Sorry this has taken so long to update guys. This story is just so heavy with pain and loss (to me, at the very least) that I didn't want to touch it. But thanks to a friend, I was able to pick up where I left off.
This chapter was difficult to write and get back into the sync of, especially as we also have a flashback to The Break Up (no, not the movie...) Finally we get to see exactly how they broke up and why Klavier is so angry with Ema (P.S. Klavier haters... HE HAD HIS HEART BROKEN! STOP BEING MEAN TO HIM!)
Also, I feel duty-bound to say this...
IF YOU DON'T LIKE ANGST, DON'T BLOODY READ A STORY LABELLED HURT/COMFORT! Just in case :)
Enjoy guys, and leave me a review if you want me to update again soon!
This is for you, Jaymee! Thanks darling!
Jeopardy
This is where you left me; this is where I'll stay
This is what you wanted so this is what I became.
Every Time I Try by Absence Of Concern
.'.
7 years ago
Klavier was beside himself.
He'd gone to Ema's hotel room but when there was no answer to his knock or phone call, he'd gone down to the reception to ask after her only to be told she had already checked out. The answer made no sense.
Why would Ema check out and not tell him?
He'd called her again and when she didn't answer, he called his band mates to see if she was with one of them — their flight was later the next day. She couldn't have gone far. Maybe she'd told one of them, maybe she was with them… but, one by one, they told him they hadn't seen her all day.
Where had she gone?
Klavier ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, looking around the hotel lobby before dialling her number again. He lifted the cell to his ear with the frantic hope that she would answer. His prayer was answered on the fourth ring but instead of a greeting, he heard another woman's voice:
"Ema? Why are you—"
Followed by—
"Shit!" Ema cursed... and immediately hung up.
Klavier stared at his phone with awful blankness for a moment but didn't loiter. Dread building inside him, the blond raced across the lobby, summoning a driver once he was outside: he knew where she was and the fact made his stomach turn over with worry. Why was she with her sister when she should have been with him? Why had she left without letting him know where she was going?
"Danke," Klavier said, hastily pulling what cash he had on him and throwing it at the driver when the car came to a stop fifteen minutes later. He didn't bother to check if it was the correct change — he flew out the door, barely pausing to slam it shut as he ran up the driveway.
He hadn't even come to a stop before his hand thumped against the wood of the front door. "Ema!" he bellowed. "Open the door!"
There was nothing for a split second and Klavier pounded the door again, adrenalin surging through him. "Ema!" he shouted again. "Please open this—"
The unexpected sound of the clicking clock silenced him and he stared at the door anxiously as it slowly opened, revealing an older woman.
"Where is Ema?" Klavier demanded of Lana, all his usual politeness gone. "Is she okay?"
Lana was calm. "She's fine, Klavier."
"Where is she?" he asked, barely noticing the uncomfortable shadow that passed over her eyes.
Lana surveyed him for a moment, her expression cool but guarded. Klavier held her stare, his heart thumping in a steady but uncomfortable rhythm.
And then she stepped aside. "Come in."
He didn't need telling twice: the blond swept past her without another word, his eyes searching for Ema and the moment he saw her huddled form on the sofa, he forgot everything else. With two long strides, Klavier was next to her, sinking into the space beside her and pulling her into his arms.
"Ema!" he said, his voice shaking. "What happened? Why did you leave like that? I have been worried sick about you!"
She didn't say anything and he was content to simply hold her and let his body recover from the shock of her disappearance. She was okay. She was fine. He pulled back a little to look into her face, to satiate his anxiousness but her eyes were downcast, her mouth firmly pressed together… She was white as ash.
His stomach tightened.
"Ema?" he asked in a softer voice, placing a finger under her chin and tilting her face. "What's wrong, angel?"
She was refusing to meet his eyes and it was then, for the first time, that Klavier noticed she wasn't returning his embrace. Her arms, instead of wrapping around his neck like they usually did, were resting limply on the sofa.
"Tell me what is wrong," he said gently. "Is it something I did? Tell me so I can make it right. I will do anything."
And finally she looked up at him and Klavier cringed, barely able to stop from recoiling: her eyes were empty of emotion. There wasn't a tear in sight, not a single apology in a blink. She simply stared at him with empty, emerald pools.
"I'm not going back," she said.
"The hotel?" Klavier said, running a hand over her hair. "What happened? You do—"
"Not the hotel, Klavier," she interrupted curtly. "I mean Germany. I'm not going back to Germany."
He frowned at her, drawing back so he could better look at her. There didn't seem to be any lie in her gaze, not a hint of hilarity in her expression. If she was joking, she was doing a damn amazing job of hiding it.
"Ema..." he started in a measured voice. "Please explain the situation to me. I am confused. Will you not be finishing your studies there?"
Her response was to disentangle herself from him. Klavier saw the way she held herself, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was cold. Her legs, clad in shorts, seemed to be unsteady under the weight of her body and Klavier frowned, instantly rising to his feet to help her but Ema held a hand out to stop him.
"Please listen to me," she said in a firm voice. "I'm only going to say this once. I don't want to make this harder for you."
A sick feeling took hold. "What are you talking about?"
Her back was to him but the shadows cast by the fire she was looking into made the slightest shift of her position obvious. Ema's body shuddered and he couldn't help but envelop her in his arms. He didn't understand why but he suddenly felt the need to keep her close, as if the proximity would somehow keep them safe…
"I love you, Ema," he murmured, willing her to look up at him. "Whatever it is, tell me. We can work through it together."
