Dance #2 : currently in between, moving toward next dance with Belle (@Kristi)
Orpheus had stood at the balcony railing for what felt like hours. He remained unmoving, his gaze turned upward to the skies above, ignoring the growing numbness in his fingertips. There was a peaceful comfort in the dark stillness that the night brought him. The world was black outside of a few stray lampposts and the stars that glimmered so softly above. It did not take long for the lingering sense of panic to die out as his focus turned to the sting of chill in his lungs with each deep breath.
Instead, however, his anxieties were replaced with thoughts. Deeply intrusive and blending together, his mind raced now in the stead of his heart.
The inside of Orpheus’ mind had always felt like a whirlwind of pure noise, no sound particularly distinguishable among the rest. A swirling blur of music, poems, thoughts, pains, and fears clouded his senses nearly every night.
He thought, perhaps tonight would be different given the overstimulation he was sure to brave in the ballroom, yet somehow, it seemed to enhance the sounds instead of providing relief.
He shut his eyes to the world, allowing himself to pull into the darkness as he took deep, purposeful breaths.
“Hush now…” He whispered to himself, trying to focus on the blank space behind his eyelids to drown out the noise. There was a certain comfort to that phrase. As if soothing a child. A lingering sort of maternal nurturing he often missed from his own, long passed, mama.
He had missed her most on nights such as these, ones filled with the joys of others. Ballrooms lined with mama’s desperately fixing their son’s hair, straightening their postures, scolding their social missteps. He often looked on in pained jealousy, wishing his own could have seen his debut into society.
Orpheus opened his eyes, glancing between the constellations.
Orion, Aquila, Carina
What would his mother think of him now? Now, as he stood atop a balcony, outside the most significant event of the season, glancing at the stars instead of the eyes of a lady.
‘Surely,’ He thought ‘She would be standing next to me, shielding my palms from the chill.’
It had been nearly 6 years since his mother had passed, and her loss was felt steadily throughout the empty Langston estate.
An estate that once felt like a home, but whose warmth left with his mother’s final breath.
His thoughts lingered on what it would be like tonight if perhaps his brother were still around as well. How he would have taken the place of mama and scolded him, chastising Orpheus for each flirtation or undignified glance as he had the previous season. Orpheus could hardly say he missed his brother, for they had never been that close, but perhaps it was the closeness of his passing that made the pain all the more prominent. Next month, to the day, would mark a year since his brother had passed.
There were nights, not too dissimilar to this one, where Orpheus’ mother would tell the boys stories of the heavens. How the stars above were souls lost, shining down on their loved ones for comfort as they made their way through dark nights. Orpheus clung desperately to that sentiment, his fixation with Astronomy growing from her stories. As his family was so ill-fated, the thought brought him immense comfort.
Tonight, it seemed his eyes could not be pulled from those same stars.
That was, until a soft voice, one he would recognize even in the darkest of nights, spoke his name.
Orpheus’ breath caught in his chest yet again. Perhaps it was his fate that each ill-fated relationship he had ever held would grace his presence on this very night.
Orpheus felt his palms tighten around the balcony railing, his gaze held steadfast on the sky. He dared not look at her.
“Yet, any lady would consider herself most fortunate to be chosen as your bride, I am convinced.” Her words cut deep, bringing acute awareness to the separation that still lingered between them.
His earlier excitement at her reappearance dissipated into the November air, replaced now by anxiety and fear.
‘Any lady?’ The thought amused him somewhat. ‘Any lady apart from you, it seems…’ Orpheus’ thoughts had not lingered on his lost love with Aurelia for some time. It had been nearly a year since their last meeting, and his heart had yearned for her gentle touch with each passing day. However, as it were now, he was unsure of where they stood.
As she spoke, he seemed to hold a growing awareness of her platonic, removed musings. She did not love him. Not anymore. It seems this was her way of making herself clear.
Did she feel the need to follow him into his escape from the weight of the ballroom simply to drive the dagger further into his chest? Was her intent to pain him? It seemed that way.
Yet, a pull in his chest pleaded with him to meet her eyes. His love for her had not wavered. Even in this moment, filled with confusion and distain, he longed for even the smallest glance.
Orpheus finally turned his head, forcing his gaze from the stars and into Aurelia’s eyes. Those eyes that he had grown to memorize. Every fleck, every detail, every movement. Eyes that had seen his most vulnerable moments and held him steady when all else seemed to crumble. Eyes of the woman he loved. Yet, when he looked upon her this time, even coated in starlight, there was an emptiness there. The spark that once set alight his own flame at each passing glance they shared had fallen from her gaze.
