Leurdhavemerky

After playing sweat-soaked on a small stage, you trudged to the green room on tired feet. Chugging from your lukewarm water bottle, your chest heaved to take in as much stuffy air as your nose could handle.

The band took the next few minutes to drink up, wipe drenched faces, and come down from the performance high. Then it came time to pack up in exhausted silence.

The exiting crowd bottle-necked themselves out of the venue's front doors like usual. Their buzzing died down slowly. When all affairs were in order, you twisted the back door's flimsy handle and let yourself out, bandmates following close behind.

The chilly air took you by surprise, a delicious sting that cooled your body. It was crisp, a stark contrast to the smell of smoke and sweat that lingered on the bus.

The smell of the bus. Ew.

No amount of perfume, cologne, or Glade could change the fact that you lived with four kind-of-nasty men, as much as you hoped it would. It was something you'd have to get used to, it being the start of the tour and all.

Gerard and Frank's smoke had to be the worst of all the unpleasant scents you'd been exposed to recently. It made you cough, it gave you headaches, and worst of all, it stuck to your belongings. Now you had to smell like the cat's ass too.

You thought about this as you spread out on the black leather compact couch in the middle of the bus. That's when you noticed Gerard on the other side of the small coffee table about two feet away from you. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pinching a cigarette and sliding it out of the pack.

Maybe now would be a good time to talk about smoking-on-the-bus protocol. Especially so it wouldn't become a routine for the three whole months you'd be trapped in here.

"Hey, Gerard, can we talk?" You asked, voice faltering from the exertion and nerves.

"Yeah? S'the matter?" It seemed like he was tired and stressed about something. Uh oh. Well, at this point it's too late to back out.

"I understand you just wanna relax now, but would you mind having your cig outside? The smoke... like... messes with me."

He shifts his weight, keeping his eyes on you quizzically. Then he drew a breath and spoke.

"It's way cold out, and the walk to the bus was a bitch. And my legs are tired. Just open a window or somethin'."

"Come on, it's gonna get on my clothes. Plus, I don't really want the secondhand smoke, y'know?"

"A window'd fix that"

"Yeah but they're too small."

"N' you're too picky."

You pursed your lips, getting a little frustrated. Gerard could get in a mood sometimes, and the ego boost from being a frontman didn't help.

"Seriously, it's gonna bother me the whole tour. For my health, even. Breathing that while I sleep? I mean- can't you at least understand where I'm coming from?"

He ignored your question and laced his hands behind his head, unlit cigarette in between his left index and middle finger.

"Come on, the guys are cool with it. You're the only one who makes a big deal outta this kinda crap." He paused, then made a squinty face at you, like he had decided it was worth it to start some shit. The tone in Gerard's voice got a bit sharper as he added, "Y'know, you’ve been pissin’ me off lately. So for all I care, you can sleep outside."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a surprised Mikey peek his head up from his console. You made eye contact with him for a split second before he suddenly regained interest in the game. Convenient.

There was a significant rustle from Ray's bunk and Frank seemed to be eavesdropping from the bathroom, half-used makeup wipe in hand.

You turned your attention back to Gerard, gripping the arm of the couch a little harder, pissed that he was standing above you like he had all the authority.

You got harsher. He was playing rough, so you were going to start matching him. "You're willing to lose your drummer after the fourth tour date. Do you realize how stupid that sounds? You can smoke outside, but I can't sleep outside!"

Gerard snapped back immediately. "How 'bout I getcha a nice warm blanket and you can make yourself at home out there?"

"Fuck. You," you hissed through gritted teeth.

"Seriously, you're gonna make me stand out in the cold? Everything's a problem with you."

"You're the one making this a problem. If you'd have just dealt with it instead of arguing with me, you might've finished your smoke by now."

Gerard pointed his cigarette at you and opened his mouth to speak, but approaching footsteps made his head turn.

Ray had gotten out of bed. He placed a hand on Gerard's shoulder. "Look man, it's not that big of a deal just, like-"

"Exactly, cool it the fuck down Sarg," you said, cutting Ray off. Backup was appreciated, but this was between you and Gerard.

"Sounds like he's gonna light it the fuck up!" Frank's voice echoed from the bathroom, laughing unbothered.

You scowled in his direction, following the action with a sigh and a weak attempt to calm down. You drew in a deep breath before speaking again, the nasty smoke smell still hanging in the air from before the show.

"Gerard, it's really about the whole principle of the thing. Like I know it sounds sappy and shit, but like, we're all supposed to work together, and make some sacrifices. I sacrifice sleeping next to your rank ass every night, so the least you can do is go outside for a few minutes."

Annoyed, Gerard pushed Ray's hand off, leaving it free for Ray to run through his curly hair as he retreated toward the bathroom.

"C'mon Frank, I gotta piss man."

Gerard stared off and shook his head. When Ray was gone, his eyes jumped fiercely back to you.

