Chapter 4: False Friend

The rest of the night after that was peaceful, for all parties involved. Krystal happily slept the rest of the night, waking up at 10:30am. Sitting up in bed, she stretched her arms, letting out a large yawn, she looked around to see Paris, already up.

"Morning, Krystal." Paris greeted.

"Morning," she replied back, pulling the sheets off her bed, allowing her to swing her legs out over the side.

As her feet touched the floor, she was greeted to Tims, of various shapes and colours happily chirping at her, before hearing the door opening, revealing Balan standing in the hallway.

"Oh, you're awake," he said, that huge grin covering his face once again. "I take it you slept well?"

Krystal nodded. "Best sleep I've had in ages." Her gaze met his. "And, thanks last night, for everything."

He bowed. "An absolute pleasure, dear. You desperately needed it."

"Balan," came Lance's voice as he approached him.

Krystal looked at the (to her at least) newcomer. Her eyes stared at the strange markings that covered his face and tentacles.

Noticing this, Lance turned his attention to Krystal. He didn't say anything, and then put his attention back on Balan.

"What's wrong?"

"There's someone at the door to the theatre." Lance explained. "A sheep."

Krystal froze, right there on the spot, like a deer in the headlights.

"Oh god," Krystal thought, panic coursing through her entire body. "It can't be! How was she able to track me here?!" She started breathing heavily, getting everyone's attention.

"Let me take a look." Paris offered, giving a reassuring nod to Krystal. "It may not be the one Krystal is thinking of."

"Good idea," Balan agreed. "Best to double check these kinds of things."

Paris held Krystal's hand. "I'll be right back."

She nodded meekly in response as he left, looking for a darkened room with a window to look out of. He eventually found what he was looking for; a dark room that had the perfect view of the alley they came down the previous night, and a clear view of the entry to the theatre doors.

His crimson eyes scanned the area, his eyes finally locking with the sheep Lance had mentioned. His sclera turned black, his face contorting into a growl as he recognised them; Floof.

Floof was a regular sheep, white wool covering their body with black skin underneath. She had the same type of gloves that Krystal wore, with a small pair of barely visible horns poking out of her head. She was wearing a pale pink shirt, and a tracksuit pants in a deep blue colour, and a pair of plain gray runners on her feet.

She looked like a completely innocent individual, wouldn't hurt a fly. But Paris knew all too well. His hands tightly gripped the fabric of cushion he'd been kneeling on, almost tearing a hole in it in the process.

He sighed. "Control yourself, Paris." He told himself before watching her again.

"How did she find the theatre?" he asked himself. "Balan did say it was possible someone like her would find the theatre. The theatre should know not to appear to people like this. It's meant to help those that need it, not those that cause negativity themselves!"

Floof was simply standing outside the theatre, periodically checking the windows to see if anyone was there. It infuriated him.

After watching her for a solid five minutes, he returned to the others, Krystal wringing her hands nervously.

"So?" Balan asked. "Was it her?"

Paris nodded in response. "Yeah, it's her alright. What do we do?"

"Well, she's been standing outside for a while." Lance explained. "Almost an hour."

Krystal, at this point, had sat back on her bed, curled into a ball, shaking violently, muttering something inaudible to herself as she rocked back and forth.

Lance took notice of this, sympathy forming across his face. "We should do something about this, and fast."

"Perhaps she'll leave after a while?" Balan queried.

"Unlikely." Paris dead-panned. "She'll stay there all day until Krystal comes out." He turned his attention to the maestros. "You run this theatre, you have authority, you should tell them that Krystal isn't here, and that she should leave."

"I agree," Lance confirmed. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, Balan! If we don't do something to get her to leave, Krystal won't be able to heal. We MUST take action!"

Balan contemplated for a moment. On one had, Lance was completely correct in his statement. On the other hand, he didn't want to be cruel in sending them away, as those that visited the theatre, rarely, if ever, had to be turned away. It had never happened, not once in the three thousand years Balan had been the maestro.

