shiny brass surface before adjusting the shoulder strap over her.
"Look at this." She said as her fingers changed positions on the instrument, pressing down on different keys. "When I apply pressure to certain keys, it creates different sounds or notes that match up with those on the paper. All you have to do is recognize which note is which." Wybie squinted, trying to read in the dim light.
"Well, that's easy for you to say. You're the human pitch pipe!" He spread his arms and wiggled his fingers to suggest her vast knowledge of music was inhuman. She rolled her eyes and held her instrument snugly between her knees, trying a few experimental notes. The sax produced a low wail. Wybie sat up and shrugged on his jacket. His mind traveled to his grandmother's parlor and how it was always filled with old, classical music. He remembered many a rainy day when he would curl up on the elderly landlady's sofa and allow the music to lull him to sleep. Different instruments, all coming together for a musical climax.
"Do the same rules apply to every instrument?"
Kristin combed her hair with her fingers. "That much is true... Music is like learnin' to talk, it shows emotion and the way it's played, on wot its played, each instrument is like a teacher. They have their own methods of learnin' young musicians." The landlord raised his eyebrows and leaned against the archway that was covered by an old, red curtain. "Because instruments are crafted differently they 'ave to be played accorin' to their design. For instance, I couldn't play a guitar the same way as my sax. You 'ave to make your own kind of music"
Wyibe nodded in understanding and started to gather all of the mail he had placed unceremoniously on a lion claw end table. Kristin rose and helped him, at the same time grabbing a light blue scarf, which rested lifelessly on the coat hanger, and wound it around his scrawny neck.
"S' gettin' cold out there. Promise you'll bundle up more." Another nod from the young man. Not ready to face the cold tenet that awaited him upstairs or the weather, Wybie hung in the doorway. A sleepy grumble was heard from the other room and Kristin bolted, snatching the score and sax, and hid it behind the couch. He watched as she bent over the tearing Victorian furniture, a necklace dangled from her neck. Wybie suddenly turned very pale. On the back of her nightgown were three jet black buttons, sewn perfectly into place. Almost dropping the glossy magazines under his arm, he grabbed the curtains for support.
The dream and reality came crashing back to him, he couldn't hide in the Pink Palace with his friend from the world. It seeped through the cracks in the foundation on the wall like the damp cold. A soft noise that resembled a groan slipped from his mouth and he held the dusty, velvet material tighter.
"Wybie..." Kristin finally noticed her friend's plight. She walked cautiously up to him, he didn't acknowledge her presence until she placed a hand on his clammy forehead. "Are you all together? You look a bit unhinged."
He swatted her hand away. Muttering something intelligible, he released the curtains from his death grip, and made a dash for the door. Kristin stopped him. She grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face her. Eyes as blue the wild berries that grew on the side of the road shown concern. His mind froze and he felt like a confused, stuttering little kid again. He couldn't return his friend's gaze knowing those blasted buttons were behind her, mocking him in his loneliness. As if she could read the man's mind...
"Love, you 'ave been so good to 'im. Now you 'ave to understand, we've done close to everythin'. 'Ung up flyers, called around, even a report at the bloody police department. Someone will find the poor dear sooner or later and if not, 'e'll find 'is way 'ome."
The landlord studied a scab on the back of his hand. "That cat adores you. 'E's your friend." Wybie was silent for a moment before he covered her small hand with his own and gave her a small reassuring smile.
"Thanks, you're my friend too." She laughed lightly.
"You know, more cats come 'ome on their own each year than cats that are found by people. "
"I-I, know. I told you that. " Wybie smiled weakly at his friend while she opened the door for him.
"Com'on now. Its nearly mid-morrnin', we 'ave wasted all this time talkin'."
"Well excuse me. It's not my fault that I enjoy listening to you ramble on about scores and notes or whatever" He gestured with his free arm as he walked outside.
Once the door was closed he gave the foggy figure in the window a small wave goodbye before walking up the stairs to the upmost apartment. Kristin watched him go. Wybie the landlord, her friend, and tormentor. The soft chirp of a rouge cricket, trying to escape the cold played a slow tune and she closed her eyes to its bliss and simplicity. Ever since she moved in with Miss. Spink and Forcible she found little peace or time for herself. Time when she was all alone and was free to play the blues without her aunt's disapproving eyes upon her. She sighed as she walked into the kitchen. She began to prepare breakfast- toast with apricot jam, a bowl of taffies along with a chisel and hammer to break off the confection from it's comrades, and a pot of tea.- As she stirred her artificial sweetener into the china cup she noticed an odd clump of leaves, forming at the bottom.
She made a promise to herself to ask the elderly actresses what they meant after their meal together. Now if the young woman would have looked at the cup at a different angle or drank some of the dark watered drink she would have seen, quite clearly, an open suitcase. The sign of a new, earth shattering change. The television in the aunt's room could be heard from the kitchen. ABC was having another "Harry Potter" Marathon and the ever familiar theme floated down the hall like a graceful bird of prey.
Something wicked this way comes.
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AN/: Oh My GOD! I can't believe how many hits this fic has got! I am so happy that you all enjoyed the story so far and I would like to take this time to thank my LOVELY REVIEWERS!
Mattie Scary-ello luv! I was actually in lunch when I first saw your review. As the very first one, I may have gotten a little over excited...XD! The look on my friend's face and your message made my day, which is why it is my greatest disappointment that there is no Wybaline in this chapter. Hang in there! Its coming! Thanks again!
The Capslock Savior-ello luv! Thank you soooooooooo much for reviewing this baby fic! It really means alot to me and I am thrilled to bits that you like it so much! So wait no longer! Enjoy and don't worry. The next chapter will be up soon!
AndJustForgetTheWorld- ello luv! Bitter sweet, like dark chocolate or a cool glass of lime-aid, a scorned ex lover. Sorry about that. My poetic side is rather hard to control when I am excited. Why you ask? Because you reviewed silly! I'm glad you like the story so far, and sad was definitely where I was going with the last chapter. Hope you find this one a litter on the brighter side though. Thanks again! ~HUGGLES!~
HalfBrachenDemon- ello luv! Well I certainly am glad that this fic is "lookin' good!" As a nerd, complements for my work just make my heart go WA-POW! I hope you find this chapter as good as the first. Its been just gah to write and edit but the final outcome is for you, the readers to decide. THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!
Norn-ello luv! Thanks for reviewing hun and yes, the dvd is incredible but I find the book just as entertaining. I don't know if you love books to such a level, as I do but I got all tingly as I read the end. Its amazing how the written word can do that. Oh, I pray for the day when my work has that effect on people. The review is greatly appreciated! Thanks again!
Also a huge thank you to all who faved me and the story, that didnt review. (ally123456, maternalluv20, and Pashmeanie) I hope to hear from you guys soon! THANK YOU EVERYONE!
Please read and reveiw! I GOTS DA BUG!
RomanticTimeTraveler (Changed my pen name so nobody freak out plz