[story] midnight dawn
author: akimoto taiki (shirokaras)
email: veldspar [at] hotmail.com
I.
We skipped the light fandango, turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick but the crowd called out for more.
With a groan, he flung his arm up to cover his eyes as the neon lights from his small window threatened to drive spikes through what was left of his brain. The cheering and screaming from the streets felt like nails on chalkboard, as did the blaring of the Imperial March from his handphone. Hardly the way to wake up, especially since he'd only just managed to get to sleep.
Sighing, he fumbled for his cellphone where it danced on the old wooden coffee table next to the sofa he was on. With a practised flick, he snapped it open and held it gingerly against his ear.
The room was humming harder as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink, the waiter brought a tray.
"What?" It was almost as if he were speaking Greek through a loudhailer from a lighthouse kilometres away. Clearing his throat, he tried again, with slightly more success.
"Morning, sunshine. Or evening, rather. You recovered from this morning yet?" came an amused voice, remarkable in its ability to quadruple the throbbing in his head without effort. "I'm actually impressed you're awake enough to pick up your phone. You were rather wasted when I saw you last."
He groaned again at a sudden swell in the noise as a group of teenage chimpanzees starting hooting. He fought the urge to open the window and scream. It wouldn't help much, since they'd barely hear him, so the most it'd accomplish would be having him vomit the contents of his stomach, however minimal, onto the street below. Swearing under his breath, he knuckled his temple as he tried to think of something to say. The quiet laughter over the phone line did not improve his mood.
"Screw you, Seth," he muttered. "The fact that I'm this hungover is your fault."
"Really?" The amused lilt brought to mind memories of Seth's face, dripping with feigned innocence and self-righteous chagrin. "I never realized that I'd forced you to drink all those cocktails. In fact, you seemed to put them away rather readily, and without much provocation from yours truly, Koyuki."
Koyuki growled. All he achieved was more quiet laughter, and a more intense headache. "Now, now, my emo Asian friend. I'm afraid that sensual growlings from men don't do anything for me," said Seth as his voice grew more quiet. "Seriously though. You OK? Better?"
And so it was that later as the miller told his tale...
Sighing, Koyuki sat up and slouched, staring bleary-eyed at the blank screen of his beat-up television. He lowered his forehead on the coffee table, feeling the grain rasp against his skin. "Not better, no. I'm hungover, nauseated, sleepy, and there's a hole in my chest. I'm not sure how 'drowning one's sorrows' works, but aside from burning a hole in my pocket, it's doing absolutely jackshit.' Raising his head three inches, he let it drop again against the tabletop. It did little to distract him from the pounding between his temples.
"Still feeling sorry for yourself, huh?" asked Seth.
"Yes. I don't want any more alcohol. I drink too much, and it works too little."
Koyuki winced at Seth's long, drawn-out sigh. "Want to meet up for just coffee then? I could come over and chill."
"Nah. Too many memories in this place."
"Sure, man." Koyuki exhaled as he heard the resignation in his friend's voice. "You're probably gonna end up prowling the city again, huh? Take care of yourself. It's festival time, and you might end up actually being happy."
He snorted in disgust.
"Call me if you wanna talk, 'k?"
"Thanks, Seth."
He snapped the phone shut rather more violently than he intended. The parade downstairs had moved on, leaving behind nothing but desolation. It was uncanny how it mirrored how he felt.
He stood, fighting the urge to wobble and topple as he made his way to the window. Cracking it open, he took a breath of damp, smog-filled air. The glass was cold and comforting against his cheek as he stood there, staring at flickering lights, wondering why he couldn't get her face out of his mind. I need to be somewhere. Anywhere but here.
... that her face, at first just ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale
II.
She said, 'There is no reason, and the truth is plain to see.'
But I wandered through my playing cards and would not let her be
She looked in the mirror again, a little stunned at what a little make-up could do. Well, not really little; her friends had spent a good two hours working on the deceptively simple patterns that now covered half her face.
