The Muse

Snap

Here I am, 2 hours later, feeding the birds at the park as planned. My bike placed behind the bench I'm sitting on, but the burn my legs got from riding it for almost 40 minutes is still prominently here.

I throw another fist of bird food at the pigeons in front of me and take my phone out to glance at the time. A few more minutes before The Lucas Fanclub would leave and hopefully, give me a little time alone to pay my respects.

I feel as I owed them to him. Not only has his music got me through so many issues in my life, but his stories and confessions he did on his videos, interviews and documentary taught me a lot.

I'm not sure if it is because I discovered his music during a delicate time of my life, or that I've learned what love feels like only after him, but he has a spot reserved in my heart for life.

One thing I always bring with me on this day is a silver medal I won in eighth grade. Taking it out of the pocket of my windbreaker, I run a finger over it. Remembering the day I won it, a wave of nostalgia glosses my eyes. I had joined the race last minute, only after a virtual Lucas had cheered me into it.

Obviously he recorded that video on the backstage of a concert, aiming it to his millions of fans around the world, 15 years ago. But, the 13-year-old me begged to differ.

If that wasn't made for me how come it worked like a charm? I reasoned.

A pretty lame argument considering, well, reality and also me getting second place. But the timing just felt heavenly to me. After that, I took every of his advice to heart. And I couldn't be more grateful for them. Overall, his music is just peak artistry, and he deserves a bouquet annually for it solely.

I look down, trying to ignore the other, unwanted voices inside my head rudely interrupting me. They agree with the way I've been judged me for my love for old school 'interests' and voice those judgements repeatedly. And over time, even the tiniest bit, they made me reconsider the way I showed my love for Lucas. And the days I called him my best friend have ended way back in high school where I had to take so many jokes because of it.

"Hey there." A voice halts my train of thoughts.

"Hey," I look up, scrunching my eyes at the sudden sunlight on my eyes.

"May I have some?"

Get your own! "Sure," I say, like the weakling who can never say no I am.

"Are you here for the annual ceremony for the great Lucas?"

"Uh, yeah," I admit.

"I've been here for a while," he smiles throwing a handful of bird food "and it's heartbreaking to see the crowd lessen through the years." He says reaching for another grab of my bird food. His hands are enormous enough to finish this entire bag in just one more fist.

Great, he's talking. I think, irritated as a conversation would just eat up my precious alone time I so desperately needed.

I trace a look from his inhumanly pale hands up to his just as pale face which was way too up high for my inflexible neck. I notice his platinum blonde hair, almost white even. A pair of bright, blue eyes look down on me, unbothered by the ruthless sun glaring down on us.

Wow, he's incredibly handsome.

"Yeah," I sigh, "but it always seems to take just as long," I joke looking at the time on my phone.

"True," he laughs wholeheartedly. "I know a way we can use right now, so we can peacefully pay tribute."

"I don't think that's-"I try to make it clear to him I don't trust him but he interrupts.

"You can also give this to him on my behalf, I always forget I'm allergic." He sheepishly offers me the blood-red rose. They look rather fine for someone showing an allergic reaction to a flower they're holding. But how does simply someone forget they're allergic?

"Sure," I give in. It'd take a committed fan to know his favourite flower, and I forgot mine. I'll be doing this guy a favour and also sticking to my own tradition.

"Great, let's go." He grabs my hand and pulls me up. Woah, that's a tight grip.

"Are you in a hurry or something?" I ask, concerned about the amount of force he's using.

"Uh, kinda." He says looking up at the sun without a squint.

"I think I'd like to do this by myself, so I'll just go back and wait for-" he tugs my hand more, not caring about a word I'm saying, keeping up his fast strides. What the hell? Who does he think he is?

I notice the black trench coat he has over his black dress shirt and a pair of black pants hugging his unbelievably long legs. He looks around frantically, and a rather stressed look shadowing his face. A hundred scenarios run around my head at where this is possibly leading and all of them ended with me hurt, abused or kidn*pped. I don't think so.

"You know what?" I snap, looking up at him. I realize it's a mistake though as the sun hit my eyes stronger than I expected.

"Huh?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you? You can place your own damn rose!" I hiss, yanking my arm off his grip.

"Not today, Anna." He turns around and steps closer to me.

How does he know my name? Icy terror fills my veins as all the stalker scenarios just saturate themselves further in my mind. No no no no no.

He raises his hand in the air, and I flinch, covering my head.

But all I hear is a snap of fingers. Literally. Everything turns silent. No children obnoxiously screaming, no birds chirping and not a sound of people chattering. I put my arms down slowly and look around. Everyone was carrying on just fine, but the scene is just... on mute.

Did he hit me so hard I lost my hearing? Did he knock me out and I'm just hallucinating?

"No, I didn't!" He groans, a faint frown adorning his very handsome features.

He snaps his long fingers one more time and this time I blackout.

I open my eyes slowly, but I feel a cloud of I'm-not-sure-what filling my mind, and I find myself extremely confused.

I look at my surroundings and see that I'm in a loud park. When did I get here? I was just at Lumiere's.

"The Jefferson's Park?" I ask, confused. Looking down, I see the medal I'm holding, and I remember why I'm here, although not remembering how I got here.

"So?"

My head snaps up to a pair of blue eyes looking down at me, an eyebrow arched impatiently.

"Oh yeah, sorry." I grab his hand and follow him. Sorry about what?

Something deep down inside me fought against him, but I knew for sure I had to follow him.

What is going on? Who is this man?

A few meters away stood a crowd of people hovering around a grave which I know very well it's Lucas'.

"You can go first." I hear him say.

"And do what?"

"Say it." He softly demands.

"You have really weird hair," I confess.

"I meant to Lucas," he grits his teeth.

"Oh no, his hair was perfect," I state.

What is going on? Why is he asking me for my opinion on hair?

"Heaven's sake," he rubs his eyes, sighing loudly putting a hand on his hip. "You're here for the tribute, please say what you came here to." he gestures his other hand at me.

"Oh."

I rake my brain for the proper words. I try to find any existing word and not gibberish, which is all I can think of right now. But amidst the intoxicating fog inside my head, it's hard to express my feelings.

Wait, what feelings?

"Your feelings about Lucas." I hear a growl next to me and a snap following it.

With that, my mind clears up slightly, and I can finally remember how to use whatever part of my brain is working.

I breathe in and blurt out whatever is going through my mind, unfiltered.

"I wish," I hesitate, biting my lip " I could meet him and express my love for him. I wish, uh, I could hug all his worries away, just like he sang away mine." I look up, trying to keep my brain functioning. "I wish I could meet the mastermind behind his art." I walk closer to the grave. Why am I telling this guy all this? I've never said these things out loud before. But I can't stop talking.

Others around us keep their head hung low or are maybe just ignoring us. "I wish I could say thank you for saving my life, just once." Tears well up in my eyes and I hurriedly wipe them away. I turn around to the man who forced me to pour these emotions out loud. An angry scowl shaded my wet eyes, and I glare at him.

However, his face only held a smug, wide smirk. He stepped closer and raised his hand again.

"Your wish is my command." Snap.

******