What Doesn't Kill You…

MissCyraf

36

"I Dare to Dream for More…"

"There isn't much to say about him Kathryn, it was all kind of weird," At least that's true. We sauntered along the sidewalks, looking at the displays in the windows, admiring clothing, shoes, jewelry. I noticed a banner hanging in the windows of one of the boutiques, multiple languages claiming 'the newest fashions' were available inside. The newest fashions…right.

"Well, alright, I know why, but wha' was 'e like?" She replied, jabbing her elbow into my side playfully. I laughed and scrambled away from her, and then rolled my eyes as she pretended to plead. "You've scarcely giv'n me any details a' all. It was masked, so ya didn't see 'is face, but wha' was 'e like?" I sighed, I had been hoping to avoid thinking about him, he already dominated my thoughts.

"I thought you said no icky boys allowed."

"Tut tut, Gwenny. No' allowed to come, yes, but we're still allowed to talk about 'em." I didn't put up too much of a fight, I hadn't been able to vent my frustration or adoration of Erik to anyone before. And she wants to know...

"He was tall, broad shoulders, fairly young. I guess around thirty or so…arrogant, frustrating…" How does one describe Erik? He really is bizarre… "…almost charming, certainly attentive, almost possessively… I didn't see his face, but he had black hair that was combed, gelled maybe, into place with sideburns going down to about here," I pointed to a spot on my jaw between my chin and ear. "Really intense green eyes, dark, but sharp, like he was always focusing, always analyzing everything, thinking about what everyone said, did…I guess that's what makes him such good conversation…when he isn't being really annoying. He really was incredibly smart, and a good dancer. And that voice! You could tell he was in music just listening to his voice, it just makes shivers run up my spine!" I wiggled to illustrate, and she laughed, grinning broadly, eyeing me with a sneaky delight. I continued to think on him, nearly forgetting Kathryn was even there. "Sometimes, though, he can just drive me so crazy! Some of the things he says, and does…Ugh! They just hit a nerve! No one has ever been able to get at me like he does! Then again, I don't think I've ever told anyone off before him either…And you know what's weird? No matter how often I scream at him, he always comes back. He might be angry, but he always forgives me. Even when I'm being a psycho-bitch. He really doesn't seem like the forgiving type, you know? But he does. It's not just that either, he can be really sweet without even knowing it, and really gentle. Of course, then he ruins it by being a complete nut-job or by flying off the handle or something, and then I scream at him again…it's like some big, messed-up cycle. But he still comes back, and he still helps me. It's a little hard to believe."

"If I didn't know ya better, my girl, I would say tha' you liked 'im. I'm t' understand you've seen 'im since the gala?" I gave her a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, I have…and I don't know if I like him. Maybe." I lied, a blush deepening my cheeks.

"Yer blushing, Gwen," She chuckled.

"Oh, be quiet…" She merely laughed harder, linking her arm through mine again. Conversation ceased, and I was glad to let it die. I told her more than I should have…I didn't even realize…Pausing while Kathryn admired some goods, I surveyed the streets of Paris. I hadn't left the Opera Populaire since our night out, and was once again delighted by the sight of early Paris. If only it smelled better…I inhaled deeply, knowing the smell to be unpleasant, but doing it just to prove my mental point. It complied, a gust of wind carrying a disgusting composite of unsanitary humanity, but at the end a memorable fragrance…Smells like…Erik. I shook my head, hoping to dispel my thoughts of him. This is getting annoying. No more Erik, Gwen. Stop it.

"Gwenny, come wit' me into this shop!" Kathryn snagged my arm, towing me behind her into the boutique. Frilly gowns, petite hats with feather plumes larger than the actual hats, decorative corsets, lingerie, the shop had everything a stuffed and puffed up woman could want. All beautiful, all vastly out of my price range. Grabbing a tag, I blanched.

"Ugh! Look how expensive this is! Gross!" Kathryn hovered over the lingerie and corsets, stroking the fabrics, feeling the lace. Glancing around to make sure no one heard her, she batted wide eyes at me.

