Over the Centuries

Teil Zwei

WARNING: There are Sweeney Todd spoilers in this chapter so if you were planning on seeing it, do it before you read this chapter. And if you don't care about that then just enjoy! c:

It was obvious that something was indeed bothering the baker; Zayn had stated this numerous times already. The past month had been... oddly empty for Harry. He was often in a trancelike state that he had difficulties shaking off. Sometimes he would forget to eat, other times he would sit for hours at night and stare at the silvery light from the moon; thinking. Always thinking. His friends were worried for him, but he hardly paid their concern any mind. It might have been deemed inconsiderate or downright mean, yet Harry could think of nothing else other than that man.

That man, who'd been so undeniably pretty and so undeniably peculiar it boggled Harry's mind to no end. But it wasn't just that. There was another reason he refused to leave the baker's thoughts. A reason Harry himself, couldn't place his finger upon. It was something in the movement of his eyes or the volume level of his voice that was compelling; in a way that called back to a memory long eradicated. But that made no sense either.

Neither did it help that the man's features plagued Harry's every dream, nor that Harry felt as if he could search through the whole town just to make the man tell him his name. And what he meant about what he'd said to him. It was all very confusing. Harry remained clueless for yet another two months.

In the crisp morning of March, the young baker drearily sauntered to the bakery in a coat he hadn't worn since Christmas. His excessively unhurried manner was due to the fact that he awoke much too early that day. He didn't mean to, it was just - the dreams hadn't stopped haunting him and now it was depriving him of his sleep. Maybe he ought to see a doctor. But what if it was really nothing and he'd just bother the doctor by booking a session. Then again, it is the doctor's job to treat people who might be ill, too. So maybe he will see a doctor. He shielded his hands from the bitter cold by tucking them into his coat pockets where they encountered a pair of paper slips. Bewildered, he pinned them between the pads of his fingers and withdrew his hand.

"Oh, right! The tickets," he mumbled to himself, absentmindedly. When he'd celebrated last Christmas with his family, Robin had given him two tickets to a play. It was the musical of Sweeney Todd, they'd been advertising about it for nearly two weeks before they even released any of the tickets. He'd gotten the type where you book the seats online and everything is already paid, thanks to Robin - you just have to decide a date. Maybe he'd bring Zayn. He's caused him quite the amount of worry the previous months. He might decline though, since he had an eight-month pregnant Perrie on his sofa, but it is nice to make the offer nonetheless.

So when his friend arrived at Breakfast Salt to buy his usual morning coffee, Harry asked him if he was free that afternoon. With a bright smile and relieved laugh, Zayn accepted the offer. He must have been rather worried to do this with Harry under the conditions mentioned. Though, Harry could not help but feel elated with expectancy for the coming evening. He was actually looking forward to it. The feeling was rather nice.

~}{~

After paying for a program of the play to share between the two, the lads found their seats in the fourth row. Harry could tell by his friend's tense atmosphere that it was something Zayn wanted to say but hadn't figured out how to do that yet. So he sighed and broke the ice.

"Just spit out whatever you need to say, mate, however harsh or rude it may sound."

Zayn winced and his gaze flickered due to being caught. "Well, as you know, we've all been worried about you... and like, I don't want to pry in anything you want to keep to yourself but, well I want you to know that if you feel like talking-"

"Zayn, really, I'm fine-"

"Plus I'm dying of curiosity," Zayn said, looking a tad ashamed for admitting it. "Something must've happened - you've been acting a bit different and-"

"Alright, alright! I'll tell you. But not now and not here, okay? Maybe after the play?"

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great." Zayn's body had relaxed considerably and the crease between his brows had ceased. Harry smiled reassuringly at him just before the lights dimmed and the velvet curtain rolled up. The scene was foggy and grey, set for a story on the streets of London.

All the actors were great singers, their voices having a thick depth; pleasurable to listen to. When Sweeney Todd treaded the stage it was like the whole audience held its breath; anticipation pouring from the tense silence. This actor was a man with a striking fierceness, painted pale and wan for the role. Dark makeup covered the skin under man's eyes and his hair was rinsed with soot, making it look dirty and un-kept. Throughout the whole play, he never really looked at the audience; not when his figure crumbled to the ground with grief from hearing of his wife's poisoning, not when he triumphed over Pirelli and his talent with silver blades was once again recognised, and certainly not when Todd was raging with anger for having lost the chance of slicing the judge's throat... Except for the last scene, when he'd realised the lies Lovett had fed him and that the woman he had killed in his haste... actually was the faded image of his beautiful wife. This woman was a mere whisper of her former grace - like a flower withered to its foundations. The moment he realised he'd slain his Lucy, he fell to his knees beside her faint form, painted red by his hand. Then he met the gaze of the onlookers, and the oxygen around Harry failed to travel to his lungs. His eyes were a brilliant set of baby blues - the kind he'd seen before. The man was quivering from the well-acted sorrow he displayed, and the distress he expressed was so much more intense because it was the first time he fully revealed his eyes to the audience. Todd places his forehead against the forehead of his lifeless wife, singing softly in a tear-stained voice.

"A barber and his wife... and she was beau-tiful," he turned his head toward the ceiling while Toby sneaked up behind him after the silver knife left on the floor. "And he was... nai-ve-" The man was cut off by his own blade spilling his blood as Toby sliced his throat, silencing the man's miserable tune.

Harry stared with wide eyes as the blood dripped down his torso and Todd's blue eyes closed... as if they had now seen the world for the last time.

For the last time.

Seeing for the last time.

Blue eyes. Lifeless, vacant.

Heart. Never to beat again, never to swell with joy or ache with sadness.

Blood stains.

Dead.

Permanent.

Gone forev-

"LOUIS!"