Aimless Drifter

fic: Human Anatomy Ch 07

Wed, 06 Jan 2010 06:20:26 GMT

Title: Human Anatomy
Genre: Phantom of the Opera
Summary: What can I say? Body parts and Erik/Raoul slash. That's what it comes down to.
Warning(s): homosexual content, slash! Adult concepts!
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul
Rating: T

Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that’s homosexual content for those of you who don’t know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

Chapter 07

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Christine dabbed the cut on Raoul’s lip none too gently.

Hissing, Raoul jerked away. “Be careful, Christine. That hurts.”

She gave him an unimpressed look before grabbing his chin with her free hand to hold him still. “You brought this upon yourself. Now stay still.”

Raoul frowned.

“Stop that, too.” Christine pressed harder with the gauze. The alcohol stung, but his reflex to pull away was prevented by her grip tightening almost just as painfully.

He tried to school his features so that she wouldn’t have a reason to hurt him any further. Christine was mean when she wanted to be, and his lip hurt a lot already. At least there didn’t seem to be too much blood.

She sighed, pausing in her efforts to say, “You shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t tell you so that you would flaunt it in his face, Raoul.”

He fought the urge to pout. “He’s the one who’s pretending.” It came out more petulantly than he would’ve liked, but it was just Christine. She wouldn’t mind if he acted a little childish right now. She had seen worse.

“And I remember telling you that he’s not ready,” she said exasperatedly. She dabbed his lip once more before sitting back, sighing. “I don’t think he even knows this about himself yet.”

Raoul looked at her suspiciously. “And you know, how?”

“I’m almost certain.” Seeing him displeased with her vagueness, she added, “You don’t see his expression when I talk about you.” After a bit, she nodded firmly. “In fact, I am certain.”

Appeased in that aspect, Raoul focused on their current situation. He tenderly probed his lip. “How was I supposed to know he was going to punch me?”

“What did you expect?” She scoffed, “A hug?”

Raoul laughed at the thought and winced when his lip protested the motion. “No, I did not, but gentlemen do not use their fists in a dispute.”

“You’ve never punched anyone?” Christine asked dubiously.

“Well,” Raoul replied defensively, “I was in the navy. That doesn’t count.” He added quickly, “And you said he only ever really uses the Punjab lasso…”

“And since you saw he had none,” she concluded, “you thought you were safe.”

Raoul gestured vaguely. “He was the one who suddenly appeared.”

“He was trying to prove a point.”

“Exactly.” Raoul pointed at her. “Exactly. And I was simply proving my own point. He needs to stop using you or else you may really get hurt one of these days.”

She smiled at him patronizingly, already used to his penchant for trying to save damsels in distress. “And you would rather get hurt instead?”

“I’m not particularly fond of the idea of pain,” Raoul shrugged, adding seriously, “but I do know that I don’t want you to get hurt on my behalf.”

“That’s sweet, Raoul,” she patted him on his head. “But smirking at him while yanking me out of his grasp and saying ‘Leave her alone. We all know you really prefer blondes… and men’ was not the proper way to go about it. What part of he’s not ready do you not understand? You must have expected some sort of retaliation.”

Raoul refused to reply. He had expected retaliatory action and admittedly, he could have dodged that punch. What he hadn’t expected was the quick quirk of lips and wink from the infamous opera ghost before said punch.

He had a feeling that the ghost was more ready than Christine gave him credit for.

o.o knuckles o.o (wc:581)

Raoul tried to let Erik go at his own pace; truly, he did, but he was too close and he just barely kept from trying to help him along. So, even though his breaths were coming in shallow gasps, he tried to voice his urgency instead.

“I,” he choked off, “need…”

Erik’s hands weren’t moving fast enough. This was however the first time he was doing something like this, so he couldn’t be faulted. He was already holding up most of Raoul’s weight, and the heat was smothering this close to him. The Vicomte, this trusting and so much at his mercy, was distracting in itself. He couldn’t help but note his flushed expression and the fact that his eyes were nearly completely unfocused. He moved faster.

Through the rush of blood that pounded through his ears and the movement of Erik’s hands, Raoul was distantly pleased to see that the ghost wasn’t as unaffected by this as he’d been initially led to believe, and even though he’d been yelled at already for doing so, he finally couldn’t suppress the urge when he fumbled, hands messily trying to help Erik along.

Erik let out a frustrated groan and batted his hands away. “Damnit, you fop. Just…” Raoul should’ve been happy that he’d managed to fluster the opera ghost enough that he was losing his ability to speak, but there was little else on his mind besides making Erik finish the task at hand faster. “I said I would do this.”

Raoul moved his hands away as ordered. He realized that he’d never seen neither the ghost’s face nor the porcelain mask this close before. He reached up, pressing the pads of his fingers on the lines of concentration on the ghost’s forehead.

Erik’s breath caught in his throat and for just a second, his concentration broke and his eyes flickered to meet Raoul’s. The blonde’s hands lowered and Erik was tempted to say something he knew he would regret later. Instead, he focused more intensely on the task at hand. His heart was racing and he could feel his own face flush in response though.

As he renewed his effort, Raoul glanced at him with half-lidded eyes, mouth ajar. Short panted breaths strained to come out, and for long moments, Erik became Raoul’s entire world as all else blurred out of focus.

And when he felt awash in lightheadedness, Erik finally managed to loosen the final knot.

The noose unraveled, depositing a near unconscious Raoul onto the floor. Curling onto his side, he gulped as much air in as possible. His hands, tingling as blood began to circulate through his limbs again, gingerly touched his throat.

Erik was immediately on his knees at his side. Cursing at them both, he tried to roll Raoul onto his back so that he could see the extent of the damage. Raoul allowed himself to be turned, not having enough energy to fight against him.

Erik’s hands were shaking as he tugged at Raoul’s hands in order to see his throat. “How many times have I told you not to come?” There was going to be some deep bruising, and as Raoul flinched, Erik knew several rope burns as well. “Did you think I was joking when I told you I wouldn’t remove any of the traps?” He raged, not caring that Raoul didn’t seem to be listening. He was only glad to see him alive and breathing.

Through the nausea and inability to actually focus on Erik’s face at the moment, Raoul managed to answer, “But you came and,” he took a deep breath, “saved me though.”

The weak approximation of a smile Erik realized he knew too well made him turn away, only to see the rope hanging above them. Of all the traps for Raoul to happen upon, why had it been this one? If he hadn’t been nearby, hadn’t heard the yelp of surprise, hadn’t run…

o.o throat o.o (wc:656)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 07

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: What’s with me and asphyxiation? I think Erik’s giving me a complex – him and his choice of weapon. :D Mentioned in both body parts actually.

But that second one is really deceiving. As for Erik’s ‘first time’, you know he’s unaccustomed to undoing a noose. And leaving it that hanging, I was going to continue with more, but figured I wouldn’t know when to stop myself really.

Or check it out on ff.net

fic: Deck the Halls

Wed, 06 Jan 2010 06:07:07 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: More mistletoe fun. Though definitely not the fun of last Christmas or the one before.
Warning(s): slash
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 1,823
Rating: K+

A/N: The obligatory Christmas fic.
Story note: A fic in which I hand wave over the reasons why Erik isn’t madly obsessed with Christine. I do that for the Christmas stories. They deserve fluff.

o.o.o.o

Deck the Halls
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Erik hated the holidays. Not even instructing Christine in her voice lessons could dim the fact that all around, people were acting too cheerful. He couldn’t ignore their too-loud voices, the garish decorations, and even worse, the horrid singing. Even if he did try to avoid the hallways, using strictly tunnels until he reached Christine’s room, he couldn’t avoid the Christmas cheer. Christine’s room was filled with decorations, and she herself had barely been able to concentrate their last few lessons. He knew from experience that no amount of admonishment helped, though he was still tempted to try.

It was even worse this year. Ever since the Chagny boy had arrived, all his well laid plans had been ruined. And it wasn’t even that Raoul had stolen Christine away. No. Despite not having said the words aloud, he acknowledged that Christine had rejected both of them – although Christine always insisted Raoul could not have been rejected; Erik wasn’t certain what that meant.

However, he did know that they were bad influences on each other. They were such children, especially during the holidays, and it was worse now that they had managed to find a way down to his home. He surprised himself by being worried for both their sakes, as neither seemed to understand the gravity of traveling through the tunnels and the numerous ways, both natural and manmade, that they could die. It was a relief that he ran into neither of them upon reaching Christine’s room.

The lesson progressed better than expected. Christine was calm. There were no interruptions – that he knew both Christine and Raoul conspired to create. She was wholly focused on properly hitting every note. He would have attributed this newfound behaviour on her maturing until it was time to leave and she playfully kissed the mirror and giggled.

“Merry Christmas, Erik. I hope you enjoy your present.”

She was out the door before he could question her further.

He expected the worst upon returning to his home, and when he approached one of the inner rooms from a side tunnel, he heard footsteps heading in his direction. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see who it was; so he leaned against the rocks to better hide in the shadows and waited. When the intruder turned the corner, Erik quickly grabbed his arm before twisting it behind his back.

Raoul let out a pained yelped, “Erik. It’s me. It’s me.”

Erik didn’t loosen his hold. “I know.”

“Ow,” the Vicomte whined pitifully. “Please let me go.”

He reduced the pressure but did not release him. Usually, Raoul never ventured down here by himself, and Erik had a feeling that Christine had been the mastermind behind his newfound bravery. “Raoul,” he said, making certain that he was clearly reprimanding him.

Copying his tone, Raoul replied, “Erik.” He snickered and Erik twisted his arm more. Raoul was on his toes trying to relieve the strain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Certain that he had learned his lesson, Erik let him go.

Raoul cradled his arm to his chest. He pouted miserably. “I was just joking.”

“Let’s go.” Seeing Raoul flinch when he reached to physically lead him out of the tunnels, Erik had to admit he felt a little guilty for hurting him. He didn’t let it show and continued to place his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

Raoul shrugged it off. “I’m not a child, you know.”

Sarcastically, Erik mentally congratulated himself for ruining Raoul’s Christmas, but just as quickly, he stifled that thought. “Then, stop behaving as one.”

Raoul regarded him with narrowed eyes before grabbing his wrist with his uninjured hand, smiling. “I decorated.”

And just like that, he’d been forgiven. Erik wished it were that simple to forgive someone, but he knew that was impossible. However, he let himself be held by the too warm hand. Raoul acted as though it were nothing. Raoul holding his hand was far from nothing though.

Neither Christine nor Raoul seemed to understand that. In fact, Christine was particularly tactile. Had he any hope that her touches could mean something more, he would have gladly accepted them. Instead, he felt a dull ache with the knowledge that as much as she might claim to love him, she could never love him as much he wanted her to.

Raoul, on the other hand, Erik could not yet decipher why he insisted on touching him so. It was all rather innocent. At times, he saw the Vicomte hold Christine’s hand and place his hand on her back. Of course Erik had seen it and he’d gone through that jealousy. Even now when he had no hope for Christine and he rather tolerated the boy, he couldn’t quash that particular reaction.

However, Raoul had begun to do the same to him: smiling and placing his hand upon his shoulder or sitting close enough that they touched unnecessarily. Whenever he was given the opportunity, Erik would find himself somehow touching the younger man. As much as Erik now consciously tried to avoid those particular opportunities, there were times when Raoul was quicker than him, when he was somehow maneuvered into such a corner that he had no choice but to accept Raoul’s solid presence. It was indeed a talent the Vicomte had.

“This is the fifth time,” Erik admonished, taking his hand forcibly out of Raoul’s grasp. The boy didn’t look the least bit daunted. “I will throw these garlands and flowers away like all the others.” He noted that besides the garlands and flowers, accents that added too much color in the sitting room, Raoul had brought along miniature Christmas trees, quite a number of those small trees. They were all decorated with ornaments and gold and silver tinsel that caught the light from the candles. Erik was almost impressed. Almost. “Especially the trees.”

Raoul pouted at his statement but Erik knew it was just for show. He was having fun at his expense. And that’s what Erik had concluded. The boy was teasing him, seeing him as the easy target he was. Raoul was simply lucky that Christine prevented him from doing anything truly harmful. As she had put it, “Should anything happen to Raoul, I will never forgive you.”

So, the Vicomte lived. Erik couldn’t help but glance at the settee nearby where he kept a spare lasso though. He sneaked that way, intent on at least getting some of his frustration out. He could perhaps get the lasso around Raoul’s neck and wait until the boy fell unconscious so that there would be no argument while he was dragged out. When he reached to grab it though, he grabbed air.

Raoul was watching him with a hint of a smile.

Before he could ask anything else, Raoul grabbed his wrist again and dragged him towards the music room. Erik’s eyes widened when he saw that even his organ was not spared from gold tinsel and green garland. In fact, it was buried under several trees as well. Jerking his hand free from Raoul’s grasp, he ignored the Vicomte as he blathered on about how important the season was and how particularly important traditions and decorating were.

This would not stand. Erik knew he had a lasso by his seat. Searching for it, he again came up empty handed.

He was certain Raoul was grinning at him for more reasons than the horror that was now his home.

And before he could even begin to form a particularly scathing remark, Raoul had appropriated his wrist and pulled Erik again, this time towards the lake. At least when they reached the shore, Raoul willingly released his wrist. As Erik looked at the lake, he pleased to note that there was nothing there.

Raoul quirked his eyebrow and said, “Call down the portcullis.”

Erik stared at him, not quite certain what to make of such a request.

“Please?” Raoul had the gall to look at him pleadingly.

Disbelieving that anyone would go through so much trouble and simply to call the Vicomte’s bluff, Erik did so. And as the iron lattice structure slowly lowered, he sorely wished he had something other than his bare hands to kill Raoul. Wreaths and ribbons of all different colors, each one more sickeningly brighter than the last. Although, with such limited options, Erik seriously considered killing him with his bare hands, or perhaps one of those gaudy orange ribbons. He just barely held himself back. At least with the lasso, Erik could claim that Raoul had ‘accidentally’ fallen into a trap – though, admittedly, Christine was more liable to believe Raoul’s word than his own.

So, instead of directly voicing his displeasure, he asked, “Where are my lassos?”

This time Raoul smirked. “After the last time,” he rubbed his throat absentmindedly with his left hand, “I decided to ensure my continued safety and found a better use for those… death traps.”

“What…” Erik glared at him, “did you do with them?”

Raoul pointed up.

Following the direction he pointed, Erik peered through the darkness. Surely enough, Raoul had somehow managed to hang the lasso quite a distance up. In fact, he noticed that there was something caught in the noose. He squinted.

Suddenly, Raoul had a hand on his bicep and was standing closer than Erik was comfortable with. When he didn’t move, Raoul grinned but looked completely vulnerable and hesitant at the same time. A sprig of greenery was above them, Erik realized.

And before he could even begin to think of the implications of Raoul not only hanging such a thing but also maneuvering them beneath it, Raoul leaned forward and pressed their lips together chastely. It was a quick peck and he pulled away before Erik had the presence of mind to respond – and Erik did want to respond.

Clearing his throat, Raoul took a step back and looked everywhere but in Erik’s direction. So, he was surprised when Erik grabbed his arms this time and pulled him close for a rather sloppy second kiss. As much as Erik wanted to make the kiss last, he didn’t try to prolong it knowing that his inexperience was clearly showing.

Raoul didn’t push him away or laugh at him though, and when they parted, he only let out a small sigh of relief.

Before he could comment, Erik said tersely, “I’m still going to throw away the decorations and I’m still considering hurting you for my organ and…” he glanced over his shoulder towards the portcullis. “that atrocity.”

Raoul didn’t even bother to follow his gaze, focusing steadily on Erik’s face. This time, instead of grabbing Erik’s wrist, Raoul reached for his hand. “Okay.” He smiled sweetly, and Erik wondered at the angel standing before him. However, the image was ruined when Raoul grinned impishly. He nodded knowingly, “You had a great deal of lassos lying around.”

Erik let himself be dragged away.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Tell me why I simply couldn’t bring myself to add this sentence during the music room scene, “The boy had touched his organ without his permission.” D:

Or check it out on ff.net

fic: More than Friends Ch 04

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 06:39:18 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: Continuation to Imaginary Friends. Erik and Raoul are trying to make things work between them, but can they really just be friends?
Warning(s): slash
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul
Word Count: 6,714
Rating: T

A/N: Late again. I tried to do an entire week of Erik trying to make their relationship go to the next level in one chapter and failed. Failed quite badly actually.
Story note: Let’s all cross our fingers for Erik’s success but then again, if he does succeed, this will be one very short sequel on how they got together. Uh, so, let’s hope he… fails?

o.o.o.o

More Than Friends
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Chapter 04 – It’s a Start

o.o.o.o

Good night? It had been far from it.

Erik had been unable to sleep. It wasn’t as though it were an impossibility. Life at the Chagny estate was truly a change; the days were exhausting in a way that could actually be described as satisfying – though the truly satisfying part was coming home every day to Raoul, even taking into account the current awkwardness between them. The construction site was always busy and the news of the party had stressed an already stressful situation. Erik simply couldn’t convince himself that sleep was the most suitable use of the scant hours between now and the party. Every second he spent away from Raoul was wasted.

He should be doing something, anything, but he couldn’t very well sneak into Raoul’s room. Well, he could, but to what end? He would only manage to scare him away by doing any of the numerous mental images that came to mind.

He had approached the door without realizing it. He wouldn’t leave the room. Taking a deep breath, he leaned his head against the door, letting it cool his suddenly elevated temperature. Control. He had to control himself, but that control was already frayed, unraveling quite steadily. The only thing keeping him away was the fact that he refused to jeopardize his future, their future; they were just beginning to make progress. It wasn’t even that this family, Raoul, was all he had left; it was that it was the only thing that mattered.

Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the nightstand where he’d left some blueprints he’d been reviewing earlier. If sleep was going to remain elusive, he might as well be productive. He sat down and tried to review the sheet, but he did not truly see any of the lines or words. Placing that down, he picked up his notebook. He could distract himself by writing or drawing or… he couldn’t. The book was flung across the room without a second thought. He cringed as it connected with the wall before falling to the floor, realizing that he shouldn’t be making noise so late in the evening. Everyone had retired for the night. Philippe was probably sleeping so well right now, he thought angrily.

Standing up abruptly, he began to pace. How could he possibly reconcile the conflicting desires of wanting to allow Raoul to decide the depth of their relationship and making Raoul see they should be everything to each other? In one week? The only answer, Erik had determined, was to find a way to make it so that Raoul would want him, and he couldn’t quite believe such a thing would occur without some guidance.

So, the next question would be, how could he do so without frightening off the younger man? He wasn’t sure.

Somehow, they’d been closer when Raoul didn’t remember their past. Erik admitted it might have had something to do with the fact that he’d also been a little more forward; he almost wished they could at least go back to that if anything. However, it was different now. He had more to lose, and as such, he couldn’t simply lure Raoul into his room and convince him there was so much more they could do together than talk.

Erik nearly laughed at the pure absurdity of the thought. There were so many aspects that were wrong with it. Although he wanted to do something with Raoul, Erik admittedly didn’t know exactly where to begin; he’d only ever managed to steal a single kiss from someone – and, Raoul had been unconscious at the time. He was also working under the assumption that Raoul was somehow more innocent than him and hadn’t had sexual encounters in the past, which was necessary for his peace of mind but was rather unlikely considering Raoul’s looks and standing in society.

More importantly, he would never do that to Raoul. Despite all the things he thought himself capable of, he wasn’t capable of such boldfaced deceit. He paused, jerking to a halt in his pacing. He had taken advantage of Raoul though and had been doing so time and time again with every touch tainted with so much want that it made Erik’s head swim and with every thought that dragged his image of Raoul further down into obscenity. The only saving grace was the fact that he hadn’t physicallydone anything beyond that first violation, but he couldn’t forget he was capable of such acts. If he fell into complacency, he might just slip.

Taking another deep breath, Erik tried to calm himself. After several similar breaths, he was no less agitated than before. So, he began to pace again. At least in doing so, he was able to work off the excess nervous energy that was quickly becoming commonplace. He counted the steps from one end of his room to the other, counted the window panes, and let his eyes wander across the various furniture which decorated his room. His. He belonged here. This already familiar room, this house, and more importantly, Raoul was home.

Reaching up, he touched the cold porcelain that was his mask. Normally, he took it off in the evening, but that was only to sleep. And even then, the first few weeks he’d slept with it on. It had been for naught of course; no one entered his room without first knocking. He had been given his privacy, for which he was glad. He’d been given a sanctuary of sorts and yet, curiously enough, he still found himself out of it more often than not.

As such, the mask was for everyone’s benefit; he told himself that, but he wasn’t sure how much he believed it anymore. This mask may have brought him to Raoul several times already, but he knew it was only serving to keep them apart now. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know both Chagny’s rather expected him to appear one day without it. They’d already seen what he truly looked like, but it did nothing to remove the anxiety. He couldn’t bear it if he were able to finally scare Raoul away permanently. A mask was no hardship to keep on.

But a part of him wanted to know. Would Raoul look upon him with pity – because Erik didn’t think the blonde had it in him to shy away with disgust – or would he smile tremulously and pull him into a desperate hug? Raoul wasn’t that young anymore though. He wouldn’t cry and try to kiss away the pain; they were beyond that sort of affection. However, he had received a similar homecoming after that debacle with the Giry’s in a city he would prefer never to set foot in again. It couldn’t be that farfetched to hope for such a reaction. If that’s what it took for Raoul to hug or kiss him, Erik would actually gladly do so.

Walking towards his dresser, he reached up to remove the mask. It was barely a fraction away from his face when he put it back on. No. Not right now. Later. He could do that later. He would deal with one difficulty at a time.

Staring down at the partially open dresser, he opened it further and fingered the expensive material that was his clothing. He’d only brought his compositions, designs, and the as of yet untitled and unfinished opera he was composing. The rest had been part of his old life, one that he’d abandoned, had discarded without a shred of regret.

He’d been given a chance to start again, to have a second chance at being a better person, one who would never be forced to separate from Raoul. How could he have hesitated? The surprising thing was that it hadn’t been too difficult. Once away from the Opera Populaire, he didn’t have to be the ghost. He didn’t have to struggle so hard to maintain his livelihood through threatening notes and broken set pieces. Although some habits remained, he only had to be present in Raoul’s life. That was proving difficult enough by itself that he didn’t have time to think of anything else.

Regardless, any thought of missing his old life was pointless since he’d missed Raoul for even longer than that; everything paled in comparison to Raoul. So, while he sometimes wished to Punjab lasso someone, particularly Philippe lately, he didn’t think he’d ever go through with the act.

And, Philippe was altogether another conundrum. He couldn’t understand why Raoul’s own brother was so intent on pushing him to action when the elder Chagny knew he wanted more with Raoul. Erik couldn’t help but wonder if it was simply Philippe’s misplaced trust that he would respect Raoul’s wishes, that he was stronger than he actually was. Then again, a part of him wondered if this party was specifically so that he would never have any more of a chance with Raoul.

It might be too much to expect Philippe to be understanding enough to allow his brother such an abhorrent thing as to love not only a man but one such as him. Erik wasn’t blind; there was a chance that Raoul would find his affection morally objectionable like much of society did, but that was one problem Erik didn’t want to even consider – Raoul didn’t need any other reason to be repelled by him.

It was all so frustrating to not be able to have his way immediately. He realized rather belatedly that he’d almost been spoiled at the opera house; even when they didn’t comply, all he had to do was break set pieces or backdrops before that was remedied. He knew such tactics wouldn’t work here but didn’t know what else he could do.

All he knew was that Philippe was pushing so much that the outcome could hardly be expected to be anything but disastrous.

o.o.o

It was predawn when Erik found himself in front of Raoul’s door. He’d tried to stay away, but his patience was running thin and his thoughts had turned time and time again to the same point, he needed to see Raoul. It was commendable that he’d even managed to stay away for so long.

There had been many false starts to get from his own bedroom to Raoul’s. He’d been warring with himself, trying to figure out whether this were truly an effort at speaking with Raoul about their relationship or simply his unfulfilled desires spurring him to find a way to be in Raoul’s room and garner some kind of physical affection. As he stood by the door, he acknowledged that it was probably a mixture of both. He could only hope that the former overpowered any traitorous action he might do if spurred on by the latter.

He knocked softly, still wholly unprepared for what might occur when Raoul opened the door. Dozens of scenarios had run through his mind and the more scenarios he thought, the more absurd they became until he had been forced to stop. The worry gnawed at his stomach, and being bombarded with so many unfamiliar emotions combined with the helplessness he was thrown into when faced with dealing with Raoul made him want to hurt someone. It had already frustrated him to the point where the lone mahogany chair in his room had been dismantled and destroyed. By his bare hands. It had been easier than expected, and now the urge to destroy something and yell and possibly act before he thought through the consequences had been relegated to the deep recesses of his mind.

There was little chance that Erik would hurt Raoul. Intentionally. But he felt calmer now, albeit not any better equipped to deal with the uncertainty that Raoul seemed to inspire in him.

As he stood there, straining to hear any noise from the other side of the door, the minutes somehow dragged ever slower towards dawn, yet sped along further still and faster towards the end of the week. A muffled “enter” was the only response.

Entering slowly, Erik peeked into the room. It was good to see Raoul was at least still on the bed despite the fact that he was sleeping ninety degrees clockwise than what was normal.

“Raoul?” Erik whispered.

Moaning, Raoul burrowed deeper into his blankets, hugging the pillow towards himself, blonde hair strewn across his face. He looked as though he hadn’t woken at all, much less enough to respond to his knock.

Erik faltered once more. He could still leave and forget that he’d ever been there. There were other ways to go about this. Raoul certainly wouldn’t remember his visit. Now that he thought about it, Raoul had looked preoccupied the night before and eager to retire for the night; maybe he needed his rest. It would be more considerate to leave. But, he’d come this far and Raoul had said to enter, so his presence couldn’t be construed as an intrusion, and Erik was reaching the end of his patience at being so cautious and hesitant around him. It grated on his nerves even with the justification that it had been necessary. It wasn’t necessary anymore though.

