Who: Armand St. Just and Christine Daae What: Reaction to Dreams, freaking out, comfort When: Early hours Where: Armand’s apartment Warnings: Mentions of losing parents, talk of mental illness Status: Thread | Incomplete
Things in Orange County had been settling more as time went on. Or no, not settling. But she had gotten used to things. The Dreams continued to throw Christine because of how she felt upon waking, the lack of knowing, but overall, she was handling them. True, dreaming about singing again, being around music, it left a hollow feeling because she knew that she couldn’t go back to that. Not if she wanted to keep the voice away.
It had been hard enough to live through her father’s death all over again. Losing him again. The arrival of his violin had also been painful but it was yet another sign that there was more to these Dreams than just being uncomfortable because she was having issues knowing reality from dreaming. But she could have handled that. She could have handled a relatively normal life, admittedly in France in the 1800s and singing. She could have handled it.
But no.
The Dream had been like any other. She wasn’t herself, she had a lifetime of memories of that life. She had been taken into the chorus at the Paris Opera, but her heart was never in it. She had the technical skill, but not the passion. She kept to herself. And then she heard it. A voice.
Feel the music.
Spinning around, Christine searched for wherever the voice had come from, but found herself still alone.
“Who’s there?”
A part of her felt hope. As if the story her father had told her was true. Had he truly sent her the Angel of Music just as he had promised? The voice had such a power to it, such sway.
“Are you the Angel of Music?”
Yes. I’m here to help you, to train you. Give yourself to me.
It was so easy to fall into an ecstasy when singing. So easy to feel guided and no longer alone--
Christine woke with a start from that, heart racing. She was disoriented again.
Why have you lost your passion for song?
Oh god. Was it the Dream. Was the voice back? She had done everything she could to keep the voice away. To keep a hold of her sanity. Others spoke of the Dreams. They said that there was no getting used to them. That the feeling would always remain. But now she was afraid, so very afraid. What if she had picked up on what others had said? What if she used it to make sense of what was happening?
Despite the hour and the fact that she was dressed for bed and not going out, Christine just grabbed a lightweight hoodie and left the apartment. She didn’t know just why she was going to see Armand, without even texting to see if it was okay. She just needed someone who understood and he had been able to calm her mind before. She enjoyed his company. She felt relatively safe from her mind around him.
Even though it was summer, she was shaking by the time she got to his apartment and just knocked frantically, pale from fear and lack of sleep, trying to catch her breath.
Armand had had a restless night's sleep. He hadn't had a Dream, he was fairly sure of that, but a decent night's rest had been hard to come by lately. It also didn't help that the air conditioning in his apartment complex was broken and it had been incredibly humid lately. As it stood he was awake when he heard the frantic knocking on his door.
He got out of bed and looked around his bedroom for a pair of jeans to throw on. If it was Marguerite he wouldn't have cared if she saw him in his boxer shorts, but it could be a neighbor or it could be Christine. He hoped it wasn't Christine, but not because he didn't like her. He liked her quite a bit. He'd even go as far as saying his feelings towards her were veering in the "more than just friends" direction. But if it was her at the door chances were it meant she'd had a Dream, and he still wasn't sure how to comfort someone after one of those.
He finally found the jeans he had worn the day before and slipped them on. The pounding at his door got more insistent and he decided to forgo a shirt so he could answer it quickly before one of his neighbors called the cops. He made his way to the living room and then to the door. He unlocked it quickly and opened it, his eyes wide when he took in the sight. "Christine? What on earth happened?"
Most people noticed when someone was not in a shirt, but Christine was not in the proper state of mind for that. Any other Dream and she could have handled it, but why did it have to be this. Why did it have to be the voice from her past? It felt like her head was spinning as she struggled to ground herself. Had it been a remnant from the Dream? Had it been something else?
