*I do now own A Monster in Paris or its characters
This chapter got a bit too intense when I was writing it, not sure how the rest that read this will feel, but I hope you'll enjoy. And special thanks to TheJokerMan95, who really encourages my muse with each review.
Chapter 8: 62 days left
Popping into Francoeur's study, she found sitting at the piano, currently in the middle of song writing. "I'm sorry to intrude Francoeur, but there really isn't much to eat in the kitchen and since we've been cooped up in here for a few days, I thought you might... Do you want to go out for dinner?"
Shaking his head yes, he followed her to the door, and reached for his coat, but stopped at the sound of her voice. "Wait, there is something that has been on my mind lately and I wanted to ask if you would know whether or not it was true. Other then our onstage kiss, did I ever kiss you without your permission?"
Panic instantly rose within him, causing him to jump back a bit, feeling timid and backing into the coat rack. "I can explain" she said immediately
Sending all the coats to the floor, his arms instinctively reached out to pick them up, but one of them tried to reach out for her. She felt the tension in the room rising, and in his eyes was fear and the readiness to flee. She approached him, and he continued to back away, holding up coats in defense. But thanks to misplaced furniture, he fell into the loveseat. "Francoeur!"she cried
He groaned, but he looked undamaged. Taking away the coats, she reached out to grasp his hands but he moved them away, still afraid, shivering terribly. She had hoped he wouldn't be so shocked or nervous, but despite his mature appearance he was still the innocent flea nature intended him to be. She lowered her eyes in shame, softening her tone in hope that he'd understand. "Before I continue, I just want to say that you did nothing wrong."
He stopped shivering immediately, but fear still lingered in his eyes. "I'm sorry for scaring you, I just thought I...I just wanted to tell you that you didn't do anything wrong. What happened was an accident, and I don't want you to think it was your fault. I did something you might not understand, and it was completely selfish of me. I kissed you while I was in an inebriated state and for a little while I thought it was all a dream, but after our onstage kiss I remembered"
Touching her lips, she blushed lightly at the remembrance of it. "I remembered what it felt like to kiss you, and it felt so familiar, so I tried to remember why I knew what it felt like. And a quick thought of that dinner with my aunt and commissioner Pâté brought it all back. I feel ashamed for my behavior, so I hope you will forgive me. I don't think I could bear it if you were upset with me"
His look appeared confused, but he took her hand and chirped. Warmth swelled in her heart, something a bit hard to describe. Her cheeks glowed brightly at the realization of their closeness, and her kneeling there and staring up at him did not ease her troubled nerves. It wasn't natural, to find a flea compellingly attractive, to stare kindness in the face as though nothing could be any sweeter. A longing was building within her to do something she just apologized for, and to have such strange feelings of longing should have been illegal, but for a woman of a certain age it wasn't completely unordinary to have such feelings, especially if you hadn't the time to meet others of the similar age like other girls did. "If it is alright, then I'd still like to go out for dinner"
Shaking his head yes, he sat up, ready to help her. Picking her up, by the waist, he set her down right beside him, and helped her with her coat. She did likewise, and their eyes met with a friendly hello, a bit shy for no apparent reason. "I'm not sure what to say, but I was thinking of somewhere quiet"
That last word seemed to hang in the air longer then she intended. A chill ran down Francoeur's back and he stood up immediately to fulfill her request. He wasn't a fan of surprises or surprised feelings.
Retrieving a map, he returned and pointed to the location of the botanical gardens. Giving him a quizzical look, she asked. "But Francoeur, like the name says, it is a garden."
Pointing there, he seemed determined they go, so she acquiesced.
In the alley, he scooped her up, the smell of roses tickling his nose. Her perfume felt nostalgic, and he liked it when she smelled like that, but her breath was even sweeter. She smiled back up at him, making him feel more self conscious then he remembered feeling. They didn't have to try too hard, and he made it easy to like him, making it harder for Lucille not to feel like a school girl blushing at her handsome young teacher.
Her cheeks glowed that pretty color, so healthy she must be he thought. The word mate sounded so agreeable when paired with the name Lucille, but he shook it off at the remembrance that she was ashamed at the thought of kissing him, and it was simply nothing more then pretend when they kissed on stage as well.
