The Madness Between The Notes
Chapter 11 : Misery Loves Company
The audience stood in shock at the composer laying on the stage before them. No one seemed to move for a moment, until the silence was broken by Arthur rushing onto the stage. Gilbert and Francis followed. Arthur took one of Roderich's shoulders while Gilbert took the other, and they pulled him backstage. Francis followed closely behind in a panic.
"Roderich! Can you hear me? Oh dear Lord, Roderich, what have you done?" Francis spoke in a faltering voice as he let his panic consume him.
"hmmm..I can hear..who?" Roderich mumbled, dazed and confused.
"Francis! It's me, Francis."
Arthur and Gilbert sat Roderich on a chair backstage. Roderich began to lean sideways while clutching his head. Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling gracelessly to the ground.
"Roderich, is there anything you have done to make you feel this way?" Arthur questioned, his demeanor calm.
Roderich chuckled a bit, responding. "Feel? My dear Arthur, I don't feel when I am like this, at least not any definition of feeling that you may have."
"Like what?" Gilbert interjected, his facial features contorted. "It sounds as though he has taken some sort of drug."
"Francis, you were with him before the performance. Did you see him do anything?" Arthur turned to Francis, who was wide-eyed and shaken by the situation.
"He took something before he went on stage, a drug." Francis responded in a quiet voice.
"Damn it!" Arthur raised his voice and ruffled his hair. "I knew that drug wasn't right, I knew he shouldn't be taking it. Damn it all to hell!"
"What are you talking about?" Francis spoke.
"He's taking opium. We had a conversation about it one day, he told me it was for insomnia."
"Can you be sure it wasn't a different drug?" Francis questioned, looking at Roderich, who was now breathing heavy and mumbling unintelligible things to himself. "Get this man some water please!" Francis yelled to a server passing by, somewhat forcefully. The server nodded in intimidation and hurried away. "Check his pockets."
Arthur reached into Roderich's left pocket, which caused Roderich to jump slightly and look down. He glasses slipped down his nose slightly.
"There is nothing in this one." Arthur flipped the pocket inside out and sighed.
"Found it." replied Gilbert, who was standing to the right of Roderich. He tossed the can to Arthur. "It was in his right pocket."
"Ah. I was right. Opium." Arthur shook his head, now a bit shaken.
"My opium..? Why do have that? It..doesn't belong with you..it's mine." Roderich slurred his words and lifted his head slightly to make eye contact with Arthur.
"Roderich, there is no more Opium. It's gone." Arthur opened the tin can and shook it thoroughly. "There's no more! None." He finished speaking, his voice cracking.
Gilbert began to chuckled slightly, his hand on Roderich's right shoulder. "You feel at fault, don't you, Francis?"
"What?" Francis replied with a confused and shocked tone. "What are you talking about?"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about." Gilbert's face showed a slight amount of anger. "He could be dieing for all you know. You need to come to terms with this whether he's receptive or not!"
Francis stood in front of Roderich with an incredulous look. His eyes shifted from Gilbert to Roderich, there and back again, while Gilbert looked more infuriated with every shift. Francis was absolutely silent. Everyone was for a few minutes.
"What is this madness? What are you two talking about?" Arthur broke the silence with a desperate voice.
Gilbert sighed with agitation. Then his face contorted to sympathy as looked at the musician. Roderich's eyes were now closed and he rolled his head back to lean against the wall, breathing slowly but heavily.
"Francis the fool is the reason Roderich's here, correct?" Gilbert sneered in the direction of Francis.
"To my knowledge of what Roderich has told me. You hired him for a composition for your mother..?" Arthur spoke slightly confused. He rubbed circles into the velvet of Roderich's shoulder out of nervousness and worry.
"How fictitious! His mother died when he was five." Gilbert said with a hint of disgust. He kicked the ground with his shoes, sending dust particles into the air.
Arthur looked at everyone with shock and tried to muster a response. "What do you mean his mother died when he was five? Why would you need a requiem for someone who has been dead for so long?"
"He doesn't." Gilbert responded. "Explain. Now."
"I brought him here..I did. I did!" Francis croaked, his eyes guilt ridden. "Just.. for the wrong reasons."
"It was a dirty move, and I should have stopped you. You brought him here to gain popularity in your petty intellectual circles. The news that the great Roderich Edelstein was in Paris would spread among intellectuals. It would come as a shock because Roderich is notorious for never leaving Vienna. The news would spread to the commoners and then the printing press. The press would write articles about his arrival. Not only would it make you more prestigious among intellectuals, but it would also create a boost in revenue at your printing press." Gilbert sighed after his long explanation. "I should have stopped you."