The reassurance had the opposite effect on her. She pushed at his shoulders and forced some distance between them. It scared him, the way she was rejecting his nearness. Up until now, she had always kept close to him; there had always been a consistency of physical proximity. Whenever he was around, Ema always had a hand on him — on his shoulder, entwined around his fingers or running through his hair.
But now, she was pulling away like she didn't want him near her anymore. It made him feel sick.
"Klavier," she said in a tone ringing so strongly of decisiveness that he felt the trepidation grow heavier. "I don't think this can work."
He frowned at her words — it only took a moment for him to realise what she was probably talking about and he shook his head. "Of course it can work. I will remain here too. We can be together."
Ema was shaking her head and she looked at him with determined eyes. "No, Klavier."
The sick sensation that had been building up in his stomach intensified. He studied her features for several long moments and she looked back at him, unflinching beneath his inspection. Something in her was different, he noticed. Something in her expression was unlike anything she had ever regarded him with before — the usual adoration that had filled her gaze was replaced with hard emptiness.
"Ema," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to ask her something — anything — that would explain away the dark sense of foreboding engulfing him but he was afraid. If he asked, what would she say?
If he asked, what would he lose?
So he didn't. With cautious hands, he reached out to her, lifting a hand to take hers but she moved away. Unwilling to let his mind surrender to the obvious message her behaviour was sending, he grabbed hold of her and pulled her to him against her will. He crushed his lips to hers in a blistering kiss — he would make her forget the sinful thoughts swirling around her mind. He would wipe out the uncompromising decision in her eyes.
"I love you," he seethed, the words fierce against her mouth. "I will love you forever."
"Don't do this," she said softy, looking up at him. "It won't change anything."
"What are you doing?" Klavier demanded desperately. "Why are you saying this?"
This time when she pushed, he held on tightly, not ready to let her go. She glanced up at him through her lashes and she must have seen that he wasn't going to release her because she went still in his arms.
"Nothing lasts forever," she said quietly.
"This does," he said fervently, taking her hand and putting it over his heart. "We do. We will."
"You don't understand."
"I do not care for the convoluted thoughts driving this behaviour," he told her furiously. "All that matters is how much I love you and how much you love me. No ma—"
"I don't love you."
Klavier staggered. It was as though her words were physical blows: his body slipped from his control and the arms that had been wrapped around her just fell to his side again. Something cold was creeping into his body from the tips of his fingers, the stumbling feet… He did nothing but stare at her. She was watching him expressionlessly, completely unmoved by the fact that she had just ripped the ground out from under him.
He stared and stared and the girl he loved so hopelessly did nothing to stabilise the world she had just rocked.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It wasn't—"
He threw a hand up, not sure he could hear anymore. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't leave because he knew that would be the end and he wasn't convinced she was telling the truth. There was no way she could have kissed him the way she had if she didn't love him. He'd felt it in her touch, he'd tasted it on her tongue, had seen it in her eyes.
"I don't believe you," he told her flatly.
He waited for her to cave in. Any moment now, she was going to dissolve into tears and tell him he was right and whatever her reason had been, she couldn't go through with the lie. She would fly at him and throw her arms around him and kiss him again to reinforce her love, to prove the lie for what it had been.
None of it happened.
Ema remained stony. Unmoved.
No. No.
The Ema he loved… his Ema loved him back.
Stricken, he took a step toward her but this time she held her ground. With unsteady hands, he took her by the shoulders and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. "Ema," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Tell me you love me."
She didn't.
His fingers squeezed her arms. "Tell me what I did wrong."
"Nothing."
"Is it the band? Is it all the women?" he asked raggedly. "I can give it all up. I will—"
"That's not it," she cut across him, her tone sharp.
"Then tell me you love me," he said hoarsely, barely able to get the words out. "Look me in the eye like you always have and tell me you love me."
"I..."
She hesitated and he squeezed his eyes shut, begging her with his heart to take back everything she has just said, begging his Ema to come back to him.
"I don't love you," she said quietly. "I never have, Klavier. I thought I did but I was wrong." She paused. "I'm sorry."
He held onto her a moment longer because he knew he would probably collapse if he let go now. Except, when he finally did, his legs gave out from under him and he fell, landing on his knees with a defeated slump. She stood over him silent and unresponsive; instead of dropping down beside him as she once might have, Ema moved away.
"I have always been at your feet," he said in a barely audible voice, his head lowered. "I have worshipped the ground you walked on."
"I know," she said quietly.
But it's not enough to make me love you, she was saying. The silence between them was dense with it. He looked up at her, not caring that he was still on the ground, in a position that made him more pitiful. He knew it wouldn't add to her opinion of him but he didn't care anymore. She had already cut him down so low, he could hardly sink any further.
"Is there another man?" he asked softly.
The hesitancy in her expression knocked his breath away and when she didn't answer, something inside him snapped. Jealousy possessed him at the thought of her with another man and he jumped to his feet, closing the space between them and grabbing her by the arms.
"Who is he?" he demanded harshly. "How long has this been going on?"
Ema wrenched herself out of his grasp. "Nothing's happened yet."
Yet.
