Chapter 4: In Which London has an Eye
Much to Shion's dismay, Nezumi decided that he wanted to leave for France a day early, giving Shion until that evening to do all the sight-seeing he wanted. Still jet-lagged, Shion protested the lack of time, but Nezumi wouldn't budge. When he asked Nezumi resignedly what essential things he needed to see before they left, Nezumi scorned most of the common tourist destinations except for…
"The London Eye," Nezumi commanded, throwing on a black, buckled leather jacket and his charismatic scarves. "It's incredibly cliché but there's a good reason for it. The view is unbelievable. You're okay with heights, yeah?"
"I love them!" Shion answered from the bathroom, careful to conceal his face and hair from Nezumi. That day he chose a forest green hat Safu told him complemented his eyes.
"Perfect. I don't care what else you do as long as you go there." Nezumi scribbled the directions to the London Eye from the Tube to get to the London eye.
Assuming that the London Eye was some kind of huge building, Shion was incredibly confused when he ended up at the largest Ferris wheel he'd ever seen. Bewildered, Shion asked the teller if he was at the correct location, to which the latter laughed.
"You're not European are you? I suppose I should have known that from your accent but I never assume. But yes, you're at the right place."
No matter how much Shion loved heights, looking up at the enormous wheel made Shion nervous. Flipping through his atlas, Shion found a page dedicated to the most interesting landmarks near Britain, including a small blurb about the London Eye. According to the blurb the London eye stretched 135 meters above the ground and was Europe's largest Ferris wheel. Shion gulped.
The Eye offered one of the highest views on the continent, which excited Shion, but he preferred stationary views as opposed to a giant metal wheel that could theoretically unhinge itself and send him spiraling off to his death. The only reason he was able to shakily hand the teller some of the cash he'd gotten from the hostel's ATM this morning was because he recited to himself, a Ferris wheel of this size would use Stockbridge dampers in order to keep the wheel from shaking. Yes, I can see them, that will keep it from falling to one side or the other which makes it perfectly safe. Coupled with...
Before he knew it, he was sitting in a car with several other tourists speaking a myriad of languages that sounded like nothing more than gibberish to Shion. Nezumi was right, though, the view was absolutely spectacular. He could see the city sprawling out like the branches of crystallized ice before him. That same sense of wonder that had overcome him on the plane made another appearance now, causing his heart to soar and a stream of laughter to fly from his mouth.
He felt giddy up there, euphoric even. He pressed his entire body up against the glass, soaking in the glory of London as the buildings got smaller and smaller. People scurried like ants beneath him as his car reached its apex. It was dizzying to be up so high in that cage-like car; so close to the world but not quite able to participate in it.
An irresistible urge to wrench the doors open and fling himself like a bird into the open air overcame Shion. He was about to latch his fingers into the door when a small child came giggling up beside him and shoved him out of the way to get a better look outside. Her parents apologized to Shion, but somewhere he felt tension unknot in his chest. What the in the world had just happened? He decided to sit down until the car reached the ground again, admiring the view from a much safer spot.
The trip took a total of about a half an hour, during which Shion's eyes wandered from ground to building to sky to person to ground and back again. A mental map began to form in his head of interesting places he saw that could be fun to visit. When he made it back to the ground and exited the glass-walled Ferris wheel carriage, he had a working map in his head of the places he wanted to go.
Shion decided it was best to keep his sightseeing closer to the ground. The natural history museum near the Astor Hyde Park hostel was an entertaining spot for Shion—he was particularly interested in the more westernized view of natural history. He visited several shops and a few little cafes simply to enjoy the atmosphere—it was an entirely new world compared to his small corner of Japan.
Finally, when the sun was making its descent behind the tall buildings near Trafalgar square, Shion decided it was time to find Nezumi. It didn't take him long since Nezumi had decided to fashion two vibrantly magenta scarves around his neck and waist. He looked not unlike a glorious tropical bird in flight, Shion noted. The scarves extended from his body like wings as he twirled about his rug, shredding his bow with the speed of his playing. Shion made a mental note to ask how many bows Nezumi went through in a given week—he wondered how he could possibly afford them all.
It wasn't until the street lamps created that same surreal image of tens of tiny suns swirling about in the puddles that Nezumi ceased his performance. Shion was amazed at how he managed to muster enough stamina every day to dance and play like that.
"I still don't understand how you're able to do that every day," Shion remarked, leaning on the same potted plant as the day before.
"It's just a part of the lifestyle," Nezumi shrugged, packing up his things.
Shion noticed that Nezumi had grabbed his luggage that morning. The vibrantly orange bags were nestled up against Nezumi's pack. Shion was strangely touched.
"Thanks for grabbing those," Shion said, gesturing towards his bags.
"I wanted to be able to leave straight from here," Nezumi replied, hoisting his pack up onto his shoulders and grabbing the cello and violin cases. "Shall we?"
Nezumi still didn't talk all the way to Piccadilly station, or on the train to the international Channel Tunnel station. Shion was also unsure of what to offer as far as conversation. He was still soaking in the antiquity of the buildings and roads, the oddly detached nature of the people even as they were smashed together on the Tube, and the small bits of conversation he picked up, muttered in the midst of crowds. Nezumi seemed almost bored by it all, so Shion internalized everything. He didn't want Nezumi to think he was a wide-eyed child—the gypsy might have left him behind.
"You look like you have a squirrel running around in your jeans," Nezumi noted, finally breaking the silence.
Despite its vulgarity, Shion sighed in relief at the comment.
"I'm just excited I guess," Shion remarked as they passed out of the train and into the impressively crowded station.
"You're a bad liar," Nezumi observed, snaking through the narrow alleys between people with expert precision.
