A/N: Okay, no freaking out, people, I didn't start yet another story although I still have 2 in progress. No, this one is actually FINISHED already, woot!! I started writing this in 2005 for Ryuu Angel's bday and it took me more than a year to finish it ::bursts into tears:: I'm still so sorry. So aye, this so totally is Ryuu's story and it's been floating around my hard drive for more than a year now. She just recently asked me yet again why I wouldn't upload it. So, here I am :) I'm gonna upload the whole story at once, so no waiting around for other chapters, this is it!
DISCLAIMER:
I don't own the song "Air on a G String", it's Bach's.
The lyrics I put in there are from the song "Life and Love and Why" by Switchfoot and I don't own it.
Furthermore, I don't own the expression "tie-him-to-the-bed good looks", it's by Meg Cabbot and I shamelessly stole it coz I think it's great :)
That's all I have to say
Dariel
------------------------------ Dedicated to Ryuu Angel-------------------------------
::Air on a G String::
One. Curtain falls
Life and love and why
Child, adult, then die
All of your hoping
And all of your searching
For what?
"Where is he?"
The words cut like a knife through the melody of La Traviata, quick and violent. Three heads turned away, three pairs of eyes avoiding a blazing green gaze.
Enthusiastic applause erupted twelve meters beneath after the last tunes of an extract of the opera had faded in the expanse of the opera hall. The noise of six hundred pairs of hands clapping was breaking against the marble walls like waves against a cliff, throwing a multiple echo back onto the stage.
She stood on a balcony at the opposite wall of the stage above three stories of galleries, humming spotlights surrounding her. The silken fabric of her pale green dress rustled softly when she began pacing, the tiny pearls that were weaved into the garment glistening like raindrops on a meadow. Receiving no answer, the young woman threw her hands in the air with a groan.
"We should have cancelled the performance!" She waved a slim, silver-sparkling transverse flute about, her stilettos clicking impatiently over the parquet floor. "We should have just cancelled it! Why didn't we cancel it, Yukari?"
"Hitomi, do me a favour..." The tallest of the three women around her finally moved and reached out a hand to grasp the flute. She exhaled deeply. "Do me a favour and do not wave it around. It's too expensive to smash it in a fit of frustration, you aren't a rock star. Please, just calm down."
"I am calm!" Hitomi exploded and let go of the expensive instrument, stalking to a marble parapet. Red and white were dancing in an intimate embrace on its surface, melting into rosé that was stretching tantalizingly across the walls of the opera.
Yukari cradled the flute to her chest as if it was a baby and closed her brown eyes briefly in relief. "Hitomi..." she sighed but was silenced by a gruff gesture.
"Tell me again why I'm doing this." Hitomi leaned on the parapet, peering at the hall beneath. "Why am I still keeping up with this masquerade? Why am I smiling into the cameras although I want to retch? Why am I lying for him instead of simply canceling this bloody concert?"
"Bloody sold out concert," Yukari stated dryly when she reached Hitomi's side and brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. Every seat was occupied. Black suits were alternating with dresses in every colour possible, golden embroidery and prohibitive jewelry twinkling in the bright light that illuminated the hall. "You know there would have been questions. Lots of questions."
Hitomi ran a hand through her short hair, loosening some of the blossoms that were attached with clips to honey-blond strands. "Look at them, Yukari. They came to see Allen and me and not me and a stranger who is, to top it all, late."
Some spotlights around them switched off. A slight bustle arose when the engineers directed the fingers of light at the single man who stood now on the stage, announcing the next artist with a booming voice. Shadows were pierced and chased off the curtain that was perfectly draped at both sides of the gigantic arc, polished marble reflecting the light like a mirror.
"You know that it was hard to find someone to replace Allen today." Yukari ran her thumb along the smooth surface of the flute, her intelligent brown eyes watching Hitomi intensely.
