"How are things going with Oliver?" Alina asked while Erik was getting ready to go to work, as he was getting accustomed to doing every afternoon lately.
"On his part, fantastic. He's an incredible musician, and quick to learn." he buttoned up the little amber cufflinks, looking for his jacket. Even in the summer, Erik still wore an extra layer or two compared to everyone else, for various practical reasons.
"On his part? What do you mean?" she sat up straighter. "And on your part?"
"I think I might be bad for his nerves", Erik admitted slowly, studying his jacket for invisible dust specs. "That is, I think I annoy him fairly often."
"Well, I've never worked with anyone who didn't annoy me at least sometimes", Alina pointed out. "What do you think annoys him?"
"I don't know how to tell him what I want him to do, and if he wasn't so good at figuring it out, I don't know how this would work. I can't tell when he's had enough, so he has to tell me every time he's tired, and I just - well, you've seen how I get, I have a hard time stopping. It's a miracle he's able to tell me these things openly, because not many people would be. I simply don't think I'm very enjoyable to work with."
He had expected to hear some reassurance - darling, I'm sure you're not that bad, it's all going to be alright - but to his surprise, Alina just shrugged. "So?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you just started. I was also bad when I just started - I have now been a teacher for eight years, and some days I'm still bad at it. As long as you two can communicate, you can learn how to work together. It's not the end of the world."
"I suppose. I just think I'm driving him insane."
"Does he act like he hates you?"
"Not from what I can tell. He's sometimes frustrated, but he also laughs a lot, that's just how he is. He is actually very- friendly, I suppose? At least that's how he acts, I think it's more his personality than actually wanting to be my friend." Erik was as usual quite good at noticing and cataloguing Oliver's behaviours, but unsure how to interpret them. "What do you think?"
"I would think otherwise - there's a big difference between polite and friendly. He could still be polite to you if he hated you, but it would be very hard for him to be friendly, especially day after day. I think he probably doesn't hate you. He probably actually likes you and is trying to make you open up more."
"I don't know what to think about that."
"It's alright. One day you'll see I'm right, as usual." she smiled.
"I hope so, because I have one more musician to find, and he might not be as understanding as Oliver if we have to work together. I still don't have my solo violin - I told Heidel I'd handle the soloists, but I only have one so far, and Heidel picked him."
"Have you found any candidates?"
"Not exactly. There's one person I have in mind, but I only know his name."
"Ah, Jonsson", Heidel sighed. "Yes. I know him. I wish you hadn't said that."
"Why?" Erik pressed. "What's wrong with him?"
"Daniel Jonsson has been the music elite's biggest hope and saddest disappointment in the past few years", Heidel took off his reading glasses to rub his eyes. "His parents are both in the New York Philharmonic Orchestra - his mother is a clarinetist, father plays bassoon. He got into the old Academy when he was only sixteen, and that was quite a feat, they are not as forgiving as the Conservatory. He seemed to be an incredible prodigy, finished music school with excellent grades, all of that. For the first two years, we all thought he'd be the next Paganini. Then he started deteriorating - stopped showing up, grades went down, stopped practicing anything past bare minimum. He was terrible to have in any orchestral project - other musicians liked him, but he was impossible for conductors to manage. I think he started drinking- how he got alcohol so young, I'm not sure - and when he finally graduated, he barely passed and we were all eager to let him go", Heidel sighed. "I can't say what happened to him. Anderson is in charge of the violin department in the old Academy, and he's a good friend of the Jonssons. He tried to keep the boy on the right path, but he could never quite reach out to him. He hasn't been speaking to us since he graduated. It's been what - less than two years, maybe? He can't be older than twenty-one now. Though you'd never be able to tell - the last time I saw him, he still looked like the same anaemic teenager he was when he arrived here."
"Alright", Erik blinked, trying to process all of that. "Well, I heard him play in February, and he left an impression on me." a sort-of mixed impression, but Heidel didn't need to know that - he was obviously not lacking ammunition against the poor fellow.
"Did he?" Heidel said. "Well, I could write to his parents for his new address. I heard from Anderson he moved out and now lives alone somewhere in Brooklyn. If you want him so badly - we could write him a letter and ask him to come if he's interested. But I wouldn't count too much on it - I don't think he's played anything that required actual effort since he graduated. Maybe even before that."