Before he’d even truly made up his mind, he was already walking closer to the bed. He watched the rise and fall of each of Raoul’s breaths, drawn ever closer. The only sound in the room was their breathing. Sitting at the very edge of the bed by Raoul’s head, he brushed Raoul’s hair aside so that he could see his face. His hand lingered, watching the strands as they fell through his fingers.

Raoul murmured and moved at the touch, towards him. Erik. He hmm’d in pleasure. Let me sleep a little more.

That wasn’t me.

Erik pulled quickly away when Raoul shifted, but before he could stand, Raoul opened his eyes, squinting in his general direction, and he froze.

Why is Erik in our room? “Erik?” he muttered, voice rough from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, and Erik could only stare. There was no suspicion, no fear, just confusion. Raoul trusted him too implicitly; Erik didn’t deserve any of it. How could he even begin to want to force him into anything?

Maybe something happened? Erik suggested.

Raoul looked around in sleep-laden alarm, struggling to wake up faster. He didn’t raise his voice, even as he asked, “Is something wrong?” He moved to sit up, but Erik placed his hand on Raoul’s shoulder to coax him back down. Raoul was so warm to his touch. He made sure his hand didn’t linger this time though.

“No,” Erik replied softly, as though anything louder would somehow ruin the still cast of sleep that hung over them, “Everything’s alright.”

There was something extraordinary about this moment, a softness as the sun had yet to rise and the morning dew was just building; the sharp edges of their harsh reality dulled to this quiet moment between them.

Then why…? Raoul asked even as he laid back down, trying to nestle in the warmth of his previous position; it was never quite the same though after having moved. He shifted closer to the extra warmth that Erik provided instead.

Erik stood up however, and Raoul pouted, craning his neck to look at him. Seeing Erik actually look uncertain, Raoul asked, “What are you doing here? Can I help?”

“I knocked and you said enter,” he said, not quite answering because he didn’t know what he should say. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be alone with Raoul in a room, at least not a room with a bed.

I did? Raoul looked at him dubiously.

Apparently.

“Oh.” Raoul glanced down in thought and just realized how he was sleeping. Again?

Well, at least this is better than waking up from hitting the floor. Erik tried to be optimistic.

Raoul sighed.

Erik tensed, his jaw clenching. So early in the morning and Raoul was already distracted; and Erik only allowed himself to think of it as distraction. He didn’t want to think of some unknown person that Raoul thought of so constantly. Putting a body or face to the person, imaginary as it might be, would only serve to anger him further. There was no fiancé, certainly, but there was someone already. “I should have known it’s too early. I’ll let you sleep some more.”

Don’t let him leave. Erik urged. Remember your promise. This is the perfect opportunity to speak.

Before Erik could even think to move, Raoul stopped him. “Don’t.” And though the request was hushed, Erik stopped. Raoul reluctantly moved away from the fading warm spot to lie properly on the bed. He couldn’t suppress a shiver as he settled. “Stay. You came for a reason, right?” He looked at Erik pleadingly when he saw him still hesitate.

Erik had come for a reason, but it didn’t matter anymore. He knew that there was no guarantee that Raoul would find someone at the party. He hadn’t actually thought himself that fortunate, doubted that Raoul would reject every beautiful woman that caught his eye, but he’d still hoped. There had still been a chance. He simply had forgotten to take into account the fact that Raoul probably already had someone he wanted. Perhaps he’d never even had a chance despite Philippe’s meddling.

But if Raoul could be happy with someone else, then Erik would be happy for him.

Except… Erik knew he wasn’t that charitable. He would be miserable if Raoul found a wife, and in turn, he knew he’d want to make their lives miserable, or at least hers. He already wanted to know who the mysterious person Raoul so constantly thought about was and erase their mere existence. If there were an actual person in front of him, someone Erik could touch, could harm, he knew he’d only manage to hurt Raoul in the end.

He so desperately wanted to leave, not certain he could stand to see Raoul think of someone else when it was just them. He could still leave with some dignity and perhaps formulate a different plan, one that included maybe simply kidnapping Raoul. He sighed and made the mistake of meeting Raoul’s eyes. While he managed to look away, it mattered little with his resolve already gone. How could he refuse when Raoul was looking at him like that? Moving away from the bed, he reluctantly went to sit in the chair by the window.

“What are you…?” Raoul asked.

Erik supplied. He’s sitting across the room.

With a groan, Raoul pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, motioning for Erik to sit closer. “You’re making this very difficult for so early in the morning.” He slumped further against the headboard, trying to find a comfortable position.

Erik watched him, trying to discern what Raoul wanted him to do. There weren’t many places to sit in the room. He haltingly took a step toward him, admitting honestly, “I do not mean to.”

“Simply sit on the bed.” Raoul patted the spot beside him. He was still mostly asleep and the bed was cold now, something he sought to remedy with Erik’s help. This was the perfect time to speak with him, and now, he simply refused to do so so far apart.

Erik wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly. There was no questioning it though with that hand motion: Raoul had invited him to his bed. If the urge to run hadn’t been present before, it would have arisen at this very moment. But Raoul was looking at him so expectantly again, and he wondered belatedly when he’d been so tamed. He took a shaky breath and sat down at the very edge of the bed, legs still dangling over the edge. He looked over his shoulder at Raoul with barely concealed hope.

Raoul gave him a pointed look along with an exaggerated sigh. Erik threw out a prayer to anyone who was listening for strength as he raised his legs so that he was now sitting against the headboard like Raoul. Somehow he managed to do so without touching the blonde, a feat in itself when it seemed as though Raoul wanted to close the distance.

Pleased with their proximity now and the impending warming of the bed, Raoul pulled the blanket and tossed part of it over Erik’s legs before trying to concentrate on the conversation they were supposed to have instead of the sleep that was still so temptingly near. Remembering Erik’s resolve to speak with him when he first entered, Raoul started, “So, are we commiserating?”

Erik had watched Raoul moving with something akin to dread. He mentally questioned all the powers that be why. Why were they testing his restraint? It wasn’t possible. Raoul was too warm, too… real and Erik couldn’t do it. His heart was pounding and his hands twitched with the need to simply touch. The younger man had even begun to lean against his arm. It couldn’t have been intentional because Raoul’s eyes were struggling to stay open, but he desperately wished that it were. He was hard pressed to remember why he couldn’t simply take Raoul now. Raoul was his hope, his life. Raoul was his. It wouldn’t be very difficult at all to take what he wanted. Raoul would eventually learn to love him back. It was all so simple. Take and possess so that there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that Raoul was his, no party, no distraction, nothing.

The thoughts beat against his control and the blood rushing past his ears made it difficult to hear anything, but while the words took several moments to filter through, Raoul’s tone had come clearly across. Conspiratorial, easy camaraderie Erik was certain they didn’t have just yet and he was suddenly reminded of pinky swears and the only promise he’d ever sworn to keep. A promise made with the body he wanted to violate.

Steeling himself against the inner turmoil that still raged, he thought of kidnappers and Raoul almost falling off the catwalk. He focused on the stillness of the room, of Raoul’s trust, of the pain he’d already caused with his thoughtlessness. He focused on the mirror across the room and just how lucky he was to be invited to stay here.

“What?”

Raoul glanced up at Erik, who refused to tear his gaze away from some spot across the room. “Didn’t you want to commiserate about the party?” he asked.

It’s like you’re trying to make this difficult for him, Erik commented, amused.

“Oh,” Erik shook his head and wished he hadn’t when it seemed to make Raoul lean more heavily on him. “I didn’t come to commiserate.”

Raoul stifled a yawn.

Good way to show interest in the conversation, Erik retorted in his head.

Frowning, Raoul responded heatedly, I’m trying.

“Why don’t you lie back down?” The second the words left his mouth, Erik came to the distressing realization that if Raoul did in fact lie down, his head would be near a certain part of his anatomy that was more interested in the suggestion than it should be. It would be so easy to hold him down; Raoul’s motions were still sluggish. He shook the thought from his mind, desperately wanting to retract the suggestion.

Raoul asked after a pregnant moment where Erik hoped the answer would be no. “You don’t think it rude?” He quickly added, “Because I do want to speak with you. I’m just a little tired.”

“It’s,” Erik swallowed with some effort, “alright.” It really wasn’t. “I woke you too early.”

Raoul slid down, resting on his side to face Erik. One glance down and Erik’s head snapped up again, trying to control his breathing because despite the improbability of such a feat, he could swear he could feel Raoul’s breath against his leg. Erik helped him pull the blanket higher, before stiffly clasping his hands together on his lap. His nails were digging into the back of his hands. Raoul let out a pleased moan and Erik turned his eyes upward. He didn’t have this much restraint. He truly didn’t.

Try as he might, trying to control the thunderous pounding of his heart couldn’t distract him from Raoul’s proximity, the way he curled towards him, and the content smile as he settled down. It was as though for Raoul, this situation was not only comfortable but normal for them. He looked at the distance from his hand to Raoul’s head; it wouldn’t take much to touch him. He tried to shift away.

Moving faster than Erik thought possible, Raoul grabbed his pants at his thigh. Erik immediately tensed beneath his hand and froze.

What was that? Erik asked with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

Raoul didn’t move, not quite sure if he could at the moment. I do not know. As he’d settled beside Erik, he hadn’t been able to help but think of the carriage they’d both been locked in at the carnival. When the memories had first come back, he hadn’t been able to think of anything besides that for a while. It probably hadn’t helped that all he’d done was dissect the memories when waiting for Erik to return home. He had come to the realization that in such a short time, they’d made a connection, one that Raoul had been unable to duplicate in the past fifteen years with anyone else. And that thought actually frightened him because he didn’t think another fifteen years would make any difference. There would never be anyone else; Erik was simply that important. They had to find a way to make this work, but just as much as he hoped for that to occur, he was as certain that Erik would disappear again.

Which is unfounded. Erik added. Why do you even think that after everything we’ve been through?

Raoul couldn’t respond. He didn’t know how to put into words the fear. In fact, he didn’t want to explain how all it had taken was Erik’s slight movement and the wayward thought of “Erik’s leaving” before he’d been overwhelmed by fifteen years of desperation, loneliness, and loss concentrated in a single moment that had spurred him into motion, that the feeling was still there simmering beneath the surface thankfully less intense but more incessant than ever before.

His voice was shaky when he asked, “Don’t leave, okay?”

“Never,” Erik responded immediately, not caring that he didn’t know why Raoul had requested that of him: if he meant not to leave this morning or not to leave ever. In the end, it didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to leave. He wanted to ask if he was alright, but after he’d responded, Raoul had relaxed despite the fact he had yet to remove his hand. Erik tried to similarly relax and was hard pressed to do so.

They fell silent. Raoul’s breathing eventually evened out and his hand was simply lax on his thigh. Erik kept himself completely still, tempted to touch him, but afraid that doing so would startle him enough to pull away. He doubted Raoul would even object though, and that was part of the problem. He couldn’t help but wonder again, how far could he push without Raoul understanding just how significant each touch was?

Whispering, he almost hoped Raoul was asleep so that he wouldn’t answer. “Do you want to find a wife?” He left off the ‘if you haven’t already someone in mind’ part of the question, trying to simply allude to it.

Raoul had been drifting off to sleep. Now that Erik wasn’t trying to leave, Raoul found that being near him was calming, relaxing in a way he hadn’t been able to achieve when alone in his bed, probably because he didn’t have to worry that he wouldn’t be there in the morning. At his question though, Raoul was drawn to wakefulness. He frowned, thinking back to his earlier conversation with Erik about the very same subject.

He noted, You two are acting more and more alike each day. He ignored his retort of What do you expect? I am he. Raoul answered honestly, “I don’t know. Not with most of those people that brother’s inviting at least.”

“Is there anyone else?” Erik prompted.

Raoul snorted, shifting a little closer to the heat Erik provided. Letting his eyes drift shut, he answered, “I’m not close to anyone other than the people I’ve grown up with: Philippe, my sisters, and many of the servants here.”

Well, I’d say you’re close to me. You were momentarily engaged to me. Erik answered cheekily. Although that would actually count as the second time you tried to marry me.

Erik frowned at the answer. He knew Raoul would never intentionally lie to him. In fact, the lies were obvious now, but it could be simply be that Raoul didn’t understand his query. “There’s no one else? Besides… family?”

“There’s you.” Raoul looked up at him with a grin, hand slightly tensing on his leg.

Now, Erik was certain that Raoul didn’t understand that his question had been about prospects, so he tried to calm his heart and tell it to react differently. He was failing rather spectacularly.

And I only proposed to you once, Raoul pointed out.

What?

You were my fiancé, Raoul explained, But Erik was… He actually couldn’t finish that thought. I was young. And, I only proposed once to you.

Fine, Erik conceded, though he added. We are the same person though, but if you’re pointing out differences, you have to admit that you’re only close to me.

Fighting not to roll his eyes, Raoul responded, But Erik, he distinguished quickly, the one in my bed, is rather important to me, too, and that counts.

It took a moment before he received a response. I wish you could hear what you say sometimes. At Raoul’s confusion, he simply continued, But you aren’t exactly friends, are you?

It always came back to that question. Raoul wasn’t quite sure what they were, and he knew there was only one way to remedy that.

“What are we?” He asked more plainly than Erik would have ever dared.

Erik paused in his mental ambivalence to Raoul’s response to his last question. If only he knew the answer to that, if only he could just tell Raoul what he wanted them to be, what they should be, then life would be considerably easier. As it were, he didn’t know. “What do you want us to be?” Erik asked instead, hoping that Raoul answered favourably, that he would give a hint at how hard a trial Erik had before him.

We all apparently want to know this answer.

Raoul closed his eyes, having a difficult time trying to gather his thoughts. I presume ‘I don’t know’ would be an inappropriate response.

And you would be correct because he’s asking what you want.

I want a lot of things. Raoul said. I want us to be happy, to be able to talk to each other like this, and to spend our days together. I want everything to be alright.

Erik pointed out. You want a lot of things that don’t actually answer his question.

Raoul knew he was right.

Again.

He had been trying harder to come up with an answer to this very question since their talk about marriage and Erik’s place in his life, and even more since his conversation with Christine. It was a pressing issue that they’d tried to fix already, but it wasn’t enough to agree to not be awkward with him. From what he could determine, it came down to one thing. “Close,” he said so suddenly that Erik started, “I want us to be close.”

Erik let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. It wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear but it was vague enough to give him hope. “Then,” he nodded to himself. It was a start, a better start than he’d been expected actually, “we’ll be as close as you want.” He even dared to finally place a hand atop Raoul’s own. When Raoul didn’t pull away from him, he relaxed and said, “Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

Raoul was going to protest; he’d been awake long enough to wonder if he could fall asleep again, but didn’t bother to tell Erik. He wanted to take this opportunity to revel in his presence. Shortly after though, he fell asleep with Erik watching over him.

o.o.o

When Raoul woke up a few hours later, he was alone in his bed. Looking around the room, he didn’t see anything out of place. The spot beside him in the bed wasn’t especially warm, nothing that could confirm or deny the possibility that someone had been there.

Was that just a dream? He asked.

A dream? Erik replied. I doubt it. You’ve had some interesting dreams, but I think this one was real.

Well, Raoul looked around the room pointedly. He’s not here.

Erik hesitated. That’s true, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t here earlier.

Raoul didn’t mention the obvious fact that he’d explicitly asked Erik to stay, and the man had agreed.

Sighing in the face of Raoul’s so obvious disbelief, Erik pointed out. It wouldn’t be too difficult to simply ask him. Maybe he was called away by work.

Still doubtful, Raoul tried not to think about it as he went through his morning ablutions. He was beginning to wonder why it was so important that he wake up with Erik in his bed.

Finally!

Ignoring that outburst, Raoul pushed that thought aside as well since he knew the answer to that. I just want to know that Erik’s still here.

As he approached the breakfast nook, he overheard Erik and Philippe talking.

Erik insisted, “I said I’d replace the chair.”

“I was simply wondering,” Philippe replied. “Sorry for interrupting.”

Clearing his throat, Erik started again, “It will simply be…” Raoul could even venture to say that he was a little hesitant. That was odd.

“For a week?” Philippe finished, amusement obvious in his voice.

Brother’s picking on Erik again. Raoul commented.

“Yes.” Erik said tersely. Raoul wondered how he could convey such annoyance in one word.

We’re simply skilled as such.

Raoul fought hard not to grin. He wondered if he should walk in or wait for them to finish their conversation.

So you can eavesdrop.

No. Raoul said defensively. He couldn’t help but worry whenever Philippe and Erik spoke to each other. For some reason, he always had a feeling they were speaking about him.

Not everything is about you, Raoul.

I know. That’s why I never say anything. It didn’t stop him from wondering. It also didn’t help that they usually glanced in his direction when they spoke. And I would’ve left to give them privacy.

Obviously. Erik replied sarcastically, since you’re still standing right here.

“It’s alright.” Philippe replied, and Raoul could hear the rustling of the newspaper.

“Really?” Erik hadn’t been sure Philippe would allow him to take time off on the job that Erik himself knew was important. It wasn’t simply that though. It was whether or not Philippe would allow him because Erik was taking time off the site specifically to spend it with Raoul.

“Truly.” Philippe asserted, “The construction site shouldn’t fall to chaos without your presence.” He added contemplatively, “Lest the men that were hired are completely inept.”

“They are more than skilled.” Erik interjected. Raoul had a feeling he’d chosen them himself.

Philippe said placatingly, “I trust your judgment.” Though it did little to really placate Erik, who was still glaring at him from across the table despite his consideration.

Deciding that any more time he spent lingering by the doorway was indeed eavesdropping, Raoul walked in on Philippe’s comment. Erik and his brother were sharing a meaningful look.

Why does it always feel as though I’m interrupting something important between these two?

Maybe you are? Erik suggested.

But, Raoul froze at the entrance of the room as they both turned to look at him, it doesn’t seem as though they’re speaking about the construction site.

That’s very observant of you.

“Good morning, brother,” Philippe said cheerfully placing his newspaper down on the table. He added to Erik, “Just send your notes.”

“Is something wrong with the construction?” Raoul asked.

“No.” Philippe waved his worries off flippantly. “With Erik, of course there are no problems.” They shared another look.

Erik turned his attention away from the elder Chagny to look at Raoul, who smiled at him rather hopefully. Erik fought to maintain a neutral expression as he nodded to Raoul. “How was your evening?” He asked evenly, almost changing the question when he saw Raoul’s smile falter.

“It was… fine.” Raoul sat down at the table and tried not to frown. He didn’t know what exactly he’d been expecting but it certainly hadn’t been Erik’s usual greeting. Maybe theycould share look or a small conspiratorial grin, anything other than their normal routine because if he hadn’t dreamt what had occurred that morning, then today was anything but normal.

I told you. Raoul groused, feeling foolish for even thinking that Erik would visit him in the morning.

Erik actually hesitated. I still think we should ask him.

Ask him what? Raoul retorted. Excuse me, Erik. Did you happen to come into my bedroom this morning and continue to hold a conversation with me in my bed while we basically held hands?

Raoul knew Erik could sense the absurdity of saying such a thing, but he refused to back down. Yes. Ask him exactly that.

He didn’t have to respond for Erik to know he wasn’t going to ask. He ate breakfast in silence, avoiding Erik’s gaze and when that became too difficult, he grabbed a section of the newspaper from Philippe just so he could continue to mentally bemoan his own ridiculousness without having an audience. Despite the fact Raoul thought Erik would continue pestering him to just ask aloud, he didn’t say anything. Raoul supposed that he was suffering enough with the embarrassment of what he had thought had transpired between them.

Wondering how things could have possibly gotten worse overnight, Philippe looked at Raoul hiding behind the newspaper and Erik staring at him a little guiltily. He had a feeling he’d regret ever losing his temper enough to decide to hold a gathering. It was the right decision of course, since he hadn’t been lying when he’d said it had been necessary to assuage their peers’ curiosity. But he could’ve given them a little more time.

He nearly scoffed aloud; what would more time have done? They would still be avoiding each other, skirting around the real issue that existed between them. To be honest, it wasn’t as though he thought Raoul was going to find a wife at the party. As charming as Raoul could be, he was almost always aloof with everyone else. He thought Raoul had more of a chance finding a wife at the opera house than any party they might throw. He was simply glad Erik didn’t know that.

Lately, Philippe had been entertaining the idea of sitting Raoul down and talking to him about Erik and their association, but he wondered how such sensitive information would be received from him. It wasn’t quite his right to share or meddle – any more than he was already doing.

He was nearly done with his breakfast. Erik had yet to touch his, and he couldn’t tell if Raoul had eaten anything either. He sighed. Realizing that Erik actually was going to keep staring at Raoul, Philippe commented, “Raoul.” He waited until the newspaper dropped and his brother looked at him. He noted that Raoul was completely ignoring Erik. “You’ve been confined to the estate and working so hard lately that Erik here, thought it best that he keep you company for a while.”

Raoul glanced at Erik, who nodded his agreement.

Stop ignoring him. Erik pointed out, It’s not his fault you thought he visited you this morning.

Hating that Erik was right, Raoul smiled at Erik though he was still not quite able to meet his eyes. “I would like that.”

o.o.o.o

End chapter 04

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Erik and Raoul in a bed, and nothing’s happening? I’m more impressed with Erik than I thought possible. And Imaginary!Erik and Erik is impossible to distinguish in the story! D: I don’t know what to do. I don’t actually want to call him imaginary Erik because to Raoul he’s not really imaginary. And I’m not going to call Erik the Opera Ghost because he’s Erik to Raoul. So confusing.

Oh, I’ll ask again because I can: if you guys know any songs that remind you of Erik/Raoul. I’m in the market for new songs and would love to hear from you guys regarding this.

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Claimed

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 05:48:42 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: The alternative to crazy, possessive!Erik in Lingering Ghosts. The fluff without the dark. Erik thinks of another way of claiming Raoul as his. Good times are had by all.
Warning(s): slash
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 1,805
Rating: K+

A/N: I pretty much fail at life (and multi-chaptered fics), but at least I still do one shots.
Story note: This is my Thanksgiving fic. At least this one’s early, if not part of the reason why the More than Friends chapter 4 hasn’t gone up yet, so don’t be too mad at it. Since I couldn’t leave the last one shot the way it was, here’s another one with the sort of same theme. If Erik’s OOC in this, then he is. D: I personally call it, “the one where Erik gets overbearing and kidnapping right.”

o.o.o.o

Claimed
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Still half asleep, Raoul rolled over, startled, before promptly falling out of the bed. He disregarded the jolt of pain as he hit the floor in favour of clutching his hands to his ears. It did little to block out the atrocious wailing that had not only succeeded in waking him up from his slumber but was also making his ears ring. The acoustics of the room only served to amplify the sound.

Using his elbow, he clumsily managed to lever himself up onto his knees. He blew at the hair covering his face, wisps of blonde strands only rising to fall back down over his eyes. Scanning the room, he noted that he was alone, which meant that the potential threat would be neutralized well before it reached their bedroom. He was just making it to his feet to investigate the source of the noise when it suddenly stopped. He froze, waiting for it to ring again, but the only thing that continued to ring were his ears.

While he was still indecisive as what to do next, Erik walked into the room, completely nonchalant. His gaze went from the blankets on the floor to Raoul’s disheveled form before raising an eyebrow. He fought hard to hide his grin, barely managing to keep his voice even as he commented, “I’m surprised you’re awake.”

Pushing the hair back, Raoul scoffed. “You’re surprised I’m awake?” He let out a sharp bark of laughter. “You’re surprised I’m awake.” He frowned and poked Erik on the chest. “Of course I’m awake. What was that noise?”

Frowning down at the finger still poking his chest, Erik paused to school his features. He glanced at Raoul, “Oh that.”

Raoul glared at him.

“It’s one of the newer alarms I set.” Erik shrugged, grabbing Raoul’s hand before gently pushing it towards the blonde.

“What did you do? Kill a cat?”

Erik smirked.

“I don’t even want to know.” Raoul started, “But… No,” he shook his head more firmly, “I really don’t want to know. I’m going back to sleep.” He had a knee on the bed and was crawling back towards his side of the bed. Before he could get far, Erik grabbed him around the waist and dragged him back to the edge. He heard Raoul muttering profanities interspersed with tangents on sleeping, paranoia, and dead cats.

Only pausing for a moment to let his head hang in defeat, Raoul turned around so that he could sit at the edge of the bed before Erik got any ideas.

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Erik coaxed. His firm grip on Raoul’s biceps declared a similar sentiment without the entreaty audible in his tone.

Raoul sighed loudly. “It’s cold, Erik. You asked me to visit; so, I visited. You asked me to stay; so, I stayed. You didn’t ask me to wake up early though; so, I’m going back to sleep.”

He made no effort to move though. Erik finally did release his hold only so that he could sit, one leg bent under him, the other planted on the ground so that he could look at Raoul easily. He leaned forward to kiss Raoul’s jaw line, taking a deep breath in of his scent. “But you’re up already,” he whispered huskily, and Raoul felt all traces of annoyance leave him. He could feel Erik’s grin, smug in the knowledge that he’d won this battle.

Refusing to give in so easily, Raoul nudged him far enough so that they could look at each other. “You set off that alarm on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I can assure you,” Erik grinned, “that I had nothing to do with that alarm.” Seeing the suspicious look Raoul was giving him, he frowned and quickly added, “I think you’re right. Let’s go back to sleep.” He looped an arm around Raoul’s waist and forcibly dragged him to the middle of the bed – Raoul had long since resigned himself to being manhandled by the ghost; for some reason, he couldn’t seem to get Erik to stop using force to make him move. Once there, Erik tried to pull the blanket over them, but Raoul sat up, stubbornly loosening Erik’s grasp of him.

He shook his head. “What did you do?” Erik had looked entirely too smug; it never boded well for the opera house or him. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you? Oh God,” Raoul looked towards the lake. “Who set off the alarm? What did you do?” He was ready to stand up and go find out for himself, but Erik refused to let him get far.

