Headstrong Tonight - A Meg/Erik Fanmix
:
dans le noir
she would like to think her (their) story started many, many years ago.
it did not.
---
but life went onward.
they never returned to the opera house, and they found work elsewhere. she knew her mother was the best of her kind, and although she knew that meg giry was not the best of her kind (“there is too much smarts behind her eyes. no delicacy in her steps. too exact. too harsh. oui?”), wherever madame giry went, so went her daughter.
also: wherever madame giry went, he did also.
she asked no questions of her mother, but some nights when mama came home late, looking exhausted, she knew that she had been making arrangements, making a new place for him to stay.
those nights, she avoided madame giry’s tired yet hard eyes.
---
"put away that book, ma petite. you'll hurt your eyes," her mother had said. she was braiding her hair, her long gray-blonde hair. it swirled in the dim morning-light, collecting dust and looking like liquid porcelain.
her mother turned and looked at her. "do not make me say it again, meg giry." her mother's eyes were dark and cold and icy. "you would be better off practicing your posture.”
she did as her mother had said, even though she would have rather read her book than balanced it on top of her head.
---
there were moments when she thought he did a very poor job of concealing himself. there were moments when the company was rehearsing and she wanted to turn and stare him right in the face, right in the eyes. there were moments when she wanted to walk right up the scaffolding and say, i’m not scared of you.
but she never did, because, in some way, she saw that as a victory for him. and she didn’t want to give him another victory, despite her curiosity.
---
then it started to happen.
little things, books mostly: plato, socrates, rousseau. at first, she had thought that one of the sponsors had accidentally left them behind in the dressing rooms. however, whenever she went to take them back, they stared at her funny, as if she was very weird, strange indeed. she hated those kinds of stares, eyes that patronized, that told her that there was a little something odd about her, something off.
before she went to bed one night, she wrote a note, folded it into a book.
she heard him but she didn’t stir. she stared at his shadow on the wall as he moved about the room before leaving, somewhere he probably thought was marvelously mysterious.
the next morning, she waited until all the other dancers left the room before quickly opening her book, seeing if her note was still there. it was, but it was folded up in a smaller pamphlet titled father abraham’s sermon. unfolding the note quietly, quietly, more discreetly than she thought herself capable of, she found her note: stop sending me books. i do not read well.
underneath her tightly written script was a looser, more romanticized writing. it read: you also do not lie well, meg giry.
---
the hallway was cold and dark and she hated that she was so compelled to read. the light in her room was too bright for jaimes, who had been constantly complaining about her late-night readings.
she had heard the other dancers: too brainy. not good for the health. they would say these things while she was bathing, while she was dressing, as if her nakedness had caused sudden deafness. they would slide their eyes over to her and she would feel their stares like hot coals on her back, but she would simply breathe largely, dipping her sponge into the dirty water once again and wash her shoulders.
but that's what put her exile in the hallways at night, a brief candle at her side, her book almost smashed into her face.
she didn't expect to meet him there, after so long, after so many times of not meeting his eyes, of trying so very hard to ignore his very presence.
she was proud of the way she barely flinched when he shadowed her reading and said, "you will strain your eyes, meg giry."
swallowing, she flipped a page in her book. "my eyes never did me much service before and i suspect they will accomplish me less later in my life." she looked up finally, her eyes barely finding his silhouette in the darkness of the hallway. "is there something you want?" her voice nearly trembled but she caught it, like a glass slipping off a table, like a hairpin slipping from the tight bun on the back of her head.
he stepped back into the darkness, but she could see the shadows of a smirk on his face. "we will discuss your book tomorrow night around this time." his voice sounded stiff, unmovable.
she was gripping her book so tightly, the tips of her fingers were numb. "what if i choose not to come?"
he was walking away from her, further into the shadows. "you will come."
her feet found her standing. her eyes found her glaring. she hissed at his retreating figure, "i am not scared of you."
he never turned. "as you say," he purred before disappearing completely into the shadows of the hallway.
she could hear him walking above her later that night, as she was pretending to sleep, her mind heavy.
she wondered how no one heard him, saw him, but her. then, she slept.
---
she did come, like he had said.
---
for the most part, she was angry. she had hated him for what she had done to christine, to the raoul, to her mother, and mostly to her, meg giry.
for the most part, she stayed angry at him, even when he would sit next to her in the hallway at night, so close they were almost touching, looking over at the side of her face as she read. she caught him at the corner of her eye, looking sad, looking miserable.
for the most part, she was angry about every part of him. she hated his self-loathing and had concluded that there was more scarring on the inside rather than the out. she hated his indifference to everyone else and his disdain for their self-proclaimed normal lives. she hated his smug smile, she hated the fact that his mind was brilliant and she hated that fact that she envied him, in some dark place in her being.
for the most part, they would discuss the books she read and the philosophy, the science, the biology would make her hair stand on end, make her feel like she had never felt. it would melt away the boring ache that dancing put into her being.
for the most part, he would leave when their discussion had ended and then say something like, "today, meg giry, you walked too much on your heels at rehearsal. tomorrow, you must find the music with your body, extend yourself further, try to embrace the melody with your very being."
for the most part, she would ignore his statements and read instead of practice.
for the most part, he knew that she cared very little for what he said and wanted very much to be very largely indifferent to his very existence.
for the most part, neither one loved the other very much at all until things changed.
