Porcelain

09

Erik awaited in the alleyway opposite to Fleurette's house. He watched as two men exited and walked down the street, they were both idly talking to each other. Moving his eyes from watching them he looked up at the house again. From a window Fleurette could clearly be seen trying to talk to her father. He seemingly wasn't listening or was point blank ignoring her. It angered him slightly when the glass Lucien was holding got slammed down on a table which could not be seen and he turned and narrowed his eyes at his daughter. Fleurette turned quickly and could soon be spotted running out of the house and across the street. She stopped in front of the alleyway and put a hand over her heart and looked at the building she just fled from.

"Are you alright?" He asked, Fleurette visibly jumped and turned to look at him. She shook her head slowly and walked more in his direction. The last thing Erik truly thought to happen was for her to clutch onto him and cry. "What did he do?" He asked deadly serious while looking down at her and then to the house. Lucien could still be seen, only now he'd taken to abandoning drinking from a cup and thought it better to drink straight from a bottle.

Slowly Fleurette looked up at him, a thin trail of blood flowed from her bottom lip. Erik frowned even more and put his hands on her shoulders. "Erik? Erik!" Fleurette said quietly and then exclaimed his name as he walked briskly towards the exit of the alleyway. The only reason he stopped was because she had clutched onto his arm tightly. He turned and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "You cannot harm him." She whispered, "Hurting him because he's hurt me makes you no better than him." Fleurette looked down at the ground. "Please can we just go home...please?"

"Yes," Erik answered while putting a hand on her shoulder and turning in the direction of the opera house.

The journey back was quicker than what it was going to her home. It seemed to take no time at all, in truth it was like a tense, yet sad cloud hung above them. Or more over Fleurette, she naturally was shaken and upset from this whole situation. She was also silent, the most silent Erik had ever seen her be, it was weird. It was very bizarre to see the often lively redhead so downtrodden, lost within herself and her thoughts.

"I think it is not wise for you to still be up. You should really rest." Erik said while stopping Fleurette from walking off towards the roof. She shivered and even let out a sneeze. She clearly had ideas about where she wished to go when they returned home. Erik didn't agree.

"I told you I cannot sleep even when I try to." She said while turning to look at him. "I may go and lay down but I will be awake for many hours."

"At your house you tried to play the piano, you can play?" Erik questioned it intrigued him to know that the woman in front of him was not only a talented dancer but perhaps a talented musician as well.

"You watched that?"

"Yes."

"I can play of sorts. I would not say I am good at it." Fleurette said simply. "Although that's surprising considering my father is a musician. I have to admit though he did not nurture Eleanor or my interest in the music trade."

"That is a waste." Erik said honestly and looked down at the floor. "Come with me," he said seriously while turning on his heels and walking off. Fleurette looked at him confused, "Follow me, Fleurette," he held a hand out to her. Giving him a sceptical look she reached out and held onto his hand. She let out a startled yelp when he pulled her to walk quickly after him.

"Where are we going?"

"To my home."

"But I thought the whole opera house was your home?"

"It is. But much like you the building is my home but there is one part which is distinctly my space, my real home." Erik explained and quickly glanced at her. Fleurette nodded understanding his words. The only place in her home where she truly felt at peace and at home, was her room.