Dear Vicomte and Vicomtesse de Changy,
We regret to inform you that your son, Gustave Pierre de Changy, has been hereby expelled from Rochester's Academy for Young Gentlemen.
Our reasons for this dramatic punishment are as follows: First, he skipped every single dinner meal with no explanation as to why. Second, he did not do his classwork, and instead would write what he claims are "Opera Scores" which I am sure you will find as vulgar as we found them to be. And third, he has physically harassed one of his schoolmates. The boy's injuries consisted of bruised ribs, busted lip, and a severe blow to the skull.
We can no longer hold a place here for such a wild boy as Gustave. We will expect you to arrive and take him home on Thursday the seventeenth of this month.
May I apologize for any trouble we have caused.
Headmaster,
Señor Barbos
"Gustave!" Christine gasped, rereading the letter for the third time.
This did not sound like her son, this boy who neglected school work and harassed his schoolmates! It was unbelievable.
Gustave was a gentle creature, his soul was innocent and untainted. Was it possible he had become unhinged since she had last seen him?
Christine recalled their last meeting.
It was his twelfth birthday, nearly four months ago. It was a pleasant, warm day, and the Spanish air smelled of spices and ocean breezes. Christine sat with Gustave on a small terrace, drinking Spanish tea and eating a small cake.
"Maman," Gustave whispered, and raised his hand to his forehead in earnest to remove the loose curls that had fallen into his eyes. Oh his eyes....brilliant blue, crystal clear and full of raw emotion. He was a beautiful child. Porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, hauntingly intense eyes that were surrounded by thick black lashes, and hair almost as dark as ebony that weaves into curls like Christine's.
Not only was he beautiful, but there was something different about him---he seemed to understand only things the most brilliant of men understood. Music was Gustave's passion from a young age, his voice was soft and pure, his piano skills were superior to any proficient she had known, except for Er--
"What is it, my little master of music?" She giggled, running her lace gloved fingers through his tendrils.
"I am composing, again," he said, haunting eyes fixed on her's.
"Oh?" Christine took a small sip of the Spanish tea, it was hot and the fruity taste melted on her tongue.
Gustave nodded. "I want to compose a whole Opera Score, like the ones you sing."
"Not just an aria? Or a lullaby?"
"A whole Opera Score."
Christine laughed happily. "And it shall be the best Opera Score!"
Gustave had laughed along with her.
How could that gentle child turn so uncaring in a matter of months? Christine moaned and sat down in a chair, the letter still clutched in her limp hand.
"You won't believe what Alexander said to me today!" Bellowed a voice as someone entered the sitting room.
Christine watched as her husband, Raoul, opened a glass of golden liquid, poured a half glass and, with his ever preset scowl, gulped it down.
"What is the matter with you?" He frowned as he saw the look on his wife's face.
"Gustave--" Christine swallowed and began again. "Gustave has been expelled."
YOU ARE READING
Too Dark to Even Try (Beneath a Moonless Sky fanfic)
Fanfiction(A PHANFICTION, COMPLETED) Christine needed his music, to be lost in it. To be succumbed and seduced in its dark, tantalizing pull. She needed to see his blue eyes, his eyes that both threaten and adore, those eyes that reflect all the cruelty and h...
