"I've written a note,
it's pressed between pages that you've marked to find your way back.
It says, "Does he ever get the girl?"
But what if the pages stay pressed,
the chapters unfinished,
the storied too dull to unfold?
Does he ever get the girl?"
Dashboard Confessional, This Ruined Puzzle
Daphne wasn't expecting Dr. Crane's brother to show up. After all, they had managed to avoid each other thus far. Whenever anyone needed to speak with him, they called or went to his apartment. He hadn't come by in weeks now.
Frankly, that relieved her. Her heart had caught in her throat when she had found out that he had been... in love with her for six years, and she found herself hyperventilating -- which only served to remind her of the man that was causing this nervous reaction. When she and her employer had returned home, she had turned on both he and his father.
"Both of you knew about this?" she said, her voice trembling slightly. Six years...
"Well, yeah, Daph." Mr. Crane had replied with a shrug. "It was kinda obvious -- whatever he came over for, he was always bug-eye focused on you."
"The two of you seemed to be throwing innuendo all over the place," the elder Dr. Crane commented. "And as unintentional as it may have been on your part, Niles has always ventured over in hopes of attending the recitation of one of your racier anecdotes."
She had falled down onto the suede sofa, completely overwhelmed at the situation. "How long?" she managed to ask.
"About six years,"
"Bloody hell."
And now, here she was: face-to-face with Dr. Niles Crane, praying that he wasn't here to see her... He wasn't looking very healthy. Very pale, the thin lines under his eyes made more pronounced by the black shadows beneath them.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Crane," Daphne said, feigning her usual cheerful attitude. "Your brother's not here, if you're looking for him. Your father managed to drag him off to an action movie..."
"Oh, that's right," Dr. Crane said, frowning. "Arnold Schwarzenegger or Jean-Claude Van Damme... Frasier was complaining." He sighed -- a very deep and sorrowful sigh, it seemed to Daphne. "I'll just have to borrow the piano another time..."
He turned towards the elevator, but she felt inclined to invite him in, as uncomfortable as it would be. The two of them, alone... one in love with the other... But he was all alone nowadays, and he'd probably take comfort in playing a sad song or two on the piano.
"You can stay and play for a while, if you want," she said carefully, hesitantly...
He turned back around and chuckled wryly. "Actually, I was going to sit under it," he said. "Sitting under the piano has always had the comfort of a security blanket or stuffed animal when times aren't particularly enjoyable. Thank you for the invitation, Daphne, but I believe you'd be more comfortable if I were at home."
He resumed waiting for the elevator once again, and something about the sight of him made Daphne want to cry. He had been in love with her for six years -- the part of his day he most looked forward to being the time in which he spoke to her -- and she was just going to let him drive his bloody hatchback to his God-forsaken "home" and rot in loneliness?
...Well, that was a bit overdramatic, but she could at least offer him a cup of tea. She didn't have to talk to him...
"Dr. Crane," she said, and he turned just as the elevator doors began to open. "Would you like to stay for tea, or sherry, or... hot chocolate?"
"I'd love to, Daphne, but I really think -- "
"Dr. Crane, if you don't get into the kitchen this instant and join me in a drink, I'm afraid I'll have to resort to brute force."
Dr. Crane laughed, smiling at her. "I suppose I'd better come in then," he replied, sounding as though everything else in the world had become less important. "I wouldn't want you to strain yourself..."