Her mask was perfect, a smile never failing to fool the best reporter and make-up covering the bags under her eyes. Traces of sadness were only lurking in the depths of her green orbs, unaffected by her smiles, and at the corners of her lips, hidden to the world, invisible to those who didn't know where to look.
"I know," she murmured and rested her chin in her palm, strands she had loosened now brushing over her cheeks.
"And they didn't only come to see you, Hitomi. It's a benefit concert after all. They also came to see her, for example." Yukari pointed at the stage where now a short woman in a red dress stood, bathing in applause. "So stop whining like a baby."
Hitomi rolled her eyes. "Thanks for your blunt honesty."
A brief grin rushed across the redhead's lips. "You're welcome, of course." Turning to her two assistants, she dismissed them with a curt nod of her head and turned back to Hitomi. Yukari completely ignored the questioning look she was getting. "Did you manage to call your mom, yesterday?"
Hitomi narrowed her eyes. "You're trying to digress from the topic. And not very professionally if I may say so. I'm ashamed, Yukari."
She shrugged nonchalantly. "So what? Sue me if it makes you feel better but I remind you to consider that my boyfriend is one of the best lawyers in Asturia and you'd lose, a hundred percent."
"And I remind you to consider that Amano is my lawyer and you only met him because of me," Hitomi retorted with a smug smirk, a playful spark flashing across her eyes, something that had become rare.
"Okay okay, Cupid." Yukari smoothed her black costume casually before crossing her arms in front of her chest and raising a brow. "Well?"
Hitomi averted her eyes quickly, shining lips briefly pressed to a thin line. "No, I didn't call her. It was pretty hectic and I just...I just..."
"Hitomi..."
Her fists clenched. "I don't want to tell her, okay?!" Angry green eyes focused on Yukari but she didn't budge, Hitomi's outbursts slowly but alarmingly turning into something usual. "I don't want to see her shocked expression, I don't want to see the disappointment and sadness. I don't want to explain everything to her. I don't feel like justifying myself again! Satisfied?!"
"No, coward," Yukari replied dryly and Hitomi's delicate brows knitted even more. "You don't make it better, you know? The longer you refuse telling her, the more you'll hurt her. You're lying to her, Hitomi."
"No, I'm just not telling the whole truth." She turned away with a huff like a pouting twelve-year-old, cheeks flushed.
Yukari shook her head softly and was just about to open her mouth when Hitomi spoke up again. "When is my turn?"
"About a quarter of an hour." The redhead watched Hitomi's shoulders slump. "You're already the last act so I simply cannot postpone you anymore. But maybe I can talk Voris into building a bit of suspense when introducing you. We could make it to half an hour."
"What if he doesn't arrive until then?"
She bit her lip and looked down at the innumerable heads. Honestly, this was a question she had tried to ignore for these last two hours although it had more felt like she was trying to ignore an air hammer; simply impossible.
It was when the noise of thundering footsteps suddenly reached them from the staircase and both women turned expectantly to the door leading onto the balcony, brows raised.
A second later, one of Yukari's assistants appeared in the doorframe, panting. "He's here, Ms. Uchida."
Hitomi gave Yukari a dark look and without a word, she dashed past the exhausted woman who was leaning against the door. She was hardly able to jump out of the way.
"Hitomi, wait!" Yukari called desperately and followed the noise of clicking footsteps down the staircase. "Ripping his head off isn't a good idea, really! Think of all the blood on the expensive floor! And the curtains! As your manager I forbid you to commit murder!"
She was too angry to smile about her friend's comment and continued her way down the stairs, holding up her dress so she wouldn't stumble. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, she passed by the wardrobe which was filled to the brim with jackets and coats and ran down the hallway that led to the artists' rooms.
He was standing with his back to her, talking to Yukari's second assistant, Clarisse Neville, and Voris Mendeleev, the host of the concert whose polished bald head she saw glowing from behind broad shoulders. Slowing down, she let go of her dress and smoothed down her hair, burning holes into the stranger's back with her eyes.
