Her.

Chapter IV

Haya stayed up all night composing her melodies for Erik. By the morning she couldn't tell if it had been for him or for herself to remember him by. For some odd reason she felt that she wouldn't be seeing as much of him as she would have most certainly liked. There was an aura about him that fashioned into an uncertain feeling. Seeing him would be sparse, that was true, and she couldn't help but want to already meet with him. All of the music in front of her was dedicated to his practical existence, and Haya hoped beyond hope that it would suffice in his musical eyes. The way he wrote and the way he looked and played music was something she was scared would be hard to live up to. There was a fallacy floating in her mind that she would continue to be good in his eyes. That was her utmost wish, and she wished it very hard as she collected the thin sheets sprawled before her. Seven pages to one work, nine to another, and six to the last one. Three pieces all done with her own muse. Not that he knew he was her muse.

She felt strange that Erik had made this much of an impact upon her when he probably didn't think of her. The man most likely didn't even remember her name let alone imagine her every waking second. That was a shame to think about as well, and as Haya truly thought about it, they never would work out together. No, they would certainly end up struggling. He seemed stubborn yet blunt, and Haya was just herself. Kind and loving, but to those she knew and was familiar with.

The man that had waltzed into her home just so happened to make it into the slim category she now referred to as spontaneous enjoyment. How could one be so ethereal that they just stuck to your soul and wouldn't let go? The way he was in her life number the way Haya felt, and it was almost frightening.

"Father?" They were sitting at the breakfast table, Haya finished already as she sipped at some tea.

Henry was glancing over his food at her, the look of uneasiness but sheer enjoyment making him confused. She was a paradox in and of herself, and he had no clue how Haya had managed such a look. The beautiful young woman in front of him was his daughter, and since her mother had only ever managed a single look of emotion she must have gotten it from himself.

"Haya?" He replied, curious as to what she was asking him. Suddenly Henry had a stranger feeling it had a small something to do with one of his good friends.

"Is there any possible way I could come in contact with Monsieur Destler?"

Henry furrowed his eyebrows and wondered why.

"Why would you want such a thing to occur?" He asked her simply.

Haya swallowed unprepared for the question. But honestly, had she truly been as hopeful as to assume her father would just hand out the masked-man's address? It was silly of her to imagine that he'd be complacent in her efforts to earn Erik's friendship.

"If it's simply for the music than I shall attempt to help you contact him, but if you plan on something more..." The man trailed off with a warning glance to the blushing brunette.

"Music..." She said as if that were a simple torture placed upon her pretty head.

Just to talk about music! How could she facet anything to the likes of a relationship with him only allowing their conversations to be of music and its components? Haya knew very well that Henry didn't want her anywhere near Erik intimately, but did she truly want that? Just at the thought, there was a shiver down her spine and she wasn't sure she appreciated the notion. Then again, the sheer thought made her insides burn, and it wasn't an awful burning either.

Biting her lip and attempting to swallow her feelings, Haya reformed her reply, "Simply Music."

Henry shook his head and reached behind him to grab his address book.