"I know, I know. It doesn't matter. I'd like to at least try talking to him."
To mr. Daniel Jonsson,
I'm assembling a small orchestra to play a new symphony this Autumn. If you're not too busy, I'd like to hire you as a soloist. We can negotiate any details - please send your reply to the address below.
Erik Giry
To mr. Daniel Jonsson,
You may not have gotten my previous letter, so I'm writing again. I'm assembling a small orchestra to play a symphony this Autumn and we'd be honored to have you as the solo violin. I've heard you play before and was impressed, which is why I'm inviting you specifically. Your salary can be negotiated, but will be in the range of high-end salaries for productions of this size. Please contact me or mr. Heidel if you're interested.
Kind regards,
Erik Giry.
To mr. Jonsson,
I'm sorry to bother you again if you've received my previous letters. Please contact me if you'd like to participate in a production of a symphony as a soloist. My address is written below.
Erik Giry
"Why is it so important that it be this particular violinist?" Alina asked carefully, interrupting Jack who was giving his damnedest to make things worse.
"Because he's good", Erik crossed his arms in annoyance.
"See, I have to call bull-" Jack started, but after catching a glance from Alina, threw his hands in the air and turned around in exasperation. Sure, if she was alright with enabling this childish tantrum, she was welcome to handle it herself. Erik looked after him furiously; he had a few things to reply to that but wasn't eager to start the fight.
"He is", Alina nodded. "What does he do best?"
Erik's annoyed look shifted quickly to her. "Play violin."
"Clever", she bared her teeth. "There are many incredible musicians in this city, and if you want this particular one, I'd like to know what it is about him you find so irreplaceable. You know, since we're about to make that effort to track him down and talk or bribe him into performing again. All for you. Because we care about your dream coming true."
"Nobody asked you to - " Erik started, then stopped himself. He brought his fingers up to his temples and rubbed them lightly, sighing heavily. After a moment's pause, he started again. "It's hard to explain. I've heard him play. He's an atrociously lazy little brat but also simply one of the best violinists I've ever heard; and…"
"And?"
"And, listen, it's stupid, alright?" he looked at her angrily again. "But when I heard him, I had a feeling he'd understand. He'll know what the symphony is about, and he'll do it right. It's hard to explain. It's just a hunch. Don't tell Jack about it."
"Hmm", Alina frowned slightly. "I think I understand. I think you should try, at least."
"Try what?"
"To talk to him and persuade him. If he understands the symphony, he'll understand you", she nodded at him.
"I don't want to talk to him."
"But why?"
Erik sighed. For that precise reason. It's better if he just gets the music and not the sad apparition behind it. It might even sound better. "Jack is better at persuasion."
"And yet you won't tell Jack why you want Jonsson, and refuse to talk to Jonsson, so all of this will be communicated how exactly?" Alina was growing slightly frustrated with all of this.
"I don't know."
"Darling, I am willing to follow you to the ends of the Earth", she rambled with obvious annoyance now, "but not if I have to drag you all the way there. You have to make some sort of compromise to find a solution here."
Erik sighed. It was hard to argue with that; she really was doing her best. "Alright."
"I don't think Jack would mind doing it if you told him why it's important", she offered.
"I can't explain why it's important. He's right, it really is my own whim", he shrugged.
Alina looked at him for a moment, then at Jack who was rolling a cigarette a few steps further and obviously considering just going home, then at Erik again. "Jack", she turned around and called after him. "Can you come back for a moment?"
Jack, impressively successful in not rolling his eyes, walked slowly back to them as he lit his cigarette.
"Erik wants Jonsson because he thinks Jonsson would understand his music and play it well", she said. "It's his first composition ever being played for an audience, and he'd like to see it done with love. He'd like you to try to persuade him, but if he refuses, we'll think of something else."
Jack narrowed his eyes at Erik. "You couldn't have said that yourself?"
"You're the one being difficult now", Alina interrupted.
"Right, fair maiden, I apologize." Jack's glare was still drilling holes in Erik's skull. "And do you have any idea what you want me to say, or do you simply expect me to handle it as I normally do? Does it even occur to you that I can simply fail at something and not just purposely be holding you down?"
Erik blinked. "Oh. Uh… you've never failed before."