"Ms Kanzaki!" Clarisse's eyes widened when she spotted the young woman approaching and the dark-haired man in the black suit turned slowly around.
She stood directly behind him. Darkened lashes framed expressive green eyes that were alight with a fire that could have burned him on the spot. Her creamy skin was glowing, her jaw was set, her shoulders squared and her hands fisted at her sides. Her entire being was radiating anger. And he knew it was because of him.
"You're late!" He didn't even blink an eye at her barked words. His eyes. They unnerved her. They were the colour of an old red wine, dark and clear, watching her calmly but with a shameless and frank intensity that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. And she didn't like it one bit.
He ran a hand through his hair, pitch-black strands damp from snow. "I know and I'm very sorry." His voice was deep and melodic, slightly rough and surprisingly pleasant to her ears which were actually used to Vivaldi and Mozart.
She snorted and crossed her arms in front of her chest, glaring him down. It needed more than beautiful eyes to make her forgive and there was no way in hell she would give in to him. An irritated flush tinted her cheeks and her seething gaze made the last snowflakes melt on his shoulders, soaking his suit.
"Good for you but did you look at the time? There isn't even one minute left for us to rehearse! I really hope for you to have a good explanation! I don't pay you all the money for being late!"
"Miss Kanzaki," Voris interfered and stepped between them, shielding the young man from her acid stare with his huge body. His thick brows were narrowed and his white beard was a piece of art as usual. "I'd suggest you go..."
"Voris, I'm here!" Yukari's faint voice interrupted him and she joined the small group moments later, breathing quickly with her hand on her chest. "I'm here."
The tall man nodded, his broad chest almost tearing the suit apart when he inhaled deeply. "Good." Pointing on a sheet of paper with a biro, he fixed Hitomi with wise eyes. "I have to be on the stage in five minutes which means that the two of you have to be out in fifteen. I'd say you go warm up a bit, Ms Kanzaki, and I'll bring Mr. Fanel to Lillian to get him fixed up a bit."
Yukari grabbed Hitomi's arm who was glaring daggers at her belated partner. "Alright."
Van Fanel didn't take his eyes off of her. He shifted his violin case to his other hand when she suddenly wrested her arm out of the grasp it was in and brushed past him, her eyes emitting sparks. The redhead gave him an apologetic smile and rushed after the diva in pale green.
Ten minutes later, Hitomi could be found to the left corner of the stage, listening to Voris announcing her and Van Fanel. He was explaining that Allen Schezar, Ms Kanzaki's husband and partner of four years, couldn't attend because of an accident in which he broke his right arm.
Hitomi wanted to laugh out loud about the irony of it all but feared she would end up crying her eyes out. And it wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth it.
Her breathing was slowly but unstoppably growing heavier, her palms damp and the flute in her hands shaking. Damn that stupid stage fright.
She was on the stage for five years now and had overcome the nauseating feeling after the second year. She was always calm, always in control of herself. She had played in a full stadium, ten thousands of people listening to her and though she had been completely at ease. And yet, this little performance of hardly fifteen minutes was pushing her to the very edge of a nervous breakdown.
Maybe it was because of all the stress she had undergone during these last months. That she had learned; she wasn't half as tough as she always pretended to be. She was a stalk of reed that had been bent by the wind for too long, not broken but tired and limp, too weak to stand up. The latest events had affected her more than she wanted to admit. She needed to relax. She needed a nice holiday on a lonely island with nobody asking her stupid questions and making stupid demands.
"Just imagine they're naked." The lazy drawl was like a stone thrown into the lake of her thoughts, causing concentric circles on the surface. Turning her head slightly, she gave Van a blank look. "Your stage fright, I mean."
"I didn't ask for your help." She directed her gaze back to the stage and tightened her grasp on the flute to stop her hands from shaking. "And besides, I cannot see anybody when standing on the stage for the spotlight is so annoyingly bright and therefore it doesn't help the slightest bit to imagine them naked."
