NOTE: I own nothing except Orva.
A delicious scent tickled her nose. An incomparable softness surrounded her and warmed her. Slowly, blinking, she opened her eyes. A gentle light greeted her, flickering demurely. Orva pushed herself up, and looked around. Why am I in Erik's room? The black veil fluttered around the ornate bed, enclosing her in a small sanctuary. She thought back to last night, frowning. She'd gone to sleep on the divan...and...? She shifted her weight, and her hand struck something kind of rubbery in texture. Turning, she spotted it. A single, red rose, with a black ribbon tied around its dethorned stem. Her heart skipped a beat, and she picked it up.
When Christine had received such roses, it was apparent that she never understood them. That she didn't realize what they meant, and what Erik had been trying to tell her for years on end. But Orva had known from the first time she'd seen the movie. A botanical language that only those who cared to listen could hear. I love you, the rose whispered. She stepped out of bed, pondering the rose. Then she remembered the smell she'd detected earlier. She walked out into the main area, heading towards the kitchen. She didn't bother changing out of her nightgown.
Upon entering the room, she caught sight of Erik making breakfast. She watched him for a few minutes, lingering in the entryway. Only when he turned around did he become aware of her presence.
"Oh. Good morning, Orva," he greeted. "I was just about to come get you." Orva didn't reply, and looked around him at the food. Pancakes, and coffee. Her favorite. "Did you sleep well?"
She looked back over at him. "W-why w-was I i-in your bed?"
His cheeks went a few shades darker. "Well, it's just, you had such a rough night, and on your birthday too, and I, the divan didn't look that comfortable, so, I..."
"A-and th-the rose?" She held it up. Erik bit his lip, his eyes flicking between the flower and her.
He breathed in slowly, and cast his gaze to the stone floor. "I think it's time that some things changed in our... relationship." Orva arched an eyebrow at his hesitation. "You see, I simply don't think it's proper for a young lady to sleep on a piece of living room furniture while a gentlemen may sleep in a bed."
"Y-you're g-giving me y-your room?"
"I didn't say that." He turned away, putting the finishing touches on the food and taking out some plates. "I mean, at night, I think I should be the one to sleep on the divan, and that you should be the one in bed."
"Y-you d-don't fit o-on the divan."
"Look, I'm trying to be nice here." Erik offered her a plate with a modest stack of pancakes on top. She took it and sat down at her usual spot on the table. He soon joined her.
"S-so w-why did y-you give me th-the rose?" She scooped up a forkful of the fluffy goodness.
"Please don't make me explain that part," he said quietly. He sipped his coffee. "I know you and I speak the same language in that regard. Just accept it for what it is. I don't want to say it just yet."
She studied him. "...A-alright." She took a bite. He loves me, I guess. At least someone did.
A few minutes of noiseless chewing passed.
"So, um...are you planning to change soon?"
She shook her head. "I-I d-don't feel l-like it today."
"I see... About last night. I'm sorry."
"D-don't a-apologize. It's n-not your fault. N-none of it. Don't e-even worry about it."
"But, Orva-"
"D-don't w-worry about i-it, I said. I-I don't want to t-talk about it. Not yet."
He nodded, and the conversation was dropped. While they ate, she thought. Even though she didn't want to talk about it, she thought about last night. She thought about all the details that had progressively risen to the surface. The implications they all held. It made her dwell on her life in general. It made her head ache and heart pound to spend any amount of time remembering the years she'd spent with her mother. Yet somehow, they seemed important now.
Orva had finished her breakfast before Erik, and left to at least put on a robe. She then occupied his organ, going through exercise after exercise and playing song after song. The music filled her head, distracted her. Kept her thoughts from lingering on painful things. She could now see how Erik had lasted for so long down here, all on his own. He simply avoided thinking about it. Clever. She could hear Erik moving about behind her, but she ignored him. She only turned her head when there was a splashing from the lake. Looking over, she saw Giry approaching them on the little boat.
"Orva!" Giry waved, coming closer. The boat bumped against the stone, echoing out.
"Giry," Erik greeted, walking to the shore to help her out of the boat. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Yes," she agreed, then looked over and Orva. Orva gazed steadily back, rising from the bench. The aged woman gave such an apologetic expression. "Orva, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for what they did to you. If I'd known, I would have warned you." She moved towards her, but was stopped when Orva held up a hand.
Orva sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. If only music could chase everyone away, so she wouldn't have to talk. Evidently, however, it seemed fate wanted her to deal with everything immediately. "I-it's a-alright. It's n-not your fault."
"Is it really alright though?" She came closer, reaching for Orva. "Everyone feels terrible about it. Christine especially is ashamed-"
"Sh-she's a-ashamed?" Orva suddenly interrupted, looking up. "Sh-she's a-ashamed? And e-everyone else is s-sorry?"
"Well, yes." He eyebrows knitted together in slight confusion.
"N-no. Th-that's a l-lie. They're only s-sorry because Adele died. Th-they're not sorry I was h-humiliated. They're not sorry for how I-I suffered," she said bitterly.