"Let's go Francoeur"
Their acrobatic trip from the cabaret to the botanical gardens was something Lucille was sure she could never tire of, especially the feeling of weightlessness. The setting sun burned the skyline scarlet, and it was already looking like a good evening to Francoeur.
They were surprised that the professor welcomed them so freely, and shared his stuffed, modified quail that was enough to feed them all. While Lucille starting touring the gardens, Francoeur and the professor talked. "My cooking ain't that bad huh? So what is on your mind?"
With pen and paper, he drew an extravagant picture of Lucille surrounded by rose petals and her name in large bold letters before dropping the pen. "I see, well I can't help too much on that department, but how are the drops working out?"
On a new sheet of paper, he drew a small question mark. "I recommend giving it a few more days, and take as needed. If there are any changes, then come see me immediately. Please enjoy yourselves and I'll call you over when the pie is done"
After a brief talk with the professor, Francoeur met with Lucille near the giant sequoia and marveled at the many wonders of the garden. However, the better part of the evening, they sat under the cherry tree, eating a freshly baked cherry pie. "I guess mixing chemicals makes him an expert in cooking too. Do you think he would give me the recipe?"
Though Lucille did all the talking, there was no such thing as too much from her. She was like spice, that extra flavor that made everything better. The combined sweetness of the pie and it's color, Francoeur was in bliss and did not mind that he ate most if it. "You are lucky that you were born in a place like this, it is just so beautiful, and I doubt I have the talent to describe it."
Francoeur flinched at Lucille's touch as she wiped the crumbs from his mouth, making him self conscious at how he ate. But she wasn't like the others who looked at him with fear and distrust in their eyes, no she looked at him with warmth and kindness, making it even harder to dislike her more. "Your almost like a child sometimes, but it's alright to act childish every once and a while."
He didn't like that word childish, he wasn't a child, at least he wasn't trying to be. His lack of knowledge of the world was what gave him that naivete charm that brought out Lucille's motherly side. And while he enjoyed her kindness, it wasn't exactly the kind he wanted, at least not from her.
Looking all around, it was no surprise to Lucille where Francoeur came from, but he didn't know about her and where she came from. It wasn't knowledge she liked to share, but they were family now, he had some right to know. "Francoeur, you came from a place that I might not understand, but I do know where you came from. However, you don't know about me. Would you like to know where I came from too?"
Shaking his head yes, he chirped.
Rising from her seat, she placed her coat on and ground and sat. The air carried a nostalgic scent, and she should have realized it sooner, but Francoeur was wearing her father's sent. Where he got it from she wasn't sure, but it fit him well and it comforted her a bit. "It's funny how much time may pass and how much we think we can't remember, but then a friendly reminder comes our way and and kick starts our memories. You see, I have lived in the cabaret ever since I could remember, and I can hardly imagine living anywhere else. I'm not sure if you have parents, but if you do then I'm glad. I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if my parents were still alive. Once I was old enough, I asked my aunt to tell me their story, and like then, it's a difficult tale to tell."
The tone in Lucille's voice changed slightly, and it was something he had never heard before. It was alarming, and he sat at the edge of his seat, eager to know the reason for such a change.
Taking a deep breath, she held it in for a few moments and let it go before she continued. "My mother was a cabaret singer just like me, a petite little thing who enjoyed singing like it was her first language. And my father was a peculiar man with a scruffy beard, who played the violin with the house band. They say my mother sang like an angel, and that was why my father fell in love the first time he heard her sing. I guess you can imagine what happened next. I came along, and mother and father continued on and they made sweet music that I wish I could remember. This story has everything that you would expect in a fairytale, except for the happy ending. My story was set to be happy, that is until father died of influenza. Mother died soon after of unknown causes, but people tell me she might have died of a broken heart."
Her voice was getting lower and quieter, something he didn't want to recognize.