"Why you… agh", Jack threw his hands up. "No, I wasn't trying to oppose you. I really don't understand that asshole any better than I understand you. I have no idea why he won't do it."
"He doesn't want to", Erik started, realizing how dumb that sounded. He tried to explain it in a way he would explain it to Alina - but it doesn't really matter if Jack thinks it's stupid, since it isn't about me anyway, he thought. "He stopped playing for himself long ago. It's just a job for him now. If he starts feeling it again, god knows what else he might start feeling", he shrugged. It did still sound stupid.
"But you said he plays with his friends", Jack said.
"Yes, that's different. He plays with his friends because they're as good as him, but he plays like an asshole. He still has standards, even if he hates himself", Erik explained.
"Huh", Jack bit his lip, smiling slightly. "I never realized you actually thought about other people at all."
"He's not hard for me to understand", Erik bowed his head at him.
"Mhm", Jack smiled slightly wider. "So, you're proposing we simply offer him more money?"
"That might work, if he needs it", Erik said. "But it's not… I might have another idea."
"Oh? I'll gladly hear all of your ideas."
"He remembers what it felt like before", Erik started rambling again nervously. "He just has to be reminded. I don't think he could resist playing something that would make him that involved again, even if he's afraid of it, it would just be too much to resist. I think we just have to somehow show him what we had in mind, and he'd accept, if the symphony really is what I think it will be."
Alina blinked. It was suddenly much clearer why Erik refused to simply knock on Jonsson's door, meet him and show him the sheet music; obvious reasons aside, the implication was that if Jonsson refused that might mean the symphony itself wasn't what Erik wanted it to be.
"Sorry", she chimed in. "But if he has avoided it for so long, why would he be any different now? I'm certain there's plenty of incredible music he could have been playing but he refused to."
"I don't know", Erik admitted. "Maybe he was disappointed."
"By what?"
"I don't know. It just sounds like he stopped hoping for something long ago."
"Ah."
"Maybe we really should offer him more money instead", Erik shrugged, feeling somewhat insecure.
"Hey, that I can do" Jack shrugged. "But I think you're onto something here."
"You do?"
"Yes, but the more you say it, the more I think you should be the one to talk to him", Jack bit his finger in thought. "Who's to say why he ignores Heidel's letters? Maybe he has a personal problem with Heidel or the Conservatory, or maybe the old Academy? Maybe he doesn't need money, maybe he doesn't open his mail on time. But if he's avoiding Heidel, then the best way to approach him is without a middle-man. Just go to him, alone, and talk to him. You'll say what you want to say much better than I can."
"Do you know how Mozart came to write his last work? The Requiem?" Erik asked quietly as he walked through Brooklyn a few days later, the familiar pit in his stomach present as usual. He wondered if it would ever go away - or if maybe he should simply get used to it; if he wished to get what he wanted most in life, perhaps he should get used to continuously facing his worst fears.
But if it works, if this - if I succeed, would it not be worth it?
"Tell me", Alina smiled.
"He was approached by a masked man with a bag of money and asked to write a requiem. He was very sick and died while writing it - so he more or less wrote the Requiem for himself. But I've always liked the implication that musicians, even famous ones, can be approached if you just bring a challenging idea, a mask and a bag of money", he smiled. "Maybe coaxed into making something great. We'll see. This is Jonsson's building", he pointed.
"Not what I'd expect from a rich musical prodigy", Alina frowned. "Isn't it a bit…"
"Ugly? Old? Depressing?" Erik looked up. "Very lax in its approach to fire safety?"
"I was going to say plain, but you probably know what you're talking about."
"Well, in any case", Erik shrugged as the pit in his stomach started expanding, swallowing his lower ribs and making it harder to breathe. "In any case, I should go inside and knock. You're sure you're alright waiting out here on the sidewalk alone?"
"Yes."
He adjusted his mask, his collar and his gloves.
"Erik, he's probably just a stupid adolescent", Alina gently remarked. "He doesn't know anything. Don't be so hard on yourself."
"Right. I'll see you in a bit." he turned and walked into the ugly, plain, depressing building.