The word was like a dagger in his heart. Klavier stared down into her features with disbelief: the eyes he had loved to gaze into, the mouth he had kissed, the cheeks he had stroked… Were they already somebody else's?
"Who is he?"
"It doesn't matter," she said coolly.
"It matters to me!" he roared. "I want to know who you are leaving me for! I want to know who stole you from me!"
"Klavier."
She was calm as she said his name, her eyes steady and direct, and his heart shattered into tiny pieces. He didn't need to hear what she said next — he could already see it in her gaze.
"I was never yours to begin with."
He didn't need to hear anymore. He backed away from her, stunned by the lack of emotion in the way she watched him. She was unaffected by the blow she'd dealt him. This wasn't his Ema. This wasn't the girl he'd wanted to spend his life with. This girl… was a stranger.
She didn't need to tell him to go — Klavier turned away and ran. He ran and ran as if he could outrun the stranger that had ground him to dust. He ran as if he could outrun the destruction of his world
They looked for him for hours but found no trace of the blond. It was only the next day that he stumbled into his hotel room, torn up, weary… and drunk with heartbreak.
And no longer the Klavier Gavin that had once loved Ema Skye with reckless abandon.
.'.
Present day
In his dreams she was always smiling.
The first couple of weeks had been the worst. Waking up to an empty bed brought the harsh reality of the morning; his life suddenly felt barren and he wanted to lie back down, fall asleep and never wake again. It was a crippling feeling to realise how much his smiles and laughs had depended on her, how closely bound he had been to her and how bereft he felt without her. With time he learnt to accommodate the feeling. It became a part of his routine every morning and he strived to work himself to the edge of his limits so that he could go home and sleep, so exhausted that the dreams wouldn't torture him. But they came.
They always came.
She was always close enough for him to see but too far away to touch. For a while, he fooled himself into thinking that she was moving farther away and one day she would be gone over the horizon and he could finally — finally — be free.
But then he began to dream of her in his dreams too and he knew he was going mad.
It was somewhere in between those painful blinks of awakening, those moments when he slowly exited those hazy doors of his dreams back into the emptiness of reality, that Klavier began to hate her. Each time he woke up, his heart broke all over again and Ema's betrayal returned with murderous vengeance. With every instance the consciousness returned, his hate increased until he thought it couldn't possible hurt anymore.
But, Klavier thought as he threw an arm over his eyes as if it would suppress his thoughts, I was wrong.
Since her return, his dreams had become darker, more vivid and — infuriatingly enough — more sensual. Being so near her reminded him of times long gone. It reminded him of the way he'd burnt for her, the way he had once held her, of the way she'd touched him…
For him, sleep was death. Even though it was only a few hours, he knew that when he woke up and discerned the difference between reality and fantasy, understood the elation was just an aftermath of his dreams, another part of his ravaged soul would die.
Still, he closed his eyes and invited the dreams in to claim him… because it was only in the blackness of his unconscious that his own darkness faded.
.'.
"Gavin."
The grip on his arm was hard as it shook him and his eyes flew open, blinking in retaliation to the harsh light pouring in through his lashes. Klavier glanced up to see who it was that had unceremoniously woken him up but suddenly found he did not care; his body was rock hard, every muscle in his limbs stretched taut. The pain in his lower body became more pronounced and he glanced down as if he would be able to see through his pants and understand where the desire was coming from.
Just what he needed before a concert.
"Wake up," the voice snapped. "Lamiroir's here."
Klavier slowly lowered his arm, blinking rapidly but no longer caring about the light. The form standing over him sharpened into a feminine outline and, if possible, his body only tensed further. It didn't matter that Ema was glaring at him angrily, that every feature of her face was lined with displeasure, nor that she was dressed in her work garb. Just seeing her features was enough. The same arm that had been resting over his eyes reached out to take her arm; his fingers wrapped around her wrist and he pulled just as her eyes widened. She fell atop him and Klavier's arms immediately clamped around her, holding her body into place.
And before Ema could protest, he kissed her.
He knew it was just the aftermath of the dream he'd been having, that it was just a natural response to the desire pumping through his body but when Ema didn't pull away, something else took over. Her weight cooled something inside him — deep inside where all that resided was pain — and his hold on her loosened even as he deepened the kiss. The feel of her lips on his, the shape of her body against his, though different, felt so familiar it was almost as if she'd never left.
It wasn't just him, though — Ema, who he'd expected to pull away as soon as she'd got her balance, was responding in a completely different way. Her mouth had parted and when his tongue met hers, drawing it into a dance of passion, she joined him without skipping a beat. Her surrender pushed it all away and he crushed her to him, his hands sinking into the mass of her thick hair: he forgot that he hated her, that she was the reason he lived in the darkness and that he wanted revenge… He let the instincts of his hungering body take over.
"Ema…" he murmured. "Ema, Ema, Ema…"
Here, in this kiss where all the barriers fell away, she was his — the Ema he'd wanted to spend his life with. He kissed her unrestrainedly as if it could make up for all the years of pain and separation. Over and over, with every breath of air, her name burst from his lips like a prayer. After all those years of loneliness, she was here in his arms. She was on his lips and against his body…
"Mr Gavin?"
The voice that followed the knock registered dimly: it was dulled by the sudden way Ema pulled away, breaking his hold on her with a heavy gasp. He looked at her, passion glazing his vision. She had a hand to her swollen lips and was walking backwards, a growing look of shock and horror racing across her features. She turned away from him and before he could say a word to stop her, before he could even sit up, Ema had reached out, grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open to be met with an overwhelmingly tall man.
