I woke up around 7:00 AM and all that I've been doing today (and still doing) is writing. It's amazing!

When the laptop arrived on Friday, I was too lazy to begin work on Chapter 19 of He's There, and on Saturday night, I was too tired from work, so I crammed for more or less 3 hours last night and still couldn't make it. But I woke up this morning and spent another 4 hours to finish and I'm happy with it. For the hell of it, and because I used to do it when I first restarted the story, here is the chapter under a cut.

HE'S THERE
Chapter 19 – The First Week of December

Despite how vehemently I thought I was realllly smart and was going to do everything in sync with what Madame Giry suggested, I ended up in a situation.

Things were going well one night. On the weekend, when I'd claimed I was at Meg's. Because of work, I could not visit him after school for most of the week, and the deprivation had us after each other whenever it was possible. I missed him a lot, so nothing we did together ever got boring. I returned to find out he'd stocked the bookshelf set up on stage with his own books, explaining this tiny little piece of who he was, even if it may have coincided with Erik. They were psychology books, mainly about illnesses. He said he loved sinking into personal accounts of schizophrenia, bipolar, split personality, to name a few simple ones that I'd know. He turned to me and said it was like nothing else in the world to discover how strange the human mind can perceive everything. How such strong feelings can be based on nothing that has to do with reality. I was looking him right in the face, captured by flat black eyes in the shadows of his mask. Despite complete realization that this statement unknowingly pertained to the problem I was fighting, I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do more right that second than kiss him.

Did I act on that desire?

Well. Psh. Noooo.

But my mind was fogged enough at the time for the decision not to seem as obvious as it is now. I just stared at him, knowing that I was giving away a thought process beyond the comment he'd made. So, keen as he is, he set the book on the shelf without averting his eyes and waited for me to say something. "It's amazing, isn't it." I half-heartedly uttered.

"What's amazing?"

"What you just said."

"What did I just say?"
"...That you can have strong feelings about things that aren't real."

"It isn't always wrong," he insisted, some of the amusement I thought I'd seen, draining from his expression.

"It's not destructive," I added before I realized what I was saying.

"No. In fact, I find it quite beautiful." He muttered. He went for the book again.

"It's beautiful to be crazy?" He flipped the pages.

"Why can't it be." The way he said it didn't sound like a question.

"Because it can destroy a life."

"Can is potential, not implication." He remarked, much more strength in his voice. "I can rip the pages from this book." Despite mentioning it, I suddenly felt that the subject of such hypothetical ripping had nothing to do with the book in his hand. "Am I going to? No." He inhaled, and it looked like he might go for some example including me, but when his eyes darted around my body, he dropped the attempt. For once, I did feel uncomfortable. It was dark in the theater, and I suspected I'd struck a nerve in him. "What's wrong." Guess I projected my discomfort. I dropped my eyes to the floor and shrugged.

"You're right, that's all.” I didn't really mean what I said that day. I felt if I didn't give him compliance, he'd... I don' t know. I don't know what I was trying to avoid. I guess ever since Giry and I talked, I keep rethinking the fact that he is not the Phantom. When I step into the building and we talk, and we're close, I don't think about any of that, because his personality is so strong, and I'm so strongly attracted to him. And I mean attracted like you can't keep yourself away from it; physically or mentally, or...emotionally.

But as I consider more and more that he is a guy with a life like mine, I realize I'm wrong in saying that, because his life had to have been anything but like mine. I think that it must have been a very depressing place. I wondered why he gave a damn about mental illnesses unless he was introduced to the subject through first-hand experience. Not that he had to be, but it seems to me that people would, for lack of better terms, obsess over a subject when they can feel it in themselves.

He was teaching me how to dance on the stage yesterday and whenever he had my wrists, he'd clasp my hand and make us lace fingers. For some reason that gesture reminded me of his almost nonchalant, symbolic mentioning of cutting himself and how he never responded to my email. My hands had been at every length of his arms, and to think under the cold black sleeve...white sleeve underneath... somewhere... there were scars, maybe even fresh red lines... I just didn't get it. And again, it's not something I can just ask about. I tried, insisted he wasn't obligated, and he took me up on that. He agreed he wasn't obligated and ignored my concern. But I just find it funny that this bit of writing is what he, no doubt, tentatively chose to show me, meaning he knew very well that I would discover this. It's like he wanted me to know, but only for the sake of knowing, not so we could talk.

- - -

You won't see me for a week. You'll be angry with me for this, but the reason for my absence isn't something you need to know.

You can reach me here and through your phone. Do not come near the theater.

