Author's Note: I don't know if you guys noticed but there's a change in the number of chapters. None of the story's chapters were deleted but I did remove the very first chapter (which used to contain a lengthy note, the disclaimer, and the blurb) and merged it with the actual first chapter of the story (which used to be the second chapter and now is the first, and now also carries the disclaimer from the old first chapter). If you didn't notice, then feel free to disregard what I just explained ― this is for those who might be wondering.
Onto another matter though. You might want to check the previous chapter, entitled Roses Have Thorns, and see if you have read that first. When I updated this fic, I deleted another chapter which contained only a note explaining why I hadn't updated for a long time. I didn't realize that removing said chapter would cause this fic to appear at the top of the category. You might have opened it then and saw there was no new chapter. However, I did post a new one, only it was several hours later. TLDR; check the chapter before this one and make sure you've read it first.
Le Fantome: I hope you get through your semester unscathed! You know, it still blows me away to know that there's a number of people out there, you included, who've said that this is their favorite/one of their favorite fics. It really touches me to know that and I hope you know that your reviews in particular never cease to make me smile! Thank you!
( twenty-three )
HOPEFUL UNREST
"Wake up." The words were accompanied with a nudge to the girl's feet.
Erik watched as Jovan stirred from her position beneath the statue, her hands pulling her cloak tighter around her frame. Her red hair was sticking from under the beret she wore, completing her disheveled appearance. She was obviously tired, given the night's newest opera, but why she had to go to the rooftop and choose a really uncomfortable-looking spot to fall asleep on was beyond Erik.
"Evening," Jovan greeted lamely.
He gave a nod of his head. "What are you doing here?"
"Meditating, until you arrived and broke the peace," she retorted.
Erik rolled his eyes. "The peace was broken the moment you fell asleep."
"I don't snore, if that's what you're implying," Jovan answered peevishly as she climbed down from the statue, landing on wobbly feet. Erik almost made a move to help her but he stilled himself when her hand landed on the statue for support. Once she regained her balance, she stifled a yawn as she met Erik's eyes.
"What were you doing here?" Erik tried again.
"Decided that I needed some fresh air." Jovan began to pace around, her foot kicking a dry leaf that had strayed onto the rooftop. "I'm not in the mood to partake in the celebrations tonight."
La tragédie de Brigitte was another unsurprising success for the Opéra Populaire, and, even on the rooftop, the sounds of merrymaking could be heard as laughter and music drifted into the night. The noise was not loud enough to be a bother though, the wind helping to mute the noise coming from below.
"What about the ballet rat who always kept watch over you?" Erik stayed rooted to his spot, his gaze following the redhead as she moved in circles a few feet away from him.
"Her name's Elea, you know."
"I know."
Jovan huffed, shooting Erik a look. "She's with Aldrich. Said he had to talk to her about something."
"Have you any idea what it's about?"
"I have an idea, alright." A small laugh escaped Jovan but it sounded more sad than anything. Her green eyes were downcast, their usual spark absent and replaced with a lackluster haze. Whether it was from exhaustion, from having just woken up, or from something else entirely, Erik was unsure. But given her short replies, Erik could guess that her blue mood had something to do with her friend, Elea.
Erik was not in the dark regarding Elea's relationship with Aldrich. To the casual eye, Elea appeared to be aloof when it came to her suitor, staying true to her grounded and sensible nature as she always maintained a proper distance from him. Meanwhile, the young man was more open, unashamed in displaying his affections for the ballerina. But when no one else was looking, that was when their true colors shone. Too many times had Erik caught the young couple hidden in some dark corner of his opera house, exchanging too many kisses and whispering sweet nothings into each others' ears.
It was during those times that Erik regarded his sharp sight as a curse.
"You need to get rest ― proper rest," he remarked as Jovan came to a stop, her foot gently poking another wayward leaf. At that moment, the redhead looked nothing more than a child, albeit a tired one. How old was she again, anyway? Nineteen? Twenty? Erik had to ask her another time.
When Jovan's silence was the only response he received, Erik drew in a silent breath before walking to her.
"Jovan," he said, prompting her to meet his eyes. "It's time to go."
She nodded once before walking toward the rooftop's door, leaving Erik to silently trail behind her.
The hallway was thankfully well-lit while Jovan made her way to her dormitory. She had long taken off her cloak and it now draped from her arms. Taking her key out of her pocket, Jovan was nearing her room when she spotted a familiar brunette running toward her from the opposite direction.
"Jovan!" Elea called. Jovan blinked several times ― Elea was running?
As the ballerina drew closer to Jovan, the stagehand could see the corners of her lips curved upwards in a gleeful smile. Her hands held onto her skirts to avoid her feet from tripping on them. As she skittered to a stop before Jovan, Elea paused to catch her breath, but the smile did not leave her lips.
Jovan gave a small one of her own. "Elea? Is that you? Running?"