"Mr LeTouse," Ema said in a choked voice. "Lamiroir's room is ready."
Klavier sat up and slowly rose to his feet, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "Herr LeTouse," he greeted, moving forward and extending a hand while trying to ignore the way Ema stood nearby, stiff as a board. "I am sorry," he apologised, sheepishly glancing over his shoulder at the sofa. "I was tired and fell asleep on—"
The words must have been a reminder for her because he was cut short by Ema who seemed unable to handle his proximity: she muttered, "Excuse me," and pushed past the manager. Klavier watched her disappear down the hallway, her hands running through her hair. Despite his body's screaming needs, Klavier was grateful for each step that carried her away: he needed a clear head.
Damn it.
"Mr Gavin." LeTouse's deep voice broke into his thoughts, drawing Klavier's attention back to the large man. "It is perfectly understandable for a musician to have a little rest before a performance. I apologise for interrupting you."
"Nein," Klavier said, seeing Ema's lab coat disappear around the corner. He turned back to LeTouse with a winning smile, stepping out into the hallway. "Please show Lamiroir to her dressing room. For now, you will have to excuse me. There is something I must attend to."
.'.
"Is there a reason why you're attacking your guitar case?" Deston said, looking down at the blond prosecutor with an amused look.
"I told you," Klavier said irately, halting the banging motion of the torch against his case. "I could not find my keys this morning."
Deston looked like he wanted to say something but, to his credit, he simply held a hand out for the torch. "Give me."
The Gavinner handed it over and stepped back, watching the drummer fall to his knees beside the guitar case. He brought the torch crashing down and, in one swift move, disabled the lock. He smiled up at Klavier triumphantly. "You're welcome."
The prosecutor, already stressed, said nothing. He pulled the guitar into his arms and ran his fingers over it gingerly; even though his eyes were roving its smooth planes, his mind was whirring ahead to their performance — it had to be perfect. He knew she would be watching. It was why he'd assigned her to security: to ensure she would see him perform, see his popularity and success… it was the perfect atmosphere to mesmerise her.
"K," Deston said suddenly, trying to get his attention.
Klavier glanced at his friend over his shoulder expectantly. "Ja."
"Why is Ema here?"
He turned away with a sigh. Of course Deston would notice. He was painfully shrewd. Settling the guitar back into its case, Klavier rose to his feet and looked at the other Gavinner in the eye. "I assigned her to security detail because I want her here," he said, knowing honesty was his best bet.
"Why?" Deston asked. "Won't that be a distraction?"
"No…" Klavier shook his head, looking to the stage he would soon be performing on. "I think she will be my inspiration."
"Your inspiration," Deston echoed, his eyes sceptical.
He hesitated before answering, unsure about the wisdom of admitting the truth to his friend, but then realised lying would make him look more suspicious than anything else: Deston would see through it in a heartbeat.
He could settle for telling a half-truth. "I want her to see what she walked away from," he said solemnly.
Deston didn't react for a few moments; his eyes swept Klavier's features as if he was looking for something and then his expression turned grave. "You're a big boy so I'm not going to treat you like a kid by asking you what you're doing." He threw the torch at Klavier, retreating back towards the stage. "But remember this Klavier: she was my best friend."
Klavier's irritation spiked at the warning in Deston's voice. "I grow tired of all these warnings. You, Raoul — have you forgotten that I am your friend? I am not the one who walked away."
Deston's expression softened. "You are my friend, K," he said quietly. "And I don't want to see you get hurt again."
"And you believe I will?"
The other Gavinner paused but there was no hesitancy in his silence. He was surveying Klavier almost as if he was trying to figure out whether his question rhetorical or not.
"I think," Deston answered in that same soft voice, "that you believe you hate her. But if you hurt her, you're going to hurt yourself."
Klavier resisted the urge to snort. "I do not hate her," he lied.
"I know you don't," Deston said calmly. "But you think you do."
He was certain that if he hadn't been interrupted when he was, Klavier would have punched Deston in the face; the other three Gavinners appeared, their rowdy laughter disrupting the moment and even though Deston and Klavier held each other's gaze for several moments longer, nobody else seemed to notice.
"You landed yourself in that one, mate," Seren was chortling with a slap on Raoul's back.
"Did I fuck," the red-head said, brushing himself off. "All I did was ask her if she's gonna wish me good luck. This bastard tried to flirt with her!" he said pointing at Daryan who smirked.
"You asked for a kiss," he drawled in retaliation. "That not considered flirting?"
"I was asking for luck!"
"'All I did was ask if she's gonna wish me good luck,'" Seren mimicked before shaking his head. "Face it, mate. You got what you deserved."
"What's going on?" Deston asked.
"This genius here tried to get it on with Ema," Seren laughed, pointing at Raoul before flicking a hand at Daryan. "So did this wanker."
Klavier raised an eyebrow, interested. "What did she do?"
"She flung some snacks at us," Daryan answered in a bored voice.
"Snacks?" the blond said, surprised. "She assaulted you with snacks?"
"It's hardly assault," Raoul snorted.
"Where is she?" They all stilled, looking at Klavier with suddenly piercing eyes and he suppressed the desire to roll his eyes. Their paranoia was becoming a pain in the ass. "What?" he said in an exasperated tone. "Do you think I will eat her?"
