Quelqu'un a aimer

Chapter One

By A Tarnished Rose

A/N Well, here we go. I hope this doesn't suck to badly. Thanks to SatisfyAnEmptyInside for the motivation and for beta reading. Please review. Oh, and I really hope my French is correct, and that the title does translate as Somebody To Love. Also, I'll write changes of P.O.V, so if there's a new scene but no thing saying that the P.O.V changes, then it doesn't. That's just for the slow learners, I'm sure most of you are smart enough to figure it out on your own. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own the two songs used in this chapter. They are the property of Savage Garden and Dry Cell, and I used them because I'm too lazy to write my own.

Mael P.O.V

I scanned the song lyrics one more time, before stuffing them into an envelope, along with the demo CD and music to accompany it. I used the stub of pencil I had left to address it to the record company, then tossed said pencil aside and left the small study. I crept quietly down the hall, catching sight of myself in one of the many mirrors lining the hallway. Well, don't I look fucking fantastic, I thought ruefully, studying my reflection closely. Scraggly, greasy blond-brown hair framing a gaunt, tired face, and an equally greasy, scraggly blond-brown beard. Ultimately sexy. Can't you just see the girls falling over themselves to get to me?

I continued down the hall to the bathroom with the intention of having a shower. I carefully placed the envelope on the hallway table, before walking through the living room to reach the bathroom. I stopped short at the light shining under the door, and backed up a few steps as the bathroom door opened.

A teenage girl emerged, wearing nothing more than a pink singlet top and briefs. Her blonde-brown hair was held away from her face with a pink hairtie, and pink bunny slippers adorned her feet.

"Zut alors! He has emerged!"

I poked my tongue out at her, "I wasn't holed up in there too long." I protested.

"Sure you weren't. A week isn't that long at all."

"I was songwriting! I need my creative space!"

"You also need to consider the health of other members of the household. You're practically trailing dirt everywhere."

"I'm not trailing dirt everywhere. Just inside the house." I took a few steps toward her and attempted a hug.

She backed away again, holding her nose and trying not to laugh, "Nuh uh. No hugging. You smell. And not even me, as your darling sister, should have to suffer a hug from you now. Shower. Get." She made shooing motions with her left hand, still holding her nose with her right.

I obeyed, walking past her into the bathroom and locking the door. A few moments later the door opened slightly, and my clothes emerged. Judging from the shriek, they hit my sister.

A second later she asked, "And precisely what am I supposed to with these disgusting things?"

"Wash them, Nico." I stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Wash them? I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because in order to wash them, I must pick them up and touch them."


"So! They might be diseased. I could catch something serious and die!"

"Could you just wash them?"

"I don't want to go within twenty feet of them. I might have to use tongs to pick them up."

"Won't the tongs get dirty?"

"Yeah, but they won't be trailing dirt everywhere."

"I didn't smell that bad."

"Ooh look, I think your clothes are growing mould!"


Emelien P.O.V




Skin rubbing together.





And the worst part? Waking up to find it was only a dream, that my sheets most definitely needed changing, and that I had a few erm...physical problems to deal with.

I slid out from under the covers, stripped off my boxers, pulled on a pair of clean (albeit wrinkled) track pants, stretched, yawned, and left the bedroom. Same thing I'd done every morning for the past month, since I'd brought this place. A strange thought occurred to me, and I smiled slightly, imagining what the tabloids would think if they got hold of said thought. Superstar convinced ghost is haunting his house and giving him horny dreams, or some shit like that. Yeah right.

I entered the kitchen, shivering slightly in the morning air. I glanced half heartedly at the clock, and my eyes widened. 6 o'clock in the fucking morning? That's far too early to be up. Not like there was any point in going back to bed, considering the state of my sheets, but hey.

I pushed my chin length ebony hair out of my gray-blue eyes, and flicked the switch to make the coffee jug start boiling. The hot steam rose slowly, warming the kitchen a little. I stared out over the living room and out the wall to wall sliding door at the hint of pink on the horizon. The city lights twinkled below, and the faint sound of music coming from the flat below mine permeated my mind. I unconsciously started humming along with the song, and then beginning to sing aloud.

Well don't you know I need a
little indulgence?
Listen to the hunter becoming
Every day there's a million advances
Don't be too forceful you'll ruin
your chances
Well don't you know that time is a
broken glass
That splinters against the wall?
But the picture is coming back
now baby,
And I want to take it all

Eventually I realized what I was doing and stopped, slightly disgusted with myself. I mean, singing along to my own songs. How sad could I get?

The coffeepot expelled a final plume of steam and clicked, informing me that I should stop day dreaming and pay attention to it. Because it was feeling so totally abandoned, of course.

