I LIVE!

Yeah... I know it's been a year since the last update - my sincerest apologies! Things have been rather hectic, as you can imagine, with A Levels, among other things... still, I have finally finished secondary school and have been fortunate enough to gain an unconditional offer for my University of choice, so hurry up September!

I promise to not leave it this long between updates, also, though I have to say there will only be a few more chapters of this to go, now.

Still, enough talk. Without further ado, I present to you Chapter 6!

The week went by.

Elizabeta stood anxiously on Herr's Edelstein's doorstep, ready for her lesson, taking a few deep breaths before ringing the doorbell and waiting for him to answer. Last lesson's events had been running through her mind all week and the more she thought about them, the more ashamed she felt. What had she been thinking, leaning in to kiss her teacher like that?!

He kissed you back, remember, she thought.

Still, that wasn't the point. It was improper.

You're both legal adults and he's a private teacher – it's not as if you're in a school.

Yet it wasn't even about her being his student at all. Did he even like her in that way? Or had they both simply gotten caught up in the moment?

He was staring at your lips. How much more obvious can it get?!

Elizabeta was interrupted from her thoughts when the door swung open.

'G-good evening, Herr Edelstein,' she said, quietly, looking up at her teacher.

Herr Edelstein gave a curt nod. 'Good evening, Elizabeta,' he replied, stepping back, 'do come in.'

She crossed the threshold, as she had done many times before, and he closed the door behind her before silently leading her into the music room where the beautiful Steinway grand awaited them both. Elizabeta could feel her heart beating slightly faster than usual, and she could only hope that he would not mention anything about last week in this lesson.

'Now,' he murmured, 'I believe the last thing we were working on the Barcarolle by Alkan, yes?'

Elizabeta nodded.

'Show me what progress you've made,' her teacher continued. His tone was not unkind.

~o~

The hour passed. Although Herr Edelstein had been kind enough and had not mentioned anything about last week's events, Elizabeta could not deny that there was tension in the air.

'…and so next time you practise this passage, try doing it the way I have just shown you,' Herr Edelstein was saying, 'it should make it easier.'

Elizabeta nodded. 'I'll take that into account,' she replied, getting up from the stool and gathering her sheet music.

'I will see you next week at the same time, yes?'

'Yes.'

It was Herr Edelstein's turn to nod. 'Good. Have a good evening, Elizabeta.'

'And you, Herr Edelstein.'

When Elizabeta exited the house she felt strange. Throughout her lesson there had been a definite air of unease – things had been left unspoken that perhaps should not have. Would he ever bring it up? Did he even like her in that way, or had it been purely on impulse?

Would the two of them ever take it further?

She sighed, trying and failing to make sense of her current feelings. Not in the mood to go home just yet, she got in her car and drove to her local coffee shop – the same one in which she had spilt Antonio's drink over him all those months ago. In desperate need of a cappuccino, Elizabeta pulled up outside the café five minutes later, thinking about nothing and nobody but Herr Edelstein on the way there.

She ordered her drink and sat down in a corner by the window, sipping absent-mindedly and staring at the cars outside.

'Elizabeta! Hi!'

She looked up suddenly at the familiar-sounding voice that had seemingly come from nowhere to find Feliciano grinning down at her, holding a drink.

'Oh, hello Feliciano,' she said, somewhat startled before smiling back at him. She gestured to the seat opposite her. 'Please, do sit down,' she said politely.

'You sure I'm not interrupting?'

'Not at all.'

He beamed at her and took the seat. 'So,' he said, 'what's new? Still having lessons with Herr Edelstein?'

She nodded. 'I've just come from there, actually. He hasn't decided to get rid of me yet, but I did question him about it last week…'

Feliciano looked interested. 'What did he say?'

She shrugged. 'Not much,' she said, frowning, 'all I got out of him was "we'll see" and then he changed the subject.'

She decided against revealing any more information. Something told her it was not a good idea to tell Feliciano how she and her teacher had ended up sharing a kiss before he'd essentially thrown her out of the house.

'There's definitely something more to it…' she mused, 'what do you think?'

'I agree,' replied Feliciano, taking a sip of his drink, 'there's something not right – even just the way he acts, it's sort of… odd.'

'He's usually very quiet… but perhaps that's just the sort of person he is?' Elizabeta paused. 'In fact, no, hang on…' She thought back to her previous lessons. 'It's almost as if he gets startled easily?'

Feliciano's eyes widened. 'I noticed that, too! He'd also been complaining of headaches during my lessons, I don't know about you?'

'He's mentioned it a few times, yes… and he also had so many pill bottles – I saw them lying on the side when –'

She stopped herself before she could say the truth. '…when I was round there for a lesson recently,' she finished, lamely.