“That star is Sirius, and it is always held a special place in the lore of the night sky. To the Egyptians…” Aurelia continued, but Orpheus had quickly tuned her out, his breath quickening yet again. His vision became narrowed, blending with the darkness of the night. The feeling of undeniable panic washing over his senses became stronger than before. Orpheus could feel his face heat up with emotion, his stomach turning with each word she spoke.
She spoke of the stars.
Yes, he had known that very star.
A leading star in Canis Major, one of her favorite of the constellations.
For he had been the one to show her.
He had spent countless nights, sprawled out on back garden doorsteps at her side, counting as many flecks in the sky as the two could collectively remember. He had held her hand, two young friends, traversing the universe in each momentary glance above.
He had reiterated his mother’s stories to her, rambling on about the histories of their names and the constellations they were tangled into.
Had she forgotten? Or were her words insidious in their utterance?
“How do I know this?” Aurelia’s tone suggested she was, indeed, contemplating the answer to such a question. A question, he believed she never would have had to ask herself at all.
Orpheus remained silent, the sharpness of her words continuing to fall onto him like hundreds of shards of the sharpest glass, cast down from the heavens themselves.
“I have yet to catch sight of your brother…” Aurelia continued, her mind seemingly wandering back toward the ballroom.
Orpheus felt all the air expelled from his lungs, leaving him gasping in a world momentarily devoid of oxygen. He had been frozen, grappling to inhale the very essence of his own life she had just stolen from his chest.
The realization unfurled before him like the first rays of dawn breaking through a long night’s darkness. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his mind, and suddenly, everything became crystal clear.
She truly did not remember.
Her words were not meant in spite, instead, they were spoken in pure ignorance.
Her mind had been void of his entire recent existence. She knew not of their romance, of their courtship, of his own brother’s passing.
It was as if entire months had been pulled from her reach. Taking alongside them their most intimate of conversations, their most vulnerable of interactions, and the very basis of his love for her.
All that remained, in her mind, was a friend. A friend of a past life she seemed strained to recall.
Orpheus fell back into the railing as she moved away toward the ballroom yet again, leaving him to his growing realizations.
Her words had been a corrosive acid, eating away at the delicate fabric of his already fragile mind. They churned in the far reaches of his thoughts, each one a dagger twisting in his gut. The knowledge of her condition created an unbearable torment; creating a festering, visceral nausea rising within him. An overwhelming sensation of queasiness that threatened to spill forth with the weight of the turmoil within. Orpheus tried to still himself against the railing, his mind and body engaged in a bitter feud where the anguish of his thoughts manifested physically, leaving him trembling and incapacitated, longing for relief from the torment.
Orpheus felt his stomach turn one final time, his throat burning with the sudden heat of his own vomit spilling over the edge of the railing.
With that, he stumbled back into the ballroom, his vision still blackening around the edges, threatening to pull him into darkness. He reached for a glass of champagne to both calm his panic and drown out the stench of his release.
Then he reached for another.
And another.
Until his vision became light again, if not more out of focus than before.
Still, it had been better than living in the idea of forgetting. Of being forgotten.
His greatest fear had finally been realized. He had lost her. Truly, and undeniably, she was gone. At least, in many of the ways that had mattered most.
Her mind taking her memories and his heart, leaving both to rot in the past.
Orpheus’ hand wrapped around the stem of another champagne flute, his eyes forcing themselves awake again.
As he drank, the chilled numbness of his fingers from the air outside was lost to the numbness the liquid provided him. He preferred the latter.
Orpheus stood, glancing about the ballroom. Where had she gone? Should he have spoken to her then? Told her of all she had lost? Perhaps he would jog her memory of their times together, pull her from the blockage of her own mind.
Or perhaps-
His eyes lingered on a familiar figure, a woman whose distain for him was far from understated.
At the very least, distain implied a remembrance. Distain implied a lack of rejection as it was always assumed.
“Lady Belle…” Orpheus said, attempting to appear strait-laced as he approached her. Orpheus was known to hold his alcohol in higher quantities than this, so the effects had been far from noticeable in his current state.
“Would you do me the honor of relieving my current, aching loneliness, and grace me with your gentle hand in a dance?” Orpheus extended his palm, using his social standing and position to ensure her swift acceptance.
Perhaps there was a longing for the known. For the stable. Something he lacked in his recent years. Something Lady Belle often provided him. Belle never wavered in her opinions nor conceded her thoughts to any man nor woman. Her displeasure with his presence was an anchor. A constant in times where his life threatened to pull him in every other direction.
Perhaps, he thought, stable was all he needed now.