She didn't see the smile that clumsily tugged at the corners of his mouth, as if he wasn't used to it. It was gone when she almost reluctantly shifted her gaze so she could watch him out of the corners of her eyes.
He seemed to be born into the suit, the black garment harmonizing with his unruly dark hair and the crisp, white shirt he wore underneath his jacket contrasting perfectly with his tanned skin. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, long and slender violinist fingers holding the wooden instrument almost tenderly. There was an air of unconscious confidence around him, his casual stance and unreadable features radiating pride but in a way that wasn't the least bit persistent.
It was when he turned his head to the side and caught her gaze, red jasper melting into green jade. Flames sprang to her cheeks immediately and she averted her eyes, her whole body rigid with embarrassment.
"Our cue." Van offered her his arm and she took it hesitantly, avoiding to look at him and cursing herself everything under the sun. The cue. She hadn't heard anything.
Light brighter than the sun blinded her the moment he led her onto the stage and she fought the urge to shield her eyes with one hand. She had learned that nobody noticed when she squinted her eyes like she was short-sighted but everybody saw when she waved her hand about like a maniac. Experience was the magic word. Embarrassing experience.
A wide smile parted her lips when Voris took her hand and placed a light kiss on the back of her hand, leaving the stage with a deep bow. She inhaled deeply and cast a quick glance at the audience, assuming six hundred pairs of eyes trained on her. The members of the orchestra had put down their instruments, watching the two of them expectantly as well.
Let the show begin.
Raising the flute to her mouth and pressing it against her lips, Hitomi looked up at Van. The violin resting on his shoulder and the bow raised, he gave her a curt nod, reflections of light dancing over the polished wood of the instrument. She would begin.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. She always closed her eyes, shutting out the light and the people and her wildly beating heart, concentrating on only her music. It would calm her. It always did.
The silence in the hall was tangible, as was the anticipation. It was like a dewdrop hanging at the tip of a leaf, just about to fall down, stretching towards the ground and yet unable to reach it.
The first tune slowly unfolded and the drop splashed on the ground.
They were quiet at first, shyly rising into the air before becoming more self-conscious and dancing weightlessly, growing louder and capturing her every fiber. She could feel it in her toes, this familiar tingling feeling that was washing through her every time she played the flute.
The tunes were floating around her, her fingers chasing them along the scale. She was lost in the music, letting it rock her body softly back and forth.
And then, she heard it. Fragile, intertwining with the melody she was spinning like fingers of a lover; the whisper of a violin.
She had feared they wouldn't fit, had feared the tunes would clash, destroying the perfection and elegance of the piece. She hadn't known what he was capable of, hadn't known if he was able to play with someone else and she was relived to hear that he was. It was as if the melodies were talking to each other, chatting animatedly, sometimes arguing, sometimes agreeing, in a language everybody understood.
When his solo started, she did what she rarely did during a piece; she opened her eyes. She simply wasn't able to resist, the melody so beautiful, luring her, tempting her with the promise of something precious, something unique.
And never had she seen something that peaceful. His eyes were closed, dark lashes resting calmly on tanned cheeks with strands of pitch-black hair grazing his skin. She studied his profile, his straight nose and full lips sharply outlined by the intense light that illuminated the stage. And although he was in deep concentration, he looked completely relaxed, not the slightest crease distorting his features. As if he was sleeping. And yet she could feel tenseness in his body that resembled the one of the strings of his violin.
She thought of Allen. He was always looking as if he was fighting a battle, his features grim with his jaw clenched and his forehead creased. It was nothing like the stranger beside her.
Hitomi had heard the piece a hundred times, had heard it on various instruments, played by various people. But it had never sounded like this. Never this flawless, never this perfect.
Never this beautiful.