The Italian frowned. 'That's weird… perhaps it's a health problem, then?'

'It's got to be a serious one for him to stop teaching.'

Feliciano nodded. 'Mm… still, I can't see him telling us any time soon. Or, rather, telling you – I had my last lesson with him yesterday. He acted normally – well, as normal as he gets – and didn't say much. It was kind of awkward, really, especially after last week…'

Elizabeta was silent, remembering how Feliciano had stormed out of Herr Edelstein's house the week before. Would that be her soon? Would he soon end their lessons, too? Although she no doubt had a somewhat deeper relationship with her teacher than most people would, she could not shake the feeling that she didn't have much time with him left.

~o~

'This station is: Karlsplatz.'

'Ugh – excuse me – I need to get through – sorry – '

Elizabeta struggled to push past people as she exited the carriage. God, how she hated the metro. It was a terribly awkward place, with hardly anybody or anything making any noise apart from the mechanical voice that announced the station, along with the rattle of the wheels on the tracks below, and the occasional screaming child which only made the other passengers stare in annoyance at the disturbance.

It was a dark Sunday evening, and she was heading to none other than Vienna's famous concert hall – the Musikverein. After getting back home from dinner with Herr Edelstein a few weeks ago she had headed straight online and booked a ticket to see his recital, and although things between them had become a little more awkward since then, she still did not want to miss it. If anything, it was simply an excuse to see him – he did not need to know she was in the audience, after all.

Elizabeta exited the subway a few minutes later, walking out into the open air and busy streets of Vienna. The concert hall was only a short walk from here.

She checked her watch as she crossed the road. Always preferring to be early for events, she found she had half an hour before the concert began. Perfect.

As she took her time making her way to the hall, her mind wondered – once again, that was, to Herr Edelstein and what could be troubling him. She had caught sight of him again recently whilst visiting her parents' graves, though thankfully he had not noticed her in the cemetery and she left quickly after her business there was done, deciding not to linger like last time and intrude on what may have been a private moment with 'Basch', whoever the man was.

Perhaps he had been a past lover? Or a relative? Or simply a close friend? Whatever the connection, he had to be important.

Elizabeta was walking up the side of the building now, lost in thought, when a few metres ahead of her a door rapidly swung open and a tall figure stepped hurriedly out of it, slamming it shut behind him. Startled, Elizabeta looked at the person, partially illuminated by the dim street lamps of Vienna, as they leant against the wall, seemingly for support, tugging at the collar of their suit in an attempt to loosen it. The neatly-styled hair, the pale skin, the beauty mark – Elizabeta recognised the man almost immediately.

'Herr Edelstein?'

He jumped at her voice before gathering himself and making an effort to stand without the aid of the wall behind him. Elizabeta drew closer and saw that his breathing was shallow.

'Elizabeta –' he began, attempting to regain his composure, 'are – are you –?'

'Here to see you? Yes,' she replied, before looking worriedly up at him. She noticed he was sweating. 'Is… is everything alright?' she asked, tentatively.

'Yes, everything is fine,' he answered, quickly, 'I'm simply a little nervous about tonight – that's all. I – I came out to get some air.'

Elizabeta looked at him, not believing his words. There appeared to be a distant look of panic in those striking eyes of his.

'Don't worry about me, Elizabeta, please – I'll be fine. You should – you should hurry and get to your seat –'

'Herr Edelstein, you don't look too good,' she said, concerned and a little fearful. She had never seen him like this before.

'I assure you, I –'

He stopped dead, his mouth open as though he were about to finish his sentence.

There was a pause that seemed to go on for an eternity as Elizabeta watched. 'Herr Edelstein…?'

It was then that she saw her teacher stumble and she rushed forwards to try and catch hold of him as he collapsed, in an attempt to break his fall as he hit the pavement.

Elizabeta called out instinctively for help, trying to no avail to wake him up as he lay motionless before her. There were people staring, now, and she could see out of the corner of her eye that a few of them were hurrying over to them. Panicking, she shook Herr Edelstein as hard as she could, trying to detect his breathing and pleading with him to regain consciousness as several of the onlookers had now reached her. 'Herr Edelstein?! Herr Edelstein, wake up – please, just wake up – come on, open your eyes – please –'

Everything was a blur, now, and she felt herself being pulled away by one person, comforted by another. There were voices coming from all directions – loud, disorienting, echoed –

'Someone call an ambulance –'

'What's going on?'

'Young lady, do you know this man?'

'What happened?'

Yet the only voice Elizabeta could concentrate on was her own, chanting the same words over and over like a mantra.

'Please help him – please let him be alright – just tell me he'll be alright. Please. Please.'