"I hope not," Daryan smirked. "She's more entertaining than ever."
"She's backstage," Seren provided.
"K," Deston called after him as he walked away and he glanced over his shoulder, slowing his pace.
"What is it?"
However instead of an answer, Klavier got their scrutiny: all four of them were watching him intently. He barely noticed that Deston hadn't said another word. His gaze swept the faces of his band mates, took in the subtle but identical looks of warning in their eyes, and a surge of anger washed through him. It wasn't enough that she had ripped his heart out — now Ema was turning his friends against him. Whirling around furiously, Klavier walked away.
Revenge, he thought fiercely. Revenge was his only salvation.
.'.
He found her sitting on an equipment luggage, a Blue Badger doll in her lap. Her fingers were running over the blue material, pulling and pushing and he stood still for a moment, watching her. Ema was unsettled. He could see it in her face. She wore an unhappy expression, her features overshadowed by an emotion deeper than any scowl he'd seen.
For a moment, it stopped him in his tracks. He watched her, taken off-guard by the unexpected sadness — ever since she'd returned, all he'd seen was a seriousness sparsely sprinkled with laughter. The vulnerability was alien in this older, stranger Ema.
He kept still, watching her. He may have not seen her for seven years but Klavier still recognised the slump of her shoulders, the bowed head. From this position, the hair falling around her face, Ema could have been the same girl he'd fallen in love with. It was as if she was 17 again and missing her sister — more than once Ema had come to him after school, crying over Lana Skye's absence and he'd held her in his arms, comforting her until she fell asleep.
And suddenly, his anger dissipated. All of the resentment that he'd brought over from the stage, the revenge he'd been intent on since she'd returned, went up in smoke. His legs carried him to her and it was only when he stopped beside her that she sensed him and shifted.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, sinking into a crouch and looking up into her face. Ema immediately turned away but he reached out and touched her cheek.
"Stop it," she snapped, slapping his hand.
Klavier's anger might have flared up if it hadn't been for the choked sound of her voice. "Look at me."
Instead of listening to him, she suddenly stood up and turned her back to him but he'd known her, had loved her so deeply that he'd been expecting it and he was fast: he shot up to his feet and seized her. Without hesitation, Klavier drew her backwards to take her by the shoulders.
"Hey," he said softly, willing her to lift her head so he could see her face, "What is it?"
"Let—"
He frowned when she broke off mid-sentence, her voice turning thick — he couldn't take it anymore. Klavier tipped her chin, simultaneously brushing the hair out of her face, and when he finally saw the reason why she'd been hiding, his stomach clenched. Her cheeks were damp, her eyes red-rimmed.
She'd been crying. Even after all these years, seeing her tears was like a punch in his gut.
"Ema," he whispered. "What is it?"
"Leave me alone," she said and it was only the unsteady tone of her voice that kept him right where he was.
"Did someone say something to you?"
Her eyes turned up to his again and the expression in them was heart-breaking. "Why did you kiss me?"
Klavier was taken aback by her question. For a moment he did nothing but search her face; was the kiss the reason she was so upset? Why would it have distressed her so much? By her own admission, Ema had never loved him. If she didn't care for him, why would she be so affected?
Yet there was no denying the miserable look that had permeated her features: it was as clear as daylight. It contradicted everything he knew to be true but it was there. And he needed to understand.
What would she say if he told her the truth?
"I was dreaming..." He trailed off, not able to finish the sentence. Insecurity arose with the memory that flashed through Klavier's mind: him, at her feet, with her looming over him quietly.
Could he take the chance and tell her the truth?
But before he'd finished contemplating how to best answer that question, Ema stiffened and pulled out of his grasp. "That's disgusting."
Apparently, she had already guessed. It didn't matter that Klavier had risen higher than she could ever hope to go — he felt the same way he had all those years ago… low and unwanted. Klavier recoiled at the venom in her words and the softness that had pervaded his heart was gone. He looked at her, saw the expression of fury and revulsion that had suddenly contorted her face and felt his heart sink just as his own anger rose. She found it disgusting that he'd dreamed of her, did she? She had kissed him yet found his desire for her repellent?
Hypocrite.
"I apologise," he said frostily. "I had no idea my dreams would be so offensive."
"Are you insane?" she asked incredulously. "Do you expect me to be flattered? I don't want to be a replacement for whoever you were dreaming about! That's sick."
For a split second he was confused by her retort and then the realisation struck him like lightning: she'd thought he'd been dreaming of someone else. It was so absurd, so unexpected that he had to bite back a laugh of relief. That was why she'd been mad… and the thought set his body on fire. This wasn't the Ema that had walked into his office all those weeks ago. That Ema would never have kissed him let alone given a damn about being a replacement for his cravings. No, this Ema was his. It was the Ema that had looked at him with depressed eyes all those years ago because she thought she wasn't good enough. It was the girl he had loved.
And it didn't matter anymore that that girl had turned out to be a fake. Here, as she looked at him with resentment, she was real. His Ema may never have been so antagonistic but he could look past that — because he saw the self-doubt behind those eyes.
"I was dreaming of you," he told her quietly.
Ema's anger collapsed into shock.
He kept his voice steady just as he had back then so she would not doubt the truth of his words. "I was not dreaming of anybody else."