"You're difficult. I work hard as fuck to make this whole thing happen and all I wanna do is relax. Give me a goddam break, kay? If you're all about sacrifices, make one for me."

You pause, taking in his words. The two of you come to a short standstill. Eyes threatening to shut from post-performance exhaustion, you debate whether or not it's worth it to keep going.

No. Fuck this. Earlier, he said you could sleep outside. On the dirty concrete while the bus drove away. Fuck. This.

"Fine. I'm being annoying because I ‘won’t give you a break,’ and you're being annoying because you make the bus smell like shit. I get that. But for me, it's a health concern. I could get any number of conditions from being locked in here all day and you're too lazy to do anything about it." You made an angry ‘ugh’ sound and looked down, bouncing your leg to help with the tension. "For the five minutes it takes to smoke a cigarette."

Gerard blinked a few times, eyebrows up and eyes widened. His blood was clearly boiling.

“Of course you gotta pick a fight with me tonight. Right after the show, yeah? Do you want me to fuckin lose it? Cause I will! You wanna drive me crazy? Here’s crazy!” He threw his hands out and slammed them onto the coffee table. You flinched as it rattled, watching the vase of flowers spill out and drip off its edges. You’d never been this upset at each other before. You struggled to get air in your lungs, anger temporarily replaced with fear. 

Gerard picked the table up by the two legs closest to him and sent it flying toward the wall, wood splitting with an ugly rip and clattering against itself.

The instant that Frank heard the bang, he whipped his head around. Both Ray and Mikey ran frantically into the room like they were going to have to get Gerard off of you. With the sound so loud, they thought the table had hit you.

“Gerard!” Frank’s voice pierced from the bathroom. “What the hell is your problem? Fucking psycho! Quit it!” 

“Not ‘til prissy princess over here quits bitching!”

“Don’t you ever call me that again!” you yelled, standing up and pointing at him.

“Then don’t boss me around like one!”

"Fine! Fuck you!" You grabbed your jacket off the couch, not bothering to put it on as you started walking out. You stepped over the broken table and shards of glass. "You want me to sleep outside? Have fun in Philly without me, bitch."

"Oh yeah? Yeah?" Gerard screamed out the window. "You’re comin’ back. I know you are. I'll smoke a whole pack in your bunk while you're gone!"

"The way you're treating me, I think I'll be gone a lot more often!" You screeched back. "Hope it's worth your Marlboro's, cheap ass!"

In your anger you practically fell down the bus stairs, your pissed-off huff condensing as it hit the cold night air. All four of your bandmates’ muffled voices could be heard in the growing distance. It was an unintelligible blur, so you couldn’t tell if they were directed towards you or Gerard or both.

Not bothering to check if anyone was calling for you to come back, you placed your focus on making it over the bumps in the sidewalk. Cracked concrete made your shoes clack with every heavy step. Then came the breeze. You put on your jacket to protect yourself from the chill, fumbling the zipper with anger-shaken hands.

After receiving a light tap on the shoulder, Viktor was pulled out of his seemingly endless work. His gaze was weary and soft, silently communicating the moment’s intimacy.

"It's tomorrow already," you lamented, barely above a whisper. "I'd better head home."

Seeing you rise to your feet, Viktor let out a quiet sigh. He set his pen down and took your hand delicately.

"My dove must fly back to the nest, I see. To have been in your presence at all, I am an incredibly lucky man."

He closed his eyes and gave you quiet kisses, pressing his lips gently along the back of your hand.

"Please- don't sleep here tonight. You deserve a bed, Vik."

"My greatest wish is for rest, truly. Yet, if we desire progress, personal sacrifices will be... necessary."

"If that's what you think.”

Leaning in to give him a nightly good-bye kiss, you were surprised. The unexpected cold on his cheeks chilled your lips.

"I am absolutely determined. You know this."

"Stubborn." The word was part humor and part warning.

Viktor released your hand with a final squeeze.

Silence.

You looked down and grabbed your bag, starting for the door. Each step felt like a bed of nails- just digging and stabbing. Viktor's voice interrupted your uneasy journey.

"My love?"

You turned, feeling the hallway's frigid air seep in through the crack of the barely-opened door.

"To us mortal creatures, time shows no mercy."

"At least there's tomorrow, right Vik?"

Your footsteps stopped as you reached the closed lab doors.

One knock.

His eyes shot down to his chest as he hastily straightened his maroon tie.

Two knocks.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to fix it quick.

Three knocks.

Deep breath. Exhale. Stand up.

"Welcome, allow me to get the door."

Viktor took a short journey to the entrance of the lab. He nervously reached for the gold-plated door handle and stood back as you stepped in.

Your eyes moved along the room, making observations.

There was a large window with the geometric academy motif on the right wall, and numerous chalkboards and supply cabinets on the left. A controlled mess of gears littered the central table, with Viktor's half-deconstructed Hexclaw lying on it's side.

Finally, you acknowledged him with a warm smile, excited about your work-related excuse for being in the academy's most esteemed space.