---
"you really aren't afraid of me," he said one night, staring at her intensely.
she merely pursed her lips, trying hard not to be unnerved. "like i said," she replied before asking another question about a book by a man named darwin.
---
it was the fateful night that she asked, trying to sound distracted, "why do you wear a mask?"
his eyes looked sad when he replied, "and why do you, meg giry?"
when she pressed her lips confidently against his, he looked only vaguely hopeful.
---
they were both outsiders.
---
he brought her books and she brought him payments from the playhouse's patrons.
her mother said nothing, except for one morning, as she was tying her corset. "the torch has been passed i see," and that is all she said. they did not discuss it any further and she was glad.
and they no longer met in the hallway, but it cannot be discussed where they met, for that is very secret, she made sure it was kept very secret. she did a better job than her mother, but she never thought like that.
but in this place that can and may not be discussed any further, sometimes they would talk, her mind a web of thoughts and patterns. sometimes they would practice her mathematics, sometimes her posture (much to her dismay). sometimes she would listen to him play his music and she would drift to sleep, quiet and still in her slumber for the first time in many years.
and sometimes they would embrace, her skin hot and flushed and he would kiss her on her eyelids, her earlobes, the corners of her mouth.
"i'm not christine," she would gasp.
he would kiss the side of her face. "i know."
"i'm not here to redeem you or any of that nonsense."
she could feel the leather of his glove against the skin covering her hip bone. "i know."
"i'm just meg giry, dancer unextroadinaire, daughter of the famous madame giry, hopelessly clumsy and brainy."
"i know."
he did know.
---
she never became empress and he never became handsome.
but they were happy.
---
"nothing's perfect," she had told raoul.
he was old then, his body slowly fading and letting go. but he nodded as if he understood.
maybe he did, maybe he didn't.
---
in the end, their story was anti-climatic.
she was in love with a man who's heart was still torn between her and another woman. he was in love with a woman who's brain was too large and practical to truly understand the soul of his music.
in retrospect, it was far from idyllic.
but the quiet filled in the holes and, in the end, it was enough.
fine
01. Spite and Malice-- Placebo link
you can play your card, i'll hold onto mine / tied up in the reasons, ace take your time / looks turn to lovers, flames into fires / jack loves his tragedy, queen her desires / you look well suited like you came to win / lust, spite and malice, your degrees of sin / wrap me in your trauma and i may just give you mine
02. Under Control-- The Strokes link
you are young, darling / for now, but not for long
03. Plunk Song-- Tegan and Sara link
granted that i'm so often layered / i'm wired / overcome overdone / my fate is on fire / eat the sludge and dance / to screaming in my head / i'm so happy that we're friends / me and you / so here i am / simple and upside down / corner stone left in the millions / heavy in my pocket / you look good to me / and my pants are huge / and chocolate covered / hey i'm just like you / maybe i'm sloppy and blue / but hey i'm just like you / except i've got nothing to prove / but we're headstrong tonight / beating through the rainbows of right / gold covered prisms of light / make us headstrong tonight
04. History Is Falling For Science-- This Day and Age link
lets go inside / i found the perfect place to hide / someday will never come if we simply say our goodbyes
05. I'll Make You Mine-- Rainer Maria link
i could tame all the tigers in your bloodstream / can you lay all my ghosts in their graves? / but what you couldn't find in books / (and you've broken every spine) / is that i'll make / i'll make you mine.
06. Broken-- Jump, Little Children link
with a dark and gentle kiss / from the mouth of blinding bliss / i’ve made my peace with all of this / but i’m broken, yes i’m broken by you
07. Down Towards the Healing-- Lovedrug link
i thought my wings could hold me up / with angels not demons / you don’t know how cool you are / to find the ways to love me without shame
08. Your Guardian Angel-- The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus link
i will never let you fall / i’ll stand up with you forever / i’ll be there for you through it all / even if saving you sends me to heaven
09. Of Want and Misery: The Nothing That Kills-- As Cities Burn link
i can't save you but i will love you / no, i can't save you but i will love you / i'd like to think that this is love / lost in second chances without end / this is romance
10. Dance Me To The End Of Love-- Madeleine Peyroux link
dance me to your beauty with a burning violin / dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in / touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
11. Make Love To Me Forever-- Snow Patrol link
so stay by my side / and hold on to my hand / try to teach me that / i'm alright i guess
( full zip (with cover art) )
|to answer all your questions: yes, I have officially lost my mind.
|give me a yell if any of the links go down and I will be more than happy to fix them
|comment if you want some major luvin'