Classical

Wishful thinking

"Argh, Mama, Я не могу снова выступать," Giselle grumbled. 

Rome was seated in the empty hall, the same time as the day before. He could hear Giselle and her mother grumbling as they walked through the hallway. The Corps was practicing again, their shoes fluttering against the floor in the room to his left. 

"Giselle, Пожалуйста, еще раз," Maria responded. 

Rome didn't speak any Russian, he had grown up in France and thus, had never learned any of the Eastern languages. 

"Нет, я не могу сделать это снова," She cried.

"Жизель, хватит, еще раз, и все кончено. Вы можете двигаться дальше и прожить остаток своей жизни в мире," Maria responded. 

Giselle huffed but didn't respond. Maria walked away as Giselle opened the door to the studio, plastering a smile over her face. Rome started at her, knowing she was faking. 

"Giselle, are you alright?" he asked, coming toward her faster than last time. 

"Of course, what else would I be?" she replied, not quite meeting his gaze. 

"Giselle," he said, taking a hand to her chin and softly pushing her head up; her gaze meeting his.

Her eyes were teary and dull, nothing like they had been yesterday. She pushed his hand away and moved to the barre by the window. She ran through her feet, pushing over her box until it folded. These shoes appeared more tattered than the others had. They were stained and the ribbons were beginning to fray at the edges. Rome watched as she ran through them. He leaned against the wall, his gaze dropping to her ever-moving feet. 

"My life," she breathed. 

He looked up at her face, her gaze was forward, and she was as still as stone, upon releve in second. Her tutu fell below her knees, making her look somewhat like a fairy. 

"My whole life," her voice trembled. 

Rome feared to move, in case she returned to her normal state before he had the truth. She had stopped talking, her breaths were shallow but audible. They were unsteady and shallow. Her entire chest trembled and she stood. She eventually lowered into first. Her gaze remained fixed to the window that overlooked the city. She shuddered and collapsed to the floor, Rome didn't hesitate to move this time, he sat beside her and reached out to her. She was curled on the ground, her arm over her head. Her shoulders move up and down quickly, her breaths were delayed and broken. A small whimpering sound came out of her. 

"Giselle, please talk to me," he pleaded with her. 

She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes and cascading down her cheeks. He held onto her arm, grounding her to him. She wrapped her arms around her waist tightly, slowly sitting up.

"My whole life, I was trained to dance, but I can't continue, I just can't," she trembled. "She wants me to, but I just can't do it," 

"Who wants you to?" Rome asked, tilting his head slightly.

"My mother," Giselle answered. 

Rome nodded in understanding. 

"She wants me to perform again but I just can't do it anymore," she sobbed.

Rome ran a soothing hand along her back, trying to keep her somewhat content. Maria had been the best of the best, of course, this pressure would carry onto her daughter. Giselle moved quickly, near dragging him off the floor as she stood. She wiped her tears and turned back to the barre and worked quickly. Rome was almost shocked at how quickly she recovered, and how she didn't speak a single word after. 

He moved back to the piano and began playing, it was melancholic and slow. He was taken away as he played, so much so he hadn't noticed Giselle had stopped dancing and was watching him. She had never seen a pianist so entranced in their music. She felt so compelled to watch him, it was like he told a story while playing. When he finished, she swore she saw a tear slip down his cheek. She sat on the floor of the studio, watching him. Her breaths were slow and eased as she was taken away by his performance. 

"Did you ever play at the Barocene?" Giselle asked. 

Rome's hands stopped, she thought he was good enough to play at the Barocene? He turned to look at her, her gaze was transfixed on him, every movement from him, she noted. The Barocene was the most prestigious theatre, only the best of the best were permitted to play in it. Even then, it was rarely ever performed in, money was the ticket into it. That was probably why Rome had never even set foot in it. He had enough money to live comfortably, but not easily. To play in the Barocene would mean Rome would work until the day he died. The last time the Barocene was performed in, was the swansong of Maria Platz, and that had been nearly 20 years ago. 

"Never had the money to even set foot in it," he replied. 

"I should take you there someday, you would love it, if only for the music," she hummed. 

"I'm sure it would be lovely, but no need," he replied. 

"One day, you will set foot in the Barocene, if it is the last thing I can ever do," she told him, a smile plastered on her face. 

Rome laughed quietly, he doubted he would ever set foot in the Barocene, her promise to get him in was weak at best to change his mind. She laughed with him, understanding he doubted her promise. The clock chimed to let them know its presence. 

"I will see you tomorrow, goodbye Rome," she glowed as she said his name. 

"Goodbye Giselle," he bid her. 

The door closed, and the weight of the darkness came flooding back in on him.