“Why do you keep insisting I did something?” Erik had a put-upon expression, but Raoul knew it was for show.

“Don’t lie to me,” Raoul grabbed a pillow to put between them, loosening Erik’s hold without having to constantly struggle with him. “Why did you ask me to stay last night?”

“I can’t request that you stay?” Erik actually did sound hurt, but Raoul simply fixed him with another look. If he was indeed hurting Erik’s feelings right now, he could apologize for that later, but if he was correct in his suspicions, then it would be best to confront him as soon as possible – for both their sakes.

Erik pursed his lips before laying back, hands pillowing his head. “I saw you two days ago,” he stated evenly.

“Two days ago?” Raoul repeated. “At the performance?” He couldn’t remember anything significant occurring.

“Yes.” Erik nodded, looking away while he continued, “I saw you speaking with that woman.”

It dawned on him; Raoul should have realized it sooner, in fact. “The one the managers introduced me to.” Letting out an exasperated sigh, he pointed out, “I thought we talked about this. I’m not going to do anything, but I cannot be rude to them. You know that.”

“I do,” Erik conceded. “This is the fifth time though. It was time.”

Raoul’s eyes widened. “It was time for what?” He asked hesitantly, fearing it might be one of those situations that he truly did not want to know about.

Erik sat up and reached for him, who deflected his touch with the pillow. “No one’s dead,” he assured.
Raoul rolled his eyes. That hardly assuaged his fears. “Just tell me what you did already so I can do damage control.”

Erik shrugged. “Nothing that shouldn’t have been done sooner.” He tugged on Raoul’s sleeve.

Raoul staunchly refused to lie down.

Erik sighed and pulled a letter from his pocket. “I thought you’d be this uncooperative,” he said as though he were so used to yielding to Raoul’s will; Raoul tried not to roll his eyes. “So, I wrote a second copy for you to read.”

Taking the letter, Raoul read it once, again, and then a third time. His expression was carefully neutral. When he finally looked up from the letter, he asked calmly, “This is what you sent to them?”

Erik nodded, slightly worried at Raoul’s reaction. He’d been expecting more expletives and yelling. He rather enjoyed seeing Raoul in such a state – now, after the managers’ general obedience, Raoul was the only reason he acted as he did in regards to accidents occurring in the opera house. He was both impressed and disappointed with his new sense of control. Before he could even fully finish that thought, Raoul suddenly grabbed the pillow with both hands and dove at Erik, trying to smother him.

Through the pillow, Erik heard a quick series of muffled questions.

“What were you thinking? I thought we’d agreed that it would remain a secret?”

Erik struggled against Raoul. He wasn’t actually suffocating just yet but Raoul definitely wasn’t jokingly holding the pillow against his face.

“Why would you even do this?”

The letter drifted forgotten to the floor.

Dearest Managers

You have done quite well as of late regarding the running of the opera house. The new trombonist has been exemplary, the singing quite improved, and the dancing superb. I see the new dancers are to all our liking. As such, as you have recently noted, there have been very few incidents occurring.

However, you seem to have forgotten the most important rule. This opera house and all occupants within it are mine. It has come to my attention that you have taken a keen interest in my patron’s romantic life. You will desist. He has not been and will never be your concern. Until you have learned this important lesson, he will be kept under my care. I shall return him relatively unharmed.

Your Obedient Servant,
OG

Erik finally managed to wrench the pillow off and Raoul stopped trying to kill him. He laid bonelessly on top of Erik, breathing hard and staring balefully at him. His hair draped forward, long enough to brush against Erik’s cheeks.

“I didn’t say anything of our relationship,” Erik commented, unable to keep from grinning.

Raoul pouted. “You implied.”

“They’ll think since I’m miserable,” he reached up to hold Raoul against him when he felt the Vicomte shift, “that I simply do not want you to be happy either.”

Raoul shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is.” Erik assured. He reached up with his other hand to sweep half of Raoul’s hair behind his ear, holding it there himself. “What other qualms do you have?”

“The alarms that were set off?” Raoul eyes flicked towards that general direction.

Erik let Raoul’s hair fall before brushing it back again, loving the feel of the smooth strands as they cascaded through his fingers. At Raoul’s annoyed look, he answered. “Their rather poor attempt at rescuing you.”

“None dead.” It wasn’t a question, but Erik answered anyway.

“Unless I managed to unintentionally frighten any of them to such an end.” Erik couldn’t help but roll his eyes. They all over reacted to his presence, but it hardly mattered. It was usually to his benefit anyway.

Raoul sighed and Erik knew the argument was nearing its end. “Your patron?”

“That,” Erik pointed out, “I am certain we both agreed upon as true.”

Raoul couldn’t help but smile at his rather self-satisfied demeanor. “And you only asked that I stay down here for the sole purpose of continuing with your plan.”

“I kidnapped you,” Erik emphasized, “because I wanted you with me.”

Raoul leaned down for a quick kiss.

“And we should not forget the ‘relatively unharmed’ phrase in the letter,” Erik added.

“Oh we can’t forget that. You seek to harm me?” Raoul asked, amused at the thought since he’d never seen Erik this content in his life. There was slim chance of Erik wanting to hurt him.

“Let us say,” Erik tugged at Raoul’s hair playfully so that he would lower his head again, “that I do not think the managers will learn their lesson before you’re thoroughly… sore.”

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: See, no angst. That’s definitely something. Oh, and as I requested in my blog… if you guys have any songs that remind you of Erik/Raoul as a pairing, I’d love to hear it. I’m in the market for new music.

or check it out on ff.net

Music Request

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 17:47:00 GMT

Hi all.

So, I've been busy but I do think I'll be able to post this week... and by this week, I mean probably this weekend (hopefully Saturday since Sunday is technically 'next' week on the calendar).

Before that though, I've noted a gross lack of music on my computer, so I'm asking you all to suggest any good songs you know. But wait. There's a catch. I want good Erik/Raoul songs. :D Just asking for songs is too general. So, if you know a song that utterly reminds you of Erik/Raoul, then I'd love to hear it.

thanks
-LR

fic: Lingering Ghosts

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 18:31:18 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: There are more things frightening than Erik’s face (not that he’d believe that). Raoul is haunted. Kind of dark but fluffy (isn’t that contradictory?).
Warning(s): slash, portrayal of… not an ideal relationship
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 2,188
Rating: K+

A/N: I’m a little late to the party but this is my Halloween fic (it’s not quite Halloween-ish). I’m trying to do the holidays, particularly because it’s easier to write one-shots and because I probably won’t have chapter 4 of More than Friends ready to post this week (so maybe next week… or else you’ll all get another one-shot).
Story note: For new fans and old fans who keep me writing… or at least guilty enough to post sooner than I would without such an incentive. :D This wouldn’t have come to pass without you guys.

o.o.o.o

Lingering Ghosts
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Raoul was nowhere near Erik’s home when the Punjab lasso fell around his neck. He hadn’t kept his hand at the level of his eyes despite knowing better, despite not knowing whether his presence would be welcomed.

He’d rather expected such a welcome though, because Erik was predictable if only in his immediate inclination towards violence. So, he didn’t struggle when Erik yanked just hard enough for the coarse rope to bite into the skin of his neck; struggling always escalated altercations with the ghost. The noose didn’t get any tighter than he could breathe though, and Raoul considered his chances of surviving this encounter better than what he’d initially calculated.

“What are you doing here?”

Erik staying in the shadows where Raoul couldn’t see him, however, was a bad sign. The disembodied voice could’ve come from anywhere since they were deep enough in the tunnels for there to be an echo. It was sad when Raoul realized he could pinpoint the ghost exactly by the disproportionate weight caused by the knot of the lasso – Erik was behind him, slightly to his left.

It took a second before Raoul processed the question. It took even longer before he could respond.

There were a lot of reasons why he’d willingly come back into the tunnels in search of a ghost, but it came down to one simple fact. The truth was harder to admit than he thought it would be though. His voice was thick with emotion, and the words came out harsher than intended. “I had to come back.” And, that was the only way Raoul could view this visit. He had to. If he wanted some semblance of sanity left, he had to be here.

Erik scoffed, tugging the lasso a bit so that Raoul took several steps backwards. “After your so hard won freedom, you come back?”

The flare of anger that consumed his body should have been surprising, but Raoul simply felt justified in his fury. Glancing over his shoulder to where Erik was cowardly hiding, he spat back, “You forget, ghost, that I willingly came to you the first time. The subsequent imprisonment was enforced because I simply wanted to return home.”

“Imprisonment?” Erik exclaimed. He was unwilling to concede the fact that he’d made Raoul do anything he hadn’t already wanted to do. The blonde going down to stay with him those first few days had been an implicit concession to stay as long as Erik desired.

Raoul let out a cruel bark of laughter because Erik would, of course, somehow not consider keeping him beneath the opera house against his will anything other than imprisonment.

Erik stated with certainty, “You belong with me. Though,” he added with venom in his voice, “it was apparently best that I’d kept you since we didn’t have to wait years before your contempt for me came to light.”

“Did you not feel animosity for your captors?” Raoul asked pointedly. He actually felt Erik withdraw further into the shadows.

Erik had forgotten that they were still connected to each other though by the lasso; so, Raoul was forced to take the same steps back. He waited patiently for Erik to speak again. He hadn’t come to argue, but he didn’t want to speak out of turn. This silence meant Erik was mulling over their exchange; after all, the lasso wasn’t tightening.

Finally, Erik spoke, “You would have left,” admitting the true motivator behind his actions. It wasn’t as though it mattered anymore. Raoul had grown to hate him in his supposed imprisonment before leaving. Whatever reason the Vicomte had for returning would be unfavorable.

“And come back. I would have come back,” Raoul tried to explain, but Erik hadn’t listened for those weeks he’d been held captive, and he didn’t think it would matter now. He added reluctantly, “And, I don’t hate you, despite what you believe.”

“What else am I to believe?” Erik’s hold on the lasso tightened, as though he could keep Raoul with him again if he held on tightly enough. “When you left, you said you were never coming back.”

Raoul sighed. He’d meant every word, too. “I wasn’t going to.”

“And yet,” Erik narrowed his eyes at the blonde. From his angle, he couldn’t see Raoul’s facial expression and that put him on guard. “Here you are,” he said suspiciously.

“Here I am.” Raoul conceded. It was awkward having this conversation essentially blind and turned away from him, but even with Erik at the advantage, he preferred it this way. He didn’t want to see Erik, didn’t want to have to face this, whatever it was between them. This way, he could pretend the words he was about to say held no power, no actual bearing even though he was inextricably drawn to say them.

Not hearing the venom he expected, Erik asked, desperate to know, “Why did you leave? Why did you run?”

Raoul took a deep breath and steeled himself before finally admitting, “You frighten me.”

Despite having heard that all his life, Erik was still taken off guard; it was the last thing he’d expected from Raoul, not after what they’d shared. He quickly berated himself for his naiveté and for reacting at all, knowing he’d long since gotten used to the sting that came with such words. It just somehow hurt worse this time.

He couldn’t hide the hostility in his voice, didn’t attempt to even though he was surprisingly restrained. “There aren’t many that I do not frighten, and you are one of the few who have seen my true face.”

This was the moment Raoul had been thinking of for almost an entire month. He finally loosened the noose from around his neck, pulling it slowly over his head so that he could turn around and face Erik. He could make out his silhouette and even see a bit of the mask as it caught the meager light in the tunnel. “That… that is only almost true.”

“Almost?” Erik didn’t want to keep talking about this; he didn’t know why he’d allowed Raoul to loosen the noose from his neck when his hands had twitched to tighten it. “You ran from me because you were afraid.”

“I didn’t quite run.” He found himself delaying.

“You ran faster than I thought possible,” Erik replied bitterly. Had he been faster, Raoul would have never made it out of the labyrinthine passages and into the cold Parisian night. Had he been less arrogant, he wouldn’t have shown Raoul how to move around the passages with him, but he’d realized it even then. He’d known that left on his own, Raoul would leave.

The blonde had grown skittish, unable to meet his eyes, flinching away from his touch. It hadn’t been like that in the beginning. No, in the beginning, Erik had truly believed that Raoul loved him. It was in the gentle smile, the touches, the laughs. Raoul had been a steady presence, a comforting fixture for those few days.

But then, he’d wanted to leave and Erik hadn’t been able to allow that to happen – not when there was the slightest chance that he wouldn’t return. Even in the beginning when he’d first forbidden Raoul to leave, the Vicomte had taken it in stride. The blonde never left his sight and did not worry about the heavy gaze as Erik constantly reassured himself that he was still there. Raoul had acquiesced with an understanding smile.

It wasn’t until two days into his involuntary stay did Raoul actually begin to argue and rebel. It wasn’t until he realized Erik was never going to release him did he begin object to staying because Erik knew he’d glimpsed what an eternity in the darkness would be like and couldn’t help but fear it. Erik had seen the progression. He’d seen what it was doing to Raoul, and he had been able to do nothing but hold on tighter, not knowing what else he could possibly do.

In the end, he lost him anyway.

It didn’t take long before Raoul stopped speaking with him, stopped looking at him for longer than a mere moment. Raoul had stopped loving him. Erik had rather expected that to happen, eventually. Still, when it came to pass, it was heartrending, yet nothing compared to how the pain festered during the three month absence following Raoul’s escape.

“You should never have come back if I frighten you so.” He should not be so generous; he could still kill Raoul easily. The Vicomte was dangerous, one of the only person who could harm him by simply leaving. “You needn’t ever look at this visage again.”

“You don’t understand, Erik. You don’t understand anything about why I left.” Raoul shook his head.

“What is there to understand?”

“Your-" Raoul struggled with the words even though they’d been well-rehearsed in his head on the way over, “Your face may be like I’ve never seen before, but I’ve grown accustomed to it. It,” he false started, “You frighten me, but it’s by the depth of your need, your obsession, your focus.” Raoul turned away, turning already nearly useless eyes to the tunnel wall. His voice dropped low to hide the slight tremor he’d heard all too clearly in his last words. “You frighten me with your passion, with your love.” He motioned weakly with hands before running them through his hair, “It feels as though I’m being overwhelmed, lost within your moods and desires. And you’re not even seeing me any longer or else you wouldn’t have detained me as long as you did. You must understand. I was drowning and even my love for you couldn’t keep me afloat.”

Erik moved to grab him, as though Raoul were indeed a drowning man. He forced Raoul to look towards him, opening his mouth several times but he could think of no appropriate response. The only words that he could summon were, “You were going to leave.” As though that explained everything, but he didn’t try to deny what Raoul had said. He had seen intimations of Raoul’s plight, and he’d only thought to hold on even tighter.

“I was going to leave,” Raoul let Erik hold him, mostly because he was certain he wouldn’t have been able to break free at this time. Erik’s hands were bruising as he held on. “And, I would have left time and again, but with every departure, I would have assured you a return.”

“You would have.” Erik easily noted the careful wording. “And now? Why have you returned?”

Raoul laughed bitterly and finally moved to shrug out of Erik’s hold. Erik willingly let him go, so that he could take several steps back. Raoul’s back hit the cold wall and he crossed his arms across his chest, hugging himself.

Why had he returned? What had he been expecting?

“I am haunted,” Raoul finally admitted.

He hadn’t been able to sleep or eat. The darkness was advantageous for it hid the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the weight he had lost and the general disarray he found himself in. Everyone had noticed but no one commented; they didn’t know what to say to a Vicomte that was slowly wearying, dying for no apparent reason. He hadn’t been able to work. He nearly laughed at the recollection of the previous months. He hadn’t been able to close his eyes without being haunted and it was driving him insane. It was why he was standing here now. It was what had driven him to this point, but to what end?

Erik waited for Raoul to continue, but when no explanation was forthcoming, he asked, “And you sought to kill the ghost that caused it?” He barely believed his own assumption, not when Raoul looked for all the world as though he were seeing a ghost right now, his eyes vacant. Erik almost scoffed at the irony; he was speaking to a ghost this instant.

Raoul seemed to come to himself at his statement, not understanding how Erik had come to that conclusion. Realizing how far they actually were from each other, he distantly knew that was not what would solve his problems. He needed to be closer; so he dropped his hands, taking a step forward. Grabbing Erik’s wrist, he tugged and Erik came compliantly despite his own uncertainties regarding his motives. But, at Raoul’s hands, Erik found he didn’t mind the pain he might suffer.

“I’m haunted by memories,” Raoul reiterated, tugging the lasso rope that Erik still held and letting it drop to the ground. He raised Erik’s hand to place against his cheek. “I’m haunted by the memory of how you used to touch me.” Raoul turned slightly to kiss his thumb. “Without fear and desperation. I’m haunted by the memory of your voice,” he sighed, “of your gaze, of the expectation that thrums through me when we’re together.” He nuzzled Erik’s palm before looking up at him. “I’m haunted by you.”

Erik could only stare at him in disbelief, not quite willing to let himself believe.

Raoul whispered, “And I want you back.”

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Damn, twisted relationships. Raoul shouldn’t have come back because I doubt Erik’s ever going to change, but he might. Here’s hoping to might because I hate it when fictional characters return to abusive relationships after freeing themselves from it in the first place. D:

or check it out on ff.net

fic: More Than Friends Ch 03

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 03:19:17 GMT

A/N: I’m finally done with Reluctantly Willing and Garnier Hospital, so here we go with this one.
Story note: This is the chapter we learn that Erik really should not mess with Philippe and where some massive plot happens. (Finally.)

o.o.o.o

More Than Friends
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Chapter 03 - Repercussions

o.o.o.o

Philippe had been dressing, still half asleep from having stayed up late in order to finish all the letters he’d just had sent that morning. Erik, going over the drafts for the construction site, had been up for several hours already.

At the all-too-familiar cry, each dropped what they had been doing, hastily rushing out of their rooms and down the hall. Both reached Raoul’s door at the same time and grabbed for the doorknob. Philippe was quicker, Erik’s hand landing atop his, and though for a single moment, they shared a look of mutual challenge, Erik quickly backed away far enough so that Philippe could open the door. He managed to slip in before the elder Chagny, much to Philippe’s dismay.

The bed was in disarray: pillows were strewn across and blankets were taut lines running diagonally across the bed as they tangled in Raoul’s legs. As they entered, they were able to catch a glimpse of Raoul just as he rolled off the bed. His landing was loud enough that they both flinched at the sound before running to check on him.

Raoul woke with a grimace, moving slowly. He couldn’t quite understand why he was in pain. Rubbing his shoulder, the one on which he’d landed, he blinked rapidly. He groaned. What happened?

There were a few seconds of silence before Erik replied, I don’t know.

Confused, it took Raoul himself a second before asking, Why did you pause?

“Raoul?” Philippe started, trying to get his brother’s attention. He’d feared the worse, hearing Raoul’s yell. It was sad to think that his first concern was that his younger brother had somehow been kidnapped again; it had been months already since their dealings with the Comte de Montmartre. When Philippe thought of it though, it had been more than a decade and he’d reacted the same way when he’d first gotten that letter inaccurately stating that Raoul had been kidnapped. He doubted there would ever be a time when he wouldn’t worry.

The blankets were still wrapped tightly around Raoul’s legs and his nightshirt had ridden up. From the corner of his eye, Philippe saw Erik quickly avert his eyes at the sight. He wasn’t quite sure whether he should be relieved or just exasperated. They were both adults and male. There was no reason to overreact. Though Philippe couldn’t help but grin to think that the feared opera ghost was… bashful.

Erik had a fleeting thought of Raoul intentionally doing this to him to make him suffer. He certainly understood that the nights were mild, but sleeping in only a nightshirt was… he could barely think past that particular thought because that article of clothing was currently barely doing anything to cover Raoul, the blankets having pulled it up to the point that was dangerously close to revealing whether or not the young man opted to wear anything beneath said nightshirt.

The Vicomte was as good as naked – and Erik not only had to stifle a groan but also had to look away as that thought brought a mental image that was detrimental to his resolve. It was too early in the morning to have such thoughts, considering his nights were filled with dreams of a similar subject. He spared a second glance not quite unable to resist doing so, but when he noticed Philippe’s grin at his expense, he forced himself to not care that the object of his obsessions was currently nearly naked. In front of him. On the floor. Looking for all the world mussed and begging to be ravished.

Erik considered leaving the room completely. But, that would mean Philippe would have won; Erik tried not to question when he’d begun to compare his relationship with Raoul to the one the brothers shared, mostly because he was certain he’d been doing so since the very beginning when Raoul was child and because he was just as certain that Philippe was currently winning.

“Erik?” Raoul finally realized that he wasn’t alone in his room, “Philippe?” He looked around as though he could find some visual reason to explain his situation. “Why am I on the floor?”

Philippe only rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed feeling his legs a little shaky from relief. Erik crossed his arms and waited for Raoul to explain, eyes pointedly focused on a spot over Raoul’s left shoulder.

Giving them both a once over, Raoul asked, “What’s wrong with your clothes, brother?”

Erik snickered and made the mistake of glancing at Raoul again. He wished Raoul would fix himself.

Philippe shot him a glare before looking down at his clothing and sighing. His shirt was only half buttoned, partially tucked into the trousers he’d just barely remembered to fasten before running out into the hallway. He was fairly certain his jacket was on the floor in his room and he hadn’t even been able to put on any shoes. He glanced at Erik and scowled. The man was perfectly dressed. It didn’t look like he’d rushed to get here at all. But seeing the colour on the other man’s cheeks was enough to make him grin again.

He shrugged at his brother’s question, explaining, “We heard you yell.”

“Yell?” Raoul repeated slowly.

Forgetting the other man’s mocking, Erik glanced over at Philippe questioningly. He already knew he wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping his focus on the problem at hand – Raoul half-naked was a state that Erik realized he couldn’t optimally function in –, but Raoul’s sleeping habits suddenly changing had obviously been a concern of Philippe’s and he’d gleaned that sleeping habits were extremely indicative of Raoul’s well-being. Although Philippe had tried to make light of this change last morning, Erik could easily see the consideration he’d been giving this new development.

It took only the slightest head tilt on Philippe’s part and they moved forward in unison to help Raoul to his feet. Philippe was left to help untangle the blankets from Raoul’s legs and adjust his clothing since Erik still refused to let his gaze venture any longer than a glance further than that spot over Raoul’s shoulder. In fact, once Raoul was on his feet, Erik took several deliberate steps away, having made sure his touch did not linger any longer than necessary. He could, however, finally look at Raoul a little easier now that he was properly dressed.

“Yes,” Philippe realized he’d apparently been designated as the speaker. “You yelled. Quite loudly, too,” he added remembering the sound with distaste. He had to admit though that Raoul hadn’t sounded alarmed. The noise had simply been so sudden and jarring that his immediate reaction had been to worry.

“Was I yelling something in particular?” Raoul asked. Yelling? He mused. That’s almost worrisome.

“No. Just a yell.” Philippe took hold of Raoul’s arm and began looking for any bruising.

Erik looked at them with something close to envy – he was jealous of their easy touches and affection but not at the price of being Raoul’s brother. He knew that their interactions had only come about through being siblings, through sharing their lives together for so long. Erik tried not to think of all the years Raoul and he could have shared; he tried and failed.

Philippe was just moving upwards to his shoulder when Raoul finally had enough. He shook his head at Philippe’s tendency to be so protective of him before tugging his arm away. Philippe allowed him to do so with a small frown.

“I’m fine, brother.” Raoul rotated his shoulder, barely managing to hide a slight wince.

That really showed him. Erik commented with a laugh.

Raoul added a little forcefully, “Really. I must’ve had a nightmare or something.”

Unconvinced, Philippe asked directly, “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Not exactly,” Raoul gave a tentative smile and a shrug, glad when his shoulder didn’t hurt as much. “At least, I don’t remember having one.”

Maybe you’re simply sleeping like you were meant to all along. Erik suggested. Remember, you used to kick and talk in your sleep as a child.

Raoul said doubtfully. They didn’t believe that excuse the last time I told them that, and I’m even beginning to doubt its veracity.

Erik simply responded. It’s not an excuse if we don’t have any other idea as to why it’s occurring. It truly could be something as innocuous as finally sleeping the way we’re supposed to. A change in sleep habits need not be so sinister.

It was a valid point. “Maybe this is normal.”

“Normal.” Erik finally spoke unable to contain his disbelief. He still had a slight problem maintaining eye contact though.

Philippe also scoffed openly at the suggestion. He scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary, something to explain why his younger brother was sleeping so fitfully. Although he was glad that Raoul was no longer sleepwalking, it still worried him. He could see nothing out of the ordinary… until his gaze fell upon Erik. He sighed quietly to himself, wondering why he hadn’t realized it sooner.

“I’m highly doubtful that this is normal,” he added blithely, “but as long as you’re not too injured…” He let the sentence hang before standing up and making a show of fussing with his shirt buttons. He grinned with feigned sheepishness at both Erik and Raoul, “I sorely need to resume dressing myself.” He was halfway to the door when he paused. “I’ll see you in breakfast. There’s something important I would like to discuss with both of you.” He left without checking to see what Erik would do now that he’d left the room.

You should do something nice for your brother, Erik commented.

Because I woke him up? Raoul asked, already knowing that wasn’t what he was referring to, but unable to think of anything else.

A dramatic sigh was his only response.

Erik glared at Philippe’s retreating form and at the door once he was gone. He was ready to make his own excuses in order to leave but he didn’t want to seem like he was running away.

Raoul realized belatedly that he was now alone in his bedroom with Erik and for some reason, his heart began to beat a little faster. His stomach felt uneasy all of a sudden. Looking away from the older man, he started tossing pillows and blankets back onto his bed. “Sorry,” he blurted out, unable to stand the silence any longer.

Another apology? Erik asked, but added. At least it’s warranted this time.

Erik turned from staring at the door. “Sorry?”

“Yes,” Raoul glanced at him before quickly averting his eyes in embarrassment. “For waking you.” Their eyes met at Raoul’s next glance up and he couldn’t breathe for that long moment.