Erik looked around through the building, as he often did when he was in a new place. It was an unremarkable building full of seemingly tiny apartments, slightly depressing with paint cracking here and there and cobwebs in the corners of the hallways. But at least it was quiet - still, Erik couldn't help but wonder what it was like for some young man to live in this boring, grey, dead place all on his own.
"Yes?" a young man - barely past his teenage years - opened the door, then backed away a little when he saw Erik. He had a delicate, bony face with mousy brown hair that hung around his ears and temples, and grey eyes behind long eyelashes that blinked at Erik in confusion. He could have been the main character in some russian novel about poets fighting to death over a fickle lover. Erik remembered how he wanted to strangle him when he first heard him play with lazy indifference, and suddenly felt the need to strangle him again when he saw how undeservedly goddamn pretty he was. You just had to be born with the silver spoon in your mouth, you little-
"Are you mr. Daniel Jonsson?" he asked politely instead. The young man looked painfully aware of the fact Erik was much taller and practically towering over him, but Erik had no idea how to change that.
"Why? Who's asking?" the young man narrowed his eyes. Oh, that was a look Erik saw on people's faces fairly often, and he also didn't know how to change that. Still, he couldn't let it get the better of him before he fulfilled his reason for being here.
"My name is Erik Giry", he spoke calmly and carefully, weighing every word. "I sent some letters to you through Fritz Heidel, but I haven't received any response, so I thought you might not have gotten them."
"I- letters?" the young man blinked, then frowned. He kept his hand on the door, his expression darkening. "Yes, I got Heidel's letters. I didn't reply because I had nothing to say."
"Um", Erik stuttered. "D-did you read them? We're assembling -"
"Yes, I read them", Daniel straightened despite his uneasiness. "I'm not interested. You can tell Heidel that, too."
"They're not from him, they were from me", Erik started rambling. "I- I'm writing a symphony and I need some soloists, and I heard you play last winter in Lower Manhattan and I thought, you're incredibly talented, obviously, and you sounded very bored playing there - but I digress. I need someone who can play that part, because it's quite difficult - someone really good who will give his best and won't just learn to play it like a puppet - and I thought you might be perfect for it."
"Thank you", Daniel replied with icy coldness. "But I'm really, really not interested. Not in ambitious projects, not in beautiful unseen symphonies, not in giving my best."
"But if you just- just-"
"There are plenty of talented violin players in New York City, sir", Daniel said, backing away a little. "I'm sure you can find someone just as good, if not better."
"But see, that's the point", Erik leaned his hand on the doorframe to steady himself, which Daniel noticed and obviously interpreted differently because he backed away a tiny bit more. "See, if you just let me show you some of it, the sheet music, then you could see if you like it - and I really thought you might be interested, so if you just give me a second-"
"No!" Daniel nearly yelled, obviously frightened. "I don't want to! I don't know what Heidel told you about me, but I'm not free for hire! Kindly fuck off and leave me alone!" he slammed the door and locked it loudly, leaving Erik standing frozen in the hallway.
"But-", Erik managed as the door slammed in his face. For a moment he just stood there looking at the plain brown wood, shocked beyond words, his mind blank.
Hot, searing shame from the rejection coursed through his body like lightning, splitting him in half.
One half wanted to throw his body against the door until it broke down and shake Jonsson until he had no choice but to understand that some little brat had no place talking to Erik like that, that he'd better show some respect if he wanted to keep his stupid little head in one piece.
The other half howled, locked out, locked out, locked out so loudly in his head that he could barely think from its thunderous echo, and even if he wanted to bang on the door or yell for Jonsson to open it, he couldn't. He wanted to cry his lungs out, to apologize even if he had no idea what he did wrong; to beg this juvenile, self-absorbed, ungrateful boy to consider that even though the man at his door was so monstrous in his otherness, perhaps if he just agreed to listen he'd understand what he was talking about.
For a minute or two he stood there completely paralyzed.
"-but I just thought we had something in common." he heard himself whispering to the closed door. He turned on his heel and walked out of the building as if in some sort of trance. His shoulder slammed against the doorframe on the main entrance of the building as he left without even realizing it.
Alina waited for him outside, sitting patiently on the edge of a nearby bench. She stood up as she saw him arrive, and he realized she must have noticed something strange about him because her brow furrowed deeply with obvious concern.
"What happened? What did he say?" she asked quietly.
Erik shook his head.
