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Eurydice had never known anything besides loneliness.

More truthfully, Eurydice had never known anything besides loneliness, until she met Orpheus.

Orpheus had a stunning voice. His music was beautiful, too, beautiful enough to make flowers bloom in the middle of a snowstorm. But despite it all, Eurydice never failed to notice his eyes. As green as the grass his music planted, but not strikingly bright. One would have to stare into his eyes for a while before even noticing there was anything special about them.

Eurydice was one to notice details. She always had to, to be able to survive. She had to know where she could get food, and where she could sleep without awakening to the barrel of a gun pointed at her forehead.

She saw Orpheus’s eyes, the eyes she hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime in itself, the eyes of her lover that she so longed to hold. She saw the soft flecks of amber and brown against soft green, and she saw the way dark circles had set in under them from stress. It must have taken a huge toll on him, never being able to look back.

And then Eurydice realized that she wasn’t supposed to see Orpheus’s eyes. Not yet, anyway.

She wanted to leap into his arms, but she was still on the stairs. They came so close, but not close enough. Her feet wouldn’t move, and she cried out for Orpheus as she felt her body being pulled backwards into a hole that didn’t seem to end. 

“Orpheus?”

She fell, almost in slow motion. She noticed every detail in Orpheus’s face as she felt herself ripped away from him, and the Fates whispered in her ear the whole way down.

“He never trusted you.”

“It’s your fault.”

“Say goodbye to your lover, Songbird.”

“Orpheus!”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, as she traveled farther down, no longer afraid of the fall, but of what would happen once she reached the ground.

A world without Orpheus’s eyes; a world without so much as a speck of the green of his eyes; a world without a trace of the green he promised to bring back to Earth. 

Eurydice closed her eyes and sobbed.

Orpheus’s eyes opened slowly at first, as he felt Eurydice stirring against him, muttering something against her pillow. He smiled softly at seeing his lover so vulnerable, but seemingly at peace, and he wrapped an arm around her, hushing her quietly as he allowed himself to fall back into sleep.

It was barely a moment before he found himself on the other side of consciousness again, this time as he felt a sharp inhale from Eurydice’s chest. He forced himself awake just enough that his eyes didn’t close before he heard Eurydice scream his name. 

Suddenly, he was awake, and more than he’d been in a while, he was frightened. He shook Eurydice’s shoulder gently at first, but when she did not respond with anything but violent sobbing, he shook her harder. 

Another gasp from deep in her chest, and her eyes opened, bloodshot and tearful.

Orpheus bit his lip to keep himself from crying at a trauma that wasn’t even his to feel. Yes, he’d seen Hadestown, but he hadn’t been stuck there. He hadn’t witnessed day after day of heavy labor, the deceased serving as slaves to the King. He only reached out, wiping a tear from the side of Eurydice’s face. 

He reached out his other hand to wipe her other cheek, but before he could even touch her a second time, her sobbing intensified, and she nearly collapsed into Orpheus’s arms in a fit of tears.

Orpheus, having never witnessed something like this before, didn’t know how to comfort her. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice a melody even when he wasn’t singing. “You’re okay.”

Eurydice could barely breathe between choked-back tears.

“What happened?”

She pulled away slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet. 

Orpheus nodded when she remained silent, encouraging her to speak. He lifted his hand and wiped the other side of her face with his sleeve, hating the way she looked with tear stains running down her cheeks. Still beautiful, yes, but in pain. He couldn’t dare think about her in this degree of pain.

“You looked,” was all she could force out, every syllable a challenge, before she pressed herself against her lover’s chest once more, wrapping her arms around his torso and holding him so close that it almost stopped Orpheus’s breathing.

“I… I looked?” He questioned, and as he felt Eurydice nodding against him, still shaking with sobs, he understood.

What if he’d looked? What if he saw Eurydice’s eyes too soon? He struggled to fight the part of his mind that screamed for him to look back and ensure that she was still behind him. He’d gone deaf to any footsteps but his own, and any whispering but that of the Fates, tempting him with her presence. A three-headed snake offering him an apple that would end his hunger, but starve the both of them for the rest of eternity.

He never failed to notice Eurydice’s eyes. Dark and vivid; a mirror in which he saw every good thing in the world reflected. They didn’t have any distinction of their own, but when she caught something beautiful in her line of sight, everything about her seemed to light up. Just the same, as soon as her mind took her to a dark or hopeless place, he’d assumed her face would show it. He’d never seen her in a true state of despair. Exhaustion, frustration, even anger, yes, but never this.

“I didn’t, though,” was the only thing that, in his mind, made sense to say. “I didn’t look. We got out. We’re safe,” he assured her, holding her close and resting his head on hers gently.

She couldn’t wrap her head around it, though, and despite her tears beginning to slow, she shook her head. 

“I couldn’t live without you, Orpheus,” she said softly against him, her eyes still blurry. 

Orpheus could only nod. “I couldn’t either,” he whispered, pulling away just long enough to press a slow kiss to her forehead. As he released and Eurydice gently laid her head back against Orpheus’s chest, their arms wrapped around each other’s bodies and for a moment, Orpheus swore he could feel her heart beating.

“I love you,” he said to her.

“I love you,” she replied without thinking; her body knew what she would say as soon as Orpheus opened his mouth.