Thinking of you, constantly,

Erik

- - -

It snowed hard Monday morning, so much that school was delayed two hours in hopes the ice would melt over the roads. I was so excited about the weather changes that I could distract myself easily from my lack of Phantom by having snowball fights with Meg in her backyard, and sucking on icicle Popsicles from around the roof. Well, all until her mom came out frantically and explained to us that we were licking frozen roof juice. Oh well... it tasted okay.

She seemed so surprised that I was spending all the time with her, the way I normally would have, and it actually made me feel bad. Since Giry was around, my decisions about how to distribute my time weren't so conscious. But... she said Giry was busy a lot more than I thought, since she actually had a car, and those...friend-type people... in massive numbers... unlike us. I loved going back to her, though. Something about our relationship had been a little flat ever since the Phantom pulled that whole “do not talk to your friends” thing and I, even if not in a mean way, told her to butt out.

I told her about the message, though. She also wanted to know why he would be gone, and gave that usual trying-to-avoid-rolling-her-eyes look to my frequently used answer of “he wouldn't say”.

Madame Giry was equally baffled by the Phantom's sudden leave of absence, however. By Wednesday, she said she had drove down the road to the theater a certain ways and looked around every day since I told her and there was nothing out there. She decided that when she had time, she would look up information about who owned it and some of its history, if it was possible. She was smart in doing that. The Phantom had to know the owner. And the owner had to know him. That was where the extent of what I could find out about this guy got scary. Because maybe I didn't want to know. But Giry'd been busy lately, so since mentioning her plans, I'd heard nothing more about it.

Well anyway, the point I was trying to get to before I mentioned Giry is that, surprisingly, enough interesting things were happening without him. The most interesting thing so far was Thursday, during the break. We wandered into her Advanced Chemistry class, as she was, I believe I've forgotten to say, kind of a science nerd as well as a theater one. Which just made her even cuter, if you have ever seen her in a white lab coat, talking about things that I don't understand.

She looked off to someone else that was in the room early and then sat on her desk table facing me, swinging her legs and losing all her conversational skills. The size five black flats with checkerboard bows swished rather suspiciously.

“So, about that movie thing,” I tried to continue. “I work tonight and tomorrow, but maybe on Saturday because my dad has the day off and he could drive us.”

Somehow she looked embarrassed.

“I...could drive us.”

“You don't have your license yet.”

Normally, Meg would've shouted something defensive back at me, but instead, she crossed he arms and scrunched her lip under her upper teeth.

“It's okayyyy...I know you're trying.”

She was unusually quiet. She looked a bit...hmrgh... I saw in her eyes the passion of a little kid waiting to get into Disneyland. She took great precautions to hide it, too, but I knew better. I leaned to the right and tilted my head to a person in their seat at the opposite end of the classroom, and she mirrored me. When I gave her a quizzical stare, she tightened her lips and didn't move. I bravely stepped away from the table she was sitting on and studied, without a care if he noticed me or not, the guy sharing the room with us. Tan, light brown hair, blue eyes, Radiohead t-shirt, going through a worksheet that I would assume was related to their class, and doing so like he actually didn't mind. Somehow I just knew.

I came back to Meg and she still looked uneasy.

“Let's go outside,” she gave me a quick toothy smile and pranced out the door. I pranced out as well.

“Sooo, tell me the name of my future best-friend-in law.”

“What?! ”

“I know that's him. Just spit it out.”

“ Him who?”

“That guy you lgh-” She covered my mouth with her hand and pushed me into a row of lockers.

“What's it to you.” Meg tried to say this seriously, but her mouth tensed into a smile and we were laughing at each other in the corner of the hall. When it died down, she still seemed reluctant to tell me his name. She probably suspected, and suspected correctly, that I was going to use it to make her blush.

“Well, what's his name?”

“...Hgghh.”

“What?”

She crossed her arms and rolled along the wall so she wouldn't have to face me anymore.

“It better not be Herschel.” Her shoulders shook in amusement.

“ It's Jeffrey, okay?”

“What about his last name?”

She rolled back in my direction and leaned into my ear to tell me this grave secret. My laughter only grew.

“ Awww. How awkwardly adorable. Mrs. Vanhorn.” I took advantage of the fact that nobody was in the corner with us and did a little ballerina twirl, whilst whispering “Mariam and Jeffrey Vanhornnnnn...”

“Screw youuuu.”

“Ahahahahaha.”

“ You think you're so cool because your boyfriend doesn't have a name and I can't make fun of him properly.”

I would have to disagree with her coining him the term “boyfriend”, but that was beyond the point. Just then the first bell rang.

“Uh oh, you'd better get back to your husband.”

Mariam shook her head at me and glared in defense, then hurried off. Me, I had Art to get to at the other half of the building, but I wasn't much worried about being late. It just wasn't the type of class to hurry over. But Jeffrey... teehee...