"We migh' not be able to afford 'em, but who says we can't try 'em on?" I laughed as she wickedly chose some frilly garments to try on, shoving some into my hands. As she disappeared into a fitting room, I held up the tiny whale-bone corset. Hells no…She might be used to wearing these things, but I'm not…I hung the garments back up and perused the shelves. Making my way to the jewelry case, I leaned towards it, eyeing bracelets and broaches, rings, earrings and necklaces, all heavy set with precious stones. One in particular caught my eye. Simpler than the rest, it was a plain silver chain with an interesting silver charm, appearing to be a Celtic design. In the middle of the swirling charm, a small iridescent grey pearl sat, catching the light. The shopkeep obviously didn't think I was good enough to have entered the store, and when I asked to look at it more closely, the man sniffed, and very reluctantly opened the case. A firm grasp on the chain at all times, he watched me suspiciously as I held the charm aloft, inspecting it more closely.

"Gwen?" Kathryn's voice called from somewhere behind the racks of fluff, frill and silk.

"Over here," I answered, not bothering to look up at her approach. She came around beside me, leaning in to inspect it.

"Hmm, looks like a Celtic peace kno'. Symbolizin' peace with oneself , with others, an' in relationships," I ran my thumb over it longingly as she spoke, wondering vaguely how she knew that.

"It's beautiful…" Standing erect, I let go of the charm, giving the shopkeep a bland smile. We left the shop, continuing on our way.

"You didn't wan' it?" Kathryn inquired, brow furrowed. I waved a vague hand.

"Oh, I loved it, but I really can't afford something like that. You didn't see any pretty panties that you needed?" Her laughter a bark, she clapped me on the shoulder, pulling me in for an affectionate squeeze.

"Nah, nothin' touches this body bu' the best," I doubled over in laughter, only her arm keeping me upright as we marched along the sidewalk.

o o o o o

Offensively bright sunlight streamed down on his form, he pulled deeper into his hooded cloak, hoping to remain a mere shadow in the light. His eyes were having difficulty focusing, though they easily adjusted to the darkness, he could see perfectly well in near pitch. Wind whipped around his body, billowing in his cloak, beating at his masked face within the hood. The commotion of the busy Paris streets slapped at his ears, he cringed against it, his ears too finely tuned for opera. All of his senses, so adapted to the even, human-tempered environment of the Opera Populaire, he could barely stand the outdoors. Glaring through the wind at the women, he wondered if they were as insulted by the elements as he was. They are laughing, joking! They do not even notice! Scowling bitterly as the wind continued to buffet his face, he felt further pangs of jealousy resurface. Friendship. They act like it is so very easy…Staying far behind the pair of women, he relied on his exceptional hearing to pick up what was said. The English friend was pestering Gwen, prodding her for details on "the man". Eager to hear about her mystery acquaintance himself, and hoping that it was not the young man she had been with before, he picked up his pace, hoping to decrease the distance between them without being noticed.

"There isn't much to say about him Kathryn, it was all kind of weird," He caught Gwen's voice first.

"Well, alright, I know why, but wha' was 'e like?" Kathryn, the English woman, continued to pester her for details, poking Gwendolyn with her elbow. The other laughed, dodging away. "You've scarcely giv'n me any details a' all. It was masked, so ya didn't see 'is face, but wha' was 'e like?" Masked? Are they speaking of the gala? Does she mean that insolent, stupid, foolish fop of a boy!? His muscles tensed in outrage, shortly followed by sudden despair. He has…he has done it again…stealing the one thing I care about…The firebrand's voice continued to carry in the wind.

"I thought you said no icky boys allowed."

"Tut tut, Gwenny. No' allowed to come, yes, but we're still allowed to talk about 'em."

"He was tall, broad shoulders, fairly young. I guess around thirty or so…arrogant, frustrating…almost charming, certainly attentive, almost possessively… I didn't see his face, but he had black hair that was combed, gelled maybe, into place with sideburns going down to about here." She pointed at her jaw, he squinted, confused. The Vicompte does not have black hair…has she lost her senses entirely? "Really intense green eyes, dark, but sharp, like he was always focusing, always analyzing everything, thinking about what everyone said, did…I guess that's what makes him such good conversation…when he isn't being really annoying. He really was incredibly smart, and a good dancer. And that voice! You could tell he was in music just listening to his voice, it just makes shivers run up my spine!" She wriggled, copper curls bouncing in the wind. Her companion laughed as his feet stopped moving forward, stunned.