"I don't know what to talk about," Shion confessed loudly, struggling to keep up.
"It isn't like there's a 'right' thing to say. Just speak your mind—to hell with everything else," Nezumi told him, his voice resorting to a yell.
"Okay," Shion conceded stridently, still apprehensive. "Well, to be honest I wish I'd gotten more time to—"
"Dammit I can't hear you!" Nezumi called over the rising roar of the mass of humanity surging through the station. "Hold it until we get on the train! Don't fall behind!"
A barrage of sights and sounds slapped Shion fiercely across the face. Living in a bustling Japanese city, Shion was used to being in the middle of crowds. His height had accustomed him to being buffeted around like a Ping-Pong ball in those mobs as well. This wasn't what alarmed him; what alarmed him slightly was the wave of languages that swept over him. He caught only snatched of English amongst a swarm of other harsh noises that meant nothing to him.
Coupled with the fact that Nezumi had become nothing more than a blurred flash of pink, Shion's entire body tensed. His muscles and lungs recalled the same feeling they'd experienced when he'd gotten lost at the Heathrow airport. The air left his lungs and sailed away into the tornado of people surrounding him on all sides.
Nezumi's scarf completely disappeared between two exceptionally tall men. It didn't reappear this time.
Shion swallowed the sickeningly bitter taste at the back of his throat. Battling the instinct to yell out and charge through the multitudes like a bowling ball through pins, Shion continued. He tried to aim himself in the general direction in which he'd last seen Nezumi's scarf vanish.
His chest heaved. Sweat began to prickle his skin, percolating on his forehead and trickling down his cheeks. His hands reached out to sift through thee people in front of him, desperate to catch even a hint of bright magenta. He was alone and lost again, and both of these things made him pulse quicken. He heard the blood rush through his ears, and his feet involuntarily picked up speed.
Where was he supposed to go?
Although he knew it wouldn't help him, Shion reached into the back pocket of his jeans and clutched at his atlas. He wasn't sure why, but a small amount of the strain in his muscles loosened as he felt the glossy cover brush his fingers. He gripped the volume tightly, and kept going.
A fiercely strong arm wound around his waist without warning. Not thinking but simply acting, Shion thrust his elbow backwards. It was stopped by a stiff, calloused hand.
"It's me," a gruff voice crooned in his ear. "Come on; let me lead. I'm not going to lose you."
Shion's heart was still thundering in his chest, but he felt much calmer. Relief filled every facet of his body. Oddly enough, the place where Nezumi's hand held his side in a firm but gentle grip, burned. He wondered if Nezumi was abnormally hot from being crammed in between so many people.
With Nezumi as their guide, the two travelers found their way through the last mass of people and into the openness of the actual station.
It was stunning. Shion thought it looked almost like a small village; little shops and cafes were nestled in the aged brick walls on either side of the huge atrium of the station. Crimson brick was broken up by archways embellished with cream and scarlet—molding outlining each elegant archway. This area consisted of two levels, with the first floor opened up to the second like a shopping mall. Overhead, glass panels allowed sunlight to stream in through the roof, showering the atrium in light.
Shion's mouth fell open. It was enormous.
"Wow," he said intelligently.
"I agree," Nezumi said, releasing his waist. Shion found himself missing the feeling of Nezumi's hand. "Even I never get tired of this place. It's one of my favorite stations in Europe. Definitely my favorite in England."
Shion nodded, eyes still searching every last corner of the gorgeous station. Nezumi said nothing, allowing Shion to enjoy the splendor for several minutes. When Shion was satisfied with his survey of the scenery, he looked back at Nezumi, positively glowing.
"It's really beautiful in here," he smiled. "Where do we buy our tickets?"
"We don't," Nezumi elucidated, whipping two slips of paper from one of his jacket pockets. "You can save a great deal of money buying your tickets in advance. I bought them this morning."
"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Shion said, feeling guilty that Nezumi spent his hard-earned money on him.
"Just buy me dinner tonight and we're even," Nezumi winked.
Shion couldn't help but laugh.
Before he knew it, they were hauling their luggage onto the train with hundreds of other people. Shion's ears picked so many languages, he'd stopped trying to glean any English from the passengers. Instead, he enjoyed Nezumi's company—the gypsy seemed much more willing to talk after their little adventure.
"What were you going to say before got lost in that mob?" Nezumi asked, setting down his instruments on the seat beside him as though handling sheets of crystal.
"I was just going to say I wish I'd seen more of London," Shion explained, resting his orange suitcase on his leg and settling down beside Nezumi.
"You can always come back here," Nezumi pointed out, reclining in his seat. "Did you at least go to the Eye?"
"Yeah!" Shion exclaimed, attracting the attention of several of the patrons around them. "Yeah, I did. It was so high up. I had no idea there were Ferris wheels that huge."
"I love going up there," Nezumi agreed. "I always make it a point to take a trip up when I come to London. There's something intoxicating about being up so high, don't you think?"
Shion nodded eagerly, just as the train shuddered forward, beginning their journey down the tracks. Nezumi rested his arms on the backs of the seats, his fingers brushing Shion's shoulder. Again, a burning sensation, like that of being too close to a fire, lit up the nerves beneath his cardigan. Cocking his head to the side, Shion scrutinized Nezumi's skin. It was as pale as ever. Shion was incredibly confused. If his hands were as hot as they felt on Shion, they should have been flushed somehow. Gazing out the window as the station whipped by and out of sight, Shion contemplated this phenomenon. Perhaps he was feverish from the jet lag that still hummed quietly in the peripheral of his body.
Yes, he decided resolutely. Jet lag can cause some odd symptoms, after all.
He absently hoped the effects would wear off soon.