Heaving his shoulders with a heavy sigh, Balan nodded.

"I suppose you're right, Lance. But please, try to be diplomatic."

"Of course." Lance replied, nodding in response.

Balan looked over at Krystal, still shaking, now surrounded by Tims, like the night before when she had her nightmare. He approached her, placing a comforting hand on her back.

"Don't worry Krystal, Lance and I will take care of this. I promise you."

Krystal didn't reply, her shaking becoming more violent, tears streaming down her face. The sight truly upset him; he'd never seen a visitor like this. He patted her back, before getting up to leave with Lance.

As they walked down the hallway, Balan turned to Lance. "Perhaps you should change your appearance, Lance."

Lance tilted his head. "Hm, a wise decision." He looked at one of his tentacles. His appearance did seem a tad intimidating. He closed his eyes as a brief light engulfed him, before dissipating. Chalk-white skin, sapphire blue eyes, white flowing hair and a white suit accented with purple and gold, similar to Balan's.

Now, Lance looked a bit more approachable.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much better." Balan confirmed as they reached the door. "Here goes nothing." He inhaled deeply before opening the doors.

Balan stepped out, managing to see Floof standing near one of the windows. "Can I help you?"

Floof turned, green eyes staring at him, before walking over to him. "You work here?"

Lance stepped out, next to Balan. "We're the owners of this theatre."

"Oh, that's what this place is." Floof mused to herself. "My name is Floof. Who are you?"

Balan bowed politely, as did Lance. "I'm Balan, and this is Lance. Lance is the co-owner."

"So, Floof, what is it that you're looking for?"

Floof turned, looking back at the alleyway. "I'm looking for someone named Krystal."

Balan feigned ignorance. "My dear, I don't know anyone by that name."

Floof blinked, and then described Krystal. "Krystal, a tall blue hedgehog, brown hair, blue eyes, wears glasses. Here, I have a photo of her." She took out her phone, an old photo on the screen showing a time from when they used to be friends.

"I heard from someone that she came this way last night." She continued. "Are you sure you haven't seen her?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Lance added. "Neither of us have seen anyone matching the person in your picture."

This seemed to annoy Floof. She stepped closer, mere centimetres from the two maestros. "But I'm certain she came this way. Can you at least let me have a look inside your theatre? Just for the sake of it?"

Lance furrowed his brow. "The theatre is currently closed for repairs, so no visitors are allowed."

"Aw, really? Not even a quick peek?"

"I'm sorry," Balan said. "But we can't allow visitors at this time for the sake of safety."

"Please? I'll be quick."

This insistence began making Balan slight agitated. He hated lying to visitors, he truly hated it. But he knew it had to be done, for Krystal's sake. He exhaled and tried again to convince her.

"Rules are rules, sorry."

Floof grumbled something under her breath. She kept insisting, Balan and Lance denying her at every turn. This went on for ten minutes, both maestros slowly losing their patience with every passing insistence from Floof.

Balan, while losing his patience with her, still remained calm. Lance was very, much the same. Then, the straw that broke the camels back happened.

"Please?" she insisted.

"For the last time, Krystal isn't here. This is starting to become tiresome, if you continue this, we will call the authorities. Plus, Balan and I are the owners of this theatre, so we get the final say."

He bent down to her, bringing himself level with her face.

"Do I make myself clear?" he asked, a slight edge to his voice.

Floof stayed silent for a moment, before attempting to push herself between the legs of the maestros, trying to enter the theatre by force. That, was the breaking point.

As she tried pushing between the legs, Lance swiftly grabbed her by the scruff of her t-shirt, and began walking to the entry of the alleyway. Floof had began kicking, to no avail. As they reached the start of the alleyway, Lance placed her on the ground, a serious look across his face.