I poured hot water over the coffee in my mug, cursing quietly when some splashed over my hand. Balancing the coffee in one hand and holding a pack of cigarettes in my mouth, I unlocked the sliding door and stepped out onto the balcony.

The icy morning air slapped me in the face, making me gasp and almost drop my coffee. I rested it carefully on the balcony rail before lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag, relishing the rush of nicotine.

The heavy pounding of a bass guitar invaded my brain, and I realized the neighbors were still playing my music. Do you know how weird it is, hearing yourself on a CD or radio or whatever? I suppose its good for karaoke though, because it's guaranteed that you'll sound the same as the voice on the track you're singing to. Duets with yourself.

I finished with my cigarette and dropped it off the edge of the balcony. I watched it float downward until I lost sight of it, and then drained my coffee mug, grimacing a little at the slightly cool liquid.

I stepped back inside the apartment, smiling slightly as the goosebumps disappeared from my skin. The last phrase of one of my songs caught my attention as I entered the bathroom.

If there's a way that you could be

Anything you want to be

Would you complain that it

Came to you too easily?

Shit yes.


Mael P.O.V


The shrill ring of my alarm clock resounded through my room, informing me that, on no uncertain terms, it was time to get up. I, of course, rolled over and tried to ignore it. It didn't work.

Five minutes later Nico came hurtling into my room, screeching at the top of her voice that I should obey the alarm clock and rise to face the day, or something along those lines. Like I didn't know already.

She pulled the covers off me and onto the floor, "UP!"

"Go 'way Nico."

Obviously not getting the message, Nico sat on my stomach and declared, "I am going. Just not now."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I'm waiting for you to get up."


"Because I'm going out."


"So I need you to get up and answer the phone if it rings."

"'Cause of course you're Miss Popular, and a million people want to ring you."

"Or the record company might ring you."

"Oh please. They never ring."

"You never know."

"Can't we just get an answering machine?"

Nico shook her head, "Sometimes I don't know who's the teenager around here. You can buy the answering machine, because you are the parent figure and the one who wants it anyway. But first you have to get up."

I decided to change the subject, "Where are you going?"

Nico took a deep breath, as if preparing to recite a long list, "Well, first I'm going to the Gallery to drop off some of my paintings. Then I'm going shopping, because you forgot, being too busy holed up in your study growing mould to remember. After that I'm going to a photo shoot."

"You really needed such a large breath for such a short list?"

Nico merely smiled, stood, and proceeded to drag me off the bed. Did I mention how inhumanly strong she is? No seventeen-year-old wearing stilettos should be able to drag her twenty two-year-old brother off the bed.

After successfully dumping me on the floor, Nico proceeded to fling open the curtains and march out of the room, yelling back at me, "Your study stinks, by the way! CLEAN IT!"

"Anything else you want to order me to do!"

Nico appeared to consider this for a moment, "Stop moping! Get a real job! Go shopping!" She paused, "Oh, and have a great day." With that, she pranced off. I heard the front door slam.

My sister is so strange sometimes.


Emelien P.O.V

How is it that I got up at six am, but still managed to be late to the studio for my recording session?

I pushed my way through the revolving door and tried to catch my breath in the foyer. It wouldn't look so good if I arrived panting and sweating. I imagine I wouldn't have sounded too great either.

After finally managing to catch my breath, I looked up. And groaned. It would be just my luck that the one day I arrive late, the receptionist is the one with the huge crush on me, that insists on flirting every time I walk in the door. Ordinarily, it would've been okay, but not now.

Unfortunately, said receptionist (who, according to her nametag, is called Leila) did not realize this. She sashayed over, making sure to swing her hips seductively, and all the things girls do when they are trying to be sexy. Girls like Leila, anyway.

"Hey Emelien." She whispered huskily, fluttering her eyelashes at me. I tried not to laugh. Now, nothing against Leila or anything, because she is very attractive, but she needs to get a clue or something. Do I need to wear a sign or something that says, 'I am not, under any circumstances, interested in you, or in any girl for that matter?'

I restrained my laughter, and instead said, "Leila, I can't chat right now, I'm running way late, and you know how my producer gets." She did not, of course, have any clue how my producer gets when I am late, being only the receptionist, but I guessed she'd feel flattered if I thought she would. Evidently, I guessed right.

Leila lowered her eyes, "Yes, of course I know how he gets." Her face brightened a little, "But maybe we can meet up for coffee later?"

Maybe the stars will turn green in a yellow sky and I'll dye my hair blue. I smiled but gave no reply as I brushed past her and headed toward the elevator.