“I was awake already,” Erik replied, looking away. He forced the errant thought of ‘this is impossible’ out of his head even though he knew it to be true. It was impossible to remain delegated as merely a friend, not when it took every ounce of self-restraint to not close the distance between them and force Raoul to accept him as something more, surely as a friend, as a confidant, but more as a lover, as his everything.

Raoul tried to stifle the sudden urge to yawn but couldn’t. He stretched, arms reaching above his head as he yawned, and Erik found himself taking a step towards Raoul before realizing what he was doing.

He took several steps back just as quickly. Swallowing with some effort, Erik cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to dress.” He quickly fled the room not caring if he was indeed running away.

Raoul stood there hand raised, poised to stop him from leaving. He remembered yesterday’s conversation, but he simply couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t quite understand why he wanted him to stay at this particular moment in the first place.

Maybe you simply wanted to speak with him. Erik suggested.

We live together. Raoul retorted. I can speak with him any time I want.

Erik pointedly remarked, And this would be the time we note that you haven’t been speaking to him very much.

He looked like he was quite busy. Raoul deflected.

Erik scoffed, loudly. Of course. He’s busy at this hour of the morning, and his sudden departure has nothing to do with you.

Sighing, Raoul frowned. What are you going on about now, Erik?

Raoul could just feel his amusement. You’re driving us mad. Erik managed to say.

How?

With what you were doing. Realizing that Raoul was simply not following, he said, Yawning.

Yawning? Raoul mentally railed. I can’t yawn around him? It’s not that rude.

I didn’t say anything about being rude.

Raoul refused to reply, rather displeased with how this morning was going. Erik liked to do that too often, be vague, and Raoul simply didn’t feel like deciphering his words right now.

He dressed quickly, not wanting to keep either Philippe or Erik from their work for too long, considering his rather rude awakening had taken up unnecessary time already. He rushed down the stairs and had turned to head towards the breakfast nook when Philippe called him from the sitting room. Raoul changed directions, slightly confused.

“We can’t even have breakfast first,” he commented as he entered the room.

Philippe, whose back was turned towards him, glanced over his shoulder before pointing to the various trays of food on the coffee table.

“Oh.” He gave a small wave to Erik who sat across the coffee table facing him. Erik gave a curt nod. Something was different with his attitude in that short time they’d been apart, but Raoul couldn’t quite put his finger on what that was. Passing Philippe, he reached over his shoulder, draping himself over his brother, before grabbing a fruit from his plate. He retreated when he felt his brother reaching for him.

“Stop stealing my food,” Philippe mock complained. He was smiling though.

Raoul smirked at him and moved just out of his reach. “But food tastes so much better when it’s someone else’s.”

Philippe rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics.

Raoul glanced at Erik, suddenly mindful of how he was acting. He didn’t want to appear so childish and he couldn’t quite imagine himself stealing food from Erik’s plate. He glanced downwards before abruptly changing the subject, “Why are we eating here?” He grabbed a plate.

“The others are busy preparing,” Erik answered, giving Philippe a pointed look as he spoke.

Raoul glanced between him and Philippe. “For what?” He prompted, ending their impromptu staring match.

“We’re having a gathering.” Philippe smirked at Erik for just a moment before turning his attention back to Raoul with a smile.

That doesn’t sound promising. Erik commented. But a very interesting tactic.

“A party?” Too distracted in his own thoughts, Raoul missed the look they’d shared. “Why do we need a party?” He asked, frowning. “I’d rather prefer if we didn’t have one.”

“My colleagues are becoming impatient to find out what had happened with the opera house, and they’ve waited quite long already,” Philippe explained frankly, seemingly eager at the thought of a party, “This is a good opportunity for us to show that we have nothing to hide.”

And…? Erik prompted.

And what? Raoul replied.

“And I do believe it’s time for you to find a respectable young woman to court,” Philippe finished.

Raoul spluttered, nearly choking on his food, “I-I’m fine, brother. Truly.”

He wants me to find a fiancé? Raoul barely kept from saying aloud.

Well, you did have one previously already. Erik joked. It shouldn’t be too difficult this time around.

Don’t mock me. Raoul retorted. The thought of finding a suitable match for him truly hadn’t crossed his mind. When would he have had the time to think about such a triviality when things with Erik had been so frantic?

And now that he’s safe and living with you? Erik asked, suddenly serious. You have time to think about all those pretty young ladies now.

Well, I just haven’t. Raoul realized he was getting defensive. I’ve been trying to make things right between Erik and me first.

So, we’re more important. Erik stated smugly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he replied vehemently, Of course. He added before Erik could feel too smug. He’s family.

“We’re having this party, Raoul,” Philippe said in the voice, the one that meant Raoul would never be able to dissuade him from this decision. “I expect you to be your charming self.”

“I absolutely despise these parties,” Raoul said more petulantly than he meant to. “More so when we’re the ones hosting them.” He fought the temptation to cross his arms, knowing that it would only make him look childish. “I don’t need to look for a lady to court.”

“It’s about time we host a party and you find a nice young lady to become Vicomtess,” Philippe replied, eating his breakfast calmly, as though they weren’t currently arguing.

Raoul guessed they weren’t really arguing since there was no chance he’d change his brother’s mind. He glanced at Erik who looked just as displeased with this situation as he was. “What about Erik?” He asked suddenly. He had been so caught up in his own worries that he’d forgotten that bringing people to the estate would be so much worse for Erik than it would be for him.

Philippe grinned, looking up from his food to glance at the still masked man. “He’s free to join.”

Raoul looked between them again as they stared. When Erik didn’t say anything, he spoke for him. “How do you expect that? They’ll know who he is right away.”

“Maskless.” The one word seemed to linger for a long moment.

“What?” Raoul exclaimed and Erik echoed more subdued though just as incredulous.

“The ghost was known to have a mask.” Philippe shrugged, as though it was obvious. “Remove the mask and there is no ghost.”

“He was also known to have been deformed,” Erik retorted finally, openly glaring at Philippe now. There was no point in hiding his displeasure at what Philippe was doing; he was just pleased to note that Raoul was just as displeased. The Comte was simply lucky that Raoul had come into the room when he did or else he would have tried to ‘convince’ Philippe to reconsider.

“But Raoul’s dear friend from the navy has come to visit.” Philippe shrugged, completely unconcerned with their reaction.

“A friend from where?” Raoul parroted.

“The one who was badly injured saving your life,” Philippe supplied, gaze steadily on Erik.

“But… Philippe,” Raoul shook his head, placing his plate on a side table, food completely forgotten, “that is a poor story that no one will believe.”

“And they’ll prefer to believe that he could be the opera ghost?” Philippe ignored the fact that Raoul nodded at his rhetorical question. “The rumours were never anything more than rumours. His very existence has ceased to be a concern now that the opera house has been burned.”

Raoul shook his head. “That’s unfair. This is his home too and…”

“And he doesn’t have to leave, but hosting these gatherings are an important part of our title,” Philippe said reasonably.

“B-but,” Raoul floundered, knowing that Philippe was right. Not having anything else to argue, he restated. “I stand by my decision that we do not need this celebration right this moment.”

“It’s going to occur.” Philippe stated firmly, not willing to argue about it anymore, “I’ve already sent out the letters.”

“When?” Raoul asked incredulously.

“I was quite busy this past evening.”

“So I see,” Erik narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t been certain of Philippe’s intentions at first when he had been told about the party, but now he knew.

“There will be a masque.” Philippe pointed out, pretending to be helpful with Erik’s dilemma.

Perking up, Raoul suggested, “Why not have every night be a masque, then?”

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It’s alright, Raoul,” Erik stopped another argument from starting. They’d get nowhere with it. He’d known there would be repercussions to what he’d said to Philippe. No man could resist retaliation, but this was going too far.

“End of discussion then, Raoul. I expect you to be on your best behaviour. I’m off now,” Philippe said, standing. Erik’s eyes followed him. “I’ll be visiting the construction site. Erik,” he said with a challenging grin, “would you like to accompany me?”

Not breaking their eye contact, Erik tossed his napkin on the table, standing up, the chair’s front legs lifting up from the grip of his hands on the armrests. The chair thudded back to the floor. “I’d appreciate the company,” he said tersely.

Philippe patted Raoul on the shoulder. “It’s for your own good. You’re getting to be that age.” Erik purposely brushed passed him. Philippe added distractedly, “You want to start your own family, don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for answer, moving to follow Erik out. “We’ll talk about this more later if you want to,” he added before leaving.

I don’t see what’s wrong with the current family I have, Raoul mentally groused, but at the same time, Philippe made sense. He was getting older and the Chagny name would have to be carried on. His brother seemed to be a perpetual bachelor and Raoul, well, he’d always planned on meeting a beautiful and caring lady one day and marrying her. It was expected of him after all.

I don’t see why you insist on following your peers. Erik said.

It’s not about following my peers. Raoul replied. It’s about making sure the Chagny name continues.

That’s not entirely important either, and since when did you dream of marrying and having children? Erik asked.

Raoul glanced around the empty room before sighing. Picking up his plate of food, he decided to at least finish his breakfast. Maybe I’ve never actively dreamt or hoped for that, but I’d rather expected it to happen.

Erik asserted, What’s expected is for you to be happy in life.

And why won’t I be happy if I have a family? Raoul couldn’t understand why Erik was so against the prospect of meeting someone and starting a life together with her.

You already have a family. Erik said petulantly. Unless you’ve already forgotten.

I meant a wife and you know that.

Your brother’s happy and he doesn’t have a wife.

Yes, but he’s always so busy. He also keeps women company enough. Raoul skirted around saying it plainly. I don’t see what’s wrong with wanting a family. Maybe having children.

And what about me? Erik finally asked.

What about you?

He prompted. You will have a wife, and then what?

Wait. Raoul once again stopped eating. Are you referring to Erik or you?

Both of us.

Well, you’ll probably decide to stay and make my wife question my fidelity as much as Christine used to and Erik will still live with us.

As what?

As… Raoul realized that it would be awkward for Erik if he married and had children… or maybe it wouldn’t be awkward. He doubted that though. Well, he could tutor my children. Raoul suggested but still couldn’t quite see Erik as simply being a tutor. An uncle perhaps? He winced at the mental image of his children running to ‘Uncle Erik.’ It didn’t seem right.

Erik was more. So much more, but Raoul still couldn’t quite define what that meant. What if Erik decided he wanted to leave though? If Erik left the Chagny estate, who knew if he would stay in Paris, but even if he did stay within the city limits, Raoul just couldn’t let him leave; that wasn’t even an option he would consider.

Then what is your solution? Erik simplified. A wife or us.

He won’t want to leave us or… Raoul couldn’t even begin to imagine trying to explain who Erik was to his wife. What if the woman he chose didn’t like Erik or treated him poorly or was too afraid of him? There were so many questions it made Raoul’s mind reel. He shook his head and refused to believe it could be that complicated. I’ll find a way.

Erik scoffed before studiously ignoring him.

o.o.o

Erik waited until they were in the carriage and on their way to the site before hissing out, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Perfectly poised, legs crossed and hands on his knee, Philippe met his eyes. “I’m doing what I think is best for my brother.”

Erik reminded himself why he couldn’t kill Philippe. For Raoul. Through clenched teeth, he said, “I thought you were going to give us time.”

“And I thought you just wanted to bed him.” Philippe shot back.

Erik wasn’t about to take back what he’d said. It wasn’t as though he’d meant that he’d treat Raoul as a conquest; Philippe had to know that and he wasn’t about to apologize. “This will not end well.”

“For whom? You or my brother?”

Erik stifled a frustrated yell, his hands clenching into fists. He’d expected something, but not this. He’d clearly underestimated Philippe, had underestimated the sting of what he’d said.

“You have a week.” Philippe commented, turning his attention to the passing scenery. He thought back to another carriage ride he’d taken with Erik, what felt like years ago. He’d asked the man his intentions towards his brother then and it was true he didn’t believe Erik only thought to bed his brother. He simply would not tolerate such insolence when it came to his brother’s well-being and Erik being so stubborn was doing none of them favours. They’d had months to resolve their issues and now because of both their mulishness, Raoul was sleeping fitfully – Philippe was certain the two had a connection.

“A week?” Erik echoed, less confrontational than before. The urge to physically harm Philippe was still present, but a part of him actually praised the Comte for this scheme. If their positions had been reversed, he would have done something similar.

“I set the date a little more than a week from today for the true festivities.” Philippe explained, “They’ll begin to come a week from today and after that, well, I should hope that Raoul has come to realize his true feelings regarding your relationship by that time.”

Erik nodded tensely.

o.o.o

Raoul was preoccupied the whole day mostly because Erik still refused to speak with him and he rather missed the random comments he so often made. Seeing as he was being wholly unproductive, he decided to take a walk around the estate in order to clear his mind.

The conversation they’d had about marriage had certainly been the cause of his current silence and Raoul was just as unsettled to think that he couldn’t reconcile the idea of marriage and Erik. There was no way he could explain to his potential wife who Erik was without fearing that she’d go to the authorities. He didn’t want to lie to her. That was not the best way to start any relationship. Honesty was the only thing that would make a relationship work, he was sure of it. But, he still worried. How would she react to Erik? Would she be like Christine? And that was different worry entirely. Would he have reason to worry if she fell in love with Erik or his voice? He could ask him not to sing in front of her.

Raoul shook his head at his own absurdity.

“Raoul,” a whispered voice called out.

For a moment Raoul thought that Erik was actually speaking to him again. But when he heard the groaned, What is she doing here? he looked around.

He was at the edge of his estate, and nearing the fence where bushes covered much of the fence, he could see an area that thinned enough so that he could see through.

“Christine?” Raoul moved forward so that he was grabbing the bars. He was conflicted as to what to feel with her there. She had been a dear friend but after everything that had happened between them, he wasn’t so sure what they were now. It hadn’t been Christine’s fault Madame Giry had kidnapped him, although she had been a part of it. They’d all thought they’d been helping him though.

All he knew was that Philippe would have a fit if he knew she was here. He mentally calculated; Philippe would be gone for a few more hours if anything. But Erik, he almost panicked, Erik always had a variable schedule. He never knew when he would arrive back home.

Christine tentatively put her hands atop his. He looked at their joined hands and couldn’t help but want to hug her. She looked disheveled, her clothes not quite as fashionable as it had once been. They were older more used; yet, she looked the stronger for it. She also looked resolved to be here.

He’d always been sorry that he’d had to lie to her; lying to the Girys hadn’t weighed on his conscience as much as lying to Christine had. He truly was sorry, especially now that he knew Christine and Erik had nothing between them. It was a foolish reaction but he almost wished that she could have Erik, that she could have her angel of music because he’d seen her change after discovering that the opera ghost and her angel of music were one in the same. At the time, he’d been so focused in his own situation that he hadn’t been able to see anyone but Philippe and Erik, but he could remember the way she looked at him when they’d been trying to convince him Erik was dead. It hadn’t been sorrow for the loss of her angel. He didn’t know what it had been, but not sadness.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered fiercely, looking around to see if anyone had seen them. No one was in sight, but he was almost tempted to simply walk away so that she wouldn’t stay longer.

“I needed to check on you, Raoul.” She said, earnestly. She clutched at his hands, seeing he was about to flee.

“I’m well as you can see.” Raoul looked around once more before giving in. This was Christine and though their parting had been rather undesirable, she was still a close friend to him. “How are you?”

“Staying with Madame Giry and Meg. They…” she seemed frustrated as though this were a discussion she’d had numerous times already, “they don’t know I’m here. They don’t understand.”

“Well,” Raoul couldn’t help but point out, “you shouldn’t be here. I’m sure they told you similarly.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She pulled away from the fence and gestured jerkily. “I wanted, no needed, to check on you and ask you a question.”

“A question,” Raoul said skeptically.

Tell her to leave. Erik insisted.

Now you’re speaking to me? Raoul asked before saying aloud. “Alright. If that’s what it takes to put you at ease. You know Philippe. He doesn’t make idle threats.”

Christine nodded. She remembered Philippe’s expression as he warned them about being near his estate. She couldn’t help herself though; she’d tried to forget everything, but the opera ghost – she nearly scoffed thinking about how she’d once called him Angel– had been a large part of her life. What had happened those last few days before Philippe took Raoul back were the only things she could think of. “You wanted to go with the ghost.”

Raoul shrugged. That much had been obvious.

“Why?”

Raoul didn’t know how to answer that, how much he should tell her.

Don’t tell her anything. Erik retorted. She shouldn’t even be here. You shouldn’t be talking to her. Tell her to leave.

When he didn’t answer, she replied, quiet but fervent. “He’s… he’s a monster, Raoul. All my life, I thought he was my angel. An angel!” Raoul realized that some of that anger was actually directed at herself. Her voice was growing increasingly louder. She ignored his attempts to tell her to speak softly. “And I believed him. I would have given him anything and the good Lord knows what he would have done with me considering how easily he tried to kill us all. He’s better off dead, Raoul.” Raoul was surprised to see that she actually meant it. There was no doubt in her mind that her angel, Erik deserved to die.

She continued, “He’s a deceiver and, and all that trust and hope I put in him. I think… I think I loved him even, wanted so much from him,” she finished softly, a little dazed, as though she hadn’t expected to say any of that, as though that was the first time that those particular confessions had been spoken aloud. She shook her head and her eyes cleared a bit, focusing so intensely on Raoul that he was taken aback. “You don’t deserve that, Raoul.” She added quickly, “No one deserves to be betrayed so deeply by someone they love.”

Raoul reached through the bars and pulled her closer when he realized that she’d probably never spoken those words aloud or even allowed herself to think them so plainly. She’d loved Erik. Raoul held onto her tighter. The hug was awkward and the bars were making any real comfort impossible, but he couldn’t just let her stand there looking so lost and damaged. Not when he was the reason for her pain, not when she was so changed by the experience. How could he ever make it up to her?

She pulled away slightly, still holding onto his arms. “You were that person from his past, weren’t you?” She didn’t wait for confirmation as she continued, “I don’t know if he’s really dead, Raoul. I really don’t since he is a monster, and I don’t think you can kill a ghost. I just want you to be careful and to know just what kind of man he is if he does come back. Never believe a word that he says.”

“I,” Raoul started slowly, fighting the impulse to tell Christine that she was wrong. Erik was nothing like what she’d described. He wanted to tell her that Erik hadn’t planned to kill them, that it had all been part of his ruse so that they could escape.

But he did want to. Erik interjected.

How do you know that? Raoul replied.

Erik enumerated, He killed his master, your first kidnapper. He killed your other kidnappers without any hesitation. Remember the catwalks.

Raoul flinched.

And he would have killed the Comte for ordering you to be kidnapped had the fire not occurred. Moreover, I’m almost certain he would have killed the Giry women and Christine as well for having kidnapped you.

But, Raoul hesitated, it’s Christine.

And you’re Raoul and I’m Erik. Are we done with introductions?

Don’t be difficult, Raoul groused. He’d lived years just for her. How could he…?

Erik replied, Don’t be naïve. He might have survived for that long, but he only lives for you.

Raoul would have liked to scoff at such a romantic notion, but found himself blushing instead. Realizing that Christine was just looking at him expectantly, he quickly covered his distraction, “It’s difficult to explain. I hadn’t realized until the end who the ghost was, barely remembered the person I’d known in the past. And… I’d just thought that he’d been the reason the Comte de Montmartre had replaced me.” It wasn’t quite a lie. “I thought he was to blame for what had happened at the Opera Populaire and I simply couldn’t let him… well, I wanted to know. No, I needed to know and confront him. He’d been different and the person now…” Raoul struggled to think up a proper reason. Borrowing words from his brother he finally concluded, “My honour was at stake.”

“Your honour?”

“Yes. I needed to know,” Raoul asserted, trying to be vague yet assuage her curiosity. He waited uncertainly.

After a moment, Christine sighed with a small smile. “Men and their honour. There’s no honour in death.”

Raoul smirked ruefully. “That’s where we differ in opinion.”

Looking around worriedly, Christine reached through the gates to hug him once more. “I hope you’re well and that you’re able to fix the problems with your fiancé.”

“There’s no fiancé,” Raoul immediately replied, so used to the argument that he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

She paused and nodded her head. “She’s the unfortunate one.” She looked at him for several long moments in consideration before starting out of her thoughts, realizing she’d forgotten to mention something, “There was a bigger reason for why I’d come. There’s something odd with everything. Truly, with the ghost and the Comte…” She was cut off when they heard footsteps approaching. She looked around wildly before giving him a tremulous smile and squeezing his arm one last time before running.

Raoul stood there, conflicted and confused. He had caused Christine so much pain.

That’s not your fault. Erik said exasperatedly. Not everything is your fault.

I took Erik away from her.

He chose to leave her, remember. Erik repeated the words he knew he’d said dozens of times already. She believed him to be an angel. What could have come of it?

I-I don’t know. Raoul was still just standing by the fence when the gardener arrived.

o.o.o

Raoul decided it best to not mention Christine’s visit to either Philippe or Erik. The outcome of that conversation would not turn out well; of that, he was certain. Philippe would probably visit Madame Giry’s house and threaten them some more and Erik would… Raoul frowned; Erik would probably carry out that threat. He sighed.

Instead, he avoided them all afternoon, locking himself in his study as he mentally reviewed Christine’s and his conversation. Christine had looked well enough though she was hardly the same girl he’d known while at the Opera Populaire. She had been trying to tell him something, but Raoul resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t know what unless he visited her. Doing so without his brother or Philippe discovering was near impossible though. He rarely left the estate because of the constant surveillance.

He actually had no idea how Madame Giry, Meg, and Christine were surviving considering the opera house had shut down and it had been several months already. Whatever funds they had would surely be depleted. He couldn’t very well just give them money; Philippe would certainly notice that and more than likely, Madame Giry would simply refuse to accept it. He paused and smirked; a plan was quickly forming though.

The time he did spend with Erik and Philippe during and after dinner was spent focusing all his attention on how their days had proceeded. Conversation was rather tense and with good reason. Raoul may have gotten over the shock of learning about the party they were going to host, but it was obvious Erik was still a little angry. Philippe was only doing what he thought best and Raoul couldn’t very well hold that against him. Even Erik seemed less confrontational about his displeasure, choosing instead to generally ignore Philippe and speak with Raoul.

But when he was saying his final good nights visiting Philippe in his bedroom, Raoul noticed that he was preoccupied. They usually spent several minutes simply speaking to each other before retiring for bed. Raoul never visited his brother with the intention of doing so, but they usually always had something more to talk about. Tonight it was different though; Philippe had claimed fatigue and Raoul found himself leaving the room after a rather abrupt ‘good night.’

He walked down the hallway to return to his room, slowly wondering at Philippe’s demeanor.

Passing Erik’s doorway, he paused. They’d said good night earlier already when they all parted ways for the evening.

You say good night twice to Philippe. Erik reasoned. And you did say you would treat him more like Philippe.

Raoul did agree with him but he admitted, I don’t know what to say.

Erik paused deliberately before suggesting, Good night?

Funny. Raoul even spared a sarcastic laugh aloud at that. I know that.

Just go in.

Raoul raised his hand, hesitating. After several, Simply knock, Raoul from Erik, he finally did so.

“Enter,” Erik called out.

Raoul reached for the door handle and saw his hand actually shake. I can’t do it.

Just turn the knob.

“Just wishing you a good night, Erik,” Raoul called out instead before rushing to his own room, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Good night,” Erik replied softly, having heard Raoul hurry down the hallway already.

Erik stared at the door. He knew he shouldn’t have stood up, but he’d heard Raoul’s footsteps outside his room and he’d rather hoped Raoul would at least peak into the room. He’d seen the blonde spend at times ten minutes saying good night to Philippe. He didn’t know what he was expecting – he did sometimes imagine Raoul coming into his room to do more than say good night, but those were admittedly more fantasy than expectation –, but at least he’d gotten a second good night. It was progress.

He sighed, thinking to himself that he had a week to make more progress than he thought possible.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 03

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Could so much have happened in one chapter!?!? Don’t expect a chapter like this again. Way too much going on but the players are all falling in line. Christine’s so bitter (I feel bad for her). And of course Raoul feels guilty (when does he not).

What’s going to happen now? Better question: what can Erik do in a week? Work miracles?

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Reluctantly Willing Ch 28

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 18:37:28 GMT

Title: Reluctantly Willing
Genre: Phantom of the Opera
Summary: ErikRaoul slash. Post-POTO. A bit of R/C (yeah). General discontent runs through the characters as they are forced to adjust their views of happily ever after.
Warning(s): homosexual content, slash!
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul
Rating: K+

A/N: Hey it didn’t take me two months to update. Success!

Story Note: Final chapter. Let’s hope Erik and Raoul don’t end their story like L’Homme Qui Rit does. With a chapter title like that, you’d hope not, right?

The separations are time differences. This chapter could be read in two ways I guess: 1) as though the events happened all in one day (or something close to it) or 2) rather spread out between weeks. I choose the latter interpretation.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 28 - … to love

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Shading his eyes from the glare of the sun, Raoul stared out over the ocean. He’d mostly kept to the forests since Erik had bullied his way back into his life, and even though he heard the ocean from the cottage every day, he’d forgotten just how overwhelming standing so near it could be. He’d forgotten how breathtaking the view was, how absolute its presence was as sound, smell, and feeling assailed the senses.

If he closed his eyes, it would be easy to pretend that he was alone. He kept them open. He’d had enough of solitude to last him a lifetime, and he couldn’t deny the fact that as much as Erik watched him, Raoul couldn’t help but watch him in return to make sure that he was really there.

He let the small grin show when he saw Erik standing rather defiantly a few feet behind him. As much as Erik had been willing to walk through his estate, he had a distinct aversion to direct sunlight in such an open space. Raoul assumed that vulnerability was a large factor. There was no place to hide with sand all around, an ocean on one side and the forest too far away to do any good.

“You needn’t follow me this far.” Raoul had to raise his voice in order to be heard.

Erik rolled his eyes, halving the distance between them, feet kicking up sand unnecessarily. He’d known he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to follow Raoul anywhere, but he did. Moreover, this was the closest he’d seen the younger man to the ocean again and he was certain that meant something, something he had to be present for.

