Chapter Eight: His Tears

"No, I can't stand chicken!" I wrinkled my nose just thinking about it.

"How!?" Clopin asked, leaning against his puppet stand.

"Its just so dry and boring- I don't like turkey either," I told him, fingering some of the fabric that hung of his colorful stand.

He stood there, smiling at me before he said, "What story should I tell the kids today?"

"Well, you actually never finished telling me about the bell ringer."

"I can't tell them that one, I don't have a puppet for Frollo yet," he sighed. "It's hard to capture that much ugliness in one doll!"

I pointed to the puppet that looked like him, unable to resist, "Well then I can't imagine how long it took you to make that one!"

He frowned at me. "Keep it up and you're liable to make me cry."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to do that!" I smiled, tilting my head. "I could help you make it."

"What?"

"The Frollo puppet."

His face brightened. "Good! I already finished some of it."

I followed him into the tiny stand, and he lifted up a little puppet dressed in black with a humongous hat on his head.

But it didn't have a face, or hair. Clopin grabbed a thing of white paint, coloring some hair that stuck out from under the hat. I grabbed some black paint and a paintbrush, and did the eyes. Clopin finished the mouth with the white.

I looked at it, biting the inside of my mouth.

"It doesn't look right...," Clopin mused, scratching his goatee.

I dipped the brush in more black and picked the puppet up, "He looks to happy," I concluded, adding spiky teeth across the mouth of Frollo.

I handed back to him, proud of my work.

He laughed, patting me on the head. "Its perfect! Now we just have to wait for the kids!"

"How do you earn money if you only every do this?" I asked him, hoping to uncover the secrets around him.

He looked at me and smiled. "You ask too many questions."

I pouted one because there was so much I didn't know and no one would tell me and two because Clopin had reminded me of Michel.

Michel made me want to leave Paris that instant, but Clopin made me want to stay forever.

"What's wrong?"

I got a cold chill. "I need to tell you something."

"I'm listening."

I swallowed and looked at the floor. "Yesterday...well, " I laughed nervously, my face burning, "Michel kissed me."

I'm not sure what I expected, but I had no idea what to say when Clopin busted out laughing, holding his belly as if it might burst.

"Its not funny!"

He stopped long enough to breath and told me, "Oh, well, it seems I have competition!"

"No! I don't like him! At all!"

"Why not?"

"I just don't!"

"That's not a very good reason."

I stared him, confused, "Do you want me to like him?"

He was down to just chuckling softly, "Well he is more your age."

I eyes widened. "But..."

"But I'm so glad you chose me."

I bit my lip, still confused. Was he trying to make me feel guilty or something? Did he not like me after all?

"Clopin, I don't get it."

More laughing came, and I was about to let my temper stir up but I felt his lips against my forehead, and his gloved hands on either side of my face.

"If I wait, will you marry me?" he asked, rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs.

I smiled, exhaling while exhilaration sped up my breathing. "Of course!"

I knocked on my parent's room in the inn, still in a happy little daze from spending time with Clopin.

My mom opened the door, and frowned. "Where have you been? Where's Brian?"

"He left. I caught him leaving this morning, and I needed to cool off so I went for a walk," I answered looking away from her face.

"He left?!"

I nodded.

"Again!"

I nodded.

She shut the door, and I trembled. I turned and saw Vanessa standing beside me.

"He left!"

I gave her a hug, and her muscles loosened, "How are you?"

"He left! I didn't even get to see him!" she complained.

I was still smiling a little. "It's alright. His loss."

"Why are you so happy?"

I looked at her, deciding whether or not I should tell her. "I'm just happy for some reason."

She frowned. "I need a nap."

"Go, sleep!" I urged her. I left the inn, daydreaming about Clopin and how he told the story of the bell ringer to those kids. They're eyes were so wide, preparing for the climax of the story- exactly as Clopin had described it before.

I saw Mary, sitting on a crate and I hopped over to her.

"Hey, Mary, how are you?"

She looked at me, distressed. "Did you kiss Michel?"

My heart sank. "Yeah, umm, but I came to tell you..."

"Brian left. Yeah, I know. I saw him leaving," she said dryly. "Did you kiss Clopin?"

I eyes widened, "How did you?"

She shook her head. "You know, Michel really thought you liked him. I did too. Maybe you should think before you go kissing every guy you meet."

"I just had my first kiss yesterday!"

"Michel saw you. With Clopin in his stand. When he told me, I wasn't sure but..." she looked at me disgusted, "Do you know what you did to him?"

"I didn't mean to make him think I liked him!"

"Because a few minutes ago he told me that everything he thought was real turned out to be crap. That not only did you not like him, you were with the person who inspired him to stand up for his rights. To not let Frollo and his zombies stop him from living. And now he doesn't believe that anymore."

"This has nothing to do with his rights!" I said sharply. Mary glared at me with her pretty eyes.

"You better find him before he does something crazy," she ordered, standing up. "Michel is more then a toy you flirt with."

I struggled to breath, a sob catching in my throat. I watched as she stomped away.

I didn't know where to start. I ran through the streets, eyeing the crowd for him, panic in my heart.

