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CD Two, Song Five: On My Own
"Wonder from China!"
"Best voice on Broadway!"
"Will Count D push Broadway's golden boy Leon Alcott from his pedestal?"
"Head-on-head-race for Tony Award between Count D and Leon Alcott!"
Leon flipped away the newspapers with an angry growl. He wasn't interested in what they were writing about his former lover. He didn't care if they all loved D and hated him for breaking up with the Chinese. It was none of their business, no matter how much they thought it was. And he was not going to lose the grim fight about who was going to be Broadway's male superstar this year. D could have the female Tony Award if he wanted it. He played more women than men anyway. Leon was not going to give him what he had earned.
He stared at the wall in hostile silence. He was not going to give in to D. Not now, not ever, in no way.
"And now I'm all alone again,
Nowhere to turn, no one to go to.
Without a home, without a friend,
Without a face to say hello to.
And now the night is near,
Now I can make believe he's here."
D stared at his face in the mirror and carefully applied mascara to his already long, black lashes. Make-up really was a blessing. How else should he hide the dark shadows under his eyes, and the even-paler-than-usual cheeks?
The door opened slightly and his father slipped inside. "Come, dear, let me do that," he whispered and D complied duty-bound, dropped his hands and left the task to his father.
The elder applied the make-up with sure, trained hands and then stepped back to take a look. He sighed deeply. "Smile, Son. You're looking as if you're going to the shambles instead of singing in TV," he reprehended. D plastered a fake smile on his lips and looked at his father who sighed again and cupped his cheek. "Oh my Son, what has this American done to you?" he murmured helplessly. "I shouldn't have let you meet him."
"You did not nothing wrong, Father. It was just a misunderstanding. It's no ones fault," D replied and averted his gaze. His father started to say something, but stopped again. "I will fetch you soon," he promised and left the room. D stared again at the mirror and tried to suppress the tears. They would ruin his make-up.
But still, that didn't stop them. He sniffled angrily and searched for a handkerchief. What had he to do with Leon's crazy suspicions? Either the blonde believed him or not. He'd chosen to believe some gossip rather than believing D. And that was that. He'd never really cared so much about the American anyway. They were, after all, musical stars. They could choose almost whom they liked. So why should he stay with Leon when he had so many other options?
"Sometimes I walk alone at night
When everybody else is sleeping.
I think of him, and then I'm happy
With the company I'm keeping.
The city goes to bed,
And I can live inside my head."
Oh, who was he trying to kid? He was still dreaming about Leon each and every night, about his arms around him, his body beside him, the warmth and love the blonde had once offered him. But when he woke, the bed was cold, there was no one beside him safe the pillow Leon had forgotten when he left. D felt incredibly stupid for doing it, but every morning, he tucked the cushion into his arms and wept into it, trying to catch the last faint scent of his lover in the fabric.
It was of no use, of course. Leon was gone since almost three months now, and he would not come back. He wouldn't answer phone calls, and D was too proud to keep calling him like one of those love-sick girls who were gathering in front of St. James Theatre every evening, now that Broadway's golden boy was single again.
The Chinese almost hissed. Broadway's golden boy was a description that fit Leon just too well. With his sunny smile, the blonde hair, the tan he never seemed to lose, not even in winter, he was the picture of man. In contrast to him, D was barely tolerable.
Depressed he stared at his reflection. People told him all the time that he was beautiful, of a completely different beauty than Leon. But of course they would tell him such. He was famous. No, the only one he'd ever have believed if he told him he was beautiful was Leon, but he would not hear those words from the blonde. Neither would he ever hear him say that he loved him, or at least liked him.
The knock at the door signalled him that his ordeal was about to begin. D cast the mirror a last glance and then left to answer questions about the fight between him and his former lover about the position of Broadway's male superstar, far too curious questions, but he would smile and pretend that he didn't care about Leon Alcott any more, and laugh at silly jokes, and play his role.
And only when he was singing would he be telling the truth.
His apartment was suffocating him, so Leon had taken a stroll through the streets and ended up in a small store. He could do with a new laptop, or perhaps a new TV? A flatscreen? Hell, he just felt like buying anything that didn't remind him of D every time he looked at it.
The guys at the counter had not paid him any attention until now, but then one looked at the clock and suddenly hurried out to switch on one of the many screens. His colleague watched him confused, as did Leon. "What are you doing, Sam?" he asked. Sam put a finger to his lips.
"Be quiet. That Chinese's on TV tonight, you know, the Broadway guy. I heard wonders about his voice."
Leon wanted to turn, but before he could take a step, D's voice filled the small store, immediately turning it into some kind of wonderland. He already was in the middle of his song, and the full power of his voice hit Leon unprepared.
"On my own, pretending he's beside me
All alone, I walk with him till morning
Without him, I feel his arms around me,
And when I lose my way I close my eyes
And he has found me."
D's voice took on a softer, mellow note, and Leon noticed against his will he'd half closed his eyes. He shivered unwillingly, hearing the words already before D sang them.
"In the rain,
The pavement shines like silver
All the lights
Are misty in the river
In the darkness,
The trees are full of starlight,
And all I see is him and me for ever and forever."
There had been one evening, right before winter came, when it had rained and they'd been outside. D hadn't been able to look away from the reflections of the neon signs in the various puddles on the street, and he'd laughed and clapped his hands like a child when a car made them splash in every direction, throwing sparkling drops of water everywhere. He'd looked so beautiful that evening that Leon had thought his heart might burst any second.
"And I know it's only in my mind,
That I'm talking to myself
And not to him
And although I know that he is blind,
Still I say, there's a way for us.
Was he blind? Did D want to tell him that with his song? Had his decision been wrong, too hasty, made in fear of getting hurt again like back then?
I love him, but when the night is over,
He is gone, the river's just a river
Without him, the world around me changes.
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers.
The Manhattan streets had always been full of strangers for D, for little shy D who was intimidated by too much attention from people he didn't know, and replied to it with his fake smile mask, and only showed his real face and smiled when he was with Leon. Who had sought Leon's hand every time to make sure he was there, that he was not alone out there.
I love him, but every day I'm learning,
All my life, I've only been pretending!
Without me, his world will go on turning,
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known!"
The critics were right. D's voice had developed considerably. He was going to be one of the greatest singers the world had ever known, Leon could foresee that, too. Such a voice was a once-in-a-century-gift.
His heart clenched in his chest. Perhaps it wasn't only D's voice. It was, without any doubt, beautiful, but there was something else to him, to the way he was singing. Once he'd told Leon he tried to sing every song as if he was feeling every word in his heart. As if he really was the person he was playing.
But right now, he wasn't playing anyone. Right now, he was just being Count D performing a number in a TV show, Leon knew, better than he'd ever known anything. He was not a character from Les Misérables, not a woman desperately in love with a man who barely knew she was alive, but simply D.
He could not stay in the shop. As if fleeing from D's voice echoing behind him, Leon stormed out of the shop, still hearing the last notes of the song, felt them tearing at his heart. But he refused to listen to him, closed his ears to what the Chinese was trying to tell him.
"I love him...
I love him...
I love him...
But only on my own..."
I have only two other chapters left to write, so please leave me some feedback what you thought!