He could see her trying to gather her emotions but they were spilling out of her features rebelliously. "You were… dreaming of me?" she asked, her voice uncertain.
He took a step toward her, encouraged when she didn't react to his approach. "Ema," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "Who else would I dream about?"
She shook her head. He could see her trying to fight the traitorous passion on her face but it was too deeply embedded. A violent need took hold of him, an insane hope clawing at his heart. There was no revulsion in her gaze now. If anything, she was looking at him with something akin to...
To longing?
"Ema," he muttered, reaching out to take her hand again and his heart soared when she let him entwine their fingers and draw her closer. Klavier put his arms around her and tipped her face up to look at him. "I was dreaming of you. I have always dreamt of only you. You have always been the woman of my dreams."
Time stood still and that enigmatic look deepened; she was motionless save for the flickering of her eyes as they moved back and forth between his own. She was searching him, taking him apart with her silent gaze. Inexplicably, Klavier felt like everything he was hung in the balance, that this very moment could define the rest of his life, and an insane thought occurred to him: was it possible he'd been wrong? Was it possible she had lied? That she'd had a reason for what she had done?
Was it possible she had loved him all along?
Because the way she was looking at him now… It wasn't like she had all those years ago. No, the passion she'd graced him with at 17 paled in comparison to the way she was surveying him now. It was as if the past 7 years had never happened, as if the very air around them burnt with white-hot fire.
Was it possible he had misunderstood something?
The thought left him cold. It swam through him, turning his veins to ice. Could it be he had been wrong about her? Could it be she had suffered as much as he had?
Could it be she had suffered even more than him?
"Ema," he said quietly, brushing the hair off her face. "Tell me what you are thinking."
"I..." She shook her head, as if she wasn't quite sure what to do, what to say and again, Klavier got the horrible sensation his life rested in this moment. "You've changed."
The comment was odd and he suppressed the urge to crush her to him, all thoughts of revenge long forgotten. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her and beg her not to leave him again.
Instead, Klavier ran a thumb across her mouth. "Can I kiss you again, angel?"
He felt the familiar endearment go through her with a shiver and when there was no immediate protest, he swept down to capture her mouth in a kiss at once more tender and consuming than the one before. Ema kissed him back and the feel of her response was heady to his drugged brain: she was like tiny droplets of sunlit rain in the eternal winter of his mind and Klavier's control snapped under the pressure of his longing. The sound of her name was lost in the deepening kiss. He'd loved her so desperately, had cried her name in his heart for so many years that his restraint counted for nothing. He wanted to drown in her and forget all the pain that had suffocated him for so long.
"One thing has never changed," he murmured as his lips made a trail down her neck. "You have always been the one for me."
Ema had surrendered herself to him, her arms wrapped around his neck in a bid to hold on but at his words she abruptly stiffened. The slender column of her throat went taut beneath his kisses and the fingers that had been drawing him closer now dug into his skin and pushed him away.
"Ema…?" Klavier looked at her, confused by the unexpected emptiness in his embrace: as he watched, she lifted one shaking hand and dragged it across her lips.
"Don't touch me again," she whispered.
His stomach fell at the sound of her voice. The words cut him like poisonous daggers, spreading through his body like venom slowly contaminating his hopes. He took a step toward her but she immediately cringed and lurched back.
Klavier stopped, sweeping her face for any sign of an answer to his question. "Ema," he said softly. "What—?"
"Just stop kissing me!" she snapped, gesturing wildly. "I don't want—"
He didn't let her finish: Klavier grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, his hands on either side. He stared down into her face intensely, unwilling to let the walls back up. He'd seen her need for him, he'd tasted her ache. He wouldn't let her shut him out again.
"Tell me what is wrong," he said quietly. "Tell me why you are upset."
"What's wrong," she started and he winced at the scorn that was back in her voice, "is the way you keep jumping me. Leave me alone!"
Ema pushed at his shoulders suddenly, catching him off-guard. Klavier nearly toppled over but regained his balance quickly. However, when he saw her walking away, his heart sank.
No. He wasn't going to let her walk away again. He couldn't.
"Ema— no—" He pulled her back with such force she landed in his arms and they clamped around her without hesitation. "I will not let you do this again."
"What the hell is your problem?" Ema demanded, struggling against his hold on her. "Let me go!"
"Not until you tell me why you pushed me away," he said firmly.
"Because I realised you were kissing me!" she burst out. "Quit coming onto me! I'm not interested."
"If you are not interested, why did you kiss me?" Her mouth pursed together and she didn't say anything. His arms tightened around her. "You want me as much as I want you."
Ema punched his shoulder, a low growl emitting from her throat. "I doubt that," she snapped. "If you don't let me go right now, I'll—"
"You kissed me back!" he said fiercely, trying to hold on to her. "You—"
"Of course I fucking kissed you back!" Ema snarled and there was something of a sneer in her voice that stabbed at him. "You're handsome and rich and every damn woman in the world wants you! It doesn't mean I love you!"
His hold on her slackened and, having nothing to keep her in place, the force of her struggling sent her stumbling. Klavier stared at her, made speechless by her admission and Ema stared back as if she couldn't believe his stupidity.
"I've moved on with my life," she said firmly, looking him in the eye. "Don't you think you should do the same?"