"You are now banned from our theatre." Lance explained. "We told you time and time again that Krystal wasn't there, but you tried to trespass on our property. That mistake will cost you dearly."

"That's injustice!"

"I'm within my right as I'm a co-owner of the theatre. We gave you several chances to stop what you were doing, but you refused." He turned around, his back facing her.

"Now, kindly fuck off and leave." He spoke in a serious tone. "If you come back, I'll call the police."

Floof just stared up at him, and could've sworn she saw tentacles coming out of his back. She shook her head, before standing up and walking away, muttering curses under her breath.

Sighing, Lance made his way back inside the theatre, with Balan following behind him. As soon as the door closed behind them, both of them slumped to the floor, exhausted from the ordeal.

Putting a hand to his forehead, Lance groaned. "My god, that was the first time I've sweared in centuries." He admitted, since it was rare, even for him. "No wonder Krystal got so stressed by this."

"I must admit," Balan replied. "She was certainly a handful. I don't blame Krystal in the slightest."

Standing back up, Lance reverted himself to his Negati form. "Let's go check on Krystal, shall we?"

Balan nodded in response, and they started heading back to her room. As soon as the door opened, Krystal was still shaking, fresh tears streaming down her face. Paris, sat next to her, arms wrapped around her. The Tims from before turned to face Balan, a sad expression on their faces.

"Oh dear..." Balan said, approaching Krystal, kneeling down in front of her. "Krystal, it's okay, she's gone."

She snorted, her eyes red and puffy from, the constant tears. She wiped her nose with a tissue as Balan held her hand. "Really?" she asked.

Balan nodded, gesturing for Lance to come over. "Lance was the one that made her leave. She's now banned from the theatre."

Krystal looked up at Lance, now getting a better look at him. Blowing her nose, she stood up, looking at Lance's face. "Thank you." She said, on the verge of tears again.

Lance looked at her, before holding her hand. "You're very welcome, Krystal."

"Oh that's right, you two were never properly introduced." Balan said, standing next to them. "Krystal, this is Lance, the Maestro of Negativity."

"So, he's a bad guy?"

"Heavens no, just misguided is all."

"Oh, okay. So, if he's the Maestro of Negativity, that must mean you're the Maestro of Positivity?"

"Precisely, my dear." Balan confirmed with a smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Lance." Krystal said.

"I could say the same for you, Krystal." Lance replied, pulling her into a hug, which she accepted. Despite his appearance, his hug was gentle, like Balan's. Even one of his tentacles wrapped around her in a hug.

After pulling away from the hug, she felt better. She was still crying a bit, but it had calmed down significantly. "Thank you, both of you."

"Anytime Krystal." Balan replied happily, putting his hands together. "Now, you must be absolutely starving. Would you like some breakfast?"

Krystal's stomach audibly growled, and she nodded. "Some French toast with some Nutella would be nice."

Balan nodded. "Of course, Krystal." He walked out of the room, and down the hallway.

"I'd better go and assist him." Lance said, giving Krystal a reassuring smile as he left the room.

He caught up with Balan a few metres down the hallway. "So," Lance began. "It looks like she'll be staying for a while."

"Is that an issue?"

"I don't personally think so. Her healing is going to take far longer than anyone else we've had here."

"Very true." Balan agreed.

"Have you told her about what will happen when her healing is completed?"

Balan shook his head. "No, not yet. It's barely been a day."

Lance stopped walking. "You'll have to tell her eventually."

Balan stopped, turning to face him. "I know, I know." He straightened himself up, his smile returning once more. "But until then, I want her to be happy. Now, let's get that French Toast prepared for her, she must be famished."

Author note:

Holy crap, this was a tough one to write. But, I'm happy with how it turned out. Since the past few chapters have been kinda depressing so, the next chapters will be some bonding with Balan and Lance. So, expect some sweet, sweet fluff. I'd also like to thank those that have been supporting this. I truly appreciate it!