I hadn't meant for this to happen. I didn't know Clopin meant so much to him, and I...I only thought myself. That I wanted Clopin and that I didn't want to Michel to like me.

My side started to throb, but I kept running and running. Everyone was going so fast and it seemed so hopeless. I had to find him. I didn't know what he was planning on doing but Mary made it sound so horrible.

She made me sound so horrible.

I wished Clopin was there.

No, I told myself, no! You've messed up enough for today.

I never meant to be cruel. I just wanted to live my life! And be good...

I saw him.

"Michel!"

His head jerked around, red and wet. I grabbed his arm before he could walk away, and even though he could have easily overpowered me he turned to face me.

"What?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I just..."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too. I'm sorry things never change," he whispered, "disappointment after disappointment. Heartbreak after heartbreak."

I lightly touched his face smiling. "I know how you feel, but it'll-"

"Meg, listen, you can't 'save my soul' or what ever you think you're about to do, no matter what same old things you say. Nothing is going to change," he never raised his voice; he didn't have to. The anger and pain radiated in his eyes. It was almost unbearable to look at him.

"What do I need to change?" I asked, trying to match the calm composure of his voice while putting all my emotions on my face.

He shook his head.

I looked him up and down and bit my lip. He started to walk away, and I reached to grab him but he jerked away.

I started after him, screaming for him to come back, but he walked to fast for me to catch even when I tried to lengthen my stride.

I ran to get to him, but when I tried to run in front of him, he gave me this look. It was set and determined, with enough anger to shove me out of the way but too much class to strike a woman.

And those eyes moved me all by themselves, and I stood there as he walked away for a minute, given up.

Until I heard the clang of metal, and I ran after him, scared out of my wits.

I saw a little crowd, the more curious townspeople gathering and the distant ones staring while they went the opposite direction.

"Excuse me," I could hear Michel whispering as I fought through the crowd. Two soldiers were standing in front of him, mischievous looks plastered on the devil's faces.

"Where are you going, scoundrel?" one of them asked, grabbing his wrist.

Michel flung his arm away, "Please, I need to get by."

I smiled, knowing Michel would stay calm and polite.

He had to.

The soldiers, who still stood directly in front of him grumbled. "Then you shouldn't have caused a commotion, huh?"

"I didn't, sir, you approached me."

One of them grabbed a knife, holding it towards him, "What's in your bag?"

Michel grabbed the bag on his belt as if to protect it. "My business."

The other guard reached towards the bag, and when Michel stepped back so he couldn't take it, he punched him right across the face.

Michel reacted like lightning, swing his fist to his chin, knocking the guy to the ground.

The one with the dagger lunged, but Michel caught his wrist, twisting until the soldier squealed.

I gasped at the action, too scared to to try to tell Michel to stop and too scared to look away.

The one without the dagger struggled to his feet again, punching Michel in his stomach. Michel struck him right in the eye, and before he could strike back, he kicked him in the shin, causing him to fall over again. I saw the one with the dagger raise his arm, but only had enough time to scream before the dagger went plunging through Michel's back.

He fell over.

I ran. And ran.

I covered my face and cried and ran and screamed, clawing my nails into my face.

Instinctively I went for Clopin's stand, and Clopin gasped at my composure.

"What happened? Meg?!"

I kept my distance from him, grabbing the sleeves of my dress. "Michel...he's..."

"Meg?"

"He's stabbed...he's stabbed in the back...where the heart is...I hope...he might be a-alive..." I stammered.

"Michel!?"

I nodded, sobbing like a baby, snot running down my upper lip and into my mouth, but I didn't care.

Clopin's eyes glazed over with anger, and he started towards me, but I backed off. "Meg?"

He reached a hand to me but I shook my head, "No."

He looked away, balling his hand into a fist and shaking his head. "Frollo...he better be alive..."

I was sitting inside the puppet stand, crying still. It came in stages, starting silent, slow and cold. The warmer the tears got, the faster they fell until my face scrunched up and I blubbered. Then my head would ache so bad, that I'd have to stop to breathe. Then it would start over.

Everything was a question. What if he was dead? What if I never saw him again? What if he was the one for me, and I let him slip? What if all the excuses, the crappy reasons, I made for not liking him were my own way of hiding the truth.

And now the truth was that I missed him, already. I didn't even know if he was dead, but I knew I shouldn't have let him go.

He was what I needed.

But I chose what I wanted.

I saw Mary go up to Clopin, who was standing outside the puppet stand, out of ear reach for me. She was bawling hysterically, and she told him something, then collapsed onto the ground, covering her face.

My heart sank. She was just mad at me. Michel was alive.

This was all some kind of sick joke to teach me my lesson.

But Clopin turned around so I could see his face, and though the anger still burned in his face, tears fell. Over his high cheeks bones and off his slender face, smooth against the tan skin.

He looked at me, grief spilling form him in every form. And that little hope I had, the hope I was clinging on to with my life, disappeared.

Michel was dead.

And I felt in everyway responsible. How did I let him go?

I stared at Clopin, so confused.

I wouldn't let him go.

I wouldn't let him go...

I slipped out of the tent, and crawled into his arms, and he bent down onto his knees, laying his head atop of my head.

I felt warm tears seep through my hair onto my scalp and held him tighter.