"Should we go?" she tried again, taking his hand. He didn't protest, but didn't really respond either.
He said nothing.
"Hm", Alina looked to the side, trying to think of something to say.
Erik started walking slowly and stiffly towards the street, still holding Alina's hand. She followed without question, and they walked the entire way home in total silence. The only sign of any internal life from him was an occasional twitch of the hand she was holding.
He unlocked the front door mechanically,
went inside,
turned around,
sat down,
then stood back up before Alina could properly enter and headed back out.
"Hey, wait", she called after him. "Where to?"
He stopped, but didn't turn back to face her. "I don't know. I'm taking a walk."
"Can I come?" please, stop running away.
Pause. "As you wish."
Alina blinked. Well, that wasn't a no, and if he didn't want her there he would have definitely said so. She followed quickly after him, barely catching up with his long strides; that horrible numbness in his step was subsiding and something else was taking its place. Alina silently braced herself for whatever was about to come.
Erik walked through the island to the shore, then across the beaches and caves, with some alarming intensity building up in his movements. He entered one of the caves on the very edge of the island, climbing over sharp rocks without paying any attention to his hands and clothes getting ripped against the rough stone. Alina watched from the bottom entrance, unable to follow in her dress and shoes, and entered the cave through the longer, but more forgiving, stone path.
Erik barely stopped to wait for her as he entered a tunnel and she had to quicken her pace to catch up to him; he practically ran through it, Alina following, for a minute or two until they reached a large room of sorts illuminated here-and-there by holes in the cave roof, but otherwise almost completely black. Erik looked like he wanted to go on, but stopped himself at the center of the room, opening and closing his fists. Alina could do nothing but stare at his back from behind and wonder why he was breathing so heavily.
He let out the loudest, most blood-curdling scream Alina had ever heard, and she automatically shut her eyes and covered her ears; a painful and thunderous mixture between a war cry and the shriek of someone being burned alive. He only stopped when he ran out of breath, then took in a deep one, pulling at the hair on his scalp to compose himself, as a single violent shudder went through his body.
He then turned around and told Alina quietly, "He refused."
"I'm sorry", she said with tears in her eyes, realizing her hands were still covering her ears. She put them down quickly. "Wh-why? What did he say?"
"He wants nothing to do with me", Erik started rambling, his voice going into a crescendo as he started pacing around the cave room, "he didn't let me inside, didn't let me show him the symphony, he received our letters but didn't want anything to do with Heidel- he was so scared, like I was going to b-b-bite his throat off, he told me to fuck off and slammed the door in my face!" he was yelling by the time he finished, clenching and unclenching his fists and pacing like a caged tiger. "I did nothing to him! I was respectful, and polite, and kind to that stupid little brat, I wrote him letters, offered him a decent salary, I told him I wanted him specifically for his skill and talent - he wants nothing to do with the Conservatory and nothing to do with me, because he looked at me and concluded I was some madman, some m-m-monster who'd t-tor-torment and abuse him, and he obviously has no intention of letting that happen to him!" Erik's voice was less shouting and more pleading now as his hands covered his masked face. "I-I-I'm not! I wouldn't harm him! I know how that sounds, I know I've done it before, but he has no way of knowing that! I'm sorry! I wouldn't do that again! I swear! Why does he think that- is it really that obvious- even through the mask, even when I try- "
"No", Alina said calmly but firmly. "No, you're not like that at all. I know you."
"But he- oh God, that terror in his eyes, what did I do to him? Wh-what-"
"Stop", Alina interrupted. "You heard what Heidel said. He broke under pressure once when he was young, and doesn't want that to happen to him again. He's afraid of Heidel, and the Academy, and people with great expectations screaming at him that he's not good enough. It's not about you. He doesn't know you at all. He just wants to live a quiet life and not think about things that hurt him."
"But I just wanted- wanted to offer him something more, to use that ridiculously talented head of his!" Erik rubbed his temples in a desperate attempt to stay present. "It's such a rare, precious gift and he's letting it all go to waste! Spoiled, ungrateful, entitled little- "
"It's still his head you're talking about, and his hands", Alina remarked. "He has the choice to let it go to waste if he so pleases - if it makes him happier. You just have to accept that. You can't change what he wants."