“A Dream. I think. Or it was but then something… I mean…”
Yes, she was stumbling over her words, but how do you tell someone you’ve only known for a month that you have had trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy before and you’re scared you’re losing your mind? But in all their interactions, Armand had never judged her. Had never questioned her sanity and she didn’t want to lose that.
Partially because she was trying to avoid saying what was upsetting her so much, but mostly because she finally realized that there was a very strong chance that Armand had been sleeping, she blinked, bit her lip before speaking.
“Ohmigod. I’m sorry, did I wake you? I should have text or called or..something.”
"It's okay," he said, moving out of the way so she could come in. She looked as though she was absolutely freaked about whatever had happened in her Dream, considering all she'd done was throw a hoodie on over what it looked like she wore to sleep. "Don't worry about having woken me up. I was trying to sleep but not really succeeding. And even if I had been, it's fine you came over."
Once she stepped inside he shut the door behind her and locked it up again. He had the feeling it was going to be a long night, but if he could calm her down it would be worth it. The first thing he was going to do was put a shirt on. The second thing would probably be make a pot of tea. "I'm going to go throw a shirt on, and then I'll make us a pot of tea, okay?" he said. "You can sit on the couch or one of the stools by the kitchen, whichever you want. I'll be right back."
Right. Getting out of the hallway was a good idea. Because that would be awkward if any of his neighbors came out. Because there was no way they could understand the Dreams. She’d just be some crazy girl without shoes on and in her pajamas. Stepping inside when he stepped aside, all the frazzled twenty year old could do was nod, brushing some loose strands of hair out of her face and behind her ear.
“If you’re certain…”
A long night was definitely a good guess on what was going to happen. Christine knew for certain that she wasn’t going to be sleeping after this. Especially not right now. She was already pacing as she tried to figure out what to say, as well as trying to make sense of the voice she heard after waking. That was what was really upsetting her. That she couldn’t tell if she was losing it again or not.
“Um. Yeah. Tea… tea sounds good…”
Tea was always good. She didn’t care that it was hot and humid out lately, tea had a calming effect and she was definitely in need of that. She knew she had been told to sit and feel comfortable, but for now, she was going to pace and play with her hair anxiously.
He went into his room and went to his dresser, pulling out the first T-shirt he could lay his hands on and yanking it on over his head. He didn't even care if he'd put it on backward at this point and he was fairly sure Christine wouldn't care either. This must have been one seriously messed up Dream to put her into this state. He took a minute to take a deep breath and then he headed out into his living room again.
She was still pacing when he got back out there. Part of him wanted to stand in front of her and then guide her into the kitchen so he could keep a better eye on her. The large kitchen had been party of the reason he had chosen this apartment, and there was plenty of room for both of them in it. But he knew that would be a bad idea to force her into the kitchen. He honestly wasn't sure if she'd be okay with being touched right now. When he caught her eye again he nodded towards the kitchen. "What kind of tea do you want?" He asked, heading into his kitchen and hoping she followed.
If there was one thing Christine knew, it was that her roommate would never understand. One, she didn’t have the Dreams so that alone would be hard to explain. But why it was so upsetting, what had happened when she was younger, the fear of what all of this meant. It was one of the reasons she had gone to Armand. She didn’t really have anyone else to go to. She spoke with Mr. Garnier but she didn’t think he’d appreciate her showing up in the middle of the night. Nevermind the fact she didn’t know where he lived.
Still trying to sort through everything, the blonde blinked as Armand caught her eye and nodded to the kitchen. Tea. Tea was good. Focusing on something was good. She understood the unsaid request that she go into the kitchen, and while she wasn’t sure how helpful she would be in there, at least in there, she’d have something to focus on. Dropping her hands from where they’d been fiddling, Christine followed Armand into the kitchen before contemplating the question.
“Do you have anything with mint?”
He nodded. "I have a loose leaf mint medley herbal tea." He was thankful he had a single cup tea infuser as well as his regular teapot infuser. He really wasn't in the mood for mint tea, but he could make her a pot and then have some of his green tea blend in one cup.