She'd protested at first. The idea of dressing up as some mythical creature seemed childish, but she yielded in the end. Still, truth be told, she'd been secretly pleased that she'd somehow managed to draw the phoenix from the list. She'd always had a weakness for phoenixes. She'd found the story of their death and rebirth insanely romantic, and she was thrilled that she could be one. Just for one night.
With a careful finger, she traced the subtle lines done in stick-on jewels and powder and liner. Her friend was a genius. Her hair had been done up as well, swept back into a tight bun, emphasizing her severe, aquiline features. It was adorned with some well-placed ribbons and feathers, threaded and melded into her hair. She still couldn't believe it. She was glad that one of the other girls had a camera.
"Oi! Ari! Get over here! We're leaving!"
A bewildered smile on her face, Arielle grabbed her stuff and sprinted after them, turning to have one last long look at herself in the mirror. She closed the door behind her as they left.
One of sixteen vestal virgins who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open, they might have just as well've been closed
"Feeling OK?"
Arielle arched an eyebrow and smiled sardonically, earning a chorus of laughs. "Never been better. Even with all this gunk."
She'd meant it too. While she'd vehemently deny it if any of them had asked, she was glad that they'd decided to do this. Going to La Carnival de la Nuit was something she'd always scoffed at before, but given the bad turns in her life recently, she was glad for the distraction.
I still can't believe I was so stupid. Ari sighed. Things had been... intense while they lasted. She had been convinced he was the One, but it was over. Seeing him the other day with some new hussy hadn't helped much, and she thanked the multitudes of gods, major and minor, that both of them were in another department. Seeing them come to work and go home together was painful enough, and her imagination filled in the gaps.
Still, she had her friends, and now she had her chance to experience a carnival, and to forget. Even for a while. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. People loved and hated the dankness and the smog. It was surprising though, how many people still stayed. It was all they'd known, after all.
Shaking her head, ribbons and feathers rustling softly in the night breeze, she glared at the moon. It was flitting in and out between clouds like a furtive lover, content to watch.
She could let a part of herself die, and be reborn.
III.
She said, 'I'm home on shore leave,' though in truth we were at sea
so I took her by the looking glass and forced her to agree
He'd managed to change, with some difficulty. He'd been neglecting his laundry, with much of his life.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his mostly clean jeans and went in a meandering fashion down the streets and alleyways. He stared listlessly at cavorting revellers. In better times, he would've joined them, or even have had been one of the first to start the partying. As things stood now though, he had as much inclination of merrymaking as kicking them off a cliff.
Still, roaming the city was preferable to soaking in memories, booze and self-pity at home. At least there was an offside chance that he might NOT get drunk tonight and end up crying on his sofa in a small puddle of puke. He was getting rather tired of feeling needy and pathetic.
His teeth gnashed together of their own accord people passed him in their elaborate costumes and laughing faces, singing with the bands that paraded by on their floats. Part of him knew it was completely irrational of him - after all, his problems were his problems. The other part of him wanted to, as people would say, watch the world burn.
He ran his hand through his hair. His thoughts made no sense. Thankfully, he had no weapons at his disposal.
A sardonic smile twisted itself onto his face. He shook his head violently, almost as a dog would to shake off water. I've got to get over this somehow. It isn't helping me any. She's not gonna come waltzing back into my life again, after all, and I don't think I want her to. He always did get dramatic when he got depressed. Sighing, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and resumed walking.
... saying, 'You must be the mermaid who took Neptune for a ride.'
But she smiled at me so sadly that my anger straightway died
Raising his head, he stared in dismay at the familiar La Fontaine De L'Aube. The Fountain of Dawn, constructed at the exact center of the city. It was where he'd met her, four years ago. They'd spent many hours here, chatting, admiring the intricate carvings, and trailing their hands lazily in the water. It was now lit by trails upon trails of chasing lights that went through the city square from building to building. The lights gave the place an unfamiliar eldritch feel, despite the fact that he passed it by every day. There was an intensity tonight that was strange and pressing, making it hard for him to breathe almost.
