Disclaimer: All Bust-A-Groove elements belong to Enix. I own nothing.
Note: The Mercure Montmartre Hotel really is a hotel in Paris. It belongs to its owner, however that is.
Note: I'm beginning to notice that each passing chapter strays farther and farther away from Bust-A-Groove. Keep in mind that Shorty, and only Shorty, is narrating this. He, one of the Bust-A-Groove guys, will be revealed in due time. I don't want you guys to think this is just another story. It deals with two of the BAG characters, but not really the storyline.
La Rima Tibia
(Warm Rhythm)
Chapter 3: City of Lights
by ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)
"Yew, these cookies are nasty," I choked, giving up my attempt to eat the lumpy cookies that lay in front of me.
Next to me, he had also given up trying to devour the dark lumps. "Don't worry Shorty. The food in Paris is much better," he assured me.
"That's a relief," I replied.
Almost five hours sitting on a plane had made me kind of irritable. He and I had been awoken from our peaceful sleep a few minutes after we closed our eyes. It had been the breakfast cart. We had both been hungry, our own meager breakfast not being enough to satisfy our stomachs.
As it turns out, the food wasn't that good. And the bad food mixed with the turbulent flight made me throw it up a few minutes later. He was awfully nice about it. "Everyone gets sick sometimes," he said, patting me on the back.
Together we had strapped on earbands and listened to the bland, boring movie. Something about a knight saving a princess from a red dragon. The acting was awful! In fact, we accidentally woke up a few of the passengers when we started laughing and making fun of the movie. I blushed and grinned. The people grouchily went back to sleep.
I didn't eat the second meal or the snack, being afraid to get sick again. He didn't either, knowing the smell of airplane food was nauseating to me. I had huddled against my pillow and fallen asleep until he asked me if I wanted some cookies. I had tried eating them, but given them up. Which brings me to here.
The flight attendant took away the plates of foul cookies. He turned to me. "We're almost there," he told me.
"I'm glad," I answered. "I've been in here way too long." I suddenly thought of the return trip and shuddered. But I realized that spending a few days in the most romantic city in the world would be worth it.
"Attention," the captain's voice announced. "Attention passengers, we are now 90 miles from Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. We are beginning our descent. Please make sure your tray tables—"
I decided to tune out the captain and looked out the window. I could see the rolling French countryside lying far below me. The colors appeared to be shades of yellow, red, orange, and brown. I could see fields of crops and tiny farmhouses. Provincial France. My governess had taught me about this. But I quickly reminded myself that soon I would be seeing quite a different cityscape on our arrival in Paris.
I was right. Soon the houses turned into apartment buildings and stores. And they multiplied until they covered all of my view. They were everywhere! Was I really in Paris now?
I got my answer in the form of a sliver-colored version of Tokyo Tower...the original. The Eiffel Tower.
I became so excited I squealed. A couple of passengers turned their heads and stared at me. I so dislike it when people do that! "Sorry," I whispered. The heads turned away.
He patted my hand. "Excited already huh?" he asked, understanding.
I nodded. "Yeah!"
"Flight attendants, prepare for landing," the captain instructed. The attendants briskly walked back to their seats.
I could now see the buildings of Paris more clearly. Shops and boutiques, restaurants and cafes, museums and galleries. All the things that made the City of Lights more sophisticated and beautiful.
The plane slowly descended into the clouds. In a moment we were closer to the ground. I spied people walking through the sidewalks and cars weaving through the streets. Soon he and I would be joining them.
The airport tower soon came into view, and the plane dropped sharply. It was a fast and bumpy landing, almost jarring me out of my seat. In my excitement, I had forgotten to fasten my seatbelt. Fortunately, he slipped his arm around my waist and held on to me, so I wouldn't be flung away. I gave him an expression of gratitude.
The plane came to a stop. We had landed.