Another interesting thing that happened this Thursday:

I saw the vested guy quickly departing the library, and he ended up walking just a few feet in front of me, his arm, with a black watch, dangling at his side. He was an attractive fellow, but by this point, I could not fathom how I ever thought he was the Phantom now that I was in that deep. I was 100% sure it wasn't him. He didn't have the build, the face shape, the height... nothing. And I doubt the Phantom would just walk in front of me like he didn't care, like that.

I also discovered that I preferred not having anyone at school to worry about being him in real life. I think if I put a name, a face, and a body passing by me at school to my roleplaying partner, he would become someone more than what my little brain had already, through great measures, conjured and I would be painfully confused with my feelings (worse than now, I mean.) But alas, Vest Guy went into C109 and I, to C104.

Third period, with Mrs. Yue barely paying attention, was usually when I swamped The Phantom with text messages, but I had been hesitant the past couple days, and his end was silent, so the few that I sent on day one of being ignored... slowly dwindled down to none, and I spent that particular hour and a half doodling, staring out the window, and trying to finish homework due later that day by putting it over my sketchpad and propping it forward with my knees so she couldn't tell that that was what I was doing.

- - -

Finally, that night, I cracked. I took my phone out just to stare at his name in my contact list as I laid in bed. No matter how many flattering things he said to me, I worried easily if I could bother him, but I was just so bored, I clicked on his name super fast and called the number – didn't text – called. It rang intimidatingly.

After every new ring, I felt more inspired to hang up before he would ever answer. I imagined wherever he was, and the fact that I was the cause of a disrupting sound from his pocket or his coat, and was doing this all impulsively. The other side clicked and there was silence.

Then his tired but composed voice answered “hello, Christine.”

“ Hi,” I whispered back, with a smile on my face.

“Are you lonely... ”

The question, and the tone he used, erased my head of any thought for a moment.

“I just wanted to hear you. Even though I know that's really stupid, but I have now, and it's late, so if you were busy, then-”

He laughed over me before I could finish. Perfect, low laughter brushing against the speaker, over my paranoia. He was silent afterwards, though, and so was I. I couldn't even catch the sound of his breath.

“If it were possible, I'd visit you right now.” He stated abruptly. It sent my heart beat up a few notches.

“Right...now?”

“If it were possible...” He repeated. “I'd already be outside your window.”

I froze in suspicion. When he said nothing else, I rose up from my bed and flicked open a blind. I didn't think I saw him...

“It's eleven o'clock at night...” I reminded him, knowing neither of us cared.

“I like it better at night. Then you and I won't be interrupted.”

“Interrupted doing what.”

He chuckled softly again. I don't think he realized how much he was driving me up the wall. Because I wished he was out there, more than I should have. It was weird to be upset that there wasn’t a creepy shadow of a stranger standing in the backyard looking at you.

“...I don't like not seeing you.” ... “I hope you're okay.”

“You don't need to worry like that.”

“...Easy for you to say.”

We were silent again.

“There could be a way.”

I perked up.

“But you may not have the nerve to take it.”

“What is it?”

“Tomorrow morning, at eight, but where, I don't know.”

“The park... the walking half,” I thought aloud.

“...I might be able to visit you, shortly.”

“Okay.”

I figured he knew I was busy afterwards.

“I'll see you, then.”

“You're leaving me?”

I could have sworn I heard the voice of someone else. Male, not female.

“You need to sleep,” he tried to say authoritatively. I glared at the wall in front of me.

“You're busy.”

“Never busy enough not to answer to you, Christine.”

I darted my eyes around and scratched my temple from under the covers.

“Okay then. I'll see you tomorrow. I can't wait,” I said. I meant it, but it felt kind of weird rolling off my tongue.

“I can't wait, either. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye...”

And he was the one to hang up on me.

I decided I would try not to call him ever again unless it was necessary. It's not that I didn't love to hear his voice as I was off doing normal things... as I laid in bed particularly... Oh, I did. I even thought about what it would be like if some day he ended up in my room. Weird.

No, it wasn't that. I just realized how vulnerable I might be to his outside life. That voice... I had never been with him with anybody else. It was like his presence brought privacy; silence; secrecy. This was nothing surprising really, but it was the first time I had actually made myself think about the fact that there are other people in his life and other people that know him. And know him differently, might I add.

But that voice was a male's, and that calmed me. If it were a girl, I would be uncomfortable and even jealous, which is a bad way to feel and as long as I could keep myself from experiencing that feeling, I would pretend that meant that I didn't have it in me.

- - -

There was a cloudless grey sky covering the park, at 7:55 in the morning. Everything as far as the eye could stretch was covered in snow, and steps imprinted along the walkway lead to me standing amidst dark-wooded trees, alone, cold, about to lower to the ground and clutch myself. I noticed as I swiped my running nose that there wasn't even wind to fill the silence of this dead, frozen place.