He moved into his kitchen and pulled down his teapot and the mint tea before setting them on the counter. Then he went for his tea and the other infuser. He looked over at her, debating something for a moment. If she was doing something it might calm her down. "Do you want to set up your own tea in the pot?" he asked after a moment.
Once she was in the kitchen, Christine had just started to fiddle with her hands and all but jumped at the opportunity to make her own tea. She probably would have taken over Armand’s tea as well if he weren’t comfortable with it. As it were, she still at least had that to focus on.
“Yeah… that sounds good. Thank you….”
Still distracted, Christine went to work setting everything she needed up. It was good to at least have something to do with her hands. Because really. Panicking and worrying while having nothing to do led to bad things. Or just lots and lots of pacing. At least this way she could focus some of her nervous energy into something. And mint tended to calm her down, which was why she had wanted that particular tea if at all possible.
He watched her. She really was spooked, he realized. Whatever Dream she'd had had shaken her to her core. If he'd thought she'd allow it he'd just stay close and if she wanted to be comforted he'd do it, but he wasn't sure how close she would allow him. When he had been teaching her to surf it had been expected that he'd be close and touching her; this was another matter entirely.
When she was done setting up the teapot he pushed his own cup towards her. "It might be best if a professional made my tea for me," he said, giving her a smile. He hoped it could put her at ease. He'd managed to get her to feel better after their second conversation on the boards, but this time they were in the same room and he wasn't sure what would work and what wouldn't.
Focusing on her tea meant that Christine was unaware that she was being watched. Yes, it made sense given she had shown up in the middle of the night in a completely panicked state, but she still would have preferred not being watched. As it stood, she didn’t realize it was happening and so was able to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. Which didn’t take all that much time to finish.
But just like that, Armand was offering her to fix his tea and she tried to return the smile. It was more of a twitch of her lips than anything, but it was something. Whatever the case, she focused on setting up his own tea before leaning against the countertop, rubbing her arms absently through the thin fabric of her hoodie.
“I’m really sorry about this.” Yes, she had already apologized. Yes he had already said it was fine. But she still felt bad.
"It's okay. Honest," he said moving away from the counter. "I'm used to having someone think they woke me up in the middle of the night." Okay, so maybe he was stretching the truth a little. But the few times Marguerite had called him in a panic had usually been late at night because of their time differences. He didn't think Christine didn't need to know specifics.
He made his way to his refrigerator. "I had been thinking about getting up and getting something to eat before you got here. Do you want anything?" He paused at the door and waited. If she wanted something he'd make suggestions, but if she didn't he'd probably stick with one of the muffins his neighbor had dropped off that morning.
She couldn’t tell if he was trying to placate her or not, but she nodded. There wasn’t much point in arguing the fact. He seemed to be awake more or less, it was already done and there was tea being made. Besides, it made sense. He had been in Boston and who knew where Marguerite had been before she moved to California. Or back to California as it were.
“No thank you… tea is enough…”
And it was. She knew that if the voice stuck around, she might need to be reminded to eat as when this happened in High School, she had stopped eating, forgetting to do so in her desire to practice and sing, to lose herself in music. All of which were the same sensations she had gone through in the Dream.
He nodded before opening the refrigerator and looking at the plate of muffins. He picked up one of the larger ones and pulled it out before shutting the door and moving to a cabinet to get a plate. When he had one he set the muffin on it and took it over to the microwave as he tried to figure out what to do next. He wasn't sure whether she wanted to talk or whether she just didn't want to be alone, but by the time the muffin was warmed he'd come to a decision.
He moved around the counter with his plate and sat down on one of the stools so he was facing her. This gave her the entire kitchen to pace in if she needed, but it was also an open invitation to sit next to him if she wanted. "Would you rather be distracted again, or do you want to talk about the Dream?" he asked, leaving the choice up to her. He was simply going to follow her lead tonight.