Raoul waited until the unmasked man had stopped before pointing out, “I only wanted to swim.”

“At noon.” Erik glared at the sun before turning the withering look towards Raoul.

The blonde could only smirk, “I like the sun.” Not bothering with the buttons on his shirt, he tugged it over his head. “Are you joining?”

“I haven’t any swim clothes,” Erik remarked dryly.

Tugging at his pants, Raoul laughed and Erik reveled in the sound. It was only just recently did Raoul begin to laugh again and while there was still tension between them, those moments when Raoul did laugh felt like a welcome call each time.

“I haven’t either.” As Raoul discarded the rest of his clothing, he ran nude and unashamedly into the ocean.

Erik stared after him; Raoul had been returned to him. It had taken some time, often felt like lifetimes, but Raoul was talking, smiling, and laughing with him again. Yet, just as with everything else, it was simply a proximity of what they’d once been; close but never the same. Erik wondered if going back to that time was even possible anymore.

Would there always be those moments when Raoul looked at him with distrust, when they’d lapse into such uncomfortable silence, it was as though they were enemies still, or when Erik mentally calculated the distance Raoul could reach before he wouldn’t be able to catch him? Even with Raoul’s change of attitude and as much as those moments were decreasing, the mere fact they existed was enough to disturb Erik’s peace of mind. They were still divided; so close, yet nowhere near enough. But, as difficult as it was, he tried not to linger on those discouraging thoughts because Raoul had been more receptive as of late even with Erik growing impatient enough to push harder against those boundaries that Raoul had created.

Raoul cut through the water with easy strokes, glad to force his body to focus on this one task, not letting the fear of the past or the future for that matter mar the cold trying to permeate through his limbs as water enveloped him completely. He realized that feeling he’d had as a child was still there; he wanted to swim to the horizon, swim until he found the nearest ship and chase after it. He almost felt as though he could at the moment.

Glancing back at the shore for just a moment, Raoul saw he’d swum quite a distance already. Erik stood close enough to the water that at times, the waves would crash at his ankles; he stared tensely, tracking his progress. Raoul doubted he even realized he’d moved at all.

Sometimes, when he was being fanciful enough, Raoul imagined that there was a string between them. If he moved a certain distance away, Erik was certain to move closer. It was always the same; he had tested those boundaries and by now knew just how far that string ran. He knew there was a finite distance; yet somehow, it was that same string that had brought Erik back to him even from such great a distance as Paris. He wondered if that string was fate or destiny, maybe even love.

Looking away, Raoul told himself he didn’t care about that string or whether or not Erik ended up drenched. He dove down, kicking with all his might and kicked even further down. He kept going until his lungs began to hurt and didn’t let up until he feared that he wouldn’t make it back to the surface. He was almost right; as quickly as he propelled himself up, by the time he broke through the surface, he was feeling lightheaded. As he gulped down mouthfuls of air, the relief that flooded his body was a feeling he did want to drown himself in. It was simple. Instinctive and uncomplicated. He was alive and that was all that mattered.

He started when he felt hands clamping around his biceps. Struggling to push the hair from his face, Raoul coughed and spluttered as a wave hit them and water went up his nose.

“Erik?” He had a wild look on his face, and Raoul realized belatedly that Erik was the reason he’d inadvertently swallowed water in the first place. The man was barely staying afloat, his erratic motions against the waves almost comical if they hadn’t been so far out in the ocean and clinging to each other. Erik had yet to say anything. “Can’t you swim?”

Erik let go of him and paddled backwards, further away. He struggled slightly against the waves, as though he wasn’t quite sure how to react as wave after wave passed him by. Raoul supposed that the water was a little choppy, but it wasn’t anything too challenging.

The only words in explanation Erik had was, “I lost sight of you.” He really meant. I thought you drowned. And that sentence was enough of a distraction for a wave to pass and make him swallow a mouthful of salty water and drop beneath the waves. He resurfaced before Raoul could even react.

Quickly assessing the situation, it didn’t take long for Raoul to make up his mind. Shaking his head, he took pity on the man and swam towards him. He easily grabbed Erik’s wrist and headed towards shore. He deemed it easier to swim one handed with the knowledge that he was a strong enough swimmer to support Erik than it would be to let Erik attempt the distance back to shore alone and help him if it were necessary. They’d probably both drown that way.

Erik didn’t argue, allowing Raoul to drag him along. He still was swallowing more ocean than he’d like, but it was considerably less than what he knew he would have been swallowing had he tried to make it back alone. He wasn’t even sure how he’d made it so far out. One moment he’d been watching from on shore and the next, he was grabbing Raoul.

He’d never had the opportunity to swim in the ocean before and hadn’t given thought to what the addition of waves might do to his normally adequate swimming abilities. All he had planned to do was watch that spot of ocean where Raoul had been before diving down. He’d stared a long while, holding his own breath in Raoul’s absence. He hadn’t even waited for his own air to run out before he was stripping his clothing and racing into the water only to realize belatedly that he’d lost the position where Raoul had been. At least, he thought he had until the blonde resurfaced perfectly alright. Erik had wanted to drown him then, and he would have if he hadn’t been passionately cursing Victor Hugo and the ideas that had been planted in his head by his novel.

When they could finally stand up, he waited for Raoul to release him. He didn’t and Erik counted this as a victory; Raoul very rarely initiated prolonged contact. It wasn’t until the water was at their knees and Raoul realized that Erik was wearing just as much as he was did he let go. He’d done so with a glance at his nude form before releasing as though his very touch burned.

Huffily, Raoul refused to meet his eyes as he stormed towards his clothes. “Do you not know how to swim? You lived by a lake for most of your life.”

Embarrassing as it was already, Erik replied heatedly, “Perhaps the differences between an ocean and a lake elude your comprehension. The…”

Raoul bent down to pick up his clothes and Erik momentarily lost his train of thought. He quickly recovered, shouting, “What were you doing going under for so long? Diving for pearls or something?”

The clothes clutched in his arms barely covered his genitals, but Raoul didn’t care. Erik had seen him naked numerous times already. It was one of the consequences that occurred when a person never left his side. Raoul scrutinized him.

Erik refused to fidget under that gaze, but it would have been easier if Raoul were glaring or even leering at him. Instead, those blue eyes stayed solely on his face, searching; for what, Erik wasn’t sure, but he realized that Raoul had been doing that a lot lately: examined, dissected, and appraised what he said, how he said it, what he did, just on Erik himself. And Erik could only hope that Raoul wasn’t displeased with what he saw.

Raoul opened his mouth to say something and stopped. After letting out a long exhale through clenched teeth, he said, “Thank you.” He glanced out into the ocean and didn’t meet Erik’s eyes when he finished, “for coming after me.” Turning around abruptly, he strode towards the cottage, not bothering to see Erik’s reaction. He dressed as he walked.

For a moment, Erik could only stare after him; then, he quickly picked up his strewn clothing and jogged to catch up to Raoul, making sure to stay a few feet behind him. He was afraid to hope that Raoul hadn’t just meant for right now.

Raoul wasn’t even certain why he’d said those words. Erik had looked half-drowned standing there in front of him. Besides that fact though, he’d looked healthy and alive and so different from the first time Raoul had seen him naked. Different, but somehow the same: maskless, unashamed, and almost vulnerable despite his capability to hurt him. This was the man he’d nursed back to health and the one who, in a way, nursed him back as well. Erik had left him to die only to come back and almost die trying to save him – even though Raoul could have done well enough without Erik’s assistance in such matters. They should be even by now, shouldn’t they?

But it wasn’t that simple. It could never be that simple.

o.o.o

It was the middle of the night when Raoul found himself wide awake. He’d been deep asleep seconds before, but waking up like this wasn’t abnormal.

As usual, Erik’s arm was draped over his waist, his breaths caressing the nape of his neck, and his heat providing more warmth than the thin sheet that covered them. He could tell from the way Erik’s arm was only loosely on him that he must be asleep; otherwise, that arm would be pulling him closer.

Slipping out of Erik’s half-embrace, Raoul cautiously scooted off the bed trying not to move the bed too much. Once standing, Raoul took a moment to look at him. Erik looked peaceful, different when he was asleep than when awake. Raoul knew it was his fault. The older man was normally tense; he was constantly worrying and vigilant. At first, Raoul had been glad to see him suffering in such a small way, and now, well, he wasn’t quite sure what he felt.

He was halfway across the room, moving silently across the wooden floorboards, when Erik woke.

He groaned and patted the bed beside him in confusion. He had to roll over before he saw Raoul. “Where are you going?” Erik murmured, the words barely distinct from one another.

Sighing, Raoul gave what Erik could only guess was an exasperatedly fond glance. “I need to relieve myself.”

“Again?” Erik nodded before rolling back to his original position, his arm splayed out over Raoul’s half of the bed. “Hurry.”

Raoul sighed and went to the bathroom. Finishing shortly, he snuck back into the room and slipped into his side of the bed, close to the edge since Erik’s arm occupied a lot of space. Erik lifted his arm in invitation, and Raoul peered at him through the darkness. Erik was still half asleep, his eyes closed; he didn’t know the significance of what he was asking with this small invitation.

Too many thoughts bombarded Raoul. It was too late at night or too early in the morning for so much to consider: the pros and cons of moving closer, wanting to and not wanting to, scoffing yet so tempted. Raoul was always so laden with thoughts that he never knew why he did what he did any longer. The reasons were all there somewhere. Somewhere buried under the uncertainty and confusion and through all the layers of those reasons that should have convinced him to act otherwise.

He moved closer without a second thought, facing Erik so that he could place his arm over the older man’s waist as well. He slid as close as possible, close enough to hear the contented sigh that came from Erik before falling asleep himself.

o.o.o

Erik stretched languidly, waking slowly. It was too early in the morning to be awake; the sun had yet to begin to rise. He was certain that even the servants were still asleep. But half of his bed was cold. Once again, Raoul was not asleep.

“Raoul?” He called aloud before muttering to himself, “Again? How many times in a night…” He paused when there was no answering response. Raoul was usually quick to respond, whether it was some unintelligible moan or an exasperated retort. Smirking, he pushed himself up with some effort. “Did you fall asleep again?” Climbing out of bed, he headed directly for the bathroom.

Empty.

It was only then that he started to worry. He scanned the bathroom a second and third time before walking back into their room. Everything was in its place, except for Raoul. No. The word repeated in his head as the worst possible scenario finally filtered through the haze of sleep and disbelief. No!

How many months had it been? How many weeks since Raoul had been speaking with him, laughing with him, willingly sleeping in the same bed as him? How many – he couldn’t count them.

The whole wall shook when Erik swung the bedroom door open. In the corner of his mind, he noted that something had broken but he didn’t have time to care. He was already down the hallway, opening every door on the way to the stairs. They were all empty. He pounded down the stairs and distantly, he heard the others waking because of the noise he was making. At least he supposed so, he couldn’t quite be certain over the sound of blood pounding loudly in his ears.

Foregoing checking the ground floor, Erik headed directly to the one place that would tell him everything he needed to know. The stable. It was the only escape; it was the first place Erik would have gone if he were trying to leave. Trying to leave. The thought jarred him. Raoul was going to leave again. If he hadn’t already.

On his way to the stable, he focused more on berating himself for wasting so much time going through all those rooms than on what ifs. His mind raced, thinking of all the possible directions Raoul could have taken. He immediately disregarded Paris and that general vicinity as a destination. Raoul wouldn’t choose a place Erik knew – he accepted that as fact even though it hurt just to acknowledge it. Raoul was explicitly running away from him. Last night, Erik would have been just as certain that Raoul would be in bed come morning. But he figured that had been the point.

His entrance to the stable was no less violent as his exit from the house. The horses whinnied, the stall doors rattling as they nervously moved about. Erik paid it no mind. Only one thing mattered, and as he scanned every stall, he couldn’t quite believe it. All the horses were there.

Had he been wrong? Raoul could have left on foot, but he would never get as far as he could have with a horse. Erik walked deeper into the stable, mind still trying to shuffle through the countless possibilities. And though he knew he should tell the others what had happened – they would probably be willing to help –, he approached Raoul’s favorite horse intent on finding the blonde himself. The white stallion had helped him find Raoul the first time he’d disappeared, and Erik was willing to believe that maybe he would help a second time.

So lost in his thoughts and preparations, Erik was already in the stall before he realized that he wasn’t alone.

“Raoul.”

The blonde had one hand on the saddle and the top of his head pressed against the horse’s neck, his face hidden from Erik’s view. When Erik moved to try to get a better vantage, the horse refused to cooperate, moving its head to further block its owner. Instead of moving closer, Erik stood between them and the stall door. His body would do little to stop a horse from running through him, but maybe he’d be able to grab the reins or something. The fact that the horse was saddled and ready to go made him more than a little wary. Erik eyed the satchel; he could barely make out some clothes, but knowing Raoul there would be food and money there as well; he’d have everything he needed to start a new life, all contained in one small pack.

Erik wanted to be angry; truly, he did. He wanted to rage at Raoul, threaten him, and remind him that leaving was pointless. He wanted to ask why. Why would he want to leave? But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry, couldn’t ask those questions because he knew why. Fear could turn to love but hurt and broken trust was another story.

He almost let out a bark of laughter. It was their story. They weren’t Gwynplaine and Dea. They were Erik and Raoul. They were a born monster and a well-loved aristocrat. Their ending would be different.

“Did you mean it?” Raoul’s voice was muffled, but he knew the slight tremor was still audible.

He’d been ready, had planned it all so that Erik wouldn’t figure it out before it was too late. He’d had hours. Hours. And, it had been easy. He’d dressed, grabbed his satchel, already pre-packed, grabbed some food and saddled his horse. The motions had been easy, not a single wasted movement because he’d played and replayed it all in his head for weeks now. All that was left was to mount the horse and go. Just go, and he’d be able to disappear completely. He’d be able to start a new life and shape it to be whatever he wanted, completely unlike the days and years that seemed to stretch out before him in this routine Erik and he had somehow fallen into. He hadn’t hesitated until that last step; it was as though he’d been rooted to this spot.

Shaking his head, he argued near silently to himself. It was a familiar argument, one he’d put on pause while he’d told himself to bide his time with Erik. “How could you though? There’s no way you could’ve meant it.”

“Mean what, Raoul?” Erik said cautiously and wondered just how long Raoul had been out here, how far he could have been while he’d been so ignorantly sleeping.

Raoul turned to him, furious at himself for being unable to leave. Taking two quick strides, he pushed Erik hard. “I’m not Dea!”

Erik stumbled backward out of the stall, just barely managing to stay on his feet. Still, he had to fight the urge to grin; he couldn’t ignore the flare of hope that grew within him at hearing Raoul’s outburst. “Dea?” Of course Raoul had known.

Raoul took a swing at Erik’s face only to be sidestepped, the momentum spinning him so that Erik could grab him from behind and pin his arms down. He screamed to block out anything Erik might have said. “I’m not!” Viciously jerking out of Erik’s grip, he stumbled to the ground towards the stall, just barely breaking his fall. “I hate you!” He leaned against the stall door. Dropping his head in defeat, a curtain of blonde hair hiding his face, he whispered to himself, “God, why can’t I hate you?”

“Raoul.” Erik approached him as though he were a wild animal. He crouched so that they would be eye level, trying to make eye contact so Raoul could see the veracity of his statement. “I left Christine to be with you.”

There was no pause in Raoul’s response. “I thought that the first time, Erik. I did,” he said, voice faint and with a sad smile, angry at himself all over again for that misconception but too tired to scream about it.

Erik could accept that; Raoul didn’t trust him. What he couldn’t accept was that Raoul would never trust him. “What can I do to make you understand?”

“I don’t know.” Raoul shook his head and laughed – a disconsolate sound that made Erik flinch from the wrongness of it. “You can’t. You just can’t erase our past, Erik.”

If there was anything Erik had learned from this experience, it was that wishing you’d acted differently in the past was a practice in futility. There was nothing he could do to change the past, but he could change their future. “And if I said I would chase you anywhere you went?”

“You’ve said that already.” Raoul finally looked up at him, pushing his hair back. Seeing his expression, seeing how the determination and stubbornness that should have looked charming and so fitting on someone like Raoul was tainted with resignation made Erik almost believe that the time they’d spent together in the cottage had never happened. Raoul said so sensibly, as though he were stating facts for a situation so removed from his own life, “You’re an obsessive person. Once you set your mind to something, you’ll do it. I just don’t know your motives.”

Biting his tongue, Erik reminded himself the only thing that mattered was that Raoul was still here. It didn’t matter that all the effort and patience he’d managed to exhibit had all been for nothing. He’d changed everything he’d been from removing the mask to his very behaviors. He’d stopped himself from becoming violent when Raoul had been unreasonable, stopped drawing and composing because he simply couldn’t split his attentions, and stopped trying to control everything Raoul did. For nothing.

Apparently, he’d chosen the wrong tactic from the very beginning in approaching Raoul. He would have to be straightforward, and if Raoul ran away, well, at least Erik wouldn’t have fooled himself to believe he’d never do so. “I have no idea where Christine is,” he pointed out.

Raoul scoffed. “I can’t read your mind, Erik.”

Erik wracked his brain for facts that might convince Raoul he was being candid in his affections. “I’ve only ever kissed Christine once, and that was in the opera house before you both left me.”

“That was twice.” Raoul was quick to point out.

Erik nodded, softly saying, “Yes, yes it was. But after that, not once.”

“And you could be lying.” Raoul shrugged, discounting that fact just as quickly as the last one. He added, “Not that it matters since if you’re going by kisses, then you would still love her more since we’ve never kissed, Erik.”

Dropping the short distance from the crouch to his knees, Erik moved forward and steadied himself with one hand right by Raoul’s head so that he couldn’t turn away from him. “We can remedy that,” he boldly suggested. Making his intentions quite clear, Erik slowly closed the distance between them, searching Raoul’s face for any signs of shock. Instead of trying to move away from him though, Raoul stared at him expectantly. Erik briefly wondered if he’d been set up before deciding it didn’t matter. He rested his other hand on Raoul’s neck, hand caressing the nape of his neck as he gently pulled Raoul forward. He didn’t want to do this wrong, but distantly, Erik knew he could stay like this for an eternity: their breaths mingling, Raoul warm and pliant beneath his hand, focusing solely on him, and the tingling in his lips as he could almost feel Raoul’s lips against his own even before they’d yet to make contact. He tilted his head slightly and Raoul had yet to close his eyes; he briefly wondered how he could bear to stand his face this close.

When he finally pressed his lips against Raoul’s, he lingered there, unwilling to part even though Raoul wasn’t kissing back. He wasn’t surprised; a small part of him was glad that Raoul hadn’t tried to make the kiss something more. It would’ve reminded him too much of his first kiss – something violent and desperate. He didn’t want that between Raoul and him. He pressed his lips against Raoul’s softly a second time and third time, just to feel them against his own before retreating a short distance, far enough to be able to look at Raoul without straining his eyes.

Raoul’s expression hadn’t changed.

“Well?”

Raoul licked his lips and Erik’s eyes immediately zeroed in on that action. “I’m not convinced.” He shrugged off Erik’s hand, and Erik did his best to hide his disappointment. Falling back into a crouch to give Raoul more space, he let out a frustrated breath. Raoul continued, either not seeing or not caring about his reaction. “I thought I would be, but I’m not.” Raoul’s lips still tingled though. His stomach was still clenched tight with the thought that Erik had actually kissed him. Three times. And again, he wanted to give in, tell Erik that nothing but this moment mattered. But there were very few moments when he didn’t want to just give in to Erik; that had been the problem from the very beginning.

The stricken expression so plainly clear on Erik’s face almost made Raoul falter.

“There’s no way for you to know, is there?” Erik asked rhetorically, the frustration affecting his tone. He stood up and Raoul followed suit. “You don’t want to know,” his voice growing louder as his already fragile control broke, “You just want to push me away.”

Raoul laughed again, brokenly. He bit his bottom lip. His eyes shone with unshed tears and he didn’t rise to the challenge. He nodded, a self-reproaching smile that was too difficult to contain in place. Quietly, he agreed, “Yes, Erik. That’s exactly what it is. I don’t want to know.”

His reaction removed all possibility of Erik being able to build momentum in his rant. Instead, he thought back to the moment he left Raoul and every moment in between, searching for confirmation or even contrary instances to substantiate the realization that was solidifying in his mind. “You do love me,” Erik said breathlessly. His allegation, his bluff from the very beginning had been right. It was not all lost; Raoul had stayed because he loved him. Then again, Erik wasn’t quite sure what that changed since Raoul had left that first time despite the fact that he loved him. Regardless, he pressed, “It’s not about knowing. You’re too afraid to do anything about your love.”

“I,” Raoul spat out, leaning forward to punctuate his point, “I would do everything and anything for love. Don’t ever say otherwise.”

Erik actually hesitated. He wanted to refute that statement, but knew he’d chosen the wrong thing to say. Although there was cause for joy in the fact that Raoul hadn’t denied his love, the veracity of Raoul’s claim made him rethink his approach because it was irrefutable; Raoul would do anything for love. He’d support, chase, and live in the same house with an emotionally unavailable woman. He’d let a man blinded by his own obsessions think he could be happy anywhere but by Raoul’s side and then continue to live on because that was exactly what he’d been told to do. He’d do anything and yet, that had been the cause of his suffering.

“Well, you’re quitting now.”

Raoul stared at him in disbelief. “What do you want me to do? Continue this farce?” He motioned violently in the air. “You want me to stay here and pretend nothing’s wrong? Fool myself into believing that you’re here for me and just for me?”

“Yes.” Erik placed a hand on Raoul’s arm to curb his gesticulations, but Raoul knocked it away. Undeterred, Erik continued, “That’s exactly what I’m asking you to do because I am here for you.”

“So, I keep you here with that fragile, shallow happiness wondering whether it’s going to be: an hour, a week, months, years,” his voice rose with every word, “before you suddenly realize again, you suddenly decide that I’m not the one you wanted all along!”

“God, Raoul.” Erik scrubbed a hand over his face, eyes pleading with Raoul to understand. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me. One more day, one more minute just to convince you that no matter where you are, I’ll be there too. I’ll always want to be there.”

Erik’s plaintive supplication made Raoul pause. He wanted to believe, as though hearing the words come directly from Erik was enough of a balm to ease the worries away, but Erik was known to have larger machinations than simply fooling one man into believing he was in love.

Raoul was so scared, too scared to let himself believe this could be true. The past few weeks had been torturous. He’d allowed himself to believe that Erik had been there just for him. He truly had, slowly but surely burying his fears under an already well-practiced weight of denial. And in the end, weeks ago, he’d compared Erik’s actions to their time before. He’d compared the Erik who’d left him to the Erik who’d promised to stay, and there simply hadn’t been enough of a difference.

The only difference had been Raoul himself, and maybe that was what mattered. What if the defining part of their relationship wasn’t how Erik felt about him? What if it was Raoul’s feelings that dictated it? Erik had left after Raoul had been quickly coming to the realization that Erik meant a lot to him. And now, Raoul was truly in love yet withheld it from Erik and the man stayed. It seemed that when the opportunity arose for Erik to inflict the worst pain, he would do so. And now that there could be no doubt that Raoul loved Erik, what was to happen if he gave into the tempting impulse to just accept that Erik supposedly loved him?

“Raoul,” Erik held his face between his hands, too fast a movement for Raoul to have moved away from. He forced their eyes to meet, and Raoul had a moment to wonder how Erik could have gotten so close. He could feel his cheeks burning up and his chest hurt with the effort it took to just not melt into his touch. Erik spoke unhurriedly, putting as much of himself in the words that he could manage. “You run. I’ll follow. You hide, and I’ll find you. You don’t believe my words.” He shook his head slightly. “I’ll say them every day. You don’t believe my actions. I’ll be here to show you constantly. I’ll do anything you want.”

Raoul almost found himself nodding, but forced himself to stay still. It was becoming harder and harder to rebuff Erik’s affections, true or not. He managed to reply the same time as Erik amended, already expecting Raoul’s reaction.

“Then leave me alone.” “Anything but that.”

“You’ll do anything?” Raoul repeated.

“Anything but that,” Erik stroked Raoul’s cheeks with his thumbs before letting him go, and Raoul finally felt like he could think again. “I’ll do anything but leave you.”

Through the warring emotions within him, Raoul let out a short bark of disbelief. “Again, you mean.”

Erik winced, sucking in a deep breath. He momentarily wondered what might have been had he not left in the first place. Raoul loved him; he had to wonder just for how long that had been true. It couldn’t have been the entire time. Could it?

“Alright.” Raoul ordered, “Then, never lie to me.”

Taken aback for a moment, Erik was slow to answer. He nodded. “I’ll never lie to you.” If that was all it took for Raoul to believe him, Erik would never let another lie pass his lips.

Still disbelieving, Raoul asked, “And you’ll never leave me again?”

Erik replied firmly, “Yes, Raoul. Again. I won’t leave you again. I simply hadn’t realized then.”

“And this sudden epiphany occurred…?” Raoul scoffed even though what he wanted to yell was for Erik to stop looking earnest and saying all the things he wanted to hear.

“Because I’d left to start with.” Erik was truly at a loss for what to do. Raoul was simply not listening to reason. He wasn’t used to this kind of argument. The urge to physically make Raoul see reason was so tempting, but he held himself back, his mind finding the only thing left. “You are my Dea.”

“I hate that book,” Raoul retorted and meant it. He hated that Erik was his Gwynplaine, leaving him for another woman and only coming back in the end when it was too late. It was too late. Perking up suddenly with false cheer, he added vindictively, “Then perhaps we should’ve drowned in the ocean.”

Erik scowled. Abruptly, he grabbed Raoul and dragged him towards the entrance of the stable.

“What are you doing?” Raoul struggled in vain. Erik’s vice-like grip was bordering on painful and his struggles were making it worse.

Copying Raoul’s tone of detached reason, he answered, “If what it takes to prove my love for you is both of us drowning in the ocean, then we’ll drown.”