And as if he had noticed her stare, he opened his eyes, clear burgundy orbs looking directly at her. It was like breaking through the surface of a sea and taking a deep breath. Fresh air was filling her lungs with the gasp that passed her lips after she had held her breath for so long.
He reminded her of something. It was something about him, something in his music, something in his eyes that seemed familiar but she couldn't put her finger on it, couldn't align it, couldn't name it. It was as if she had forgotten something but for the life of her couldn't remember what it was.
Throughout their whole performance she kept watching him, glancing at him out of the corners of her eyes. It was like trying to remember the name that belonged to a face, the spice that belonged to a scent, the piece that belonged to a melody. But she seemed to turn blind and deaf whenever she was close to remember, the images slipping from her grasp.
She was still in a daze when the melody faded and applause broke against the stage, washing over her like a tidal wave upon the shore.
Every artist who had taken part in the concert was gathering on the stage for a final thank you. Hitomi heard Voris trying to drown the rising level of noise, three women of the Carmina Burana choir pushing between her and Van, separating them. Voris's voice came booming through the loudspeakers and the applause increased once more, the people in the auditorium standing. She felt a bouquet being pressed into her hands. Photoflashes lighted up in the first row.
She felt herself searching for Van in the crowd. He was already gone.
After the chaos of everybody leaving the stage and entering the backstage area had slightly settled down, Hitomi had literally stumbled into a conversation with Caspar Zongi, a famous tenor.
Hectic bustle surrounded her, people rushing past her, leaving pieces of conversations in their wake. The stage had to be cleaned, jackets had to be handed out, champagne served and a party observed. She felt like stuck in the center of a bee hive, a continuous humming and buzzing filling her ears.
The tall man with the expressive eyes placed a quick kiss on her hand and left with a goodbye and an apologetic smile, mingling with the people that crowded around them. Hitomi had met him during her second year on stage and had been enchanted by him the moment he had aimed his charming smile at her. She sighed.
She didn't feel like attending the party that went with the concert. She had already told Yukari about her plans for the night; a long hot bath in her hotel room and a good book. The young woman smiled to herself and her green eyes absently scanned the place. So many people with so many different plans for the night. Some of them would have to stay up until in the morning, serving expensive drinks and expensive hors d'oeuvres other ones would consume all that was served.
Holding the explosion of colours that was her bouquet to her chest, Hitomi fought her way through the chaos ruling backstage, the noise fading with every step she took. The hallway that led to the changing rooms was surprisingly empty, the artists probably still out talking. Her stilettos were clicking over the floor, the echo bouncing off the walls. She didn't come to even reach her door.
A hand on her shoulder suddenly stopped her and forced her around. Feeling the wall in her back, a terrified yelp died on her lips and she instinctively began to struggle.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed in surprise when she looked up and found familiar blue eyes grinning at her. Familiar but unwelcome blue eyes. "Are you crazy?! What if somebody saw you?"
Allen Schezar grinned lazily. "Relax, I've got everything under control." He held up his right arm which was in a cast and she gave him a suspicious look, tightening the grip on the bouquet. "Just came to check that you didn't do anything stupid."
"Oh, don't worry about that." Hitomi rolled her eyes and tried to brush past him but he simply blocked her way and took a provoking step towards her. She rewarded him with an icy glare. "I want to stage everything quietly just as much as you do."
His grin widened and he placed both hands beside her head, cornering her. "But you were so angry on the phone, baby. You really turned me on there."
"You're disgusting," she spat and her anger fought down the panic that threatened to rise in her throat. Not again. She would never give in to him again. Ever.
"And you're lying."
Without blinking an eye, Hitomi returned his stare. His long, blond hair was tamed in a low ponytail, a few escaped strands grazing his perfect cheeks. His lips twisted in a sneer and he raised a brow when he leaned closer, crushing the bouquet, but she didn't budge. When there was one thing she didn't let anybody touch, it was her dignity. No chauvinistic pig with a too big ego would ever have her crouching.