He'd welcome a touch of providence right about now. He'd welcome anything that'd break him out of this cycle and allow him to get on with his life.
Sighing again, Koyuki rubbed his eyes, then strode over to the fountain and leaned against one of the pillars that separated its perfectly circular edge into seven equal segments. He smiled ironically as he gazed into the still water and wondered how he'd let himself come to this. He looked strange in the varicolored light, at times ghostly,garish, and at times displaced. He felt another of self-pity well up as his hand went up to his gaunt, unshaven face. I'd do anything to not be like this now.
The feeling was still there though. And seemed to be getting more intense. He shrugged and leaned his head back to rest against the pillar. The sky was overcast tonight, a bit of a waste given it was supposed to be a full moon out.
If fate wanted to surprise him, he could wait. He was tired of chasing, and even more tired of running. It wasn't as if anything worse could happen to him anyway.
IV.
If music be the food of love, then laughter is its queen
and likewise if behind is in front then dirt in truth is clean
She laughed maniacally as her friends spun her around like a top, dizzy as the world whirled around her as she pirouetted. The night so far had been splendid. It had been ages since she'd felt so alive. The enthusiasm and energy from the performers had been infectious, and the alcohol had helped her get into the mood. The heady high that she had at the moment made her feel like she was floating six feet off the ground, and it was a welcome change from her usual state of mind. Her smile cracked for the fraction of a second. She was not going to dwell on past events, no matter what. She was out tonight to enjoy herself, and that was exactly what she was going to do.
She hugged her equally giggly friends as they wound their dizzy way towards the heart of the city, where the grand finale was supposed to take place. The carnival always ended on the stroke of midnight, and in a fashion that was fantastically grand, and invariably unexpected. The organizers had always remained tight-lipped about it.
They'd ended up by the Dawn Fountain. It seemed the whole city had turned up at Central Park, which had been constructed radially around the fountain. There were no makeshift stages, as had been the case in the some of the last few festivals, nothing to hint at what the finale would be.
Arielle collapsed at the fountain's lip, waving off her friends when they tried to get her to dance more. They left in a chorus of catcalls, disappearing into the crowd. A strange mix of classical music with a pseudo-latinesque beat pounded over the huge speakers mounted on the floats.
She was tired after all that dancing. This was just what I needed, she thought to herself. I should have done this ages ago. She smiled and strangely enough, felt as if she were almost on the verge of tears. She started to lean backwards.
"Careful."
She froze in mid-lean.
"I don't think you want to ruin your make up or clothes by swimming in dirty water."
She saw that she'd been sitting too close to the water and almost paid a visit to the fishes. Blinking a little, she turned back to thank the person who'd warned her, but he was already walking away.
"Thank you!" she called after him. He waggled two fingers in the air, giving a mocking salute as he walked away, his back towards her.
What in... Her eyebrows creased. Gratitude gave way to chagrin. He probably thought she was some drunk white girl. Some nerve, that Asian kid...
My mouth by then like cardboard seemed to slip straight through my head
So we crash-dived straightway quickly and attacked the ocean bed
"Hey!" she called, suddenly angry. She had to hurry though - his silhouette was quickly fading into the chaos, and if she hesitated, she'd lose him. "Hey! Wait!"
V.
Koyuki sighed, ambling his way through the crowd. What was I thinking?...
There had been something about that blonde girl. He wasn't totally sure what it was, but while she'd seemed all ditzy and giggly and more than a little irritating, there had been something else. It may have been in the sad set of her eyes that her makeup couldn't hide, or something in the way she held herself. Still, the look in her eyes when she'd stared at the sky mirrored how he was feeling, and that... scared him.
He'd felt a sudden rush of some indefinable emotion, and he was suddenly afraid. He couldn't be sure why he needed to walk away from her but he knew that he had to. He had to walk away. Something would happen if he'd stayed, and he was terrified.
And so it was later, as the miller told his tale...
"Hey! Wait!"