Raoul dragged his feet until Erik finally stopped near the doorway. “Are you insane?” He was certain Erik would have followed through with the action.

“No.” Erik shot back, raising his eyebrow, “In love.”

“Damn it, Erik.” Raoul tore away from him, taking a few steps to create some distance between them. He couldn’t do this. His emotions were shifting too much, he couldn’t keep up. “Can’t you understand? I don’t know how to love you like I did anymore. I’m too afraid, too hurt, just too damn tired to love!”

Erik shook his head. He didn’t believe him, couldn’t accept what he’d said. Sure, Raoul might be tired, and he was certainly hurting, but from what he’d seen of Raoul, he would never be too tired to love. “Then at least tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Raoul asked suspiciously.

“How did you love me? What did you love about me?” Erik asked in all seriousness.

Raoul, wide-eyed, took a step back. “What?”

Erik moved closer. “What did you love about me? I want to at least experience it once.”

A slow shake of Raoul’s head was his only answer. He’d never said the words aloud, didn’t know what would happen if he did.

Clenching his fists, Erik hated himself a little for how hard it was to say what he now knew he had to say. “After all the miles I’ve travelled and all the chasing across the country, I love you. I love your laugh and how I can tell almost everything you’re thinking without you having to voice it.” He took a step towards Raoul, but Raoul took a corresponding one back even as they maintained eye contact. “I love it when you’re barefoot and walking across the estate or when you’re concentrating on your work and you don’t realize you’ve smudged ink on your face. I love that you care and you try so hard to be good when it’s obvious it comes as second nature to you.” Erik moved closer and Raoul forgot to keep the distance between them. “I love the absurdly long time you spend on your hair every morning and I love the way you fit against me when we’re in bed.”

Raoul couldn’t bring himself to look away even though he knew that just looking at Erik during his impassioned speech affected him more than he thought possible. He blinked uncertainly before putting to words thoughts he normally shied away from. “I-I loved your eyes.” He said slowly, eyes darting from feature to feature on Erik’s face. “And your grin.” Erik grabbed Raoul’s hand and raised it so that he could trace his fingers across the features as he spoke. Lost in the past, his eyes were distant and a little sad. “I loved your voice.” He trailed his fingers on Erik’s lips. “I loved the way you always raised your eyebrow at me,” he grinned a little as he said it. As his hands traced over Erik’s deformity, his eyes cleared a bit. “I love how you aren’t perfect but pretend to be anyway.” He continued touching Erik even though his words no longer corresponded, not realizing he’d stopped speaking about the past. “I love our afternoon walks, love the way you worry about me and the way you’re horrible at hiding interest in the things I do. I love your passion.” Raoul sighed, his hands falling to his sides. “I lov-loved you.”

Erik hadn’t missed the way Raoul had lapsed into the present tense, and even though Raoul had sounded so certain in the end that the feeling had ceased, Erik knew he was wrong. “When did you give up on me?”

“I…” Raoul shook his head. He’d tried to give up on loving Erik and had failed. He had loved Erik, and despite his better judgment, he still did. He didn’t want to give up again; he didn’t want to go, not after he’d experienced life with Erik, not after he’d slept in the man’s arms and finally kissed him. And Erik’s declarations of love and devotion for him were enough to make even thinking about leaving painful. Every word tore at his resolve, tore at his fears and uncertainties until there was nothing but tatters. Raoul didn’t know what would be left if Erik continued.

Erik grabbed him then, forced his eyes to focus on him, on the present. “I love you.” Raoul let out a small whimper, and Erik continued, “Just say the words and I will do anything for you.”

Raoul knew Erik wouldn’t let this go; he’d be persistent and annoying. He’d ask over and over again and Raoul couldn’t keep fighting; he didn’t have the energy and will that Erik had. Erik was obsessive and… Raoul finally let himself hope and pray that Erik would never stop obsessing over him.

Hesitantly, Raoul reached up to grab onto Erik’s arms and just as hesitantly let himself believe, let his guard down. If Erik did hurt him again, he was right, there was always the ocean. He whispered, “Stay” fervently hoping Erik would keep his promise to never lie to him.

Erik pulled him closer still, so that Raoul’s arms reached behind him.

Raoul pressed his face against the crook of his neck, hugging Erik as tightly as he could manage, unwilling to let go. “Stay with me,” he said a second time, more forcefully.

Erik hung on to Raoul just as desperately. His voice was rough when he answered, “Forever.”

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 28

Word count: 6,820

o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Story review: Could that have taken any longer to finish? I struggled so damn hard to get them to stay together. Raoul and his insecurities went haywire in the end and Erik was totally running out of things to possibly do to convince him. I’m not pleased at all with the ending, had to rewrite it only about five times. :( I was just trying to stay true to the title of the fic.

What’s with all the hugs ending fics?

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Garnier Hosptial Ch 10

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 03:55:58 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: AU. I shoved the POTO characters into a hospital setting. Slash btw, as though I write anything but. Complete.
Warning(s): slash, AU
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 6,545
Rating: T

A/N: Finally it’s done. Not quite. You’ll see what I mean.
Story note: Raoul’s interest has been piqued. What’s Christine’s master plan? She’s a sneaky one. How could anything possibly finish in just this one chapter? How!?

o.o.o.o

Garnier Hospital – Cure
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

The night air was tepid.

Raoul claimed that the scrubs he brought were meant to serve a twofold purpose of keeping Erik warmer than the hospital gown would have and to keep their night time outings less conspicuous – as though wheeling a man whose face was completely bandaged could possibly be any less conspicuous than it already was. Erik was almost certain that Raoul did it just to see him in scrubs; then again, it could be to stop the lewd comments he’d begun to make about Raoul’s desire to have easy access to what was beneath the gown. Erik did so enjoy watching Raoul’s face redden, and those particular comments never seemed to fail.

He doubted that anyone would have stopped them regardless of his clothing. After all, everyone knew well enough to leave him alone, and if they hadn’t experienced his wrath firsthand, the gossip mills always worked overtime to compensate for such things. He knew what they called him: mad, a terror, a nuisance, and from those firsthand sources, a monster. He didn’t care too much about what they said but his reputation had proven useful in many ways: it kept others away, made Raoul stay, and now made these outings of theirs go unquestioned.

The outings made him realize that he’d missed a lot more than just being able to eat real food. He missed being able to go places and do things without being chaperoned – although admittedly, he didn’t mind his current chaperone. He still missed the places he’d once seen; the four walls of his hospital room provided little for distraction. He missed the simple freedoms that he’d once had, and yet, he was still reluctant to believe he deserved it anymore.

The cold of the stone bench was seeping through the thin linen pants, but it was a feeling he welcomed. Not only did it distract him from his thoughts, but he’d grown appreciative of the stark contrast of the stone bench from the padded hospital bed. It was different; it was outside. He couldn’t really see the trees or even the sky through all the gauze and bandages on his face; all he saw were blurry shapes and in the dark of night, they all blended together to form one large grayish chimera.

But he could feel it and that somehow managed to dull the pain he constantly felt to a dull ache. Even those piercing pains were somehow more manageable when they weren’t the only things he could focus on. He could hear the trees rustling, the cars driving. He could smell something other than medicine and bodily fluids. Rather surprisingly, he could even smell Raoul. He’d never really noticed it before, but there was a subtle scent coming from his doctor that had been easily covered by the sterilized, alcohol smell within the hospital. It was enough to tempt him, draw him closer in an attempt to figure out what that was: cologne, shampoo? It made it so that even though Raoul sat beside him, close but not touching, it wasn’t close enough.

With his wayward thoughts concerning Raoul, Erik wasn’t sure if there was a close enough. He could still feel him though. The steady warmth beside him, the near-quiet exhales, it was all becoming so commonplace that when Raoul was gone, everything was simply too quiet.

Erik was just beginning to accept as part of his daily schedule their nightly ventures outside – though the fifth level terrace area hardly counted for outside the hospital, potted plants and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke clearly disrupted that illusion. Still, these moments had quickly become his favorite part of the day, even more than their physical therapy sessions, which said quite a lot since there was significantly less touching during these outings. And, the anticipation of Raoul’s next touch weighed heavily on his Erik’s thoughts quite persistently.

As such, Erik waited for the moment when Raoul would begin to fidget, his leg usually bouncing up and down while he leaned back, slouching. Their legs would brush, shoulders bump, and Erik would suddenly feel too warm despite the mild evening. It was almost scripted, from Raoul’s fidgeting to Erik’s reaction; there was nothing he could do to change anything, even as he tried to control his own reactions.

“Pleasant evening we’re having,” Raoul said suddenly, startling Erik out of his thoughts.

“Pleasant evening?” Erik intoned.

“Well, yeah,” Raoul shrugged, nudging Erik’s arm in the process, trying and failing to sound conversational. “It’s nice… and pleasant.”

Erik scoffed, turning his head slightly to look in Raoul’s direction. “What do you want to know?”

Raoul was quick to respond, “What are you talking about?” He turned away so that Erik wouldn’t be able to see his features, not knowing that Erik could barely decipher one eye from the other in the dim lighting.

“You don’t talk about the weather,” Erik explained, “unless you want to ask me something.”

“Well,” Raoul crossed his arms and said petulantly, “Maybe the weather’s just really nice and I wanted to share that with you.”

“You’re already sharing it with me,” he pointed out.

Raoul didn’t have an immediate response to that. Erik was right of course, but he didn’t have to know that. Erik probably also knew he was simply biding his time before asking the real question he’d wanted to ask because if he asked it too quickly, it would be proving him right.

There was only so much time he could waste though. “So, this brain tumor…”

“Very smooth segue, Raoul.”

Raoul was certain that statement had been accompanied by an eye roll. He asked his question anyway, “It’s inoperable?”

“Of course not,” Erik retorted, “I just like it there. I think it’s a good conversation starter.”

Raoul sighed, taking that as a ‘yes.’ Erik’s sarcasm was better than his anger, but Raoul could already feel his agitation. Erik had tensed, moving slightly away from him. It wasn’t a surprise that he wouldn’t want to talk about himself. Still, Raoul persisted, knowing there would probably never come a time when Erik would willingly share this information. “Where exactly is it?”

Erik knew that was a roundabout way of asking what it did to him. He deflected, annoyance colouring his response, “Is this an interview?”

“No,” Raoul said just as defensively, inevitably carried along with Erik’s mood. He couldn’t understand why he simply couldn’t share what had happened. Didn’t he know that there was nothing he could say that would scare him away? “This is us talking as Raoul and Erik.” Before Erik could respond, he added, voice edging on mocking, “You hate doctors after all.”

“That hasn’t changed.” Erik shot back.

Realizing that they were heading towards a full-blown argument, Raoul was quickly apologetic. Changing tactics, he tried to explain, “I just…”

“You just nothing, Raoul.” Erik didn’t want to deal with Raoul’s curiosity or the fact that a part of him believed that he should just tell Raoul everything already. That part was easily overwhelmed by the fear of rejection, though Erik refused to acknowledge that – although it couldn’t be called a fear when said rejection was statistically proven true. He just needed Raoul to accept him as he was, and currently, that was with his bandages. “This is a topic we do not talk about.”

“How can we not talk about it?” Raoul demanded to know. “You’re the one who brought it up when you told me you had a brain tumor.”

“And obviously, I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No,” Raoul stifled the desire to physically shake some sense into Erik, “I’m your doctor. I should know these things.”

“And here I thought we were speaking as just Raoul and Erik,” he spat the words back at him.

Raoul flinched. He should have seen that one coming. “Well, as Raoul, just as me, I want to know, too.”

Erik took a moment to take a deep breath. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Maybe there isn’t, but maybe there is.”

“There isn’t,” Erik stated with finality. Raoul was ever the optimist, and Erik didn’t want to give him any delusions that he could be helped. Once he started believing that, there would be no way to dissuade him from his efforts, and then Raoul would never see anything besides the accident, besides his illness. If there was anything Erik refused to be, it was being just another of Raoul’s patients.

“Erik…” Raoul started.

“Where’s Christine?” Even with the desire to somehow bind Raoul to him, he would never settle for just that, not when they’d been doing so well to avoid all conventional doctor-patient interactions, not when they were already more.

“God, will you just let me finish a sentence?” Raoul raised his voice in exasperation.

Such thin layers separated him from Raoul and yet it seemed so far. “Call Christine.”

Raoul shook his head. “She’s doing her job.”

“Call her. I want to go back to the room.” When Raoul didn’t move, his tone of voice changed, one that demanded to be listened to, the one that everyone responded to. “Bring me back.”

Raoul shook his head just as firmly as he declared, “You know I won’t do that, Erik.”

Everyone but Raoul. Erik knew that. Raoul didn’t do anything but what he wanted; it was still a mystery that he stayed to help him at all.

“We should talk about this,” Raoul insisted.

“I don’t think we should.”

Raoul scooted closer as Erik turned from him.

“I’m tired,” Erik admitted, hoping to play on Raoul’s rather constant empathy. But it was also the truth; he was tired, not just physically either. He was tired of this conversation and even more tired of worrying what Raoul might do once he did find out what had happened. If only he weren’t so weak, he would force Raoul to stay with him. They wouldn’t have this problem at all. “Just bring me back to my room.”

Raoul didn’t say anything, only leaned more heavily on Erik, pleased when he didn’t shy away. He’d found that when they were arguing, although his first impulse was to leave so that he didn’t become physically violent, the best thing to do actually was stay. If he stayed by Erik long enough, his own anger would dissipate no matter what was said or done. He wasn’t sure why that happened; just as quickly as he could be angry at the man, he could relax. The insufferable man just made him defensive; it felt like everything he said was an attack.

But despite his first impulse, he realized he didn’t want to leave Erik’s side. No matter how hard Erik tried to push him away, Raoul knew he had to push back. He’d long since decided that there was nothing Erik could do to chase him away as a doctor or as anything more. And, that anything more was what had taken the longest to decide upon – he defined what that meant as vague as possible.

Lately though, he’d been more frustrated. His mind constantly lingered on Erik, his mysterious past, and its connection to his face. It might have been better had Erik never said anything at all because knowing nothing was proving to be mentally easier than knowing just a little. This piece of the mystery only showed how little Raoul knew and made him think that he would never be able to see the big picture.

“How much can you actually see?” Raoul mused aloud.

“What?” Erik answered faster and calmer than Raoul expected. Him answering at all was already unexpected.

Clearing his throat, Raoul shrugged and floundered, trying to make sense of his previous statement, “You have gauze and bandages on your face. Can you see very much?”

Erik paused, wondering at the change of topic. “I can see enough.”

Realizing that he’d never really thought about how much Erik could see, Raoul asked, “Do you know what I look like?”

It was difficult to see Raoul clearly in this darkness. Usually, Erik could see just fine; his eyes had grown so accustomed to the hospital room that he could do well enough to decipher expressions and features. He had to admit though, when Raoul had first fallen asleep in his room, he’d removed the bandages just to be able to see Raoul unhindered. Even though he’d been paranoid that Raoul would wake or someone would walk in while he was so naked, he’d taken long moments just to let his eyes trace every feature from the slender neck to each eyelash.

Raoul wasn’t made of sharp angles; he had a softness about him. Perhaps it was because he smiled too much, and his expressions were so easily displayed on his face. Erik had decided it wasn’t such a bad thing except for the fact that it made him want to reach out and touch Raoul. And, Erik had poor impulse control. He knew what it felt like to run his fingers through Raoul’s hair, knew the feel of his cheeks, had even dared to trail his fingertips over his lips.

But those thoughts weren’t helping him stay mad at Raoul.

He answered gruffly, “A fop with blonde hair.”

Raoul actually laughed, unable to contain it, “Did you just call me a fop? Who even uses…?” He stopped himself, “All you ever see me in are scrubs or my white coat. How can you even tell if I am?”

“I can just tell,” Erik insisted, unwilling to concede.

Still grinning, Raoul replied, “So you can see through all those bandages. It seems rather unfair that you know what I look like and I have no idea what you look like.”

“Life’s not fair.”

Raoul pouted.

As though to take the sting off the fact that he was still refusing to show his face, Erik leaned a little heavily on him. Raoul appreciated the steady weight. Erik was gradually getting better, and while that was a good thing, he wondered what would happen when the day came that Erik could leave the hospital. What would happen then?

“And everything has an end,” Raoul added. To hide the wistful tone of his voice then, he added quickly, “Oh, weren’t we sharing clichés?”

Erik scoffed.

“You know. Your bark is worse than your bite,” Raoul continued, grinning.

Already aware of Raoul’s propensity to fasten onto jokes and repartees that he deemed to be less vulgar than the ones he usually tended towards, Erik was quick to warn, “Stop right there.”

“When hell freezes over,” Raoul answered too cheerfully. It was easier to lose himself in their banter than it was to linger on the many things he didn’t know about Erik, the many things he might never learn about him.

“Really,” Erik leaned more heavily on Raoul; he wasn’t quite sure what he hoped to accomplish by doing so. “Stop. You’re not as witty as you think you are.”

Raoul’s watch beeped before he could come up with another cliché. He got up reluctantly. Holding a hand out to Erik, it took a few moments before he accepted the help. Once Erik was situated in the wheelchair, they began their journey to Erik’s room.

“You know. That’s just the tip of the iceberg of the clichés I know,” Raoul commented, knowing that Erik wouldn’t respond. Whenever they were around others, barring Christine, Erik refused to speak. Raoul wasn’t sure why, but it hardly bothered him. He was also almost certain that he’d just heard Erik sigh.

“You just opened a can of worms with that statement.” Even as he smiled and nodded to all the nurses they passed on the way to Erik’s room, Raoul kept his voice low enough so that only Erik could hear. “It’s like being a kid in a candy store.”

Before they had even reached his room though, Erik couldn’t help himself. “Shut up. Why don’t you take a long walk off a short pier?”

Raoul laughed loudly, garnering many confused glances from the nightshift nurses and one rather self-satisfied grin from the man he was pushing. Momentarily relieved of his burdensome thoughts, Raoul gladly responded, “Only if I’m taking you with me.”

o.o.o

Christine entered the room shortly after Raoul left, and Erik had a sneaking suspicion that she did that intentionally. Lately, she’d been avoiding him as much as possible. He hadn’t realized it until he and Raoul had gotten into an argument and Christine had simply refused to intercede.

“What were you boys talking about?” She asked, placing down a tray of bandages and some water by his bed.

“Why?” He asked suspiciously.

“Raoul was smiling to himself walking down the hallway. I think he was laughing actually.” He’d been happier than she’d expected him to be. Whenever she got him to talk about Erik, it was only ever to complain about his shortcomings as a doctor since he couldn’t get Erik to confide in him. It was beginning to grate on her nerves. Raoul was an excellent doctor and she knew after his family, he needed one less person to make him feel like a failure.

She thought he’d really come into his own at being a doctor. The others were treating him better, and she didn’t think he realized that lately, he’d been the one to turn their company down in order to spend more time with Erik. Luckily for him, the others were well aware of the situation with Erik or else Raoul would’ve been disliked for a whole other reason than his name; as it were, they were rather impressed with his dedication to the ‘impossible’ patient. Yet, Erik was ruining all the self-confidence Raoul had managed to build at the Garnier Hospital.

“Talking about?” Erik feigned nonchalance even though he couldn’t help his own amusement at their banter, “Linguistics.”

“O-kay,” Christine shook her head. She’d rather hoped that perhaps Erik had let go of his insecurities and told Raoul more, hopefully more than even she knew, which was admittedly so very little already. Erik would have grumbled about her meddling if he had though, so it must have been something else entirely. Sometimes, she wondered how Raoul managed to care so much for someone he didn’t really know.

“Any more lies for today?” Erik accused.

Innocently, she looked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Every time you seem to say more than a few words to me, you end up lying to me.” Erik stared in her direction pointedly. If he did so long enough, she would begin to fidget.

“I think you’re mistaken,” she said sincerely, “I don’t lie to you all the time.”

Erik paused before conceding, “Alright. Any more lies about Raoul?”

She had the gall to smile. “Things seem to be going well between you two.”

Erik wasn’t sure that was particularly true after their argument outside. However, Raoul never shied away from his advances. Raoul had voiced it best when he said that they were flirting with each other; then again, he had also been adamantly against the idea. So, Erik wasn’t sure if that caring attitude and desire to be there constantly for him was simply Raoul being Raoul or Raoul treating him specially. It was one of the main reasons Erik had refrained from doing more than flirting, until he could firmly decipher whether Raoul was simply humoring him or if he was truly interested. After all, his face and past weren’t the only thing that could chase Raoul away.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to, Christine.” The threat was clear in his voice.

She didn’t flinch as Erik expected though. Instead, she scowled at him, taking a step forward. “And I don’t appreciate you treating Raoul poorly.”

“When have I treated him poorly?” Seeing Christine’s withering look, he amended, “When have I treated him worse than anyone else?”

“Those times when I’ve lied to you, Erik,” she said, exasperated. “Either way, Raoul isn’t just anyone.” She’d known the moment Erik had answered her first question that she would have to push them a little more. Raoul was good for Erik. She just hadn’t realized that Erik would be the person who would be good for Raoul, too. And Raoul deserved better than to be left in the dark. She knew that he’d never push Erik to just tell him. He was above coercion and underhanded tactics when it came to Erik; luckily for him, Christine wasn’t.

“He’s my doctor.” Erik tried to gloss over his relationship with Raoul. Even to him, it sounded weak. “Of course, he’s not just anyone.”

She challenged, “Oh, so you don’t want him as anything else?”

Erik refused to answer. She already knew that answer. She’d figured it out even before Erik thought he’d wanted Raoul around for just curiosity’s sake.

“Because if you don’t make your move,” she threatened, knowing that if anything would work, the chance of losing Raoul again would spur Erik into action, “I was thinking that I would ask him to start dating again. I usually don’t date doctors, but for him, I think I’d make an exception.”

“You’re lying again.” Erik couldn’t be sure though.

Christine shrugged. “He’s the one exception, Erik.” And that wasn’t a lie. Raoul was the only doctor she would ever really consider dating even if she wasn’t particularly interested anymore. Knowing the silence meant that Erik was either glaring at her or trying to weigh the truth of her words, she offered, “When are you going to let Raoul help you change those?”

“I don’t need anyone’s help anymore,” Erik snapped, glad for the change of topic. “The therapy’s helping.”

Raoul’s presence was what was helping. The pain seemed less difficult to deal with whenever the blonde was near. It was easier to get through the day, through the pain that still made him grit his teeth and curl up in himself, because he knew that when lunch time came around, Raoul would be back. Even against everything he’d ever learned from his ordeal, he was almost willing to take the pain medication because he knew now that his life didn’t have to be like that, that even though life wasn’t fair, he could still have something this good in his life.

He’d been considering letting Raoul help him. The idea had come to mind the first time Raoul took him outside and he realized that he didn’t want to stay in the hospital room for the rest of his life. Ever since, he’d been thinking about what to do about Raoul, what to do with his life now that it could be his again. It had always been his; he’d just been… sulking? Erik wasn’t about to call it that. He’d been justified to allow his body to waste away like that – it was punishment for his carelessness.

He liked to think he was smarter now; he wouldn’t squander his time.

But to tell Raoul everything, to show him was something that was a little difficult to get his mind around. There was always the chance that he’d turn away from him. Even with Raoul’s persistence the chance was still there.

“You should just give in.” Christine said.

“Give in?” Erik absently asked.

Christine sighed. She needed to catch up with Raoul. “You’re fighting something you already want.”

“I don’t want to ever show him my face, Christine,” he stated.

She only grinned back as she was leaving the room. “If your face is covered, how are you going to be able to kiss him?”

o.o.o

Raoul was trying to catch his breath. Erik was definitely getting better and it was getting harder with the limited exercises they could do in the room to reach Erik’s level of workout intensity. They needed to move their sessions to the actual physical therapy unit to get Erik properly started on walking again, no matter how much he argued against it.

After today’s massage, Raoul knew that their post workout ritual definitely needed to be kept in the privacy of Erik’s room though. Erik must have had a hard day since he’d been rather shameless today, moaning. Raoul had encouraged it in the beginning because Erik had been self-conscious enough to try and stifle the sounds. He’d told Erik it was better to just let the sound out though and slowly but surely, the groans would come out rather unbidden but at least not so controlled every now and then.

Never like this though. The sound had been worming its way into Raoul’s brain, and rather unfortunately, into his pants. It was the first time that he had ever been so glad to end the massage. He didn’t know how long he would’ve been able to keep touching him so innocuously – he blamed his reaction mostly on Christine.

As though nothing had been out of the ordinary, Erik was now on his stomach bonelessly lying on the bed, a sight that always made Raoul smile. He was just taking the simple pleasure of watching him, when Erik asked suddenly.

“What do you think of Christine?”

“Christine?” Raoul kind of froze and immediately berated himself for that reaction. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet. Christine had found him in the morning and the subsequent conversation had put Raoul ill at ease the entire day. He wasn’t sure how Erik would react at all to what he was going to do. About to respond to the question, he was interrupted when the door opened.

Confused, they both turned.

“Christine?” Erik’s attention on her caused him to miss the sudden tension in Raoul.

She paused at the door, staring from one to the other. Grinning, she let the door close behind her. “Boys.”

Erik laid back down; though as she approached Raoul, he made sure to keep her within his sight. She approached and leaned to whisper something in Raoul’s ear. He took some consolation in the fact that Raoul had, at first, pulled slightly away from her. He strained his ears to hear what she said, but to no avail.

Those muscles that had relaxed a few moments ago tensed when he saw Raoul smile rather shyly before nodding. Before he could say anything, Christine straightened and went to leave the room. She glanced at him for a moment with a victorious smirk.

Erik turned around to lie on his back in time to see Christine give a small wave to Raoul. He frowned when he saw Raoul wave back.

“Raoul,” he said sharply, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

Raoul turned to face him, struggling to remain calm. He expected this reaction; Erik would be jealous. “Yes?”

“What did she want?”