Astonishment swelling within him, he smothered an exclamation, fearing to be noticed during such a precious moment. She is not speaking of that idiot boy at all! She—she's talking about meHe fumbled, luckily unnoticed by the women, sucked in breath to quell his shock. His knees wobbled threateningly, he sagged against a brick wall to collect himself She thinks I am smart, she thinks I am a good dancer, she likes my voice! He glanced up at their retreating figures, dazed, and slightly puzzled. Can she be sincere? She is telling the truth? He choked a little, and then tried to catch his breath as he hurried to stay within earshot, the women continuing on, still completely oblivious to him.

"Sometimes, though, he can just drive me so crazy! Some of the things he says, and does…Ugh! They just hit a nerve! No one has ever been able to get at me like he does! Then again, I don't think I've ever told anyone off before him either…And you know what's weird? No matter how often I scream at him, he always comes back. He might be angry, but he always forgives me. Even when I'm being a psycho-bitch. He really doesn't seem like the forgiving type, you know? But he does. It's not just that either, he can be really sweet without even knowing it, and really gentle. Of course, then he ruins it by being a complete nut-job or by flying off the handle or something, and then I scream at him again…it's like some big, messed-up cycle. But he still comes back, and he still helps me. It's a little hard to believe." He hung on her every word, enthralled despite the harshness of some. She truly is not afraid of me, she truly does not hate me! We do fight so very often, I cannot help myself, the girl drives me mad! But she does not despise me for it, does not think I am a monster! Truly! He had heard her before when she had said she didn't think that of him, but it didn't really make an impact until now. Floored by her opinion of him, it was all he could do to stay behind them, listening.

"If I didn't know ya better, my girl, I would say tha' you liked 'im. I'm t' understand you've seen 'im since the gala?" He inhaled quickly at that. She has not told the English woman who I am!? Gwendolyn gave no further details, only vague answers, and he relaxed. No, she would not betray me. The other has no indication who I am…

"Yeah, I have…and I don't know if I like him. Maybe." She didn't say no He felt like he was hyperventilating, and gave up his hunt, unable to continue. The offensive sunlight seemed blinding now, its rays unbearably hot despite the coolness of the late fall air. Nearly falling into the wall beside him, he pressed his masked face into his hands, forcing himself to take deep breaths. The women kept on, ignorant of the collapsing man behind them. She actually praised me! Spoke highly of me! How is this possible! This cannot be happening…

"Yer blushing, Gwen," She chuckled.

"Oh, be quiet…"

Familiar suspicion, disbelief, tickled at his mind, but he shoved it back, too high on hope to give into it. Feeling lighter than he could ever remember, he stood up again, scurrying to catch up with the women. They had disappeared, and for a second he thought he had lost them, but caught Gwen's voice floating through the doorway of a small shop, its door propped open enticingly. Peering in, he watched as the English woman piled decorative undergarments into her arms. Sudden embarrassment struck him, he turned away, feeling like he had just seen something he shouldn't have. He had never seen a woman in garments such as those, always fully clothed. Though he could, with the thousands of perches he used to observe the goings on of the Opera Populaire, he never allowed himself, believing such spying base. Only the lowest of men would watch a woman undress from a hole in the wall…His mind shot to Joseph Buquet, the perverted fool who had attempted to stalk him, only entangling himself in the flies and suffocating himself. Not that I tried to help him…At the time, he had felt nothing for the man except a smug satisfaction, justice in that the old fool would die while attempting to hunt the hunter. Now, he looked back on the incident with intense shame, horror, and disgust. The Phantom was in control then…I am no longer him…I am just Erik. Glancing back into the window, he observed the firebrand fingering a simple silver necklette. How could I have thought to abandon her? She that has given me a new life, new hope! A genuine smile pulled at his mouth. Given me friendship. I dare to dream for more.