By now, Eurydice knew Orpheus, and knew he was one with a brilliant mind. He used it in every interaction, and every decision, and a poorly thought-out decision would be the end of him. He created his life from the ground up using his mind. Everything from his music to his relationship with Eurydice required careful planning and an even more careful execution.

Eurydice, on the other hand, was more physical than mental. She spent her whole life making something out of what appeared on her surface, using her body for a warm bed and a meal, and putting on a jacket that swallowed her in its fabric and moving to the next town when she’d run out of people that were interested in her. That’s why it was so strange for her to meet Orpheus, someone who didn’t just want her for her body, but also for her mind and her heart and every detail of her complex self. She simply wasn’t used to someone being attracted to her, but also wanting to put an end to her loneliness.

The thing about Eurydice was this: she had only ever known loneliness, and to imagine that she was no longer alone and would not have to be anymore… it was so difficult for her mind to fathom. In her dreams, then, her mind would find every way to convince her that Orpheus’s love for her was temporary and that he’d find a reason to leave her in the end.

As her mind wandered, she looked up at him for a moment and craved to ask him if he really wanted her, if he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped before any sound came out.

“Go on,” Orpheus urged her, and Eurydice noticed his eyes once again. The way they widened when he listened, indicating that his attention was all hers.

But Eurydice was more physical than mental, and although she was clever, she wasn’t particularly good with words. In an impulse decision, she lifted herself to her knees and kissed him deeply, draping her arms over his shoulders. 

She tasted of tears and longing.

It took a moment for Orpheus to sink into the kiss, and Eurydice knew by the way she could feel his eyes on her for a moment after hers were closed. However, he did find comfort in the embrace, and he kissed her back, his hands finding her slender waist and pulling her closer with the gentlest touch. 

Eurydice kept going. She’d only ever known to continue. Everyone she’s been with always seemed to want it, and she doubted Orpheus would be any different. She slowly trailed her hands down to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it slightly, and when Orpheus seemed to ignore it, she began to pull it off on her own.

Orpheus jumped back. He pulled the shirt back down, although reluctantly, and shook his head.

“Don’t you want to?” Eurydice asked quietly, almost ashamed at the fact that he didn’t seem to want her. Yes, they’d done this before, but she didn’t think he’d be tired of her this soon.

“I do. Trust me, I do,” Orpheus confessed, still slightly breathless. “But you’re not ready yet.”

“We’ve done this before,” she insisted, coming closer and taking his hand, lifting it up so that it pressed against her chest. She hoped this would at least prompt him to continue.

Orpheus shook his head again. “Once you’re not so upset,” he assured her, a promise meant to be kept, as he pulled his hand from her chest and took her hands into his. “I know what you’re doing, and you can’t keep doing it.”

“Really?” Eurydice questioned, raising her brow. “Then tell me what I’m doing.”

“You’re using your body to disconnect from your mind,” Orpheus said plainly. 

Eurydice was taken aback at Orpheus’s accuracy. She knew he could read her, but that was so accurate it frightened her. She sunk back, attempting to conceal the shame in her face, and she laid down, looking at Orpheus as she did. When he didn’t respond, she smiled softly at him, pulling their blanket over her legs.

Orpheus returned the smile and laid down next to his lover, reaching out and taking her hand into his. 

“Sorry,” was all Eurydice said before averting her gaze from the eyes she never failed to notice.

“Don’t be,” Orpheus said calmly, his soft smile still present. “We’re still learning.”

With that, Eurydice moved closer to Orpheus and rested her head against his chest.

“Are you going back to sleep?” Orpheus asked as he felt her adjust against his body. He gave her hand a light squeeze, as if to say that he’d be there regardless of any dreams or nightmares that may find her.

Eurydice gave a soft “No” in response as she felt Orpheus’s lips against her temple. “I don’t want to yet.”

As exhausted as Orpheus was, he wouldn’t force Eurydice to feel alone once again.

“Sing.”

“What?”

“If you want,” Eurydice faltered. “Make Spring come again,” she said softly, hoping his music, of all things, could put an end to the nightmares and anxiety.

“Anything for my muse,” he replied, and Eurydice could have sworn that she felt something hard inside of her soften. 

Orpheus found inspiration in his lover’s eyes, and began to sing an instrumentless melody that he’d thought of singing before, but was never able to get right until this moment. There was something about the way Eurydice’s eyes reflected everything beautiful and everything awful. He could see himself so much more clearly when she was there.

Eurydice noticed the way Orpheus’s fingers trailed up and down her arm gently; the way he was communicating with his mind and body simultaneously. And Eurydice, though she was only lying there and listening, she allowed her mind to control her body, and suddenly, her face showed every emotion she felt from her lover’s song. She subconsciously allowed herself to open up her usually closed-off mind for Orpheus to take inspiration from her, and thus his song grew all the more beautiful.

Orpheus continued to sing even as he noticed her dark eyes falling closed, despite how much she craved to stay awake.

“You’re safe, it’s okay,” he said between verses, and at that, Eurydice smiled and allowed her eyes to close completely.

Completely vulnerable, and completely at peace. Orpheus wanted to get up and write down his newfound melody before he forgot the tune, but Eurydice had her hand on his arm and almost seemed to be pulling him into sleep with her.

Though reluctantly, he eventually allowed his eyes to close while he held Eurydice close to him.

Even if he lost this melody, he knew he’d be able to find a new one in Eurydice’s mirror eyes in the morning.