“Oh, she just mentioned something we talked about this morning,” Raoul replied, and Erik was loathe to admit that he wasn’t lying. His blue eyes were wide with earnestness. Erik hated that look for the sole reason that it mocked him, telling him that his anger was unwarranted. He was being unreasonable. Again.

He couldn’t help himself though. “Are you going on a date with her?”

“A date?” Raoul parroted before laughing nervously. Erik heard it and knew that probably meant they did.

“She…” Erik was cut off.

“We,” Raoul cleared his throat and started again, “Christine and I, aren’t going on a date.” He firmly stated. “She’s off tomorrow and wanted to have lunch.” He had tried to tell her that Erik wouldn’t be happy with him if he spent too much time with her. He’d suspected from the very beginning that Erik and she had some sort of tension between them.

Erik stared at Raoul in confusion. Besides that first hesitation, Raoul had seemed just as earnest as before. Unsure if there really was a reason to remain angry, he added simply for good measure. “You can’t have lunch with her.”

“I know. She knows that too. Some afternoon coffee run.” Raoul wondered at his reaction and began to question his assumptions. Erik was acting almost like Christine had said he would. Hesitantly, he asked, “Is there something wrong about me going out with Christine?”

Erik refused to answer that, and Raoul didn’t know what else to say. He had to think some things through and maybe catch Christine before she left again. They needed to talk again.

“My bandages need to be changed,” Erik stated just as Raoul got up from his seat. He knew that Raoul was about to leave, knew it and was unwilling to let it happen so soon. He didn’t care that Raoul had other patients to attend to. Not when Christine might actually follow through with her idea to go after Raoul. The blonde was simply too receptive.

Raoul nodded, knowing what that meant. Erik was giving him a reason to leave; Raoul was to make himself scarce in the time being while Erik changed his bandages. It was routine enough that he didn’t question the sudden dismissal. He’d barely taken a step when Erik stopped him once more.

The words stuck in his throat but with great effort, Erik managed to let out a strained. “No.”

“No?” Raoul could see Erik was tense but it didn’t look like he was in pain.

Erik raised a hand to touch the bandages on his face. Summing up as much courage as he could for what he was going to do, he said distantly, “Everyone leaves, Raoul.”

Knowing immediately that he wasn’t just talking about right now, Raoul was quick to respond, “I’m not those other doctors.”

“I’m not talking about doctors,” Erik said, his voice tight.

Raoul sighed. He hated it when Erik talked like this, like he was all alone in the world when there were so many people around him. “There’s got to be someone else, Erik,” he said reasonably, “Not everyone could have left you.”

The thought, There’s you, immediately came to mind, but Erik refused to voice that particular sentiment. “There’s no one left to worry about me.”

“I worry.”

Erik scoffed, “Yes. Yes you do.”

Raoul stood there staring at him, waiting for another outburst, another bout of self-pity. He took a step away before stopping himself.

“Erik.” “Raoul.” They said simultaneously.

Raoul started when it became obvious Erik wasn’t going to, “Christine did come to talk about this morning and lunch.” He struggled to explain. He rushed forward, “But not like you think. We’re supposed to meet so that I could tell her about what happened here.” He waved his hand in an indistinct manner, gesturing at them. “She told me to smile and follow her lead but more importantly, she told me to watch your reaction. She seems to think you have a crush on me.” He tried for teasing but fell short at nervous. Clearing his throat, he added, “My brother does, too, by the way.”

“Yeah?” Erik said roughly. Christine had been lying to him again. He wasn’t very surprised. What did surprise him was that out of four people, the only one who didn’t know he was interested was the one Erik had been rather openly trying to seduce.

“Yeah.” Raoul couldn’t quite look at Erik. He struggled to keep from wringing his hands together. “I told them they were wrong of course.” He glanced up quickly before looking back down, “It’s just how you are.”

Erik nodded. “Good.” He answered noncommittally. He’d been right about Raoul not understanding what was going on between them. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell him outright that they were right.

“Yeah. So,” Raoul smiled tight-lipped, shifting his weight slightly from leg to leg. “I just wanted to clear that up. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Raoul moved to leave again, and just the sight of Raoul’s back turned to him forced the words out. “Raoul.” Erik struggled to keep his voice to be even. His instincts told him to just let him go. “I need help with my bandages.” The words almost jumbled together. Everything else told him otherwise.

Raoul froze, completely certain that he’d just misheard. He didn’t want to voice his uncertainty, lest Erik change his mind. When he turned around though, Erik was holding out a roll of bandages to him.

Erik let his arm rest on the bed as Raoul approached the bed. He was used to Raoul touching him; in fact, he’d just had a full body massage. Yet, having Raoul this close made his heart race. He stayed as still as possible, clenching his hands at his side. He could let Raoul do this. He could be this vulnerable, more vulnerable than he’d let himself be in years.

Raoul sat on the edge of the bed, just barely finding one end of the bandage at Erik’s throat when he heard Erik’s breath hitch. He paused, hand still grasping the thin material. “Are you…?”

A quick jerk of Erik’s head giving his assent stopped the question.

Raoul wasn’t sure he wanted to do this. It felt like he was somehow doing this against Erik’s will. He did want to know, desperately but not at whatever this was costing Erik. It wasn’t right.

He let out a shaky breath. “I can’t.” He was pulling away when Erik grabbed his wrist and tugged, keeping him bent over the bed rather uncomfortably. He had to put his other hand down, near Erik’s head to keep from falling over.

Erik wasn’t willing to have to go through this a second time. Raoul had to do this now or else he might never be able to ask again. He knew it was his fault though. When wasn’t it his fault that Raoul was pulling away from him? Struggling to sound calm, he let out, more affected than he would ever admit to, “A penny for your thoughts?”

Raoul laughed suddenly, the tension finding an outlet. “You know,” he licked his lips. His heart was doing strange rhythms being this close to Erik and having the man’s surprisingly firm grip on his arm. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I can see you don’t want to do this.”

Even through his nerves, Erik managed a grin in response to Raoul’s cliché. At least the blonde had stopped trying to move away, “Then you need to get your eyes checked.” He could barely think quickly enough to come up with a responding cliché as poor as it was. “I’m right as rain.” Before Raoul could make fun of his cliché, he tugged the hand towards his bandages.

Raoul was quick to focus on the task at hand. He moved deliberately, quite sure that if he tried to move any faster, the shaking in his hands would become too obvious. He almost laughed at himself; he was as nervous as Erik was.

In order to have more room, Erik sat up, glad that he managed the feat by himself before Raoul helped place pillows to support him. When Raoul continued with the bandage removal, Erik found himself fervently wishing that he would just go faster; he was almost tempted to just remove the bandages and gauze all at once just to get this over with. This slow pace was frustrating, but he’d told Raoul to do this and would let him do so whatever way he wanted. Instead, Erik focused on Raoul’s face, so close that there was no mistaking his eagerness. Erik could only hope that he wouldn’t disappoint.

As the bandages fell away leaving only the gauze, Erik found himself holding his breath even though he knew it wasn’t sheer enough for Raoul to see through. He attributed the fact that Raoul hadn’t shied away yet to that.

As Raoul started on the gauze moving from the neck up, Erik shut his eyes. It felt like this was taking forever.

Once his mouth was exposed, he stopped Raoul from removing any more, gripping his wrist again. The first sign of his deformity started at the lips, or at least the gnarled skin that had once been the right half of his lips. He knew Raoul could see the beginnings of the gouge defining the tendon, ligaments, and muscles that kept his lower jaw attached. He would be able to see both the missing and raised skin.

He opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t get anything out. Raoul was still here and wanted to see more. There had to be something he could say.

“Cat got your tongue?” Raoul joked shakily.

Erik’s grip just tightened. A small quirk of his lips drew Raoul’s attention completely. So, he’d been wrong about the elephantitis; he’d already known that. Just by sight, Raoul knew that this was something Erik hadn’t been born with. This was something that had been done to him, that had happened to him and in this day and age, he couldn’t quite understand why no one had done something. He wondered belatedly if Erik had refused help from the very beginning.

He stopped himself from reaching forward by sheer force of will, Erik’s grip on his wrist grounding him. He had to remind himself that Erik didn’t like to be touched. But the thought of Erik refusing medical attention and drugs, of him suffering for months or years so unnecessarily, made Raoul’s chest hurt; it made him want to just pull Erik to him and somehow protect him from all those hurts.

“They were right,” Erik stated simply.

It took a few moments, during which time Erik’s eyes had opened in uncertainty, before Raoul’s mind could comprehend what that meant. When it finally did, Raoul let out a relieved breath. Erik did like him. He wasn’t just showing him his face because of some obligation – though Raoul knew such obligations never applied to Erik. Still, the words made the hurt dissipate just a bit and it made the want to reach out and touch Erik that much stronger. Biting his lip to keep from smiling too brightly, he said, “Just so that we’re on the same page, I like you too.”

This time, Erik did grin. He searched Raoul’s eyes for any signs of disgust, fear, or worse yet, pity. Instead, all he saw was that look Raoul got whenever the pain was too much for him to hide. He exhaled sharply to hide the disbelieving laugh; he should have known this was how Raoul would react.

Raoul felt the puff of air on his lips and before he thought of the repercussions of what he was doing, he closed the distance and kissed Erik chastely on the lips. He had to admit it was different, but he was glad that his first contact with what Erik had been hiding for so long was a kiss. It was like a promise, a way to convey just how much Raoul would accept everything Erik offered him. Unthinking, he placed a second peck on the corner of Erik’s lips where the worst of the injuries he could see were. He pulled away suddenly when Erik tensed.

“I…” The apology died in his throat when he realized that Erik wasn’t going to yell at him, that Erik had leaned forward as though to chase him when he’d backed away. Raoul grinned to himself, making a mental note to thank Christine and think of a way to break it to Philippe that he’d been right from the very beginning.

He cradled Erik’s face, one hand gently cupping while the other pressed a wad of gauze against Erik’s cheek, and leaned forward to capture Erik’s lips in another chaste kiss, refusing to go further while Erik’s face was still covered. He was afraid it would give the other man the wrong idea. He didn’t move very far though, leaning his forehead against Erik’s to revel in their shared affections for just a moment. His thumb gently stroked the uneven skin – it was an old injury, one that shouldn’t hurt anymore but with Erik, Raoul could never be too certain. He’d have to remember to ask Erik later; right now though, he didn’t want to ruin the moment they were sharing.

As their breaths intermingled, Erik asked softly, “You know the cliché I always find… relief in?”

His tone of voice, that pause, and the emphasis on the word made Raoul wary. Still, he stayed where he was and responded, “No, what?”

Even though Erik answered in all seriousness, the innuendo was still there. “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

Raoul was forced to turn away before bursting out into laughter, spluttering, “I can’t believe… Did you just…?” He turned back to Erik, his smile wide enough to almost hurt his cheeks. “You just killed the moment.”

Erik shrugged, truly not caring, and moved to kiss Raoul again. “One more before you run away scared,” he said, glad to realize he was joking. When he felt Raoul smiling again, he pulled away.

“Well,” Raoul’s smile became a little more teasing, “You don’t have to worry about that.” He pecked Erik once on the lips again. “I have to admit. I have a weakness for guys who don’t beat around the bush.”

o.o.o.o

End fic

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Story Review: I am amused. I hope you are too. Still, how the hell can I leave it like that after so much time? So many loose ends!

You’ll live. The prompt asked for ten chapters; I have ten chapters, but I’m not that evil. I’ll figure something out. In fact, I already have.

Btw, I was going to have him have the deformity since birth, but given some details, I figured that wouldn’t have worked very well because of plastic surgery; as such, there were allusions in this chapter as to what actually did occur (very vague allusions).

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Reluctantly Willing Ch 27

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 05:54:00 GMT

Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul slash. Post-POTO. A bit of R/C (yeah). General discontent runs through the characters as they are forced to adjust their views of happily ever after. I guess a bit of E/C as well (but that’s usually unavoidable)

Warning(s): slash (that’s homosexual content for those of you who don’t know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Late doesn’t even begin to describe how long this has taken. I got lost in some things and didn’t even write for weeks; and the sad part is that I didn’t even realize it. I apologize. I just realized that I must hate finishing fics. It takes me forever to do so.

Story Note: One more chapter after this one and this story arc is complete. And no pron to speak of. Sad, indeed.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 27 - … to relax

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

As promised, Raoul ignored Erik completely after their conversation; that is, after he’d managed to compose himself away from that all too familiar gaze now weighted with something he could almost swear hadn’t been there before and after he’d managed to consequently remind himself why they were here in the first place. He might not be able to believe Erik was dead any longer, but he wasn’t willing to be hurt again. Not by the same trick. Not by the same man. He’d be foolish to let his guard down, and on some level, it frightened him to think of how much more it would hurt to be left alone again. The mere concept that he could hurt more was overwhelming.

Erik had to be dead for all intents and purposes, and Raoul knew he would simply have to learn how to live with the ever-present knowledge of Erik’s choice of Christine over him. There was no point in trying to deny it any longer. Forgetting about the ordeal hadn’t worked. Moving on was no longer even an option, what with Erik’s presence. The only thing left to do was to accept the pain and when the opportunity presented itself, to run away. Again.

After all, running away was the only available resort. Erik might chase him; alright, Erik would chase him. For a while. But Erik wouldn’t be able to find him if he really tried to get away, not that he hadn’t been trying the last time. This time, though, this time he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t even consider stopping by any of the properties he owned. He’d leave completely to a place that he didn’t even know, where no one knew him or even of him. He’d go to a place where Comtes, prima donnas, opera houses – and opera ghosts – were a novelty. There or somewhere even further, he could start life over again and become a person he could live with, someone who wasn’t so naïve and so easily hurt.

That was only if he was able to get away though. He had a feeling that would take some time.

There were surprisingly no more confrontations. Erik was quiet, pensive even. The only thing he did was keep Raoul within his sight. Beyond that, he kept a respectable distance away. The last he’d checked of Erik’s presence – when his eyes swept the room to make sure everything was in order, not to specifically search for the man – Erik had been sitting by the balcony, pointedly reading L’Homme Qui Rit, a fact that had not slipped Raoul’s notice even as much as he continued to pretend not to.

He didn’t have the energy to think about what they’d said to each other, what Erik had said to him. In fact, he didn’t want to because he knew that he’d simply dissect every word and inflection before inevitably coming to the wrong conclusions. So, he distracted himself by gorging on the food that the servants had brought, fussing over his clothing, and making certain to close the heavy curtains for the sake of blocking out the sun, which was still streaming through the balcony doors and windows and would be doing so for a few more hours.

After travelling, swimming, and the emotionally draining process of dealing with Erik, his mind was driven towards blankness and by the time he dropped onto the bed, he’d somehow managed to forget Erik was even there. All it took was closing his eyes and he fell asleep despite the few reservations he had regarding his company.

o.o.o

After their conversation, Erik had dropped into the chair near the balcony, not quite confident on what his next course of action should be. His eyes followed Raoul as the younger man walked to and fro within the confines of their – no, Erik corrected his thoughts – Raoul’s room. This wasn’t their room, not their house. It was Chagny property, and that distinction had never seemed so significant until this moment. He was an interloper, had always been one in Raoul’s life.

However, as much as the estate in Paris had been Chagny property, it had also been theirs. The servants, the trees, the rooms, everything had become a part of his domain. He’d lived there for such a short time compared to the opera house and still, he felt more attached to the estate than he did to the Opera Populaire. He doubted it was the estate itself. In fact, Erik knew it had nothing to do with the building, the lawn, or servants and everything to do with the man in front of him who had not only moved on without him but preferred to think of him as deceased.

Raoul didn’t care he was back. Erik nearly laughed at that particular understatement since Raoul didn’t care if he was alive.

For a mere second, Erik tore his gaze away from Raoul unable to even look at him. This was worse than his time in the Opera Populaire pining after Christine; she too had been close and untouchable. Yet, he knew that she would have been more receptive to his presence than Raoul at the moment.

He thought, not for the first and definitely not the last time that this was not how it was supposed to happen. Raoul was Dea; he had no right to reject Erik, to not... Erik hesitated simply because as much as it made sense, as much as it was meant to be, the concept was still a little foreign to him; Raoul had no right to not love him after everything they’d been through. After everything that Erik had been through, how much of his past that he’d just left behind, how much he’d had to concede to admit his own feelings, Raoul couldn’t not love him.

Perhaps Raoul simply didn’t understand what he’d meant calling him Dea – as unlikely as that was considering Raoul had read the book and knew the reference. There was the alternative – and Erik was unwilling to believe this – Raoul had understood the reference and simply didn’t care.

Their time together must have meant something to him though. It was a rather hypocritical assumption on his part, Erik knew that. He’d left Raoul without a second thought, simply because he hadn’t thought of their time together as meaningful. He hadn’t realized what exactly they’d had together until it was too late.

Raoul wasn’t him though. Raoul hadn’t blinded himself to everyone but Christine. He hadn’t spent near a lifetime pining after her, hadn’t believed that he’d simply been biding his time until he could leave with her.

That somehow made it worse.

Still, Erik hadn’t lied when he’d told Raoul that he knew him better than he knew himself. He didn’t care if Raoul considered him dead, didn’t care if Raoul tried to ignore him because Erik knew that Raoul wouldn’t be able to ignore him forever. He knew that given time, Raoul would stop fighting him and just maybe love him.

Time and patience. Erik believed he had one and could learn the other.

So, when Raoul closed the curtains despite the fact that he was still pretending to read, he didn’t say anything. He shut his book and returned to watching Raoul, only blatantly now. The young man did well to ignore him though. It was quite easy on Raoul’s part since as soon as his head touched the pillow he fell asleep.

In the darkness that his eyes easily adjusted to, Erik watched Raoul for a long while, just taking in the sight and allowing his mind wander. He was supposed to be here, as awkward as it currently was. It was a little odd how he was absolutely certain of this fact now. There was nowhere else he would rather be, where he could be. With the whole world at his disposal, he only wanted to be here, and though some part of him said that fact should worry him, it didn’t.

He did realize how much easier this would be if he only lusted after Raoul; he would have taken what he wanted by this time regardless of the blonde’s affections or wishes. It would be less confusing and probably more satisfying, but it was ultimately unrealistic. Why would he have given up on Christine if he’d only wanted Raoul’s body? In fact, this situation would have been easier if he’d simply only wanted Raoul’s companionship like before. He would’ve been able to have both Christine and Raoul with that scenario.

He wanted more than what they’d once had though. It was becoming increasingly obvious by the way his body gravitated to Raoul’s. It was nothing like being with Christine; his body had known before he’d even brushed against the thought. His impulses were a constant tug on his limbs to move him ever closer to Raoul not only to ensure that Raoul was by his side but that he was also safe. His mind flashed back to the sight that had greeted him upon his return to the Chagny estate and to the one thought that seemed to keep arising.

Dea died in the novel.

Suddenly unable to stay seated, Erik stood up noisily, keeping an eye on Raoul to see if he was indeed asleep. When there was not so much as a rustle on the bed, he quickly retreated to the bathroom to clean himself of the sand that had accumulated during his confrontation with Raoul. It was a luxury that he’d missed while travelling with Christine. He’d gotten soft – after all, he wanted his old bed, regular meals, quiet mornings, the feeling of cleanliness, and Raoul. He’d stopped being the infamous opera ghost long before he’d realized it and moreover, long before he could do anything to stop the change. There was nothing to do now but chase after what he wanted.

Once clean, he ate what was left of Raoul’s meal. He thought of leaving the room to obtain more food but thought against it. Slowly approaching the bed to observe the blonde more closely, he reached out, wanting to card his fingers through Raoul’s hair. He’d felt them against him on the ride over when Raoul had smelt of ocean and sweat, a combination that Erik could find no fault in. This though, the blonde strands were still damp but finally untangled; they would be smoother. He could just imagine what it would be like.

Stopping short, Erik took a step back, shaking his head. That impulse had been strong, and he had to exert more self control. He’d completely lost focus – or perhaps, he’d focused much too intensely on Raoul. The blonde needed his sleep, and Erik realized that he did as well. Unfortunately, there was the problem of Raoul running away once he did fall asleep. In the past, he wouldn’t have thought it possible, they were so attuned to each other, but he wasn’t willing to be proven wrong a second time. The panic he’d experienced once had been one time too many; he didn’t know what he would do if he woke up to find Raoul missing again. Luck had never truly been on his side before.

Torn in his dilemma, Erik took a moment to consider his options before grinning to himself. There was only one option; he walked around to the other side of the bed and lifted up the blankets.

Raoul stirred when Erik had half his weight on the bed, causing Raoul to lean towards him. He groaned, and peering up at Erik confusedly, asked, “Erik?” He struggled to focus in the darkness.

Despite having the distinct feeling likened to being caught in a destructive act at the opera house, Erik retorted, “You’re speaking to me?”

At his tone, Raoul roused even more. Though his limbs felt leaden, his mind was quick to assess the situation. Glowering, he emphasized, “Ghost, what do you think you’re doing?”

Considering all the possible bitter remarks he could say, Erik instead, settled for the truth, “I’m going to sleep.”

With great effort, Raoul shifted over to crowd Erik, “Not here you’re not.”

Erik grinned, glad that it was so dark Raoul probably could not see it. The Vicomte actually thought that he’d back away from physical contact? “Where else do you think I’m going to sleep?”

Scoffing, Raoul answered, “Sleep in the barn, in the kitchen. I don’t care. Better yet,” he grinned maliciously, “sleep on the floor like you normally do when biding your time for Christine.”

The accusation was like a physical blow and Erik actually faltered. Refusing to allow another reaction, he simply refused. “No.”

Raoul bit his lower lip in frustration. “No?”

“I’m sleeping right here.” To prove his point, Erik awkwardly laid down, pulling the blanket securely over himself. However, since Raoul was being stubborn, he ended up lying half on the blonde. Erik vaguely noted that he was right, Raoul’s hair was still a little damp, now smelling only faintly of the ocean and more of the soap that they’d both used.

There were a few moments of frantic motion before Raoul managed to move clear to the other side of the bed. Having Erik on him like that did nothing for the pain that was gradually building in his chest.

Erik added, quite pleased with himself despite the fact that Raoul was now extremely tense and too far to even feel his warmth, “And if I’m dead, it hardly matters.”

Squeezing his eyes shut and forcing the warmth of Erik’s body out of his mind, Raoul tried to think. In his mental state however, he could only reach two obvious conclusions: he could continue arguing with Erik or go back to sleep. Currently, sleep was his priority.

In fact, he realized that he didn’t even care where.

Instead of verbally responding, Raoul grabbed his pillow and moved to slide out of the bed. Erik was fast enough to catch him, grabbing him around the waist and dragging them both back to the very center of the bed.

Instinctively, Raoul immediately began to struggle: his arms flailing caught Erik across the jaw and in the stomach. He kicked whatever he could reach, which wasn’t as much as he would have liked. They couldn’t be so close to each other; he couldn’t think properly when they were. His heart thudded desperately in his chest, trying to burst free.

Erik held on tighter, pulling them ever closer. In the end, Raoul gave up fighting before he did.

“Erik.” Raoul hated that his voice almost broke. His back was pressed firmly against Erik’s chest; he lay limply in his embrace so that Erik wouldn’t have any reason to hold him any tighter. Still, he could feel Erik’s chest rise with every breath and the puff of warm air against the nape of his neck, and thanks to his previous struggling, every sped up breath was that much more tortuous. “Release me. If you want the bed, you can have it.”

“Raoul,” Erik responded and his voice seemed much closer than expected.

Raoul squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach tensing. He was wide awake now and glad that Erik couldn’t see his expression. “Let me go,” his voice was more even than he thought it would be.

“No.”

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Raoul muttered under his breath.

Holding him tighter, Erik answered, “Because nothing else will make you understand that I only want the bed when you’re on it.”

Raoul’s heart skipped a beat, but it was specifically that reaction that made him realize that he was once again falling for all of Erik’s empty words. “Fine,” he responded tersely, and as he tensed even more, Erik wondered what had set him off this time. Though the words were acquiescent, Raoul’s voice screamed an unwilling concession, “We’ll both sleep on the bed. Just release me.”

Erik considered disregarding his request. He was just as unwilling to release Raoul as Raoul was to stay within his embrace, but ultimately, he decided it was against his best interest to not concede since Raoul had already given in. He needed Raoul to stop fighting and though it came naturally to Erik, being unreasonable was not the way to calm Raoul.

The second he was free, Raoul moved to the very edge of the bed; Erik barely managed to stifle his automatic reaction to follow him. He too was tired and simply knowing that Raoul was near had brought forth the fatigue he’d been successfully ignoring. Though he struggled to stay awake to ensure Raoul didn’t leave, he fell asleep quickly.

o.o.o

Some time in the middle of his sleep, Raoul was certain he’d woken to vague impressions, sounds that he couldn’t quite identify and shapes he was certain he shouldn’t be able to see in the darkness of the room. His mind focused mostly on the overwhelming warmth the surrounded him, not quite suffocating as a distant part of his brain told him it should be. He hadn’t felt this warm in such a long time.

As something akin to peace descended over him, Raoul fell asleep with a gentle sigh.

The next time he woke, his mind was clearer. He recognized the heat for what it was, Erik’s body pressed against his. Again. Raoul hated to think that he already knew what that felt like. He didn’t want to be able to conjure the feeling when Erik left him again. It would only hurt more to know what he’d never have.

Erik was draped half on him, an arm securely around Raoul’s waist. His hand had somehow slipped beneath his shirt and was pressed against his stomach. Raoul would have been angrier if they hadn’t been at the very center of the bed. It meant that some time when he was sleeping, he’d actually moved towards Erik.

He swallowed with some difficulty before trying to even his breathing so as to not wake the ghost. He’d barely moved an arm when Erik made a discontent noise, tugging Raoul ever closer – how, Raoul wasn’t certain. If Erik pulled him any closer, he would be beneath the older man.

His face heated up at the thought. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to stifle that train of thought.

Instead, he focused on what he needed to do. If he could slip out, then he’d be able to take a horse and leave even though the more he accepted the fact that there was no other choice but to leave everything behind, the more it actually physically hurt to just think it.