Someone grabbed him by the arm and spun him around too quickly. Her luminous jade green eyes glared at him, made radiant by the furrowed brow and the strange, avian patterns that covered half her face.
Again, that wave of that same uncertain emotion; so strong that he was almost unable to breathe, let alone say anything as he stared helplessly back.
VI.
Whatever she thought she'd wanted to say evaporated. It wasn't that he was drop-dead handsome, or had irresistible charisma - far from it, in fact. He was plain, bookish and unkempt.
Something in his eyes caught her. Despair, forlorn betrayal, frustration, a solemn sorrow - it was almost like staring into a mirror. And yet, there was more - introspection and self-blame and self-doubt, they resonated with hers. Instant recognition flared along with a strange, intense bond. It seemed a part of her soul that she'd had never known had been missing had found its way back.
And despite the fact that this was probably the first time they'd laid eyes on each other, she knew that he felt the same.
... that her face, at first just ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale.
Her hand, unbidden, cupped his cheek. He wrapped her hand in his own.
They weren't sure how long they stood there, whole conversations exchanged in the space of moments. Around them, the world swirled. They were helpless, hands touching and souls intertwined.
A sudden roar jolted them back to reality, and they remembered to breathe. The crowd around them hollered its approval as the three central floats burst open.
Amidst glaring pyrotechnics and confetti, the members of MUSE emerged singly from each float and made their way through corridors lined with security guards. They converged on a stage that rose through a concealed trapdoor, as columns of speakers slid skywards and engaged.
The opening bars of Plug In Baby shrieked out over over the crowd's screams, fireworks filled the air in time with Bellamy's breathy, plaintive singing.
The noise barely registered as they faced each other, all embarrassed smiles and awkward glances.
Hesitantly, he cleared his throated and croaked his name. Despite the deafening wall of sound, somehow, he was certain she'd heard him.
A small, shy smile blossoming on her face, she replied in kind.
Love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
- Iris Murdoch (1919-1999)
the end
Notes: Apologies and credits to Procol Harum for the use of the lyrics of 'A Whiter Shade of Pale']
email: veldspar [at] hotmail.com
I.
We skipped the light fandango, turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick but the crowd called out for more.
With a groan, he flung his arm up to cover his eyes as the neon lights from his small window threatened to drive spikes through what was left of his brain. The cheering and screaming from the streets felt like nails on chalkboard, as did the blaring of the Imperial March from his handphone. Hardly the way to wake up, especially since he'd only just managed to get to sleep.
Sighing, he fumbled for his cellphone where it danced on the old wooden coffee table next to the sofa he was on. With a practised flick, he snapped it open and held it gingerly against his ear.
The room was humming harder as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink, the waiter brought a tray.
"What?" It was almost as if he were speaking Greek through a loudhailer from a lighthouse kilometres away. Clearing his throat, he tried again, with slightly more success.
"Morning, sunshine. Or evening, rather. You recovered from this morning yet?" came an amused voice, remarkable in its ability to quadruple the throbbing in his head without effort. "I'm actually impressed you're awake enough to pick up your phone. You were rather wasted when I saw you last."
He groaned again at a sudden swell in the noise as a group of teenage chimpanzees starting hooting. He fought the urge to open the window and scream. It wouldn't help much, since they'd barely hear him, so the most it'd accomplish would be having him vomit the contents of his stomach, however minimal, onto the street below. Swearing under his breath, he knuckled his temple as he tried to think of something to say. The quiet laughter over the phone line did not improve his mood.
"Screw you, Seth," he muttered. "The fact that I'm this hungover is your fault."
"Really?" The amused lilt brought to mind memories of Seth's face, dripping with feigned innocence and self-righteous chagrin. "I never realized that I'd forced you to drink all those cocktails. In fact, you seemed to put them away rather readily, and without much provocation from yours truly, Koyuki."
Koyuki growled. All he achieved was more quiet laughter, and a more intense headache. "Now, now, my emo Asian friend. I'm afraid that sensual growlings from men don't do anything for me," said Seth as his voice grew more quiet. "Seriously though. You OK? Better?"