"Oh, psh," the ballerina answered, chuckling. "No one saw me. Anyway, I have something to tell you."
"Tell me inside," Jovan replied, about to key the door when Elea took her hand to stop.
"Wait, is there someone inside?"
Jovan's brows creased as she placed her ear against the door. From within the room, the chatter between two girls could be heard. Withdrawing, Jovan gave her friend a nod.
"Tell me here, no one's around anyway," Jovan offered, doing her best to not let her exhaustion channel into her tone.
Luckily, Elea didn't seem to notice, her elation clouding her judgement. Her hands reached to hold both of Jovan's upper arms and she leaned in closer, a twinkle visible in her eyes.
"Jo, Aldrich proposed to me."
Erik gently shooed Ayesha from his desk, and the feline had the mind to obey her master, jumping down from the table as her necklace of gems rustled. Ayesha had placed her eyes on the inkwell earlier while Erik stood close by, and he was lucky to spot her before she could begin to paw it. The last time that happened, Erik had been too late, and the result was still visible on the floor of his home if one looked closely enough.
Returning his violin on his collarbone, Erik began to run the bow against the strings. He softly hummed along while he searched the corners of his mind for the right words to accompany the tune he was composing. His eyes fell close and his lips silently moved, testing out the words, before he lowered his bow and picked up his pen. Erik stared at the parchment before him, dipping his pen into the inkwell.
For every night I lie in bed
Putting pen against paper, Erik scribbled the next words.
The brightes
His hand fell still as Erik glared at the incomplete word. Bright? Since when did that word belong in his dictionary? Shaking his head, Erik moved to scratch the word when a voice interrupted him.
"I didn't know you were left-handed too."
"I believe the word you're looking for is ambidextrous," Erik threw over his shoulder, recognizing Jovan's husky tone. He dropped his pen and lowered his violin before turning to his visitor. The redhead was walking away from the edge of the lake and to him, no longer donning both her cloak and her vest while her head was free of her beret and her hair was in a loose bun, with a few strands falling to frame her face.
"Composing at this late hour, monsieur? Unheard of," Jovan remarked, stopping when Ayesha approached her and rubbed herself along the stagehand's legs.
Erik watched the feline with mirth in his eyes. "I'm not like most people, mademoiselle," he retorted quite sarcastically.
"Good. Most people are boring," Jovan answered and Erik bowed in thanks for the compliment. "Don't let it get to your head."
A faint smile tugged at Erik's lips. "It's nothing that I don't already know."
Ayesha finally walked away from Jovan and once she was free to move again, she crossed over to Erik's desk and eyed the papers scattered on it. When her hand gently reached for the closest paper, Erik realized it was the one he'd been writing on.
He watched as Jovan's eyes ran over the written lines, and his heart skipped when the green in her gaze brightened.
"What's the next line?" Jovan inquired, lifting her eyes from the words and meeting Erik's stare. Her tone was laced with curiosity and controlled excitement.
"Oh, somewhere out there. It refuses to come to me," Erik replied.
He must have sounded sarcastic because Jovan arched a brow at him. "Really, Erik?"
"I wanted to write 'The brightest colors fill my head' but it just didn't sound..."
"Like you?"
Erik gave a small nod and watched in bafflement as a smile broke on Jovan's face. She proceeded to sit herself at his desk and grabbed his pen. Erik leaned in closer over her shoulder as she wrote down the words he just said.
"Come on, Erik. 'The darkest colors fill my head' is just too ― well, dark. You're not about to strangle someone, are you?"
A rather violent image came unbidden to Erik's mind, escaping from the recesses of his mind, and he shoved the thought away with equal violence and back into the vaults of his past. As he threw away the metaphorical key, Erik swallowed before answering Jovan.
"I came close tonight, sorry to disappoint. The fool Buquet was drinking again during the performance," he said coolly.
"Everyone wants to strangle Buquet, let's be honest."
Once Jovan was finished writing, Erik stared at the parchment with mild irritation. It wasn't because that Jovan had written on it ― he didn't mind, actually ― but rather, he had some difficulty deciphering her tangled handwriting.
"Were you raised in a farm? Is that chicken scratch?"
"Erik, please see if I care."
With a huff, Erik picked up the violin and bow and began to play the far-from-finished piece. The words in his mind fell in sync with the melody, much to his satisfaction, while he could see Jovan intently watching his fingers move about on his violin's neck, pressing and strumming the strings with schooled ease and grace.
"Well?"
"Play the last bit again, the one that goes with the part you're writing," Jovan requested and he obliged. This time, she didn't watch him as her focus fell on the lyrics. As Jovan silently mouthed the words, Erik found himself wondering, not for the first time, what Jovan would sound like if she sang. His eyes followed her lips as the violin sang with the movement of his fingers and the bow.
"Do... do you mind?" Jovan asked Erik when he was done, her hand reaching for his pen as she placed the paper down on his desk.