"Please remain in your seats until the captain turns off the FASTEN SEATBELT sign," the attendant's voice filtered. Everyone sat quietly while the extension ramp connected onto the airplane door. I saw the wings of the plane retract, as they weren't needed on the ground. Across from where I sat, there was a large mural painted onto one of the airplane hangars.
BONJOUR
WELCOME TO PARIS, FRANCE
"C'mon, Shorty, let's go," he said, standing up. I looked back into the cabin and saw that the seatbelt sign had been turned off. The passengers were standing up and gathering their bags from underneath the seats or in the luggage compartments above. He reached up and pulled his leather bag from the compartment and slung it onto his shoulder. I remembered my pack and slipped it onto my back . I stood up and stretched my legs, not having bothered to get out of my seat during the entire flight. My hair and clothes were a bit wrinkled, and I quickly smoothed them out.
The line of people waiting to get out of the plane slowly began to move. I followed him as we walked back through the plane's body.
A flight attendant stood waiting at door. "Goodbye, take care," she told us as we walked through. He nodded politely, and I waved. We stepped off the plane and onto the extension ramp. He walked quickly, and I ran to keep up with him. He took my hand and we came out of the ramp and into the airport arrival lobby.
The airport was clean and modern. Glass elevators raced up and down between floors, and waiting passengers lounged in cushioned seats. Attendants in chic red uniforms and captains wearing smart-looking blue pants and jackets strolled by.
He placed his hand on my shoulder. "We need to get our bags," he said softly. I grabbed his hand and he led me through a series of walkways and ramps. In one aspect, this airport was no different from the one we had left behind, in Tokyo...it had small fast-food booths, newspaper and magazine shops, the same signs pointing the way to terminals. Everything in the airport was written in two languages: French and English, making it understandable to me.
I thought again of my parents. To make me their perfect little doll, they had tried to make me learn French. I could say a few phrases—"Bonjour", "Au revoir", and numbers one through ten. I hadn't really learned anything new after that. My heart just wasn't into it. My parents had given up on teaching me a new language.
Hm. I wonder how you say, "I love you," in French? I had been taught how to say the phrase, but forgotten from my lack of study. When I find out how to say it I'll tell him that, I promised myself. Would he know what it means? Maybe. Then he'd know my feelings for him.
"Can you speak French?" I asked him wistfully.
He gave me a smile. "Well, I went to class for it. But I failed. So not really."
"How will we be able to read anything?"
He patted his back. "I brought a language guidebook."
By this time, we had arrived at the luggage carousel. The passengers from the flight gathered around it. Some of them recognized me as the noisy little girl and turned their heads in disgust. I ignored them and stayed close to him, as we took a place near the edge of the belt. "Are we going to need a cart?" I questioned.
"Nah, I don't think so. We can carry it, right?" he answered, peering down at me.
"Right," I replied. We waited a little while before the belt finally starting moving and the luggage began to come out.
It must have been luck. Our bags were the first to come out! They came together, first his, then mine. We gave each other lopsided grins and picked them up. "Now where are we going?" I asked.
"We have to take a taxi to our hotel," he responded, as we walked from the carousel into another passageway. The sign above read, in English, "Ground transportation – ". We turned to the left and reached the taxi station. By another stroke of luck, we were the first ones in line.
I hopped into the car while he and the driver put the bags into the trunk. Soon, he was next to me and we were heading towards our hotel. Luckily, the driver knew a bit of English, enough to get us to where we were going.
It wasn't a very long drive, but I had time to take in the sights of the city. Everything just had a foreign feel to it, a mysterious feel that made me want to explore and find out exactly what was inside. Women in dresses and hats strolled, walking poodles. Children played outside, laughing and talking. There were tiny antique shops which held old clocks and music boxes. I thought all of them were beautiful.
We finally arrived at the hotel. It was called the Mercure Montmartre Hotel, located in a nice, comfortable section of Paris. Shady trees surrounded the entrance. While he paid the tab I took my suitcase and stepped into the lobby.
The walls were bronze-colored, and the chairs in the lobby were made of wood and had green cushions. He stepped up to the desk and I waited next to him.