She had knocked the breath from his body. He couldn't say a word to halt her when she turned away from him, couldn't lift a finger to stop her this time when she marched away. Klavier could only look on, her words echoing over and over in his head, making him numb.
You're handsome and rich and every damn woman in the world wants you...
It doesn't mean I love you.
Klavier slid down to the floor, his back against the wall, and let his hands sink into his hair. For a moment, he'd given in to the fantasy of his wounded heart and believed everything that had happened over the past 7 years had been a big mistake. What had he been thinking? How could he have let himself fall into this trap? He'd allowed his emotions to take over and what had he gained?
He was on the floor again, his energy gone, his heart bruised… and suddenly feeling like the 17 year old boy who'd had his heart broken by the one person he'd trusted it to.
.'.
When he took that first step onto the stage, it wasn't the fans that brought him out of his shocked reverie — their screams paled in comparison to the tingling that washed over him.
She was here somewhere. She was watching.
He responded straight away: his perfect smile flashed across his handsome face and he lifted a hand out in greeting to the crowds. He addressed them, welcoming them with charming words eliciting pure delight from the audiences. Klavier grasped the mic in his hands, his eyes sweeping out the coliseum: he spotted her up on a balcony where she could better watch and alert the other guards.
His eyes narrowed when he saw who was with her, the way Ema calmly accepted Slowden's nearness — already tense with resentment and denial — tightened with dark energy.
"Achtung, everybody!" he called out to his fans. "We thank you for coming and we welcome you!"
He paused, stepping back a little and lowering the mic, and waited for the responsive screams to abate. Once more his eyes flickered upwards at the balcony: she was still there, her face turned towards Blake who was staring at her intently.
Klavier looked away. Focus.
"We love you!" he yelled out loud.
They were either so lost in his presence or they just didn't care — the fans seemed unaffected by the hard tone of his voice, the unnecessary strength of his words. Daryan, who was next to him, noticed; he looked at Klavier but the blond avoided his gaze, instead choosing to turn around and nod at Seren to begin. When the answering melody that rang from the keyboard filled the space around them, Klavier let his gaze fall on Raoul just for a moment as the red-head joined in with the music. The Italian met his look with a meaningful one of his own but then they both looked away. The crowd was waiting to be blown away — their screams were almost on par with the music but despite their desperate attempts to gain his attention, his blue eyes only flickered up again. Ema was still there, looking down at him unfeelingly.
As the music began to pick up the pace, Klavier glanced at his band mates with penetrating expectation. He wanted this to be perfect. He wanted her to see that no matter how much she looked down on him, he was not beneath her. He had ascended — and her cold, high and mighty behaviour had led her nowhere.
For a moment, he'd held the hope of heaven in his hands. He had dared to believe anything else could exist, that she could have loved him and that he could have been wrong about everything.
She had brought his heart back to life only to stab it again.
He closed his eyes. He didn't need to pause to bring any emotions to the surface — they were already there, blistering his skin and drying up his blood. He only needed to part his mouth and they poured into the lyrics like oil on fire…
He only needed to unseal his lips and the hate poured into his love.
.'.
Ema watched him from her place in the balcony. She was proud of him. Standing up on that stage, that smile stretched across his lips, his form loose and confident, his voice ringing out across the screams, Klavier was the epitome of perfection. He was beautiful, the most beautiful man she had ever known. The years had only been kind to him: those youthful features she had once known had matured, turned him from the boy she'd fallen in love with to the man who hated her. She'd watched him over the years, had seen him grow but being in his presence was different. It ran over her skin, electrifying and terrifying. It made her want to be selfish, to throw her promise aside and throw herself in his arms and tell him she loved him, why she had left him…
"Achtung! Tonight we have a new song, just for you!"
She missed them all, Ema admitted to herself as Seren's expert fingers moved across the keyboard, coaxing an unusual, bittersweet melody, slowly joined by Daryan's subtle guitar. Deston sat behind them, utterly still and Raoul's bass guitar held silently in his arms. She missed watching them practice and argue over who needed to do what and how before turning to her for an opinion. She missed having four brother-like figures. Ever since she'd started working for Klavier, they had taken every opportunity they could to needle her. She often avoided any situation in which she would have to deal with them because they behaved like nothing had happened, like she hadn't cut them out of her life without a single explanation. They treated her the same as they'd ever had and it hurt her to act cold to them when all she wanted was to laugh at their silly antics.
"Can you tell me how this happened?"
The song cut into her thoughts like ice water. Klavier's voice was smooth but raw, soft but strong. His eyes were lowered but she felt uncomfortable, as if he was next to her and whispering the words into her ear. Subconsciously, she licked her lips, still so tender from his kiss
"Why the guilt for this heart you blackened?"
Her heart fell to the ground at her feet. Calm down, she told herself. It's just a song… it's got nothing to do with you.
But Ema didn't know the smile on his face — it was ironic and lacking the enjoyment that had been there throughout his performance. This wasn't the Klavier she had been watching all night. It wasn't the Klavier that had been on her case since she'd started work. This Klavier was the one she'd seen in the hallway only an hour ago when she had rejected him again.
It was the Klavier she had made.
The sound crescendoed but he was still so calm and quiet, his voice might have been lost amidst the sudden burst of drums if it wasn't already so powerful. She had always loved listening to him talk but listening to him sing had left her breathless: the deeply raw sound of his voice had always plundered her soul, bringing to the surface emotions she didn't know she was capable of…
"It don't matter how you apologise, it won't change anything... So take your fake words with you, put them away... and let me die in my pain..."
