A/N: First if all, I don't own this picture. Second of all, some of you might call horse drawn carriages 'coaches', but for this chapter (and probably forever), I'll be calling them carriages. Third of all, enjoy this chapter!
~
After a silent carriage ride through the streets of Paris in an overly decorated carriage, Philippe and Y/N finally arrived at a large building, which, Y/N assumed was a restaurant. Light was pouring out of the large windows and laughing and chattering could be heard from the inside of the building. There were many people wearing fancy dresses and suits and there were tables dressed in pure white tablecloths. There were two glasses on each table along with a large collection of forks, knives and spoons. The doors to the restaurant were open, and soft sounds of many voices could be heard.
The doors were wooden and in their dark brown wood wood was carved many designs, which circles in the middle, shapes framing the circle, and flowing, flowery designs in the middle. They were all anyone would expect from a fancy restaurant like this; they were elegant, yet conserved and sophisticated. They were beautiful, and so was the inside of the restaurant.
The ceiling was raised, like most ceilings during that time, and there were beautiful paintings on it. The ceiling also had four large, magnificently carved, detailed, curved arches that started from the middle and made their way down the wall. The floor was marble, but it was covered with a red velvet carpet which had gold edges. The walls of the restaurant were smooth and white, and the extra pieces of wood were a light green. All of the windows were decorated with both gold curtains and red velvet curtains, which made one half circle at the top and then draped down to the windowsill. In the middle of the loose pieces, there was a gold piece of cloth that matched the curtains. This piece tied the curtains down to the wall. If one looked from the inside, the gold curtains showed, but if one looked from the outside, the red showed.
There were eight windows: three medium sized ones on the left and right, one large one on the left by the entrance, and one other one, which was the same size, on the right side of the entrance. A few glass pieces were decided into smaller pieces, but they were still beautiful and fit with the building perfectly.
When Philippe and Y/N got inside the restaurant, Philippe told the seating host that he had a reservation under the name, his surname, Chevalier. The host, who was holding two menus walked Philippe and Y/N to their table, a perfectly sized table for two by the window. An array of silverware lay perfectly on either side of the plates, and there were two glasses, face down, on the table. One glass was a wine glass, and the other was a water glass. Both of them were perfectly polished, and were gleaming in the light. They were, in fact, so clean, that one could look through it and see the setting of the restaurant perfectly, though the image was curved because of the shape of the glasses.
When they sat down, the seating host pulled the chair out for Y/N, and Y/N grabbed the arms of the chair, gently pulling it along with her. When Y/N sat down, the host walked around to the middle of the table and said:
"Your waiter will be with you momentarily."
Philippe nodded, and the host walked away, leaving him and Y/N alone.
"So, Y/N, what have you been up to in these past few years?" Philippe asked.
"Well, I worked with the opera house as a cleaner for a bit, and then they hired me as a singer, one who sings with a group," Y/N lied. Once she moved in with Erik, she got promoted to working back stage with the actresses, singers and ballet dancers. She helped make touch-ups on the costumes sometimes and she helped with the set up for the stage. Though Erik demanded that the managers give her at least a minor roll, the managers would never comply, saying that a backstage worker could never be fit to sing, act, or dance. So, Erik got angry at them and caused a whole ring of disasters along with the ones he caused because of Christine.
"That is brilliant! Did they pay you reasonably?" Philippe questioned.
"Of course they did. The pay was perfect, and it was also really enjoyable working there." Another lie. Though the pay was indeed good, it was not at all enjoyable working there. The only time it was enjoyable was when Erik was around.
"Great. And what did you do when that terrible trashed happened and the opera house closed?"
"I moved to another town and became a maid for a very important composer. I still live in Paris, however," Y/N stated, twisting the truth just a little bit.
"I see. From my observations, the pay is considerable," Philippe spoke with a questioning tone to his voice, motioning to Y/N 's dress.
"Yes it is. I love working there, too."
"I'm glad to hear it."