Taking another deep breath, Lucille felt she might not be able to finish, but she wasn't ready to give up. Biting down on her lip, she gathered her courage and continued. "I hope I never have to lose anyone like that, it would be too depressing. It doesn't hurt as much as it used to, but sometimes the old customers tell me I look just like my mother, and I want to tell them to be quiet, but then I lose all my words and find myself stuck in the thought of what if-"
Closing her eyes, she tried her best to hold it in, but when her eyes opened again tears flowed without permission, and he was there, his head tilted, with a napkin in hand. "I'm fine, really I'm-"
According to Francoeur, there was already enough sadness in the world, and Lucille didn't deserve it. Scooping her up, he rocked her in his arms, feeling protective of her. Wiping her tears, he held her close and sang to her.
"Miss pretend, you said we'd be together
But you find yourself on an empty stage
Feelings with no tether
Just performing empty lullabies for yourself
Just a single melody on the page of life
Waiting for a little help
You're a breeze that carries my hope
A shell of could be
Perhaps eternal mystery
My precious melody
You're precious to me
You're not alone anymore
Because you will come home to me
My lovely darling dream
If you need to scream I'll let you be
But never hide away from me
I'll let you cry, I'll let you scream, but remember this lullaby
Does it hurt to smile or are you afraid of the dark?
My pretty lark, if it hurts, then don't forget to dream of a world without misery
One day you'll see that I'll guide your melody
I'll be sad if you tell me, I'll be love if you tell, I'll be your everything
I'll be your hurt, I'll be your love, I'll be your dream
Dear heart, I love you to the highest extreme
No more talk of darkness, or missing memory
Miss pretend you were always real to me
If someday you forget yesterday's dream
Just know you were always real to me
Melody's turn to rhapsodies if you see
You're not pretend, or a fantasy
But someone who I see, who was always tangibly
A dream made alive, Lucille of Paris"
Her body shivered, and his presence was a welcomed distraction. He was so good to her, to the point that she wanted to admit she enjoyed their onstage kiss, and his attentiveness, and how he knew what she needed without even asking. It could have been pure instinct and meant nothing, but she knew better then to think such things.
He was someone she could... Who she could... Who she shouldn't..
She couldn't let her mind finish the sentence without feeling the pang of hurt, but she said softly, and he must have heard despite the smallness of her voice how much she wanted to go home.
Once home, he carried her upstairs, and she was falling asleep after all her crying. He set her gently on her bed, and she blinked back at him. Her eyes were a bit puffy, but her cheeks were still that lovely red that he adored so. Kneeling beside her, he was ready to wipe away more tears, but then he returned the handkerchief to his pocket. He purred as he held her chin, her breath warm on his face. Call it instinct or whim, but he wanted her to feel better. There was one thing he could think of, and he knew it would not be right, but he wanted her to be okay.
Pushing him away lightly, she giggled. "There's no show today Francoeur, so we don't have to pretend."
He didn't want to pretend anymore, and it was cruel in a sense. Why couldn't it be real? Why couldn't they be together just like everyone else thought?
Purring lightly, he sang softly in her ear. "Miss Lucille you were always real to me"
Her heart raced in a way she was ashamed of, and she thought it wasn't appropriate to feel that way for someone who was family. But he was not related to her, it would be impossible, and her dreams of finally having a brother were being crushed by the day. Lucille knew it wouldn't be right, but Francoeur was so sweet, and if anyone could understand, it would be him. Closing her eyes, she whispered. "You're going to hate me in a moment"
Unsure of what she meant, he thought there was no possibility he could ever hate her. Removing his gloves, he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in the safety of his arms. Hugging her tightly, she whispered his name, and he held her tighter as she relished in the scent of his coat. He enjoyed these new reactions, they were pleasant to watch.
He purred as they sat there, feeling at peace in their embrace.
Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him lightly, forgetting about the consequence. Each peck softer and softer, warm and sweet, the remnants of cherry at the tip of her tongue. She giggled at ticklish kiss he gave her on the cheek. "You're so sweet Francoeur, perhaps a little too sweet for my taste"
Something about the way she teased made him more eager to please. Holding her tighter, he deepened the kiss, feeling happy that he didn't feel so lonely when he was with her, and she felt the same. He was someone she didn't have to feel so afraid with, someone that would let her in, and how they were close in a way they didn't have to understand. When they parted for air, she sat there in his lap for a while, not knowing how long she had been there. Burying her face in his chest, she wondered if his heart beat just like hers.