And so it was that later as the miller told his tale...
Sighing, Koyuki sat up and slouched, staring bleary-eyed at the blank screen of his beat-up television. He lowered his forehead on the coffee table, feeling the grain rasp against his skin. "Not better, no. I'm hungover, nauseated, sleepy, and there's a hole in my chest. I'm not sure how 'drowning one's sorrows' works, but aside from burning a hole in my pocket, it's doing absolutely jackshit.' Raising his head three inches, he let it drop again against the tabletop. It did little to distract him from the pounding between his temples.
"Still feeling sorry for yourself, huh?" asked Seth.
"Yes. I don't want any more alcohol. I drink too much, and it works too little."
Koyuki winced at Seth's long, drawn-out sigh. "Want to meet up for just coffee then? I could come over and chill."
"Nah. Too many memories in this place."
"Sure, man." Koyuki exhaled as he heard the resignation in his friend's voice. "You're probably gonna end up prowling the city again, huh? Take care of yourself. It's festival time, and you might end up actually being happy."
He snorted in disgust.
"Call me if you wanna talk, 'k?"
"Thanks, Seth."
He snapped the phone shut rather more violently than he intended. The parade downstairs had moved on, leaving behind nothing but desolation. It was uncanny how it mirrored how he felt.
He stood, fighting the urge to wobble and topple as he made his way to the window. Cracking it open, he took a breath of damp, smog-filled air. The glass was cold and comforting against his cheek as he stood there, staring at flickering lights, wondering why he couldn't get her face out of his mind. I need to be somewhere. Anywhere but here.
... that her face, at first just ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale
II.
She said, 'There is no reason, and the truth is plain to see.'
But I wandered through my playing cards and would not let her be
She looked in the mirror again, a little stunned at what a little make-up could do. Well, not really little; her friends had spent a good two hours working on the deceptively simple patterns that now covered half her face.
She'd protested at first. The idea of dressing up as some mythical creature seemed childish, but she yielded in the end. Still, truth be told, she'd been secretly pleased that she'd somehow managed to draw the phoenix from the list. She'd always had a weakness for phoenixes. She'd found the story of their death and rebirth insanely romantic, and she was thrilled that she could be one. Just for one night.
With a careful finger, she traced the subtle lines done in stick-on jewels and powder and liner. Her friend was a genius. Her hair had been done up as well, swept back into a tight bun, emphasizing her severe, aquiline features. It was adorned with some well-placed ribbons and feathers, threaded and melded into her hair. She still couldn't believe it. She was glad that one of the other girls had a camera.
"Oi! Ari! Get over here! We're leaving!"
A bewildered smile on her face, Arielle grabbed her stuff and sprinted after them, turning to have one last long look at herself in the mirror. She closed the door behind her as they left.
One of sixteen vestal virgins who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open, they might have just as well've been closed
"Feeling OK?"
Arielle arched an eyebrow and smiled sardonically, earning a chorus of laughs. "Never been better. Even with all this gunk."
She'd meant it too. While she'd vehemently deny it if any of them had asked, she was glad that they'd decided to do this. Going to La Carnival de la Nuit was something she'd always scoffed at before, but given the bad turns in her life recently, she was glad for the distraction.
I still can't believe I was so stupid. Ari sighed. Things had been... intense while they lasted. She had been convinced he was the One, but it was over. Seeing him the other day with some new hussy hadn't helped much, and she thanked the multitudes of gods, major and minor, that both of them were in another department. Seeing them come to work and go home together was painful enough, and her imagination filled in the gaps.
Still, she had her friends, and now she had her chance to experience a carnival, and to forget. Even for a while. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. People loved and hated the dankness and the smog. It was surprising though, how many people still stayed. It was all they'd known, after all.
Shaking her head, ribbons and feathers rustling softly in the night breeze, she glared at the moon. It was flitting in and out between clouds like a furtive lover, content to watch.
She could let a part of herself die, and be reborn.
