A/N: Here's a little scene I've been playing with for a few weeks. It's one of my top three favourites, I think. It's just so small and quiet. I suppose it's somewhat necessary to note that I own little to none of this! Enjoy!
Erik was busily working at his desk when he heard a soft humming coming from the living room. He looked up to see that it was indeed night, probably having long been so given how low his candles were burning. He did not remember lighting them, but put the thought aside when he turned to see the graceful form of Angeline as she lay on her side on the floor. He took a moment to admire how her hair fanned around her head like a halo of curls. Her milk white hands curved gently, one still holding the pen he had lent her several hours previous. Scattered around her was nearly a whole ream of papers. Upon closer inspection, they were revealed to be blank music sheets, though some not entirely empty. He had seen her carrying the stack home after their trip to town the day before, but had not bothered to ask what they were for.
Music, that old passion now turned bitter to his mind. His muse had left, and so had his desire to have anything to do with the art. Anything except hearing Angeline sing and play, of course. He never asked, but did not deny her when she offered. He was almost surprised she had not requested to play the organ, though he doubted it had any tune left to it at all. She would look, but never touch. Much like he was with her. He could lose himself in watching her every motion, but knew better than to hope for anything beyond the simple touch of a hand. Her one kiss on the cheek, and her turning his head had been more than a shock to both of them.
He listened to the tune she hummed in her sleep. That same piece he had heard the first two nights she had stayed with him. He still did not recognise it, but something at the back of his mind told him he knew it. It was beautiful and haunting, almost like some of his older compositions, but more discordant. It shifted too much to make any real sense.
'Angeline,' he bent down, gently touching her shoulder in an attempt to wake her quietly. 'Angeline, wake up.' He was beginning to wonder if he needed to simply carry her to bed like he had a few times in the past. Thankfully she was already in her night clothes, so he would not have to worry about having her change out of a dress.
She smiled at his soft voice, and he ached to simply sit beside her, to watch over her as she slept, but her eyes slowly started to flutter open. He felt the distance grow between them again, pushing himself back and away from such tempting thoughts. Groaning slightly, she sat up, looking around her at the sea of papers laid out over the floor.
'Oh, this one needs a quarter at B.' She said, still groggy from sleep, but leaning over the put the appointed note on its designated line.
'What are these?' Erik asked, examining the sheets more carefully now.
'Music.' She answered without pause.
Erik chuckled softly at this. 'Yes, I know that, but what is it for or from?' He watched her amusedly as she reached out to pluck up a piece, having to navigate her hands so as not to crumple any of the surrounding pages. She had a small island of floor where she sat as the sheets stretched out to the very edges of her reach in a ring. There were even a few laid out behind her.
'My father's book has old Irish stories and poems in it. Most of the poems were songs, so I'm trying to write them down for Cecilia and me to sing or play.' She moved over to one just a few inches away and continued for a few more notes.
'But you must have at least a dozen songs here.' Erik said, amazed.
'Fifteen, actually.' She corrected, now searching for a particular page.
'How do you know them all?' He asked, offering the sheet he still had in his hands. She smiled as she took it, marking it quickly before adding it to a small stack to her right.
'Well, there's always a song playing in my head. I just switch which one it is.' She explained, organising a few together. He looked at her, mystified by the control she had over her own mind. Here he was, hardly able to focus on his work for more than a few hours around her, and she was writing fifteen songs at once. Then again, he was not as distracting to her as she was to him.
'I think this one is a F.' He noted, pointing to one song.
'Hmm, can't be.' She looked at the soaring note confusedly. 'I was able to sing all of these.'
'You can't hit a high F?' He asked, knowing the ease with which she sung the higher notes.
'No, I tried once, I nearly blew my voice out. I could hardly sing for two weeks.' She grinned at the memory. 'Of course, now I doubt I could hit an E.'
Erik felt his heart skip in fear that this. 'Your range is shrinking?' He truly sounded terrified at the thought of her dying voice.
'Well, yes.' She answered as if it were obvious. 'Very few songs outside of opera require that sort of range, so I don't get much practice. Besides, they did not really take care of my voice at the circus. They argued that even if I couldn't sing, I'd still be nice to look at. They threatened many places that would kill for my looks, but I knew they would keep me because I was fun to hit.' She explained, bitterness seeping into her tone as she went on. She watched the dark expression begin to form in his eyes at the thought of her being treated this way.
'It's alright, though, Erik.' She assured quickly. 'The past is past, and I really have no use for the higher notes. You don't need to worry about it.' She put a hopeful hand on his arm, immediately bringing him out of his assuredly vengeful contemplations.
He looked up at her then, disbelief echoing through his whole being. He could hardly understand her words. How could he not care? Not worry? Her voice was even more beautiful than hers. He still could not fully realise this, even. How could she not want to sing so wonderfully anymore? Perhaps he should encourage her. No, he knew better. It would become too painful for him, and his controlling nature would eventually force her into it. He would become no better than those monstrosities she had been enslaved by.
He saw an apologetic smile tug at her mouth before she turned back to her work, not understanding how much it hurt him to hear of her neglect of herself. She had fire, but her confidence was forever crushed.
'What is the song you hum?' He asked suddenly.
She looked at him questioningly, cocking her head to the side at this odd inquiry.
'The one you hum when you fall asleep and wake up.' He elaborated.
An embarrassed smile grew in her face as she hid her eyes. 'My mother said I started doing that when I was about four years old. I honestly don't know what it is as I've never heard it, but neither of my parents knew what it was. It's probably just a bit of nonsense.' She shook it off, still not meeting his eye.
'I could write it down for you.' He offered with the softest, gentlest voice she had ever heard from him. One would have thought he were offering a poem of the deepest love and devotion, not a tune she had hummed every day since childhood. It sounded like a lullaby whispered in pitch black darkness. This change in tone that brought her eyes back to his, and put the slightest hint of worry into them. He looked so pitiful, all of a sudden, just kneeling beside her as they sat on the floor in a circle of sheet music.
She gave him what she hoped to be a deservingly sweet smile for this, letting her eyes soften to near tears. 'I would like that very much.' She brushed her fingers ever so gently down his exposed cheek. 'Thank you.' She said, just above a whisper.
Erik could not move. None of his limbs were working. She had touched him, and on purpose. No look of embarrassment or regret followed. She had intended this, to let her fingertips trail along his skin and brush the line of his jaw. He felt their lingering heat and the shock they had sent through his very core. Like so many times before, she took his breath away with the simplest of gestures. He watched her as she rose, looking out over her veritable sea of paper.
'I suppose I should put this up before I go to bed.' She said, stifling a yawn.
'You can leave it.' He said in his childlike whisper. He sounded as if her picking it up would make her disappear.
'Then good night, Erik. I shall see you tomorrow.' She said, putting one last, lingering touch upon his shoulder before going to the bedroom.
That woman would be the death of him, he thought. But then, he had already assumed that anyway.
A/N: Sorry it's so short, but I was afraid to mess up the balance of it. I just wanted to give the heads up that next week will be more sporadic for updates as I will be travelling. I want to set aside the 6 hour plane ride to going back and finding spelling or grammatical errors in my previous chapters. I'm trying to build up a buffer for chapters, but recent events have been setting me back a bit in this endeavour. Hope you all enjoyed it! I promise a longer chapter next time.