Francoeur couldn't believe how great their day had been, but she was finally felt like his, even if it was for a moment. For the first time in his life, he had something he didn't want to share. Even if Madame Carlotta were to walk in at any moment, he didn't really care, because he truly loved Lucille. When she whispered his name, it was like electric ran through him, and being together with her was all he really wanted. She was happiness, and the only thing that mattered, and perhaps she knew how much he loved her. And if she didn't then he was ready to show her. Giving her one last kiss, he felt her breath linger, and he sang his confession in her ear. "I love you Lucille"
His words tingled in his mouth, and his head felt funny, as though he was losing air. Just the fact she kissed him must have meant she loved him too, she just had too he thought.
His words reverberated in her mind, and it all began to click. Opening her eyes, a pair of expectant eyes looked back at her. With widened eyes, she asked him in case she had heard wrong. "Is that true?"
Shaking his head yes, she felt happy at his declaration, giving him another kiss. Her tears began to fall again, and he tried to wipe them, but she wouldn't let him. He couldn't protect her forever, and she didn't intend for him to. "Sometimes it's okay to cry, especially if someone is happy, and it's okay if I hurt sometimes too, because it only means I'm human."
Her statement carried more hurt then she intended to. Moving away from him, she felt a wave of shame was over her once more. His eyes flashed uncertainty, and she knew that it was too late to take it all back.
She was hurting him, and making him misunderstand.
Why did she do it? Had she really been craving attention so badly that she didn't care where it came from? No, that wasn't it. He made her feel good, and he was perhaps the only one she could always rely on. He understood her better than anyone she'd ever known, but was what they had real?
Francoeur did whatever she asked him to, and just the thought that he might even die if she told him to brought up unexpected anger. How could someone be so selfless to the point that it meant their life? No one did that, but Francoeur would, because he loved her and she... She shouldn't have, and now it was all her fault. "I'm sorry Francoeur, I got lost in the moment and I-"
It felt so difficult to find the right words without choking up. Biting down on her tongue, she confessed something she never told anyone. "You were my first kiss, and I was yours. To me you are an indescribable flavor, a wonderful life giving flavor, and I can see why anyone could fall in love with you. You make me feel so happy, and you have more heart then anyone I've ever known, and have so much to offer. But the truth is, that I'm not sure I'm capable of those sort of feelings you ask of me. I have never been in love before, but I know I feel something for you. I don't want to lie and tell you I'm sure of something that is really isn't true, and ruin everything we have. If what we have is real, then time can only tell. So I can't respond to your feelings now, but I do want you to do something for me, which is to learn not to listen. You have free will, and you can choose what it is you want to do. I never want you to put yourself in danger because of something I've said. You're in charge of your life, so don't let anyone tie you down."
With the ringing off the telephone, she headed for the door, but she hugged him as tightly as she could before leaving. Hiding away from his eyes, she said in a soft voice. "Goodnight Francoeur, I hope you'll think about it what I've said"
Leaving her room, tears kept falling and she knew they shouldn't have been but they had a mind of their own.
Francoeur walked over to his study, and felt a new sort of emotion building up in him. It felt like a wave of distrust, like an empty hole of pain filled with the insecure what have I done.
It was worse then his loneliness he felt before he met Lucille, like a punch to his pride. Taking a few more drops of elixir with a glass of water, he drank it down, feeling like he was suffocating. He was ready to go back to writing his songs until something leaked onto his papers, a red stain that tasted like blood. How could he bleed if he wasn't human? Unless it was residual blood still left in him. He wiped away at it, ashamed of his animalistic behavior that he used to have. It kept leaking, and thoughts flashed though his head.
They shouldn't have, he knew they shouldn't have, but they kissed, and it was far too much for Francoeur's body to handle. He hugged his body, looking for the warmth his body couldn't provide. Feeling upset, he pushed himself away from his desk, and crawled under a fur. Wrapping himself tightly, he felt such terrible feelings he couldn't describe until another new thing occurred. A warm liquid came from his eyes, and all he knew was it was something humans called tears that were usually related to sadness.