The Opera (3)

The cool air washes over me as I step out into the night.

Viktor's arm loops with mine and he tilts his head a little, eyes examining my face. "It's not a terrible evening for walking."

I lean into his touch a little, soaking up the moment, memorizing every detail, so I can recall it in my memories. "Not at all. A few clouds, but nothing so bad. And even if it rains, we will have plenty of time to take shelter in the gazebo."

I guide him in that direction, slipping down the path that winds through the trees. I point up at the stars visible through the canopy. "They are particularly pretty tonight."

Viktor looks up, following the path of my finger as we continue to walk. "...indeed they are."

A shiver of anticipation rushes down my spine, and my gaze falls down from the stars to examine the dark gazebo in front of me. It is beautifully constructed of white stone, with graceful curves and spirals and lines that swirl like a frozen whirlpool, with open sides and a beautiful domed roof.

I can picture myself spending evenings here with him. Sitting on a bench with a book and tea and his company, as we bask in the glow of lanterns and watch the stars together.

He ducks under a low branch, a few leaves drifting down into his hair, and I find myself transfixed by the sight. It is utterly adorable, and charming and-

The path shifts and changes beneath me.

I yelp as I start to pitch forward, stumbling on my heel before crashing against Viktor's chest.

He wraps his arms around me to steady me.

For a few moments we stand like that, in each other's embrace, and I find myself drowning in the scent and feel of him.

Maybe it's self defense, or maybe it's self destruction, but - in my dazed state, I can't help but ruin the intimate moment by blurting out, "I'm her. Your-your secret admirer."

I planned to tell him it a little more artfully, explain I wrote the letter he loved, gave him the medical textbook and - and that I'm not an obsessive stalker but-...I...panicked. I guess.

I think.

I...I'm not sure why I blurted it out so stupidly. It's not like I'm still sick, so I should be thinking clearly enough to know this is a delicate, important matter that could ruin everything if handled poorly.

...He's stiff and still against me.

"...oh?" His voice is soft and disbelieving.

He stares at me for a long, tense moment, as I cling to him in sheer terror and guilt, waiting for the rejection. For his hands to push me away, for anger, for irritation and frustration, for -

For...a small, barely visible smile, as his fingertips move to gently trace along my jawline, and his eyes drop to my lips, studying my features as if to commit them to memory.

"...it is nice to finally meet you...my mysterious admirer," he breathes.

I swallow thickly. I was...not expecting him to be so calm or so accepting or so...nice about it. I didn't really plan what I'd say after the reveal. My plans...didn't make it that far.

"...Yes, it is," I manage.

He brushes a hand against my hair.

I shut my eyes and give in to the temptation to lean into his touch, my voice coming out as a bare whisper. "I...really missed you, Viktor."

There's a gentle smile in his voice as he speaks. "And I, you."

He guides me over to the gazebo and sits down on a nearby bench, looking out over the flowers.

I settle beside him, content to let him hold my hand, watching as his fingers trail along mine, exploring, tracing, searching, before lacing with mine.

I...I did it. I've told him. Now...I can send him all the letters I want as Ophelia. I can't hide behind anonymity if I get too....excited. But I don't have to hide and pretend I'm not trying to win his attention, either. So...this..this is good. It's definitely good, right?

I lean my cheek on his shoulder. "What did...what did you like most?"

"...hmm?"

I tilt my head up a little, and - realizing how close our faces are, how close his lips are, and that I can see the glimmer in his eyes - I promptly freeze.

He's smiling slightly, amused by my antics.

I hurriedly try to clarify and salvage the situation, in case he reads my intentions the wrong way.

"Um. T-the...I was just wondering, since I didn't really know what I could do for you and I just wanted to please you...if there was anything...um...anything that..."

His brows are furrowed in confusion. I can't blame him, because even I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Or why. I'm an idiot. A failure of an admirer, in the end.

"...made me...happy...?" His voice is so quiet and soft and hesitant it almost hurts to hear. "The letters...they made me very happy."

There's a vulnerability in his voice, barely disguised, that really does hurt to hear.

I know why.

Of course I do.

It's why I sent the letters. The world has rejected and hated him for no reason. He's been alone for so long, forging onward even with the world rejecting him.

I...I'm sure. Heartfelt letters of appreciation would have made him happier than any of the gifts attached.

I hesitate a moment, before stealing a glance up at him. "...I meant...everything in the letters. I meant the things they say."

His head dips ever so slightly.

The tears he's hiding are very obvious, and it breaks my heart to see his attempt at feigning nonchalance as he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket.

I let him pretend and hide it, instead taking a moment to dig through my voluminous gown. "...I have something for you."

I produce the gift I brought and set it in his hand, watching as he unfolds the ribbon, the box, and finds the handheld telescope hidden inside.

He studies it a few moments before letting out a soft, wondering sound, turning it over in his hands as if admiring every aspect of it. His eyes are lit with a warmth I rarely see. "...a gift...for me?"

"I-it's...well the shopkeeper said you could look at the stars and moon a little better with this..."

I shift awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of my head. "...I thought, given you liked stargazing so much, you'd appreciate something that would make it a little easier to view things more closely."

He lifts his head to look up at the sky again.

For a few moments, he's silent.

I'm a little nervous, hoping I didn't cross the line between thoughtful and creepy, that this wasn't too much, or the wrong gift. I don't want him to think I'm weird and obsessive, I just -

The next thing I know there are strong arms wrapped around me. Viktor hugs me tightly to his chest, burying his face in my neck, and there's a shakiness in his voice I don't understand. "Ophelia...th-thank you."

"Viktor?"

"...i-it's nothing." His fingers grip my shoulders a little more firmly, and then, after a pause, he lifts his head to meet my eyes again. There's an earnest sincerity in his gaze I can't bring myself to look away from.

"This is...very dear to me, Ophelia. Thank you very much. I...I cannot remember the last time someone gave me a present simply to indulge my interests."

"...that's silly. Your interests are very fascinating. They deserve indulging."

His lips curl into a stronger smile than I've seen from him, and his fingers gently caress my cheek. "If you keep saying things like that, I may never leave your side. I'll start to believe I've fallen prey to your charm and persuasiveness."

I feel dizzy. My face hurts from smiling. Am I blushing? I don't know what to say. Or think. O-or...

My fingertips gently trace his cheek. "I...would not mind being more of a presence in your life, if you wished it."

I would not mind at all.

In fact, I would prefer it.

His fingers find my chin, tilting my head back so he can meet my eyes, a teasing, gentle smile on his lips. "Perhaps we can..."

He pauses, hesitating as his eyes wander down to my lips, and he abruptly ducks his head away.

He clears his throat and gently lays the hand holding the telescope down in his lap. "I am a bit anxious to see if I can spot any star clusters in the sky."

The magic of the moment is broken, and I pout a little, crossing my arms.

His gentle laughter makes it hard to sulk.

We look at the stars, pointing them out and trading information about the stories and legends, as is becoming a tradition of ours.

He is well informed on the subject, and can recite any legend I give him within moments. I listen to his smooth voice as he points out different clusters and constellations.

As the music begins to play, he gets to his feet and offers me his hand. "Shall we go, Ophelia? The opera is starting."

I accept his hand, feeling my cheeks flush with excitement and joy. "Yes."

Arm in arm, we begin to head back to the opera house.

My heart is already singing.