While being distracted would be nice, there was also the very real issue she was facing of the issue that reality might be unraveling. Or at least that she was having a hard time distinguishing reality and she needed to know what was happening. She couldn’t be this out of sorts when school started. She needed a handle on this.
“I…” Because pausing after saying a single word was definitely an answer. Finding some loose strands of hair to fiddle with, the blonde sighed as she tried to find the words she needed to say.
“It was a voice… When I was fifteen, I started to hear a voice that claimed to be an Angel of Music. I didn’t care, it was a reminder of my father and I ignored logic. It was decided it was a physical manifestation of my grief from my father dying… I would lose myself in singing but in doing so…” Shrugging she sighed as she paced in thought.
“I stopped singing. I took medication. It went away. But then I moved here for school and I just focused on anything that was school….. work. But never singing. I didn’t want to risk it.”
She knew that it didn’t make sense to go into this at the moment. But it would because it tied into the Dream. It tied into why she was so terrified at this moment. It had been bad enough, the jolting sensation, the confusion. But this was another thing altogether. Which was why she stopped in her pacing and looked at Armand.
“I dreamt about an Angel of Music. The voice from before… The same story my father told me when I was younger about Little Lotte… it was back. And when I woke up, I don’t.. I heard it again. But I don’t know if it was a remnant of the Dream or….”
His took what she said in, listening closely. The fact she trusted him enough to talk about her past was good. It meant that she felt safe with him, and he knew she needed that right now. She needed him to listen and reassure her that no, she wasn't losing her mind. And he could do that.
When she got to the Little Lotte part he had to be careful not to show a reaction. He knew this story. He knew it because Phantom of the Opera was one of his sister's favorite musicals. And he also knew from his time on Valar that there was an equal chance Christine was either very familiar with the story herself and internalizing it or she was actually from that story. For now he was going to go with option one because if it was option two he wasn't about to break it to her tonight. "Have you heard it again since after you woke up? " he asked when she got quiet. "I mean, do you hear it now?"
“Not since I left.” And that should be a good thing. It meant that it was just a Dream. Maybe. But that didn’t mean much because she had dealt with it before and while it wasn’t always there, not really, it had felt like it was waiting until she started to sing. Until it distracted her from anything but singing. She lost herself in music, she had wanted to forget the pain and give into it. Now though….
Whatever the case was, though, there were reasons Christine had issues with the whole nature of the dreams themselves. Because she had always felt like she was overreacting in a way to dreams that were just about mundane life things. Heartbreaking at times, yes, but nothing so terrible beyond how they left her feeling when she woke up.
Noticing that the tea was ready, the blonde brought Armand his own and then took a seat next to him to stare into her mug in thought.
He glanced over at her. She looked terrified, mostly, but she also looked rather resigned in his opinion. That now that she'd heard the Voice again, the Angel of Music, that her whole life was about to delve into chaos. He'd be damned if he let that happen.
"I haven't had a Dream yet," he said. "I can't begin to imagine how it feels. But yours seems to have a basis in what happened to you when you were younger. Could it be that you've had Dreams for years and not realized it?" he asked gently.
He didn’t think she was insane. That was good. She knew that it was a gamble divulging that information to him, but she’d been so desperate to know if she was hallucinating again or if it was something else… And that required going into her past so he could understand her reaction. She might not share much about her past, but she knew that it would make the difference in her reaction now.
“I don’t know… it’s only been here and recently that anything about Sweden or France in the 1800s was part of them….”
It was strange. How similar to her life the Dreams had been. So many aspects that were her life only in a different setting. How Armand seemed to just accept the dreams yet hadn’t had any of his own, she still didn’t understand. Most likely it dealt with his sister seeming to have them.
“Do you think you’ll have them as well?” It was a viable question. How long would he be spared the questions and feelings of uncertainty?