A silence filled the space around them, while the distant lull of voices was still audible. Philippe looked at Y/N while she adjusted the silverware, very much aware of Philippe's intense and lust-filled gaze. She was beginning to sweat now, glistening drops gliding down her back and neck, the drops not brave enough to slide down her face. She soon became impatient for the waiter to come and end this awkward situation and put and end to this dinner all the sooner.
Y/N shifted her gaze to the menu, sweeping her eyes across the long words written in calligraphy. Everything was written in many lengthy letters, making every food item look like it was something truly special. The food was described way to much, using at least five words to say what each food item is. Y/N groaned inwardly and glided her eyes reluctantly back to Philippe.
"So, what have you been doing lately, Philippe?" Y/N asked.
Philippe quickly snapped out of his daze and turned his attention back to Y/N's words. "Erm... well, I have been traveling very much, and I have been working with my father to restore peace, for the most part, into each country we visited. I was doing that until I decided to move back to Paris, my home town," Philippe told Y/N.
"Interesting," Y/N lied yet again. "Why did you decide to move back to Paris?"
"I just felt like I needed one real home, not some place-" Philippe was cut off by the waiter's footsteps. The waiter was a man (the waiters of that era were mostly men...or so I picture it) and had a balding head of black hair with a few streaks of white, a very formal suit of yellow, white, and black, the coat of which had tails in the back with small buttons where each tail began. He had a napkin in the breast pocket of his coat and a gold chain across his mid-section. The chain formed into two loops which met at the middle, where it was secured into a button. This chain connected to a pocket watch, which was in the pocket of his vest.
When the tall, skinny man approached, he said: "Hello. Would you like anything to drink?"
Philippe looked at the waiter. "Yes please. I would like to have water please," he instructed.
"I would also like to have a water, please," Y/N said.
"Alright," the waiter said. "I will get those orders in for you."
Philippe then reached out an arm to stop the waiter from leaving. "We are also ready to order," he informed.
The waiter smiled and asked: "What may I get to eat for you two this evening?"
Philippe then started listing the most horrifying food items for all of the courses of the meal. Only one wasn't horrifying and repulsive, and that was the dessert, which was a small cake-like food which consisted of mostly chocolate.
After Philippe had finished ordering and it was Y/N's turn, she opened her mouth to say what she would have liked for dinner and dessert. Philippe swiftly jumped in and said that she would be having the same thing as him. It took almost all of Y/N's muscles and will power not to cringe. She smiled at the waiter and thanked him, and he nodded his head to both of them, and walked away. Philippe turned back to Y/N and gave her a smile.
"As I was saying, the reason I decided to move back to Paris was because I was tired of living in one house every few months. I wanted to stay somewhere where I could live the rest of my life happily and fully," Philippe explained.
"I see," Y/N said, looking into Philippe's now ocean blue eyes. Y/N frowned inwardly, disappointment clouding her mind. She had always been told by people in the opera house that even if one's face is emotionless and cold, others will still be able to read everything in their eyes as if they were reading from a book. This was not the case for Philippe. His eyes were just as blank as the rest of his face. No delicate story of emotion was bound upon the glassy spheres of his eyes, which looked as if someone had taken two pieces from the sky and frozen them so they fit perfectly in the loop of his irises.
Y/N was beyond upset and disappointed. Those blue eyes had so much potential. They could burn in fury and lighten in happiness. They could glaze bright with passion and they could fall and give a solemn look in sadness, yet Philippe elected to keep his emotions completely hidden from all of mankind. Y/N knew, though, that this was unconscious and that he had been educated not to show love as a sign of gentlemanliness (Y/N did not believe this principle) and not to show anger, frustration, or annoyance as a sign of politeness. Although Philippe had been kind in the earlier years of the friendship he shared with Y/N and although Y/N once thought he was different than all of the other rich people, she now knew she was wrong. Philippe was just like the rest of the wealthy snobs: lifeless, emotionless, and almost heartless.
But, Y/N did have to admit that there was one perk about Philippe being an awful, rich snob, and that was the amazing desserts. Nothing could compare to the luscious, creamy dessert that made all of her senses tingle and her sweet tooth smile. It was small, but it would be the main reason to ever remember the evening with Philippe.
