Chapter 29 | Roll Coast. . .

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Elena's P.O.V.

"Some superhero
Some fairytale bliss
Just something I can turn to," I quietly sang for myself, walking to the main room of the theater with excitement kicking at the back of my heels. "Somebody I can-"

"Elena, dear, is that you?" Francis' voice snapped me out of the invisible performance, his eyes and lips bathing in smiles and surprise. "Your hair!"

I laughed, shaking my head to make the short strands fly. "What do you think? Personally, I love it - my hair is free from split ends, and life has gotten so much easier now."

Let me tell you guys a little story about how I literally annihilated my hair.

In middle school, I always straightened or curled my hair strands to shape it the way I wanted it. After a while of regularly pressuring my hair, burning and twisting it, the torture finally reached an end.

And I had to pay deeply for the consequences.

My hair was completely broken; it was not soft anymore, it was thin, split ends were everywhere and it just looked so miserable and unhealthy. Thanks to Hazel who told me how severe the damage on my locks was, I finally stopped using tools to form my hair in an unnatural way, and instead tried to heal it.

The healing process worked to some degree, but not entirely. I had been dwelling on the thought of whether I should cut my hair or not for a long time. It wasn't before I saw the hair salon in the mall that I finally picked my decision.

Francis chuckled and gently put his hand on my head, guiding it down to the now soft ends. "I think you look beautiful - with short hair or without any hair for that matter." His words summoned a laughter from me, making my heart warm and contented. "But remember, Elena, it is only your opinion that matters the most. As long as you like it, you do not need to hear what others or I have to say about the case."

"Thanks, Frans," I smiled, following him to the piano where he handed me the song sheets I left the last time I was here. "One more thing-" My fingers dug into my leather handbag, pulling out the new, fresh papers with notes tattooed all over it. "-I was wondering if you would like to-"

The monk swiftly took the sheets out of my hands, cutting me off with a small wave. "Say no more."

And that's how we ended up playing Something Just Like This by The Chainsmokers on piano - piano, guys!

***

"Oh, I want something just like this," I finished the last line of the lyrics, listening to the melody continuing living for another minute and bouncing off the walls like a balloon.

Considering that my arm had fully healed, Francis has been teaching me some techniques that can make a song and symphony seem more preeminent and alive. Every lesson I gain knowledge and proficiency - therefore, whenever the monk shares his secrets with me, I listen with an open mind and sharp ears.

Information like this needs to be taken with a great amount of care.

"That was absolutely beautiful, my child - brilliant as always," Francis gleamed and applauded with soft claps, something that made me laugh. Despite the warmth and lightness that the monk filled the air with, there was still something odd in the atmosphere - a small obstacle. It wasn't before Francis took his glasses off and put them back on that I realized that he was the one carrying the weight. "There is something I have been meaning to ask you about, but I cannot seem to find the right time to do so."

My eyebrows furrowed, and due to the serious tone that was knitted in his words, I was almost feeling troubled about his question. "Is everything alright?"

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