"Thanks, that was kind."

You met Viktor's amber eyes, and he lingered there. He looked lost.

"Am I...interrupting your work?"

He remembered the pink haze, the joy fading as he stirred awake. Viktor blinked. This is real now, he thought. I must do something about it.

"Nonsense. What brings you to me?" he asks, shifting his gaze. The heat in his face would have burned him alive if he hadn't done that.

"My department is interested in using Hextools for a 'productivity boost.' The council said we'd need signed documents, though."

"I am surprised I was recommended for this. Shouldn't Jayce provide his signature?"

You bit the inside of your cheek.

"I figured," you chose words carefully, "but he isn't in the lab much, at least from what I've picked up on."

Viktor shifted his weight.

"Besides," you shrugged, "you're very approachable."

He nodded appreciatively, beginning to guide you across the lab. His pace was intentionally a little slower, as he hoped you would admire his gadgets.

Along the back wall were two desks, one covered in grand vases of flowers, among other gifts and congratulatory letters. The second was "decorated" with open notes and silvery tools.

The aftermath of Progress Day.

Viktor's grip tightened on his cane. You glanced at the colorful arrangements a few feet away, playfully rolling your eyes to ease the tension.

He gave a knowing look, and one side of his mouth came up into an easy smile.

Viktor pulled the chair from Jayce's desk and brought it close to his own.

"Have a seat, right beside my lovely trinkets," he teased, gesturing to scattered parts.

"Lovely trinkets," you reciprocated, studying the grooves of various coppery cogs.

Oh, that voice. What I would do to hear your song once again.

"Now, what papers do you have for me?"

You presented Viktor with four pages, and he reached for a pen. It was constructed beautifully, black with gold accents.

Skimming through the introductory paragraphs, he recognized these documents as standard Academy approval forms. Nothing out of the ordinary, besides the individual before him.

...sanction the use of the following...acknowledge that...safe for the use of employees...

He could feel you looking as he read. His head felt lighter by the second.

..in the event that...incredibly nervous- no, no! Keep reading!...trained to handle...tools of interest...I understand these terms and- finally!

Relieved, he twisted that pretty pen open.

"Should I know anything more?"

You shook your head.

With that, he copied his signature on the necessary pages. The beginning of the V curved, with it's main dip cutting fiercely. The other letters were inscribed with more care. For example, the dot embellishing his i formed a near perfect circle on each page.

"Unfortunate," you state, "that I don't have any other business for you."

Viktor slipped the pen into the shirt-pocket of his white vest.

He took a soft breath and asked, "why do you say that?"

"I'm curious about these inventions," you replied, turning to the open claw and the contraptions surrounding it.

Your eyes fell on him. He was close to burning again.

"Not to mention- I'm curious about the inventor."

With that statement, you had lit a sparkler from the roaring flames in Viktor's heart. His eyes lit up with a rare speed, and his wordless lips parted. The house, the honey. The dream came back to him once more, but this time, the torturous doubt was gone entirely.

You winked and snatched his nice pen from the shirt pocket, quickly replacing it with a pink rose from one of Jayce's silly bouquets.

With growing disbelief, Viktor's head whirled.

I am not invisible! I belong in the mirror!

You grabbed the signed papers from his desk, laughing lightheartedly. As you rushed away, that hard platform sound echoed satisfyingly off of the marble floors. It further shook Viktor's already scrambled thoughts.

----

A light pink haze clouded his vision, and his face felt feverishly hot. Viktor was vulnerable, standing alone in the living room of someone else's home. He couldn't see straight. It was all a bit blurry- a watercolor piece. He tried to speak, yet it felt as if his vocal chords were coated in thick honey.

An unidentifiable humming began, faintly at first. The subtle tune eased his nerves, and he was sure that he was safe, even in this house of mystery.

Viktor finally lifted his cane and began to wander slowly, suspecting that the rose-scented trail of pink fog he followed had something to do with his weary state.

Warm light spilled out of a small crack between the sides of a door and it's frame. The trail ended here, where the soothing humming grew prominent.

Viktor's hands instinctively opened the door, before his mind registered the action. The hinges creaked quietly, revealing the singer.

It was you, just out of a hot shower, small drops of water still clinging to your skin.

Viktor swallowed and his pupils dilated, shocked by his unintended intrusion. Through the warm steam left over from your shower, you hadn't noticed him, and you continued your sweet song, wrapping your heavenly body in a thin towel.

Was he invisible to you? He turned to the slightly steamy mirror, but the reflection that belonged to him was missing. He glanced back at the angel before him. With a soft gaze, he admired you, and opened his mouth, but only a light, desperate breath would come out.

----

He stirred awake, whispering your name longingly. Each sound left his lips slowly, passion-filled. Viktor tensed his grip on his cold pillow, coming out of the romantic trance. He groaned, realizing that his hands weren't tracing your features.

Something. Anything.