As things were starting to wind down and the conversation, which was dull in Y/N's opinion, started slowing to stop, Philippe, who was walking down the street with Y/N, clapped his hands and said:
"Well that was wonderful. I hope you have enjoyed this evening as much as I have."
"Of course I have," Y/N said. Another lie. What an evening full of lies.
"I'm glad," he replied, leaning closer to Y/N. His face started nearing hers very slowly, inching its way along like a snail. Y/N looked at anywhere but him. Her eyes only darted to his for a fraction of a second and then left, desperately searching for any sign of the fancy carriage.
Philippe was nearing closer and closer to Y/N's face while Y/N could feel the heavy, burdening beads of sweat building at the top of her forehead, grazing the small hairs at the top of her head. She felt sweat slide down the arch of her back very quickly as she was thinking of any way, any way at all she could escape. She was feeling the warm brush of Philippe's breath on her face and his lips nearing hers when their carriage appeared from the hazy cloud of the night's black atmosphere.
"The carriage has arrived," Y/N informed, out of breath from her previous nervousness.
Philippe whipped around, away from Y/N. "So it has," he confirmed, looking somewhat disappointed.
Philippe walked to the carriage and opened the door for Y/N to get in. Y/N stepped up on the step and ducked the lower half of her body, sliding into the carriage with clumsiness, but with ease at the same time. She sat down on the cushioned seat and heaved out a silent, heavy sigh of relief. What would she have done if she had to kiss Philippe? Oh, she surely would have been a nervous, guilty wreak. She had been planning, daydreaming for years about this exact same scenario to happen to her on that evening with Philippe.
Though the movements were all right and all the same as in her imagination and as the incident with Erik, Y/N could not help but feel a major difference between what it felt like around Philippe and what it felt like around Erik. The air was totally different, the air around Philippe and Y/N being nervous and awkward, and the air around Erik and Y/N being romantic and full of tension. It just didn't feel right with Philippe and Y/N knew that from the start. I had to, had to be Erik. Everything felt right when she was around him. Everything felt in place, like the pieces on a puzzle, or the pieces on a chess board. It didn't feel the same with Philippe. He was totally different, as well. He was a rich, annoying, full-of-himself, narcissist, rich snob and Erik was a pitiful, handsome, amazing, kind (if one doesn't make him angry), funny (at times, if one tries to put him in a good mood), musical genius who just so happens to have a past that Y/N can understand and protect. Erik was so much more special than anyone let on, and Philippe... well, Philippe wasn't. Erik was special, whether anyone thought so or not.
As the carriage pulled up to where they had left from, a little shop in the middle of a street somewhat near the opera house, Philippe again slid out of the caroused first, holding the door for Y/N while she followed. Y/N got out and smoothed down her dress.
"Well, thank you for dinner. It was very lovely," Y/N said to Philippe.
"I'm glad you thought so."
Silence filled the air between the two, which was soon broken with Philippe's sharp voice.
"May I see you again sometime?" he asked.
Y/N groaned internally and not really having much of a choice. replied with a simple "Yes you may."
"Brilliant! Maybe we could meet in one week," he suggested.
"Perfect. I'll see you then," Y/N replied and smiled a small smile and walked off into the darkness of the streets towards the opera house.
"Great," she heard Philippe whisper.
Philippe stayed leaning on the carriage a bit, watching Y/N walk until she was out of sight and scurried back into the carriage. He shut the door and the driver whipped the reins on the horses and they started up, causing the carriage to roll away to Philippe's home.
As Y/N walked back home, she couldn't help but think:
'Oh god. What have I gotten myself into?'
~
A/N: I'm so, so, so sorry this took so long!! I was on a long trip where I couldn't access the internet... also, there're was much to write in this chapter of ALAB (A Love Already Blossomed). In other news, I got 568 views!!! Thank you guys so much! This really means a lot to me, since I thought I would get about 0-40 views. I really love you guys for helping me reach that number of views and for reading my story, and just in general! Again, I am so sorry I took this long to publish this chapter, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter of A Love Already Blossomed