IN
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IN
After Layla presented May and Leon with a trophy, a runner came to the waiting room to get Sora.
"Mademoiselle Hamilton wishes to speak to you," the young man said in an accented voice.
Sora used a tissue to wipe her face.
IN
Before Sora could greet Layla, the now actress spoke first from over by the chair looking out the window. Still in her baby blue gown and her long blonde hair down and shining under the fading sunlight, Layla made an imposing figure.
"You quit during your performance," Layla clipped, still not turning around to face Sora. "You and Yuri could have won with that maneuver."
"I'm sorry," Sora murmured, her eyes still a little red from crying earlier. "But I couldn't go through with it."
There was a tense silence; Sora could hear the old clock ticking in Layla's resting room as she waited for her old partner to say something else. Deep down, she hoped it was sympathetic, though she wasn't sure if it would be, judging by Layla's words to her as of late.
"You're the worst," came Layla's frosted words.
Sora's insides squeezed, but she kept her tears at bay.
"And you," Sora quietly said as she felt the hurt put a bite to her words, "are cold."
She didn't bother to wait for Layla to dismiss her.
IN
Leon was a little frantic.
He had been shocked again when he saw Sora doing the Angel's Maneuver; in all honesty, he wouldn't have minded her doing it if it weren't for the fact that it was with Yuri. However, the building irritation sputtered upon seeing the tears falling from her face. Thanks to the stage lights, the water droplets twinkled as they fell down from her.
She had been beautiful, but tragic.
When Layla gave him and May the trophy, he wanted to glare at the woman. It was because of her that Sora was participating instead of being in the audience. All of that shouldering of Sora's disgust, all of that pain he had endured to keep her from the festival…it all amounted to nothing since Layla's words had prompted the redhead to seek out Yuri.
How I despise her even more.
Sora was in the festival, seeing and experiencing the things he didn't want her to go through.
He had seen it on her face as she limply hung from Yuri's hands as a lift was brought out to get the performers down safely.
She had looked defeated then.
And that was worrisome.
IN
Immediately after arriving back at the hotel, Sora made for her room.
Alone in the elevator, she stood with her head hung down and her duffle bag on her shoulder. She was still in her costume, not wanting to stay at the location of the competition for any more time than what was necessary.
My old partner's no longer someone I can rely on, the stage and audience at the festival were terrible.
Friendship did not matter here; camaraderie and goodwill did not even exist.
She bit her bottom lip. I've not encounter a place like this before…or people.
Was it the place or the people that made the festival a nightmare?
She wasn't so sure.
The elevator dinged. Numbly, with her head down, she walked out of it and to her door. Her hand blindly felt for her room key in her duffle bag's smaller pocket. She paused in her steps as a figure stood in front of her door, still looking at it as he knocked and waited.
A little off balanced, she said, "No cleaning tonight," with a wiry tone.
Leon turned his head to look at her. He wore his charcoal coat with his demon's costume still on, though without his devil's horn. She waited for him to speak, but as the seconds passed, he stayed silent.
"What are you doing here?" she tiredly asked. "Aren't you supposed to be celebrating or something?"
Her words helped prompt his speech. "I don't care about the win."
She nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah…you didn't want to come in the first place."
She stepped forward to unlock her door. Leon stepped aside in order to give her the room to do so. As she slid the room card the wrong way and then flipped it over, he saw the red eyes and the downtrodden spirit that radiated from her.
As she turned the doorknob, his hand reached out to grasp hers.
"I didn't want you to come," he murmured, his other hand coming up to touch her upper cheek underneath her eye, "because I was afraid of this happening."
Her eyes watered.
"Why is it like this?" she nearly whimpered out.
He sighed. "There is no clear answer."
She rapidly blinked as she tried to keep from bawling in front of him. Many words and conversations from the day ran through her mind, Mute's comment about Leon's partner dying coming to the forefront given that Leon was standing here, touching her.
"I'm sorry about your old partner," she murmured.
He flinched, but did not say anything. After a few moments, he nodded his head at the condolence once he was able to compose himself.
She wondered then, about several things concerning Leon Oswald. She couldn't possibly get answers for all of the wonderings, but there were a few she needed to know at the moment.
"Are you upset about the Angel's Maneuver?"
His hand trailed down her cheek. "At first, yes, but now…" he shook his head.
Her hand came up to grasp his as she looked intently at him.
"Did…" she swallowed, impending tears making her throat tight, "Did the festival change you?"
His eyes connected with hers without the wall of stone and ice in the way.
Old scars showed and open wounds gaped and bled as if they had recently been made. Some tears slid down her face upon seeing it, but amongst the wounds she could see a strength and will that has carried and sustained him for many years.
She was in awe of him, craving for that fortitude at the moment.
Her lips parted to speak, but only a half whimper came out. Her vision blurred as the tears built up and poured out of her eyes, no longer able to contain the sorrows of the day any more. Her hands came up again to cover her face as she did what she didn't want to do in front of him.
She bawled.
He came forward and held her to him. Her arms wrapped around him and her legs followed, needing the strength that he had that she so desperately needed at the moment.
She sobbed against his neck, her hands fisting his coat tightly as her body trembled and wracked with all of the disappointment people had given her, all the spite and anger for her and for the stage she so loved to perform on, even a smaller role. Her legs tightened around his waist and her arms had a firm hold around his neck as she longed for approval and all the positive emotions that she didn't encounter today.
She hiccupped, cried, got snot and tears on him.
He pushed her room door open and carried her in.
IN
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AN: If you can't tell, I didn't like Layla's behavior during the Circus Festival.