Francis stood with his head down, ashamed of his deeds. "You should have." He said almost inaudible.
At that moment, they all looked at Roderich, who seemed to have fallen asleep in the chair.
"How receptive was he to that?" Francis asked, cautiously.
"None of it, I would presume. I'll be taking Roderich home. I'll stay with him until the drug wears off and has enough sense to conduct daily activities on his own. If you want me to, I'll tell him what happened here. If you don't want to tell him yourself." Arthur huffed with discontent while his mind heaved with shock. In the scheme of things, he had known Roderich for a fairly short amount of time. However, Arthur was already close to the composer and was very fond of him. To an extent, Arthur was protective of Roderich.
"If you would, I think it would be better for Roderich to hear it from you, he trusts you the most." GIlbert spoke softly, playing with his pocket watch. "I'll help you get a carriage."
"Why are you answering to that? Shouldn't it be me? I am a fool not a coward." Francis slowly backed away, waiting for something drastic.
"You are both." Gilbert retorted, his tone quiet yet full of rage. "I don't want to hear anything else from you."
Francis went quiet and reclusive while Arthur and Gilbert called a carriage. When it arrived, they both once again picked Roderich up by the shoulders and carried him away. He was laid carefully in the carriage, and Arthur climbed in beside him. Gilbert offered a simple nod to Arthur, and then swiftly shut the carriage door, heading back into the tavern.
When the carriage arrived at Roderich's apartment, Roderich was still asleep. Arthur was unable to carry the composer up himself and had to ask a man who was passing by on the street for help. Arthur and the man carried Roderich into the apartment, laying him carefully on the sofa.
"A drunken stupor, I see." The man said, rubbing his palms together. "Ah, it gets the best of us."
"It's a bit more than that, actually." Arthur responded with a cringe. "But, sir, thank you again."
"I see, well, nonetheless, good luck." The man left quickly, shutting the door quietly behind him. Arthur was now alone with Roderich, who was still asleep. It was unnerving for Arthur as time seemed to slow itself. Soon, he saw that Roderich was beginning to stir and awaken, and that unnerved him even more.
"hmm..Where am I?" Roderich mumbled, slowly opening his eyes.
"You're at home. You collapsed after your performance. The events after that were...eye-opening to say the least." Arthur responded, looking for the right combination of words.
"Eye-opening? What do you mean by that?" Roderich sat up, giving the other man his full attention.
Arthur took a long and heavy breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say, although it was for a confession that wasn't even his to confess.
"Gilbert had some very telling information to give this evening. You were brought here for the wrong reasons. Francis never needed a requiem for his mother, she's been dead since he was five." Arthur continued, without the courage to look up at Roderich. "You see, Francis wanted prestige. He wanted the credit among his intellectual friends for bringing you here. He wanted the news to break and make newspaper headlines, which would gain revenue at his printing press. He did nothing but use you, Roderich. The world sees you as a recluse and he took advantage of that."
Roderich sat with a blank, shocked stare. He didn't know what to think or how to process the information at hand, which gave him an overall numbing feeling. He couldn't feel, he couldn't will it nor force it. There were no feelings, but there was misery. Roderich didn't feel the misery, but rather, he was aware of it's presence. He knew the misery was latched onto the corners of his mind, but he could no longer feel it.
"I...I don't know what to say." Roderich spoke with a barely audible voice. "I just..don't know."
"I can leave if you need time to process this." Arthur offered, reaching out to cover the other's hand with his. "I know it's not what one would expect to happen, but if you ever need anything, please tell me."
"Yes, thank you. I-" Roderich took a deep breath. "I want you to say. If you could. I am the embodiment of misery, and misery loves company."
"Of course. I can stay as long as you need me to."
Arthur laid down on the couch adjacent to Roderich and closed his eyes. Roderich stared at the ceiling, mostly thoughtless. He couldn't comprehend anything and the situation didn't seem real. He sighed after a while and changed his position on the couch, mumbling quietly, "What is it that I am going to do?"
Author's Note:
Hello everyone! This is chapter 11, and this story has come a lot further than I ever imagined. This started out as what I planned to be a one or two chapter story when I began writing this story back in January. This first chapter was completely improv, I made it up as I went along, not sure where I was taking it. Who knew it would come to this? A story 20,000 words and counting! That's novella status! I only started story and plot planning around chapters 4 and 5, and I now have a pretty clear idea of the story from this point until the end. This is a project that I have been working on all year, and I hope to finished it by the end of the year. This is by far the largest and most in-depth story I have ever created. This is my first piece that's gone beyond 2500-3000 words.
I hope you have enjoyed it thus far, and I hope that you continue to enjoy it. Thank you for your support and feedback. :)
