Could Have, Should Have, Didn't - A Narnia Fanfiction

Chapter Nine: Another Side

Up here, in Edmund's little alcove of darkness, tucked behind a few beams and slabs of wood, he admired the dance floor.

The ballroom had a rustic charm that was much better from far away and when he wasn't dancing. It looked like an elegant music box from so high up, twirling mini women in poofy dresses and tiny little men in fancy suits holding their hands.

Synchronized.

Music trickled so eerily yet so loudly into his ears from back here, adding to the music box effect. He spotted Lucy dancing with Robert, and Ivy and Edith standing on the sidelines at the moment.

They all looked happy, he liked that.

There was a star of the ball, someone he was sure all eyes were drawn to, even though no one actually looked her way.

Rita. The way she twirled in Timothy's arms was a picture-perfect image, or, an image so loose and flowy, that it wasn't perfect, her hair had begun to frizz, curls sticking up this way and that.

A feeling fluttered in his chest when he looked at her like that. In the moment and enjoying herself, uncaring as to what she looked like.

And he wanted to capture it.

So, he slipped away from his hiding spot, one so high up he might die if he fell, and he scurried back down to his hammock, rooting around in his suitcase.

His hands eventually clamped around his sketchbook in the soup of clothing and he slipped a pencil out of the pocket of one of his pairs of pants. All set.

So back to his alcove, he went, and then he crouched and laid down, letting his feet poke out, almost completely certain no one would be coming by here.

No one would care anyway. It was late.

Licking his lips, he got to work, singling out Rita and sketching fast, trying to collect her movements all in a few lines, glancing between her and the paper so fast it was nearly a blur.

Drawing wasn't something he usually did, but, he wanted to do it tonight.

He drew some of the other people in the background, but they were blobs and dots of grey, that wasn't what he was focusing on.

Timothy was harder to draw, all straight shapes and thin ones, but he managed to sort of get the idea of him on paper; he wasn't the main focus anyway.

Rita was, and she was easier, he knew her face, so even if he couldn't very well see it from here, he could sketch it on lightly, smudging the lead and twisting his pencil to make tiny little curls in her hair.

Adding a chandelier at the top of the page and putting in a curved line for the ceiling, he sat back on his heels and admired his work. Hmph, he was proud.

For not having drawn in a while, his art didn't look too rusty.

"Nice work you did there. And you did it fast, too."

Ed's stomach sank. Just a little. Not a voice he could identify.

Quickly, he stuffed the pad of paper and the pencil into his pockets and stood. It was late, who else was sneaking around?

Yet, when he finally gathered the courage to turn around, he realized, this person wasn't sneaking around.

They looked like they belonged on the first-class level- without a doubt, they probably did belong here; unlike him.

Their face alone, not to mention their actual tailored clothing and golden watch, was enough to convince him of their station.

He was in for it now.