"Hello sir, are you here to check in?" the woman at the desk asked. She had a thick French accent, which made some of her words hard to understand.
"Yes," he replied, giving her his name. She looked it up in a book. "Ah yes, you have a reservation."
"Another thing," he said, indicating me. "I've brought someone with me. Can I get another room for her?" He leaned in closer, so that I wouldn't hear. I heard part of it anyway. "It will all be paid for by (mumble mumble)."
Huh? Someone else was paying for the trip? Who was it?
"Of course sir. Adjoining rooms?"
Looking at me, he replied, "Yes."
I decided to wonder about our mysterious benefactor later.
She gave us our key cards and we strode onto the elevator. The third floor...one, two, three.
Rooms 312 and 314. I had 314. I pushed the card into the slot and went inside. The room was casually elegant. It had a comforter on the bed, curtains covering the windows, a mini-refridgerator. I dropped my bags on the floor and quickly opened the door leading to his room. He was sitting on the bed, his shoes already off. "Nice huh?" he asked, lying down on the king-sized bed.
I nodded. "Yeah." He looked so cute lying there that I kicked off my shoes and scooted in next to him. He didn't seem to mind.
I placed my head on the crook of his shoulder. He shifted a little to accomodate me. "Hey...I've been wondering...what was the reason you came to Paris?" I asked, half-asleep.
"Business," he replied neutrally.
"Oh," I responded, not wanting to annoy him.
"Tell you what," he began. "Let's see. It's two o'clock right now. Let's take a nap and then we'll go out and eat something."
"That sounds great," I answered. I snuggled up to him.
By now he must know that I have something for him. "Shorty..." he began.
I tried to wave my crush away, and I think I succeeded. "I love you like a brother," I whispered.
He sighed, a sigh of relief. "Like a brother? That's good. I don't want things to get too heavy now."
"Heavy? Nah, I was never thinking of that," I replied before falling fast asleep. Or at least pretended to, so I wouldn't have to talk to him about it.
-
Whaddya know? I actually did go to sleep. And I had that dream again. But it was a little different than last time.
He was there, but his arms weren't open to me. He stood stiffly, staring at me. I ran to him and threw my arms around him. He did not respond.
"What's wrong?" I asked him.
He shook his head. "It's you..."
"What's wrong?!" I demand, letting go of him.
"..."
"Answer me!" I screamed.
"Shorty...I don't want you to leave me, but sooner or later you'll have to," he whispered ominously. He seemed to fade into the blackness that surrounded us.
"What are you talking about?!" I yelled. He was nowhere to be found.
"Ah!" I screamed.
"Shorty? Shorty, wake up!" I was jarred awake when he shook me.
"What happened to you!?" I yelled, embracing him. I was back in his room, lying on the bed. He was leaning over me, concern in his eyes.
"N-nothing happened," I answered, hugging me back.
"You were having a nightmare."
"Huh? Oh, yeah," I replied, blushing. "Sorry."
"It's alright," he answered. I noticed he had changed his clothes and his hair was slightly wet. "Ready to go out?"
"Uh yeah," I replied. I rose from the bed and shakily walked over to the door. I opened it and went back to my room. It had only been a dream. Nothing to worry about. Right?
Opening the suitcase, I searched until I found what I wanted. It was a long-sleeved red tee with little mice on the sleeve. For pants I chose baggy pink jeans. I changed my hairstyle back into my familiar pigtails and walked back into his room.
"Wow! Lookin' good!" he told me as I walked in.
"You look pretty nice too," I countered. "Well, let's go!"
I'm finally here...let's have some fun!!
Author's notes: Did that seem a little mushy to you? I tried to tone it down a bit. And I know maybe it seems like the fic is getting pointless, but in the upcoming chapters, Shorty and him are going to have a special dance in a special place. (No, nothing dirty!)
And about the dream Shorty had...you'll find out later!
XOXO, Archie