I thought maybe if I showed up on time, he'd have been waiting, but I was first there, and I had clearly not thought hard enough about what to wear. I just had a coat, the one I'd wear if I were walking straight to a heated high school, not standing outside for twenty minutes, in the first week of December.

I focused on the sparkle of the snow around me. It was really kind of beautiful when I stopped and realized it. I was a fan of Winter, not because it brought many good things for me, just because it was such a fascinating condition of the Earth, the kind most intolerant to human beings, so my concept of it was lacking their noise, activity, and...damage... Not everybody likes a concept though: all they see in Winter is shivering, icy roads, and stuffy noses. I had experienced all of these things on the way there, but it somehow didn't taint my admiration, even as I continued to shake like a mofo.

I walked a little closer to the outer boundaries of the park, to a stone wall overlooking town. It would've been funny if I could take snapshots of all the places I ended up at because of him, and all the funny situations, ambiguous though suggestive, and send them in an envelope to Lily of the Past. They would probably just confuse her and she would throw them away. I slowly turned to my left, thinking this definitely wasn't going to be the worst of-

I turned right into the towering black-limbed figure and twitched in fright.

“HI ,” I uttered tensely.

I slipped my vision to the area behind him and couldn't make out any footsteps.

“Where did you- ... How did you do that?” My entire question was plagued with chattering teeth. He decided not to answer me and instead, slipped his arm around my back and clutched me tight. The cold air disappeared between our bodies and if I could help it, I was not letting go, because it was fucking freezing.

When I slid my face to lay against the side of his suit jacket, he lifted his fingers to move my hair over my ear. He probably noticed it was bright pink.

Then I noticed. This very... faint scent... of smoke, I thought. In his clothes. It seemed so out of place, faint as it was. I tilted my head up and he seemed to be staring off in space.

“How long can you stay?”

“As long as you can.”

“That's fifteen minutes...”

“Well, savor it.”

I turned my head to the other side and thought of what to say.

“So... we're finishing the Scarlet Letter next week.”

He paused. Probably thinking to himself “we go five days without seeing each other, and all you can think to talk about is your godamn homework.”

“A cause for great celebration,” he finally voiced.

“Actually, that's what I was thinking. Meg and I are going to buy our copies and burn them in Giry's fireplace.”

“...Ah, and why hers?”

“My parents think I'm absurd, and they won't let us. Her parents think we'll accidentally start a real fire.”

“I would be careful.”

“Oh come on, don't act like my third parent.”

“You're too defensive.”

I looked up at him again.

“You're... ...You don't think we should burn them? I don't usually burn books, I just really think this one will help society best if it doesn't exist. I also thought of burying it... not holding a funeral... dishonor to them both...”

“That sounds better.”

“...You could join us if you want.”

“I'm not going to discomfort your friend anymore than I have. She stays out of my way, and I hers.”

The mood of the conversation suddenly dropped.

“She's just being stubborn, you know. It has nothing to do with how you are.”

“You're the only one that doesn't see how mismatched I am in your life, aren't you?”

“I don't care.”

His left arm abandoned my back and he fumbled in the pocket of his slacks. He pulled out a charming gold pocket watch, chain included, and flipped it open, pausing to read it.

“I think you should go to school now.”

I continued to bury myself in him, with my head against the bottom of his chin.

“It's 8:19.”

“I don't want to go to school. I'll skip today; I'll say I wasn't feeling well.”

“You don't need to do that.”

“It's Friday. No one will notice...”

“I have somewhere to be.”

Jerk... I thought.

He turned towards the rest of the park and sent me with him, forcing me to trudge along through the snow to the sidewalk. He let go of me and I tried to pout, but his face, er, shadowed eyes and mouth rather, showed no fluctuation, but I could feel him, almost intensely, insisting I walk away. So I just started going, feeling his stare burn into my back. Once I was far enough up the hill, I looked back and didn't see any trace of him.

Enjoy, Sara. ♥

Though I've been lucky enough to finish this with grace, I still have failed to do the complex planning which should've happened as far back as THE START OF AUGUST. That will have to be done throughout this week while I'm working on chapter 20...

Anyway, whilst trying to finish this, Kate signed onto aim and said she was dying of boredom and really craved to write Crystal Palace 3. Knowing our luck, one is ready and the other isn't. I told her if she wrote the first few pages, I would think about putting HT down, but it turned out that she finished that and I finished HT around the same time, so for about 2 hours now, we've been bouncing back and forth writing part six. It's the bomb. One of the funniest parts so far. Well, it's my turn, so I gotta go.

Peace out~~
-Lady Bow