"Now, Orva, you know that's not true. What happened was a tragedy for all involved. Please, won't you listen? Christine wants to-"
"C-Christine." She felt her lip turn up in a small, unintentional snarl. "C-Christine w-wants to a-apologize, does she? W-well, isn't that just p-positively saintly of her? What a-an angel! Lovely Christine, what a m-martyr! How brave, to want to apologize t-to Death's Whore! I take back everything I s-said. If darling Christine is sorry, then want reason h-have I to feel bitter? Come, I'll return to the s-surface once more, and forgive them all."
"Look, I know things are tense between you and her, but Christine's truly-"
"N-no, sh-shut up. I-I don't want t-to hear it. I d-don't want to have to l-listen to whatever bullshit excuse she's c-come up with. I don't want to d-deal with any of them. I don't want t-to go up there ever again!"
"You can't be serious!" Giry's face was aghast. "Orva, you can't just let one, albeit terrible, mishap dictate how you live-"
"I-it's n-not one m-mishap, though." Orva turned away, looking into the water. Her reflection looked back, her eyes filled with fire. A fire that had been rained on, but burning brightly none the less. "Th-that i-incident at th-the party made m-me realize something important. I-it doesn't matter how hard y-you work. It doesn't matter how m-much effort you put forth, however many h-hours you spend to try and make someone h-happy. None of it matters if the person isn't g-grateful for what you do. I understand now."
Her voice softened, and her face returned to the melancholy it usually harbored. The fire flickered and died, but the warmth was still there. The warmth that had kept her alive all these years. It was the same warmth that had been in her father's eyes. After all these years, it was nice to see she had inherited at least one lasting trait from him, even if it took a while to find.
"I-I w-was never w-worthless," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "N-never. M-my mother...sh-she'd simply never a-appreciated what I had t-to offer. She'd sneered at m-my flowers. And all this time, I-I thought it was my fault. And n-now, here... I finally see. Even though I've g-given it my all, and did everything humanly possible t-to ensure everyone elses' happiness. None of you really appreciated w-what I gave you. You don't even realize what it is I-I gave. I gave you your lives, your futures, your careers. And th-then like spoiled children you complain because I couldn't find the right wrapping p-paper. Well you know what, I'm done with all of that."
She looked back up at the two. Giry looked dumbfounded, and there was an expression of encouraging admiration on the exposed side of Erik's face. "I-I w-won't continue t-to live in a-a world that makes m-me unhappy, and punishes me f-for things I can't control. The c-catacombs are my true home. Where none can j-judge me, where none will chastise me for my i-interests. These shadows, this darkness... it's a calm embrace and r-reprieve. I won't share what I have to offer with those w-who don't want it. Tell Christine that I'll be seeing her in h-hell, or heaven, or wherever it is that people go when they die, b-because I'm never coming back up while I'm alive."
She could feel hot tears pour from her eyes and streak down her cheeks, and she turned away, her breathing shaky. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing that the pain in her chest would go away. My heart. It's broken.
0-0-0
When Orva turned away, Erik gently took Giry by the arm, and led her back to the boat. "I think it's time you left," he said in a low voice.
"Erik, what did you do to her?" Giry whispered.
"Nothing."
"Liar. You said something to her. You did something to make her want to stay. What did you do?"
Erik gave Giry the punt, and braced his foot against the boat. He considered his answer.
"I said that I loved her." He pushed her off into the lake before she could respond. She frowned, before looking away in resignation, taking the hint. Soon she disappeared into the darkness, the only sign of her presence being the ripples in the water. Erik turned his attention back to Orva. Her shoulders were shaking, but she made no sound. He came up behind her, and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.
"H-h-how d-do you d-deal with this?" she asked, her voice thick.
"With what?" he asked patiently, his thumbs making gentle circles against her trapezii.
"Th-this p-pain. How d-did you deal w-with never going up o-on the surface again? Of y-your own free will? How do y-you deal with betrayal? How do you d-deal with being hated by practically everyone?"
He waited a while before answering. "...For a long time, I didn't. I was a child, just like you. For the most part, I just tried to suppress it all. But I soon found that wasn't wise, because it lead to violent outbursts, and many more murders. Now, in my age, I've learned that it's better to express your feelings when you have them. If you feel like crying, then let yourself cry. If you feel like murdering a scumbag, then murder the cad. Though the latter probably won't ever apply to you."
A short, breathy chuckle left her lips. "S-so, th-there is n-no way to d-deal with it? I j-just have to hope that th-things will turn out okay in th-the end?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Th-that's r-really bad a-advice."
"It's the only advice I have. Normally life doesn't offer any advice at all. Take it or leave it."
She was quiet. And then, she leaned back, resting her weight against him. "C-can I-I at l-least have a sh-shoulder to cry on?"
"Always." He wrapped his arms around her in a loose hug.
"A-and a-an entire f-face, to gain c-comfort from?"
"...I don't think you'd find much comfort from my face."
"Y-you'd b-be wrong. A-all I need i-is a pair of c-clear eyes, a window to th-the soul. Can I gaze upon a-a kindred spirit in my suffering?"
"...Maybe."
The splashing and rippling ceased, and they knew they were alone once more. A chilly air filtered through, raising goosebumps on them both. In the stillness, they both knew that 'maybe' was plenty. It was more than they ever hoped for on a regular basis. It was a promise. 'Maybe,' was perfectly okay.