"Come any closer and you won't be able to make any woman happy for a long time." Her voice was void any emotion, chilling like a winter breeze but he only smirked.
"Dangerous, aren't we?"
"The lady isn't enjoying your company."
Allen's head slowly turned to the direction the familiar voice had come from, blond brows knitting. "Ah, I see you found yourself a new toy." He inspected the young man a few meters down the hallway shamelessly from head to toe, his eyes staying on the violin case. "And a violinist again. Congratulations."
"Allen..." Hitomi warned, holding Van's indiscernible but intense gaze.
"Was about time." Allen turned back to her, completely ignoring Van. "You really need to get laid, peach. You're intolerably bitchy lately."
Surprising her by leaning quickly down, he caught her lips in a kiss. Hitomi's eyes widened and she violently shoved him away after getting over the shock, nausea rising in her throat.
"I'll call you." She gave him a look that was pure venom in reply.
Bowing deeply and completely unimpressed, Allen turned to face Van and their gazes clashed like swords. Both men were scrutinizing each other like lions, their looks hard and appraising. A smile crossed Allen's lips and giving Van one last look, he passed him by.
"His arm worked pretty good for being broken," Van stated when the other man had rounded the corner and looked at Hitomi in a way that made her feel ashamed of herself, ashamed of what he had witnessed. "You shouldn't let him threat you like that even if he's your husband."
"Don't talk about things you don't know a thing about." She was gripping the bouquet so hard her knuckles turned white.
"Trouble in paradise?" The question was so innocent she wanted to laugh.
"Paradise broken." And suddenly she felt like letting it all out. She was sick of swallowing it all. She was sick of putting on this stupid fake smile that seemed to supply poison to her blood like an IV, slowly, continuously, unstoppably, infecting her entire system with a crawling disease that was able to destroy her without her noticing; bitterness. "We are halfway through our divorce."
She raised her gaze when he didn't reply. "What? Surprised?" An icy smile froze her lips, chapping them. "Don't tell me you didn't know. All that glitters is not gold."
Van was watching her calmly, stoically, not a single emotion displayed on his features. He hadn't known she was crumbling behind that mask she wore.
"And oh, you can also tell the press that my soon-to-be-ex-husband is rather spending his time on the Maledives with his latest affair than attending a benefit concert."
She was about to turn around, to leave him, ready to cry but his warm voice stopped her. "Why?"
Why couldn't he be gloating? Why couldn't he be laughing at her? His lack of understanding made her feel as if it wasn't right what she did, as if everything was her own fault. "Why what?"
"Why pretending?"
Hitomi turned her head slightly, hesitating a moment before she looked at him over her shoulder. Coldness had overcome her eyes and it startled him. "The music enchants the people but the Perfect Couple brings the money."
She shrugged indifferently and turned around, the sound of her footsteps fading when she walked down the hallway and her dress twinkling as if it was sprinkled with stars. A door opened and two staff members pulled a mobile wardrobe out of a room nearby, innumerable garments hiding her from his view. When they cleared the hallway again, she was gone.
Van Fanel put up the collar of his jacket and put his violin case in a backpack before leaving the opera through a side exit, stepping out into the snow storm that was still reigning the night in Daedalus. Snowflakes were dancing around his form to an inaudible melody, a dim lamp above the door illuminating their stage. The wind was whispering in his ears, playing with his hair and yanking at his jacket.
Passing by the main entrance, he looked up at the portal where people were seeking shelter from the snow, their conversations scattered by the wind. Floodlights were throwing a pale light against the Doric pillars that carried the stone canopy, the majestic building looking like taken from another time.
And as quietly as he had come he disappeared. Only a stony angel standing on the gable of the opera was watching with blind eyes when he was swallowed by the darkness that was lurking beyond the street lamps.
Snowflakes began to fill his footprints.
Ask me for what am I living
Or what gives me strength
That I'm willing to die for