III.
She said, 'I'm home on shore leave,' though in truth we were at sea
so I took her by the looking glass and forced her to agree
He'd managed to change, with some difficulty. He'd been neglecting his laundry, with much of his life.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his mostly clean jeans and went in a meandering fashion down the streets and alleyways. He stared listlessly at cavorting revellers. In better times, he would've joined them, or even have had been one of the first to start the partying. As things stood now though, he had as much inclination of merrymaking as kicking them off a cliff.
Still, roaming the city was preferable to soaking in memories, booze and self-pity at home. At least there was an offside chance that he might NOT get drunk tonight and end up crying on his sofa in a small puddle of puke. He was getting rather tired of feeling needy and pathetic.
His teeth gnashed together of their own accord people passed him in their elaborate costumes and laughing faces, singing with the bands that paraded by on their floats. Part of him knew it was completely irrational of him - after all, his problems were his problems. The other part of him wanted to, as people would say, watch the world burn.
He ran his hand through his hair. His thoughts made no sense. Thankfully, he had no weapons at his disposal.
A sardonic smile twisted itself onto his face. He shook his head violently, almost as a dog would to shake off water. I've got to get over this somehow. It isn't helping me any. She's not gonna come waltzing back into my life again, after all, and I don't think I want her to. He always did get dramatic when he got depressed. Sighing, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and resumed walking.
... saying, 'You must be the mermaid who took Neptune for a ride.'
But she smiled at me so sadly that my anger straightway died
Raising his head, he stared in dismay at the familiar La Fontaine De L'Aube. The Fountain of Dawn, constructed at the exact center of the city. It was where he'd met her, four years ago. They'd spent many hours here, chatting, admiring the intricate carvings, and trailing their hands lazily in the water. It was now lit by trails upon trails of chasing lights that went through the city square from building to building. The lights gave the place an unfamiliar eldritch feel, despite the fact that he passed it by every day. There was an intensity tonight that was strange and pressing, making it hard for him to breathe almost.
He'd welcome a touch of providence right about now. He'd welcome anything that'd break him out of this cycle and allow him to get on with his life.
Sighing again, Koyuki rubbed his eyes, then strode over to the fountain and leaned against one of the pillars that separated its perfectly circular edge into seven equal segments. He smiled ironically as he gazed into the still water and wondered how he'd let himself come to this. He looked strange in the varicolored light, at times ghostly,garish, and at times displaced. He felt another of self-pity well up as his hand went up to his gaunt, unshaven face. I'd do anything to not be like this now.
The feeling was still there though. And seemed to be getting more intense. He shrugged and leaned his head back to rest against the pillar. The sky was overcast tonight, a bit of a waste given it was supposed to be a full moon out.
If fate wanted to surprise him, he could wait. He was tired of chasing, and even more tired of running. It wasn't as if anything worse could happen to him anyway.
IV.
If music be the food of love, then laughter is its queen
and likewise if behind is in front then dirt in truth is clean
She laughed maniacally as her friends spun her around like a top, dizzy as the world whirled around her as she pirouetted. The night so far had been splendid. It had been ages since she'd felt so alive. The enthusiasm and energy from the performers had been infectious, and the alcohol had helped her get into the mood. The heady high that she had at the moment made her feel like she was floating six feet off the ground, and it was a welcome change from her usual state of mind. Her smile cracked for the fraction of a second. She was not going to dwell on past events, no matter what. She was out tonight to enjoy herself, and that was exactly what she was going to do.
She hugged her equally giggly friends as they wound their dizzy way towards the heart of the city, where the grand finale was supposed to take place. The carnival always ended on the stroke of midnight, and in a fashion that was fantastically grand, and invariably unexpected. The organizers had always remained tight-lipped about it.
They'd ended up by the Dawn Fountain. It seemed the whole city had turned up at Central Park, which had been constructed radially around the fountain. There were no makeshift stages, as had been the case in the some of the last few festivals, nothing to hint at what the finale would be.