Erik looked at her as if she put a knife through his heart with that last sentence. "I can't, can I?"
"No", she replied gently. "But that's not your fault. Nobody can, that's the point. You can sometimes make people do what you want, but you can't make it come from them."
"I-" he slid down the stone wall of the cave and buried his face in his hands.
"Think about it", she sat down next to him. "Imagine having a great talent - I'm sure you can, hah - but instead of being left to explore and discover on your own, the world around you confines you to a very narrow idea of what you can do with that talent to make it right. And you have to listen, have to be grateful for the great gift you have, but your life is no longer your own."
"I would not have taken his life from him", Erik whispered. "It's just one symphony. I- I mean, I know how demanding I am, but I'm not delusional - it's still just one symphony. And I've already given so much freedom to Oliver - rewritten some parts so that students can play them - why would I go and demand from him, specifically, to sacrifice everything he has for one obscure performance?" because you would, because you did, and because he's smart enough to notice it- he knows, he knows, he knows, little bright prodigy, little shining star, you picked him precisely because he's smart enough to see through you and smart enough to stop you in time. If only she had been, too.
"I believe you", Alina said earnestly. "But, like I said, he doesn't know you, and doesn't know any of this. He didn't refuse because it was you, it's the other way around. He refused because he doesn't know you, has no reason to trust you, and doesn't want to go back to how he was before. That's all."
Erik's breathing started returning to normal, but then - "He's terrified of me." Yes, well, seeing through you has always been a traumatizing experience.
"Oh, I believe that", Alina shrugged. "He's probably terrified of Heidel, too, and his other former professors, and whoever tries to assert themselves as his boss or mentor. He lives in that apartment all alone, plays music that bores him, and drinks at night pretending he's better than everyone. How would he possibly react to this all of a sudden? You must understand", she took his hand, "that people sometimes do that. You have to accept that it has nothing to do with you, and that you can't base your happiness on how people react to you." Alina was starting to realize this conversation had become suspiciously circular while she wasn't paying attention, but had no idea how to stop it now.
"It's because it's me", he repeated. "I swear. I saw how he looked at me. It's me, I scared him."
"Hm", Alina leaned her head very lightly on Erik's shoulder. "Perhaps. That would be very stupid of him, but it's possible. He'll regret it once he realizes what an opportunity he missed."
Erik's breathing apparently couldn't decide if it was returning to normal or not, but his thought process was, decidedly, absolutely not. "This- this is what will keep happening, you know? This is what always happens, and I- I can get used to it, but you- you shouldn't have to endure it because of me, y-you don't - they'll start treating you like that too, that same disgust and fear and contempt in their eyes because you're with me, and I can't stand that- you shouldn't- I shouldn't let that happen, if I have any decency and dignity left- oh god." he closed his mouth, swallowed and leaned his head back on the cave wall. The torrent of thoughts in his head was getting too fast and impossible for him to follow, molding into a singular scream - I'm hurting, it's dark here and I'm alone, and I'm hurting, and it will never stop.
Alina kept silent. She had no intention to argue with the torrent; she simply sat there as her fingers drew little circles on his shoulder.
"I have to stop", he started again. "This drama is helping nobody. It's just adding onto the load of things you have to endure because of me, and I know you hate it when I yell and I know I should stop - this is pathetic - he's just some kid - but I - really am trying to stop, please understand, it's just not really happening for some reason - "
"You don't have to stop", Alina said quietly. "You'll stop when it stops." one little circle, two, three. You think you've gotten somewhere, but then you're back at the beginning.
"But I really should be able to control myself-"
"I know. I know. But you can hate yourself later. Right now, you should just sit with me for a little bit. I don't care how long we sit or how much you talk. Or how loud you shout."
"I'm scaring you-"
"No, no. You surprised me, I'll admit. But it's alright. I'm fine. I'm still here."
Erik swallowed. "I'd never hurt you, I'm sorry -"
"Who said anything about you hurting me? You haven't even considered it. You're just scared of letting me see you like this", she finally turned to him. "But I, for one, am glad you've decided to share this with me, instead of just disappearing like you used to. I am so, so very glad. Thank you."