"Not at all," Erik answered, genuinely curious of the words that her mind had conjured. He watched as she began to write once more, trying not to wince at her penmanship, and stared at the ink and parchment when she was done. He quietly read the entirety of the stanza.
For every night I lie in bed
The brightest colors fill my head
A million dreams are keeping me awake
The words smoothly matched the tune that he played in his head. Erik felt a faint tug in his chest as he continued to stare ― perhaps it was his heart swelling with pride, he absently reckoned, because despite being well aware of Jovan's talent with words, he still couldn't help his surprise at how well her lyric fell in place with the melody he had played.
"Erik?" Jovan's unsure tone broke his stream of thought and he glanced down to see her green eyes staring at him expectantly.
Erik backed away when he belatedly noticed how close he was hovering over her. He sent her a look of approval, his lips tightening into a small smile. Jovan returned one of her own before standing from his desk while Erik carefully placed his violin and bow back in its case on the nearby settee.
"What? Are you done for the night?" Jovan asked as she began to pace around in search of something. Ayesha perhaps, Erik guessed. "Don't let me disturb you."
"I've been working for two hours," Erik provided.
"I recall an instance when you refused to even acknowledge me, one afternoon. I stayed and read for four hours while you banged away at your organ."
"I do not 'bang away,' as you so eloquently put it."
"No, go on. It's alright, really. Don't be shy."
Arching a dark brow, Erik put away the violin case before going to tend to his desk. As he began to methodically fix his papers, he asked, "So you talked to her?"
A beat passed where Jovan fell silent and Erik recognized the air of hesitation that occupied the space. "What?"
"You heard me."
When Erik was done with his papers, he turned to see Jovan standing still. "I... yes. Did you follow me, Erik?"
"No, but your demeanor revealed as much," Erik pointed out.
"I didn't know I was that easy to read."
Truthfully, Jovan was rather easy to read, especially since Erik knew all too well of the emotions that battled with her heart. But he kept this to himself and instead gestured to the divan, offering Jovan a seat.
"What did Elea say?"
Jovan perched herself on the edge of the divan, her fingers tugging at the cuff of her shirt. "She's engaged."
"It was about time, was it not?"
He watched as a genuine smile crossed her lips. "Yes. Aldrich has been courting her before I even came to the opera house."
"But there's more to it, isn't there?"
She gave a nod. "She'll be leaving after the annual Bal Masqué. One more production, and then that's it. Aldrich has been called away to England and, of course, she'll want to be with him."
"I see," Erik said. There really was nothing else to say. Elea was leaving the Opéra Populaire, leaving Jovan behind. The smile had long vanished from Jovan's face but there were no tears in her eyes either. Erik didn't know much about the ballerina, but he was able to surmise that her friendship with Jovan ran deep. The two had obviously known each other far longer than one could guess, as Erik recalled that the two were already familiar with each other on the day that Jovan arrived.
Erik also remembered the first few weeks after Jovan's arrival at his opera house. Elea had hovered over her friend like a mother hen until the redhead had to practically scold the ballerina for being a tad too protective. Erik never understood Elea's vigilant nature until he confronted Jovan in the chapel. The redhead was hiding from something ― correction, someone ― and Elea knew who.
But now that she was leaving...
"She knows why you're here." It was a statement, not a question. Erik stared at Jovan until she pulled her stare away from her hands and met his eyes. Gleaning Jovan's secrets from the leaves of her closed book would be no easy feat, but Erik was willing to take his time (besides, forcibly taking them was something he already tried, and he had failed and had only borne terrible results), understanding that whatever Jovan was hiding was not something pretty. But then again, secrets rarely were. Erik would know, many of his own were ugly.
"She does," Jovan admitted in a quiet voice. "She... she didn't want to accept Aldrich's proposal for me, but I assured her that she did the right thing by accepting. She didn't want to leave me, but I told her that I could take care of myself. She really needs to stop worrying for me all the time."
Her last sentence ended with a small laugh. Erik's hunch was correct, that Elea was indeed playing a part in Jovan's hiding. He knew that the ballerina's departure would not be easy for Jovan, but it astounded him how the redhead could still muster a smile and a laugh for her friend's affair, even if it meant that she was about to lose one more tie to the world outside and the world she had left behind.
"Elea can't stay here forever, especially not for me," Jovan continued, stirring Erik from his thoughts. "It's for the best."
Erik didn't know if he could agree, knowing in himself that he couldn't be as selfless as Jovan was being right now. But to help quiet the evident turmoil in her mind, Erik gave a nod of his head in agreement with her words. He earned a thin-lipped smile in return from her, and it was enough.
Hopefully, things would change for the better once the new year arrived. If Erik couldn't hold that hope for himself, he would for Jovan.
Author's Note: Lyrics are from 'A Million Dreams' from The Greatest Showman. I just tweaked it a bit.