Wouldn't want to keep my darling producer waiting, after all.


Mael P.O.V

"Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored…" I murmured mindlessly, staring at the telephone, willing it to ring. It didn't.

I sighed and flopped backward, squashing the pile of clothes waiting to be put away. My eyes started to slide closed, and my breathing began to even out. I was almost asleep when I felt myself being violently pinched in the stomach. I screeched and jumped off the couch, trying to force my eyes open.

My attacker laughed, and I heard the sound off footsteps padding over in the direction of the stereo. I waited for the music to start, knowing it would tell me who my visitor was.

A few minutes later my curiosity was satisfied as the strains of Mozart flowed through the room. I opened my eyes, "Hello Leila. Enjoy work?"

Leila poked her tongue at me, "Work was shit as usual. You know I hate working for the recording company. Being a receptionist is terrible."

I smiled, "What about that guy you were telling me about?"

Leila snorted, "Bastard to me, as per usual. I wish he'd rot in hell."

"But only if you were rotting with him."

Leila sighed, "That is true. Why do I always fall for the bastards?"

I smirked, "'Cause the bastards are cute?"

Leila shook her head, "There is no hope for me. What about you?"

I laughed, "My love life is about as active as a peanut."

"Active as a peanut? Interesting choice of words."

"Well, peanuts aren't active."

"I should become a scientist and genetically engineer an active peanut."

"You could, but who would want a peanut that ran away when they tried to eat it?"

"They wouldn't have to eat it, they could keep it as a pet."

"A pet peanut. Sounds as promising as my getting a date."

"Well I shall have to make that peanut quickly. You need a date."

"I do?"

Leila nodded, "You do." A thought occurred to her, "Hey, we should go out sometime."

"What? Why?"

"So you know what to do when you actually get a date." Leila said, as if stating the obvious.

"I know what to do on a date!" I protested weakly.

"And I'm one of those peanuts we were talking about," Leila said, straight-faced. "Seriously, it's been like four years since you had a date. Your memory isn't that good."

"Leila, no offence, but I'd rather have the peanut."

"I could arrange that."

"Leila, do you know anything about science?"

"Yes!" Leila protested indignantly. Her face scrunched up thoughtfully, "I know, I know….well, I'm sure I know something."

I laughed, "Come here and give your best mate a hug, and then bugger off and leave me to my moping."

Leila obeyed, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders before she left me alone on the couch, squashing the washing.

I drew my knees up and wrapped my arms around them, staring thoughtfully out the window. Not that there was much to see, just the dirty gray walls of the building opposite the dingy fifth floor apartment where Nico and I lived.

I sighed, frustrated, and stormed into the hallway. The telephone began to ring, and I stared at it for a moment before storming out the front door, slamming it shut behind me.


Emelien P.O.V

I slammed the door as I entered the studio after my lunch break, not bothering to apologize for being late for the second time today.

My producer stared up at me from his seat leaning against the wall and wordlessly held out a piece of paper and a demo CD. I took them just as quietly and slid the CD into the sound system. Whatever this was, it had to be good for my producer to be rendered speechless. I pressed the play button and listened carefully to the lyrics, meanwhile scanning the piece of paper I held. It was the corresponding lyrics and music to the song on the CD.

Finally recover and the mood is right

Looking up into a neon sky

Child in me takes over, guess it's been too long

Since the last time that I tried to fly

Finally I find when I lose control

Inside my body crumbles

It's like therapy for my broken soul

Inside my body crumbles

All I need's a moment, chance to get away

From the stressfulness of every day

Know if I don't question and I never doubt

Everything is gonna be okay

Finally when I lose control

Inside my body crumbles

It's like therapy for my broken soul

Inside my body crumbles

I don't know if I'll be alright

Is it okay to be myself

Why do we always have to fight

Now I know it's alright

Finally when I lose control

Inside my body crumbles

It's like therapy for my broken soul

Inside my body crumbles

I stared at the lyrics as the last strains of an electric guitar faded into the background. This was fucking fantastic!

I heard laughter in the background and I slowly realized that my producer was laughing at me. Or laughing at my jaw to be precise, which had dropped open.

I quickly snapped it shut and yanked the headphones over my ears, "Let's just get this over with." I growled.

My producer just smiled. Damn him.

A/N Well, that's the first chapter. I'll try to update at least once a week, but I'm a bit lazy and a procrastinator, so they might be late sometimes. I'm also doing two year eleven subjects along with all my other year ten stuff, so that could get in the way. But I will try. Please review and tell me (honestly) what you think. Even if you think it's rubbish. Have a nice day.