Arielle collapsed at the fountain's lip, waving off her friends when they tried to get her to dance more. They left in a chorus of catcalls, disappearing into the crowd. A strange mix of classical music with a pseudo-latinesque beat pounded over the huge speakers mounted on the floats.
She was tired after all that dancing. This was just what I needed, she thought to herself. I should have done this ages ago. She smiled and strangely enough, felt as if she were almost on the verge of tears. She started to lean backwards.
"Careful."
She froze in mid-lean.
"I don't think you want to ruin your make up or clothes by swimming in dirty water."
She saw that she'd been sitting too close to the water and almost paid a visit to the fishes. Blinking a little, she turned back to thank the person who'd warned her, but he was already walking away.
"Thank you!" she called after him. He waggled two fingers in the air, giving a mocking salute as he walked away, his back towards her.
What in... Her eyebrows creased. Gratitude gave way to chagrin. He probably thought she was some drunk white girl. Some nerve, that Asian kid...
My mouth by then like cardboard seemed to slip straight through my head
So we crash-dived straightway quickly and attacked the ocean bed
"Hey!" she called, suddenly angry. She had to hurry though - his silhouette was quickly fading into the chaos, and if she hesitated, she'd lose him. "Hey! Wait!"
V.
Koyuki sighed, ambling his way through the crowd. What was I thinking?...
There had been something about that blonde girl. He wasn't totally sure what it was, but while she'd seemed all ditzy and giggly and more than a little irritating, there had been something else. It may have been in the sad set of her eyes that her makeup couldn't hide, or something in the way she held herself. Still, the look in her eyes when she'd stared at the sky mirrored how he was feeling, and that... scared him.
He'd felt a sudden rush of some indefinable emotion, and he was suddenly afraid. He couldn't be sure why he needed to walk away from her but he knew that he had to. He had to walk away. Something would happen if he'd stayed, and he was terrified.
And so it was later, as the miller told his tale...
"Hey! Wait!"
Someone grabbed him by the arm and spun him around too quickly. Her luminous jade green eyes glared at him, made radiant by the furrowed brow and the strange, avian patterns that covered half her face.
Again, that wave of that same uncertain emotion; so strong that he was almost unable to breathe, let alone say anything as he stared helplessly back.
VI.
Whatever she thought she'd wanted to say evaporated. It wasn't that he was drop-dead handsome, or had irresistible charisma - far from it, in fact. He was plain, bookish and unkempt.
Something in his eyes caught her. Despair, forlorn betrayal, frustration, a solemn sorrow - it was almost like staring into a mirror. And yet, there was more - introspection and self-blame and self-doubt, they resonated with hers. Instant recognition flared along with a strange, intense bond. It seemed a part of her soul that she'd had never known had been missing had found its way back.
And despite the fact that this was probably the first time they'd laid eyes on each other, she knew that he felt the same.
... that her face, at first just ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale.
Her hand, unbidden, cupped his cheek. He wrapped her hand in his own.
They weren't sure how long they stood there, whole conversations exchanged in the space of moments. Around them, the world swirled. They were helpless, hands touching and souls intertwined.
A sudden roar jolted them back to reality, and they remembered to breathe. The crowd around them hollered its approval as the three central floats burst open.
Amidst glaring pyrotechnics and confetti, the members of MUSE emerged singly from each float and made their way through corridors lined with security guards. They converged on a stage that rose through a concealed trapdoor, as columns of speakers slid skywards and engaged.
The opening bars of Plug In Baby shrieked out over over the crowd's screams, fireworks filled the air in time with Bellamy's breathy, plaintive singing.
The noise barely registered as they faced each other, all embarrassed smiles and awkward glances.
Hesitantly, he cleared his throated and croaked his name. Despite the deafening wall of sound, somehow, he was certain she'd heard him.
A small, shy smile blossoming on her face, she replied in kind.
Love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
- Iris Murdoch (1919-1999)
the end
Notes: Apologies and credits to Procol Harum for the use of the lyrics of 'A Whiter Shade of Pale']