Ema bit on her lip, trying to squash the wretchedness that welled up inside her. She wasn't going to give in to it now. She had survived its onslaught for too many years to give up now.
"You all right?" Blake was suddenly by her side again, his hand on her arm.
Ema glanced at her friend. "I'm fine. Shouldn't you be somewhere else?"
Blake eyed her intently. "I was worried about you."
She might have shrugged off his concern but she had known Blake for far too long; he knew her like the back of his band. So, instead of lying to him, she turned back to Klavier just as the music swelled and his voice echoed around the coliseum, so hauntingly emotional that even the audience hushed, their screams fading.
"Loving you is the curse that I'll always bear, hating you, no other way to survive..."
Her heart skipped another beat and she couldn't look away from his face: Klavier was futilely trying to hide his pain behind closed eyes but his voice was thick with it
"With you I'm stuck in despair and without you I just want to die..."
"Has he tried to talk to you again?" Blake asked, his voice in her ear but Ema barely heard him.
"So, love, now, you tell me… how do I escape this double jeopardy?"
"You should go back to…"
Blake looked at Ema quizzically, waiting for her to finish what she was saying but the detective was riveted, her eyes fixed on the stage.
Klavier was looking at her.
Ema forced herself to stare back into his burning eyes as expressionlessly as she could.
"Do you ever feel any shame?"
Why wouldn't he look away? Why didn't he focus on the fans screaming his name?
"It's hurts me to even hear your name…"
"Why don't you go backstage," Blake advised, leaning into her and taking her by the shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on things here."
Ema saw the fire in Klavier's eyes blaze out of control when Blake touched her.
"So put your sorrys away…"
"Come on, Ema," Blake said, giving her back a little nudge.
"...hide those lying eyes behind this heart's decay..."
She didn't know if she ran or if Blake moved her; all she knew was that several moments later, Ema found herself resting against a wall in the backstage hallway, her chest heaving as she took great big lungfuls of air. Klavier's voice was still echoing around her over the speakers but being out of the reach of those eyes was enough. They had almost suffocated her with their oceans of hate…
"Hey," Blake's deep voice came over her thoughts and he was next to her once more, his arm around her shoulders as he soothed her. "It's all right."
"...no rising from this broken sleep..."
"I shouldn't have left," she let out in between deep breaths. "He's going to know he got to me and—"
"No, he won't," Blake contradicted, shaking his dark head. "He's going to think I brought you back here."
"...under this ache I'm buried too deep..."
"That's worse," Ema groaned, holding her face in between her hands and slumping against the wall. "Now he's going to think I was so deeply affected that you had to—"
"That's not it," he interrupted again, his voice subdued as if he didn't like what he had to say next. "He's guessed my feelings for you."
"...my soul is gone, fled to where..."
She barely blinked. "How does he know?
"He's been watching us."
"...the sun don't rise, your hate don't tear..."
"Do you think he thinks we're together?"
"I don't know but I'm sure it looked like something else to him. When I led you out of that balcony, I mean," he added.
"...scatter me out to the seas so they can take me back to a time..."
Ema glanced up at the speaker overhead, her heart thrumming faster with the words that were swimming through her blood.
"...when I believed your love was only mine..."
Her eyes shuttered close and she battled the tears that suddenly choked her. It hurt to know Klavier thought she was with someone else. She could imagine the pain he must be feeling — she had lived with it every time she'd seen him on a magazine cover, wrapped around another woman. It had pierced the deepest recesses of her soul.
But no matter how much it hurt her, she couldn't be angry with him for it. How could she expect him to love her forever? After what she had done and said to him, how could she expect him never to be with another woman? So many times she had wondered how many of them he loved, how he was with them… Did he touch them the same way he had her?
It had hurt. She knew the anguish he was feeling and it pained her because even if he hated her, she knew there was a part of him that had never let go.
"...with you I'm stuck in despair and without you, I just want to die..."
She knew it probably tortured him to think she was with Blake.
"...so, love, now I beg you... save me..."
That devastation that had deluged his face that night all those years ago… It haunted her every night and shadowed her every waking moment. Ema could never forgive herself for the way she had broken him.
"...save me..."
But no matter how much it hurt him to believe it, she knew it was best. At least the hate would eclipse his pain. His hate was all she deserved.
It was all she had ever deserved.
"...save me..."
"Have you ever considered telling him the truth?"
She looked at Blake who was leaning against the wall beside her, his eyes serious. "No," she said with a heavy sigh, leaning her head back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. "He'll just… It's best this way."
"...save me..."
"Best for who, Ema?" Blake asked, jabbing his thumb at the speaker above them. "Because if it was best for him, he wouldn't be calling out those words."
"...from this double edged sword..."
"It's just a song," Ema said weakly and cringed at the annoyed look that crossed Blake's face. They both knew she was lying.
"...of love and hate..."
"I love you, Ema," Blake said in a grim voice, leaning towards her. "I always have — but I won't ever lie to you. I don't think what you did to him was right and you know what you're doing now is wrong so why are you carrying on with this crazy act?"
"...that's become my jeopardy."
Ema closed her eyes, feeling Klavier's voice wrap around her and for a moment she thought she felt his arms envelop her again.
"I have no other choice," she whispered.