He couldn't argue with that. Well, he actually could, but his mind was so tired from all the screaming - and since she was so clearly offering him a lifeboat, stubbornly deciding to keep drowning would be quite selfish. And stupid. Erik closed his eyes, leaned his head back again, and tried once again to calm down. It's dark in here, and I'm hurting, but I'm not alone.
Is it possible that it might stop? One day?
"I'd like to be forgiven", he finally said.
"You will be", Alina whispered gently. "This is how it feels while it's happening."
Later that night as Alina was getting ready to sleep Erik lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling with an empty look in his eyes, still in his clothes and mask. The curtains were drawn, but the window was slightly ajar - there was nobody on the street to see or hear them, so Alina insisted to keep it a little open until they fell asleep; Erik had to admit the fresh air was soothing after the whole day.
"Alina?" he called for her quietly. Alina was currently letting down and brushing her hair - but as she heard him she turned around immediately.
"Yes?"
He wanted to ask her - does it really not bother you? Does it really not disgust you? Do you really - but the words wouldn't come out. All he managed to do was mess up his breathing again as he stubbornly stared at the ceiling.
Alina took the rest of the pins out of her hair and decided brushing would obviously have to be done in the morning, as she slowly got up and walked over to the bed, closing the window and carefully lying down next to Erik.
He really wanted to reach out and embrace her, but something very heavy and very stubborn seemed to be pinning his body to that exact spot on the bed, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. It seemed that his body could be persuaded to move them only down on his stomach, so he did that.
"I'd like to keep my mask", he said quietly to the ceiling. It was an absolute and total lie. He wanted to take it off and never put it on again. He wanted to walk around and not have people even look at him twice. He wanted to take the mask off now, right now, while it was still slightly light outside, and not be afraid of what he would see in her eyes; he wanted to feel her gentle fingers and soft lips on his face and believe that everything was fine. But he also wanted to take a hammer and nail the cursed thing to his skull so he could never take it off again, or, better yet, just disintegrate on the spot so he wouldn't have to move at all ever again.
"Of course. Whatever you wish." Alina took one of his hands to interlace her own fingers with his, and moved a little closer, planting a little kiss where his jaw met his neck.
Erik was really trying his best to hold it together; torn between the need to just relax and give in and this horrible, maddening compulsion to disappear immediately, he really couldn't do much but lie there unable to move.
"I lied", he managed.
"About?" Alina raised her head a little to look at him, but then saw the numbness in his unmoving eyes and decided for a different approach. "Darling, I love you. Please tell me what you want. I can't understand if you don't tell me."
"I want to disappear", he whispered. After a long pause, he continued, "I want to know that you, would never, do something you don't want to do."
"Uh", Alina struggled for a second until she realized what was going on. "No. No, I wouldn't. I would tell you."
"Not if you were afraid of me. Of… how I would react."
"I'm not. You'd know if I was. I know you'd be able to tell."
Well, that was a compelling argument.
"I just want to hold you", he said so quietly she could barely hear it, even with her head resting on his shoulder. "I just want to… not… I just want to feel like… a normal man. I'd like you to - if you could, if you want to, I don't know - please don't do it if you don't want to - but if you do, I'd like you to take off my mask, because I just can't seem to do it, just this once, and I'd like to hold you and - feel normal."
Alina slowly raised her hand, untied the laces careful not to tangle his hair, and removed the mask. It was all rather unceremonious. Erik's face looked like it always did, felt underneath her fingers like it always did, and Alina looked at him like she always did.
"Thank you." He allowed himself to close his eyes.
"Don't thank me. It's what I wanted." Alina's fingers traced little lines along his temples, down his cheekbones, over his cheeks, under his eyes, over his lips. "Darling, do you know what it's like to watch someone you love disappear into a black hole you cannot reach?"
Erik said nothing. All he could possibly focus on was the feel of her fingertips, which seemed infinitely more important than anything else in the universe at the moment.
"I am a million times grateful that you are no longer in that hole. Whatever you may think, just remember that. The only thing unbearable to me is losing you while you descend into your own personal hell."
"I seem to be finding a way out", he finally managed. "I must be. I can see the sun from here."
Erik's hands slowly abandoned their stubborn paralysis, and wrapped themselves around her. He could feel her body pressing back against his, warm, soft, and normal. He pressed his lips to hers very, very lightly and let out a sigh.
"Do you feel better?" she asked softly.
"Yes."