He shifted his weight in an effort to turn onto his back but Erik shifted as he’d begun the motion. Raoul froze, afraid Erik would wake up. While he didn’t, Raoul knew he’d have to wait until Erik was really asleep or more importantly until his guard had been let down before he could leave.

And it was warm here. Raoul could enjoy it for a little while, couldn’t he? He wasn’t Erik but he could take a lesson from Erik’s repertoire and bide his time.

Tentatively, Raoul placed his hand atop Erik’s, feeling the roughness of the skin, the bony fingers. He tentatively entwined their fingers before resting them back against his stomach, letting out a shaky breath. Maybe he could just enjoy this with a healthy dose of skepticism. For the moment, he could pretend that everything was fine. He could ignore the fact that Erik had an ultimate plan where Raoul was just another means to an end, not the end itself. It would be a sensible concession, if it weren’t for the fact that he knew he was conceding simply because he wasn’t strong enough to keep fighting Erik. Not when every part of him wished to believe Erik wasn’t lying.

Staring into the darkness, he tried to keep his mind blank, but more importantly keep his heart from hoping too much.

o.o.o

Erik woke up with a smile on his face. It didn’t take him too long to realize why. Raoul hadn’t left. In fact, Raoul was in his arms tucked tightly against him. The smell of him filled his every breath; stray blonde hairs tickled his cheek. Erik’s throat constricted when he realized that one hand was trapped by one of Raoul’s. He couldn’t help but grin, his mind providing the image of Raoul’s hand caressing his forearm, following it down to the back of his hand before entwining their fingers.

He basked in the sensations; his heart was beating much too quickly for having just woken. It was almost too much; this touching, this proximity without having to fight every centimeter for it.

This. This was why he’d come back. This was why he would never let Raoul out of his sight again if he could prevent it.

Yet, even as he thought that, he knew that he would have to let Raoul go before he woke. Raoul would not react very well to waking up in such a position and then they would start their day together with an argument, an unnecessary argument. Erik resolved to wake up before Raoul every day, unwilling to give up waking up in such a manner. If Raoul knew, he’d make a concerted effort to stay on his side of the bed.

Erik already had the evidence he needed to know that Raoul could – no, he would – love him back. It didn’t matter that Raoul might have only sought out his touch thinking of someone else or perhaps because Raoul was simply touch-starved enough that any body would do. Erik would be there to take whatever he gave and would give everything Raoul needed.

He bent his head forward, pressing a kiss to Raoul’s neck just to feel his pulse steadily beat out a rhythm that in such a short time, Erik already knew.

Reluctantly, he managed to leave Raoul alone in the bed before finding some way to occupy his time.

o.o.o

Erik was surprised at how easily they fell back into a proximity of what they’d once been to each other before.

It may have taken more than a week before Raoul eventually stopped pointedly ignoring him. Erik had been able to easily track as his resolve broke. It had started off as eyes sweeping past him then progressed to quick glances in his direction and then lingering gazes. Unfortunately, he’d also taken to looking right through him at times, an action that put Erik ill at ease. To see Raoul’s eyes so unfocused towards him made him wonder just who Raoul was seeing.

Even with that disappointing development, Erik enjoyed the fact that this time around there were no arguments about who would get the bed; they shared it. He woke up every morning with Raoul in his arms, though their fingers only wound up entwined some mornings. Each evening, they started at opposite ends of the bed and each morning, he’d be forced to slip out of bed before Raoul awoke to find them embracing.

They still shared breakfast, Raoul notably less animated than before. He was more reticent and since Erik had never quite practiced small talk, much of their time was now spent in silence. Not all comfortable.

They spent some afternoons walking along the beach – though quite far from the ocean itself – and sometimes through the forest. At first, Erik suspected that Raoul was trying to find the easiest route from which to escape. It may have been so the first few weeks, but he’d stopped being suspicious the first time Raoul stopped in front of a tree and proceeded to climb it. And though Erik worried rather unnecessarily over seeing him any sort of distance off the ground, he couldn’t help the surge of hope that caught him completely off guard. Raoul had simply been looking for a tree he could climb. Erik settled at the base just as he’d always done though his senses were completely on Raoul, more of a guardian than a companion, but at least less than a captor.

Persistence was proving to be very effective, but it was a slow process. Erik consoled himself with the fact that it had been a slow process in the beginning before they’d even become remotely close to each other.

There were some boundaries that Raoul refused to break even as Erik eroded their once firm limits. One of the biggest ones was space. Unless they were in bed, Raoul refused to be close enough for Erik to reach out and touch. It had been subtle at first. Erik would move and it was so immediate that he had barely noticed that Raoul would move as well. He almost found it ironic how it was Raoul now who was so adverse to touch, when it had been Raoul that had torn down his own physical boundaries.

Another boundary was emotion. Raoul had stopped smiling, at least with him. The servants were bestowed with smiles and gratitude, looks they didn’t appreciate as much as Erik would have. Besides the slight downturn of lips when Erik pushed his boundaries, Raoul also no longer yelled or got angry. Just like with the progression of finally making eye contact for extended periods though, Raoul was fighting a losing battle. It hardly mattered that most of the emotion he saw now was exasperation and something Erik might call resignation. Erik could deal with resignation. Maybe Raoul had finally taken to heart what he’d said about chasing after him. After all, he was now more intent to keep Raoul by his side than ever before.

And sometimes, more lately than before, Erik could swear that Raoul looked almost happy – even if he was unwilling to feel that way. When he thought Erik wasn’t looking, he’d be able to smile and relax, the line of back less rigid than it normally was. Erik was just waiting, waiting for the space to diminish between them, for the silence to be filled, for the looks to hold something more than wariness. He was waiting for the happiness to be untainted.

But, Erik could understand the wariness. He, like Raoul, couldn’t seem to convince himself to be happy. It was close and so very nearly there that all he had to do was accept it, but he couldn’t. He was constantly on guard. He was waiting for something else to happen, watching Raoul as though they were still enemies, second guessing all of his actions, wondering when he would try to run again because a part of him didn’t want to be caught so unawares again even as a part of himself was yelling for him to give Raoul the benefit of the doubt.

He could be nothing but vigilant even as he stopped worrying about Raoul moving across the room or climbing up a tree. Raoul could move further away from him without having Erik calculating the distance they’d be able to both run before they both tired, but the calculations were still there. He still watched. He still worried.

He was waiting for Raoul to fall in love with him, and then everything else would fall into place.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 27

Word count: 4,541

o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: I was going to say I wondered why this chapter was horrible to write, but I realized shortly after that it was because it was something akin to the calm before the storm. Things aren’t quite resolved yet, and isn’t it kind of cute how romantic Erik is thinking that love will fix everything? Poor, poor Erik. Didn’t you learn anything from Christine?

Another chapter coming your way. Hopefully it doesn’t take two months to write.

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Human Anatomy Ch 06

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 05:36:13 GMT

Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that’s homosexual content for those of you who don’t know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Long hiatus again for no apparent reason besides life. I don’t know what that says about my life that it can just take me away from fanficiton like that. Not the best of situations, that’s for certain.

Story note: these are pretty long though as an apology (all I do is apologize to you guys).

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

The first time Raoul saw Erik’s deformity had been in pitch blackness, a darkness so deep that even Erik had admitted he couldn’t see. In retrospect, Raoul realized that he had planned it that way more for his good than Raoul’s own. That way, he wouldn’t be able to see his reaction if, or rather when, he did react.

It was the first time that Raoul had been given permission to touch the older man. Erik had many rules: no interrupting while he was playing the organ, no visiting Christine before or directly after a performance, no speaking to the managers about them, no trying to find him when he obviously didn’t want to be found. A lot of things Raoul was forbidden to do. The biggest rule however, was that Raoul was never allowed to touch Erik.

Of course they touched. It was rather inconceivable for them to be in such a relationship and not touch each other, but Raoul was simply receiving, a passive participant in all their physical engagements. Erik had been quite explicit about that particular rule.

Erik initiated all contact.

Raoul couldn’t reach out to touch him. He couldn’t kiss back with the passion he felt; he could only follow Erik’s pace, and if he did respond too eagerly, Erik would simply disappear. Raoul couldn’t even put a hand on the older man’s shoulder without reprimand, and that first reprimand had been so terrible that there hadn’t been a second.

Simply put, Raoul wasn’t allowed to reciprocate the way he wanted, the way every instinct of his body and mind told him to respond.

And after all the time that had passed, all the daydreams about being finally able to touch the somehow still mysterious man, Raoul was quickly coming to the realization that his imaginings hadn’t been able to skim the surface of what touching Erik would be like. He was simply glad that he’d long since made the decision that when the opportunity arose, he’d take it slow and memorize how it felt to touch him.

So, when Erik grabbed his hand and proceeded to drag him down stairs he hadn’t known existed, through tunnels that looked as though they hadn’t been used in years, and across cavernous rooms that echoed their steps and chilled Raoul to the bones so that all he could do is shiver as his only anchor in such a strange environment was the equally cold hand gripping his own, Raoul was glad that he hadn’t needed to think anything else but take your time when Erik finally did stop and bring his trapped hand up with a harsh order to touch him.

Raoul’s hand hovered in the air uncertainly. He wasn’t even certain his eyes were open in such a darkness, didn’t know if Erik was still indeed in front of him. All he could tell was that in the absence of his vision, he could distinctly feel himself. His skin was more sensitive, as though the cold had enveloped him, a second skin upon his own. His ears picked up sounds he was certain he shouldn’t be able to hear – at least, once he could focus on something other than his own breathing and heartbeat. There were the phantom noises of animals he didn’t even want to begin to think of and thankfully, no sound of footsteps walking away. He could smell the dank rock that surely surrounded them completely and taste the stale air.

He moved his hand a fraction forward, and immediately felt Erik’s mask. The cold porcelain, an image easily brought forth in his mind, was the only beacon his eyes, though currently useless, could focus on.

“Go ahead,” Erik’s disembodied voice roughly prompted.

Raoul didn’t allow himself to hesitate. He moved with deliberate slowness, using all his fingers to lightly caress the cold unforgiving material he so often had to face. He could almost feel Erik’s tension through it, feel what lay beneath. Once his fingers found the edge of the mask, he raised his other hand to join in his perusal. He was able to easily find the smooth cheek he’d always wanted to touch. He rested the palm of his hand against Erik’s cheek, his thumb slowly stroking the corner of Erik’s lip. The complete image of Erik’s face filtered in through the darkness, making the mask before him less frightening. There was a man beneath that mask. Raoul knew that. He just sometimes forgot. He forgot because he couldn’t reach out and touch that man.

With that thought, Raoul forced himself to imagine the rest of Erik’s body. There was a man, a person beneath his fingers.

It was simply pathetic that Erik was more real now in the darkness than in the candlelight, than in the light of day. He was more substantial when the only image Raoul could see was the one summoned by his mind.

Still slightly afraid of reprimand, Raoul paused before he bravely took the next step and removed the mask. He almost flinched when Erik took it from him – as though Erik had known Raoul wouldn’t have taken the time to put it down in fear that Erik would decide in that short time to leave. He didn’t voice his appreciation, knowing that any sound would snap the tension that hung between them and he would lose this chance.

Raoul let his fingers fill in the image he feared he would never be able to see. As gently as he could, he skimmed the uneven surface that was Erik’s skin, his right hand keeping Erik’s face in place while being used as a basis of comparison. Erik’s breathing was unsteady and Raoul actually wished he could see, wished that he knew whether the leathery skin and varied gouges were blood red or a dull yellow.

He didn’t realize he’d been holding his own breath until he was forced to exhale. His fingertips tingled, over-sensitized because of the cold, because of the loss of his sight, because this was Erik he was finally touching; Raoul wasn’t sure why. Slowly, he touched, mapping the lines of his love’s face until the image was burned in his mind, until it wasn’t the phantom standing before him. He touched and memorized until all that was left was Erik standing before Raoul.

And when it was just them, he touched until touch became an adoring caress, until Erik stilled Raoul’s hands with his own and closed the distance between them.

o.o fingertips o.o (wc:1,073)

Erik nudged Raoul. The only response he received was a groan before that weight settled upon him again.

He was having a little difficulty breathing, what with Raoul laying half atop him. Admittedly, he’d easily fallen asleep in this position, but after the whole night, Erik was beginning to lose feeling on the left half of his body, notably, the half that Raoul was sprawled over, though ‘sprawl’ might be too generous a word.

“Raoul,” Erik whispered, not quite sure if he should be annoyed that Raoul had managed to spend the whole night asleep in the same position. Erik did have to admit it was better than when he moved in his sleep. Then again, since they were sleeping in Erik’s home tonight, there wouldn’t have been any other way to sleep; there was no space to move around.

But, considering this was the third night in a row that Erik was waking up with half of his body numb, he was beginning to think that this was all part of some elaborate ploy of Raoul’s to make getting rid of the coffin Erik’s own idea. Which it wasn’t.

Raoul had brought it up once. After telling him that ‘one has to get used to everything in life, even to eternity,’ Raoul had made a pained expression and never thought to bring it up again. Instead, that evening had been the first time Raoul snuck into his bedroom and climbed into the coffin with him. There had been many wayward elbows and knees in sensitive places at first, but they’d eventually managed to find a position they could both comfortably sleep in, relatively speaking.

At the time, Erik hadn’t been able to question Raoul’s intentions. The blonde had been so adamant on staying the night that words had simply failed him. There had been a look in Raoul’s eyes that even the darkness of his home hadn’t been able to hide completely. Erik could still picture the look in his mind’s eye and no matter how many times he tried to determine what that look meant, he couldn’t. Worry perhaps. Fear? But not of Erik, for him instead. It had been as though climbing into that coffin had actually physically pained Raoul, and yet, he could do nothing but climb in. To this day, Erik still hadn’t questioned him.

Raoul’s breathing had changed, and Erik took a deep breath, straining to look down to watch the blonde head using his chest as a pillow rise and fall as well. It wasn’t so hard to imagine that same expression there now even though Erik hadn’t seen it since that first time.

Or, he’d stopped looking because he couldn’t stand to see Raoul look like that.

“Raoul,” Erik pressed his head back down onto the padding, staring at the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the lid of the coffin. “I’ll get rid of it.”

“Get rid of what?” Raoul’s answer was immediate though his voice was still a little rough with sleep.

“The coffin.”

There was a pause before Raoul asked, “Why?”

And Erik was convinced that he was indeed confused about their topic of conversation. “I…” he actually hesitated. Instead, he asked, “Why have you been sleeping here?”

At the question, Raoul lifted his head, moving so that they could look each other in the eyes; the pressure on Erik’s chest eased. He tilted his head, his lips pressed together in worry. “I…” Erik could see his cheeks tinged red, “I wanted… Do you want me to go?” He asked plaintively.

Erik sighed in exasperation and even with Raoul off him, he felt his breathing just as constricted. “No,” he said a little too forcefully; Raoul had flinched at his tone of voice even while he looked relieved at his response. Erik’s voice was even when he continued, “I just want to know why this is the third night you’ve slept here.”

Erik’s hand strayed to Raoul’s face, fingers trying to smooth the worry lines away.

Raoul leaned into his touch, eyes closing for a brief moment before giving him a tentative smile. He answered as though it should be obvious, “Because you’ve been sleeping here.” The question where else should I sleep? remained unspoken.

“Oh” was the only response Erik could think to say, blinking owlishly. It was then that Erik realized he had been sleeping more and more at the Chagny estate and whenever he slept at the opera house, Raoul was always there with him.

Outright smiling at him now, Raoul turned to kiss Erik’s hand before laying back down.

Erik closed his eyes, taking a deep breath again; Raoul’s solid presence was less burdensome than before.

o.o chest o.o (wc:787)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 06

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Fingertips gave me a major plotbunny of blind!Raoul, and can you imagine all the kinds of awesome that fic would produce? At that length, I could’ve made it its own story – yeah, 1000 is usually my oneshot minimum, but I decided it would remain.

‘Chest’ started out very different and wanted to be more of a oneshot as well, so I had to reconfigure it. It’s more aww-worthy as is right now. Raoul all making Erik get used to his presence from now until eternity. :)

or check it here at ff.net

fic: Whispered Confessions

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 18:29:27 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: Whispered confessions in the dead of night may serve to prove they were meant for each other.
Warning(s): slash
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 1,201
Rating: K+

A/N: It’s short, I know. You’ll have to forgive me for that, but it’s my birthday and I wasn’t going to work at all this week.
Story note: This was supposed to be unabashed fluff, but damnit if it didn’t turn out at least a little angsty.

o.o.o.o

Whispered Confessions
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o
Lying on his side on the bed, Erik propped his head up on one arm to look at the blonde man currently nestled against him. His home was cold. He knew that, but the temperature rarely bothered him. The only reason he gave such things the barest of consideration was because of Raoul. Raoul complained about the chill constantly. Every other statement out of his mouth was usually concerning the frigid temperatures in his home; albeit lately, they’d all been halfhearted, as though it had become so routine to do so, he didn’t know how to stop.
Yet, Raoul was quite insistent that he sleep here and then proceeded to move as close as physically possible when they slept.
Erik could find no fault in that. Having him near was a luxury.
He waited until Raoul was asleep, allowing that steady heartbeat and deep breathing to calm him in a way he was certain could not be achieved anywhere or any time else. There was too much to do, too much to be while the sun shone, while in the company of others, even with Raoul himself when they were awake. In the dark of night though, it was only with his disbelief that Raoul would come willingly proven wrong that Erik could even begin to relax.
He worried though, wondered what he would have to do to keep Raoul with him. It had all been so simple in his mind. He hadn’t needed to be the opera ghost as long as he could be Erik with Raoul. He hadn’t taken into account that he wouldn’t know who Erik was, who he was supposed to be. Instead, he did his best to be what Raoul expected him to be. He did his best hide the faults that if Raoul ever truly realized he possessed would chase him away.
Brushing the back of his hand down Raoul’s cheek, he tried to memorize the feel. When Raoul didn’t stir, he knew he could say the words that would eventually be their undoing.
In a voice that was hardly audible, he whispered against Raoul’s ear, “I’m an atrocity. I’ve killed, killed without remorse. I found joy in terrorizing others. I lie and steal.”
He’d gotten this boy under false pretenses. Reformed. He wanted to laugh at the mere concept. He’d lied to both himself and Raoul when he’d said that word and made such poor efforts to become a ‘better man.’
He wasn’t a man though. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, it was simple fact. “I’m a monster. I’m the devil’s spawn.”
He said these words, hoping that when Raoul finally did realize the truth that it wouldn’t matter, that his reaction wouldn’t be as horrible as Erik expected it to be. He hoped Raoul could somehow accept what was fact before he even had to face them. “I’m ugly. I don’t deserve you. I don’t.”
And Erik desperately wanted to keep Raoul by his side. He would do so with as much deceit and coercion as needed. He’d threatened and tormented those that could tell Raoul his true nature. He kept him from the rumours and the small ‘incidents’ that occurred throughout the opera house.
Still, he knew he couldn’t hide his true nature from Raoul indefinitely. So every night that Raoul was with him, every night that he couldn’t stand to waste away the precious hours with sleep, he told Raoul the truth. He told him the facets of who he was that even he usually convinced himself weren’t true. He whispered them to Raoul and wondered at his own cowardice.
This night, as Erik spoke the words, Raoul began to show signs of waking. Hands fisted his shirt, tugging him closer. He allowed his hand to rest on Raoul’s hip and lowered his head to take the strain off his elbow.
“I don’t deserve you,” Erik mouthed more than spoke.
Raoul made a discontent noise. Erik closed his eyes and feigned sleep. He didn’t know how Raoul would take to discovering that he was being watched while he slept. A sharp intake of breath and another slight moan and Raoul was blinking his eyes open.
“Erik?” He whispered.
Erik fought the urge to open his eyes.
Raoul released his shirt slowly and pulled away. Erik fought the urge to hold onto him tighter. Instead of leaving his embrace though, Raoul stopped moving after a distance, and Erik realized he was being scrutinized. Doubling his efforts to seem asleep, Erik stilled as best he could.
Reaching up, Raoul placed a tentative hand against the porcelain mask. It was only through years of discipline that Erik didn’t flinch away, but contrary to what he thought, Raoul did not pull it off. Instead he traced its edges, his fingers leaving a gentle trail against his skin, making it tingle with warmth. Once gone, Erik became distinctly aware of the chill of his home.
Raoul sighed and dropped his hand. He tucked his head beneath Erik’s chin and pressed close. His breath caressed Erik’s neck. Erik almost thought he had fallen back asleep when Raoul spoke.
“I’m arrogant and selfish. I fear I may become too vapid like my peers.” Raoul whispered, a near silent enumeration of his own faults dancing across Erik’s skin. “I’ve killed. I’ve cheated and lied.”
He tilted his head back so that he could place a chaste kiss on Erik’s throat. His lips lingered there and Erik could feel his own pulse pound an increasingly unsteady beat against those warm lips.
“I’m demanding and oftentimes do not take into account the feeling of others. Truly,” Raoul momentarily kissed him again, “I am self-serving.” His hands clutched at Erik’s shirt again, his hold tight. “I want you. I want you to a fault; it’s become an unhealthy obsession with possessing you.”
Raoul pressed forward and Erik knew all pretense of his having been asleep had long since been destroyed. Not with his heart thudding so loudly that he had to struggle to catch every word that Raoul said.
“I think about you constantly, dream about you. I fear I would do anything to keep you, and if you struggled…” Raoul exhaled and Erik just barely stopped himself from shuddering at the sensation. As it was, his hold tightened on Raoul. “I think I wouldn’t mind making you understand regardless of what you wanted.”
Raoul released one more breath as the words lingered heavily between them before settling himself in Erik’s embrace again, his own confession apparently done.
Erik was just barely breathing normally; his heart simply refused to slow and he was uncertain if he hadn’t just experienced an aural hallucination. Raoul couldn’t have said those things. He’d almost convinced himself that he’d imagined everything that was said when Raoul added.
“I also do not appreciate my dreams and thoughts of the man I want being poisoned as I sleep.”
Erik’s lips quirked and he finally gave into his compulsion and pulled Raoul closer, their legs entwining. He kissed Raoul once on the head, taking in his scent before whispering, “Truly, I don’t deserve you.”
Raoul’s response was muffled. “It’s good I don’t care how you feel.”
o.o.o.o
End ficlet

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: “While you sleep, I look at you and whisper in the softest voice a confession of the horrible things about me that I usually convince myself aren’t true.”

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Garnier Hospital Ch 09

Thu, 16 Jul 2009 06:50:24 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: AU. I shoved the POTO characters into a hospital setting. Slash btw, as though I write anything but.
Warning(s): slash, AU
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 4,222
Rating: T

A/N: I think I write this fic solely for the banter between these two.
Story note: Well, there should only be one chapter left to this AU after this… because that was the challenge so let’s hope it doesn’t feel rushed.

o.o.o.o

Garnier Hospital – Long Hours
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Raoul could usually manage his time well; it was a necessary skill to have when one was a doctor after all. However, the past few days had been trying. It was as though bad luck were following him; everything that could go wrong did. Between shifts in the ER, the increasing number of patients he was getting, and the multiple emergencies that seemed to cluster together just to make things difficult for him, Raoul almost lived at the hospital now. He was fairly certain the second he stepped out of the building, he’d be paged once more.

That didn’t even include the phone calls he kept receiving from Philippe, who was becoming increasingly anxious to see him again. Raoul tried to appease him by saying that everything was alright, but apparently unless he saw for himself, Philippe was not going to stop calling. It wasn’t as though they didn’t see each other. Raoul paused to think about that. The last time he’d seen Philippe had been a month after the charity event, which was actually several months ago already. By that time, things had settled between Erik and he, and he’d been entirely cautious and vague about what he said to his brother concerning their situation. He desperately wanted to avoid that argument altogether; Philippe just didn’t understand. Then, there was those phone calls interspersed between… Raoul wasn’t sure where the time had gone. Maybe he should give in and find some time to visit his brother again. However, that would have to wait until things settled.

He still didn’t quite understand why his and Erik’s doctor-patient relationship wasn’t so doctor-patient. Raoul would never dream of treating any of his other patients in a similar manner. In fact, he didn’t and had never once strayed off the proper etiquette when dealing with patients in his life until now. Then again, none of his other patients would refuse treatment or make lascivious remarks at him. He hoped.

No matter what he tried to put the matter out of his mind, he had little choice but to confront it whenever he was with Erik. The fact that he hadn’t stopped and in fact, probably increased said inappropriate behaviour was a bit embarrassing. He might actually deserve to have his license revoked. As though their conversations weren’t enough, Raoul maybe enjoyed massaging Erik more than a masseur should. He did his best to find those knots that would make Erik moan, no matter how silent he tried to remain during their sessions. Raoul blushed at the very thought. But, as tempting as it had been, he had managed to not grope unnecessarily even when Erik had finally decided that the hospital gown was simply getting in the way.

Raoul knew it then that he was a horrible doctor. He could act appropriately; he knew it was possible but whenever he tried to distance himself even the slightest from Erik, it was as though the other man knew and doubled his efforts to get a reaction from him. Raoul had yet to disappoint.

He’d entertained the idea of trying to convince Erik that another doctor would do just as fine but whenever he even mentioned another doctor, Erik would undoubtedly glare – even though Raoul couldn’t see it – and change the subject abruptly. At this rate, Raoul was beginning to believe that Erik would rather die than listen to another doctor; so, how could he in good conscience stop being his doctor? It was all so very confusing, especially when he felt the slightest bit of relief at the thought that Erik only wanted him.

He could very well do without the added confusion, but Erik and his physical therapy sessions were usually the highlight of his days. He smiled at the thought. They were making progress. Erik was eating more or less regularly now, and he said that the pain had lessened to a manageable degree; though Raoul was always wary of that. Erik had a high tolerance for pain, as though he thought he should be in pain. Raoul tried to talk to him about that, but just like his face and the cause of his accident, that topic was off limits. Raoul let him have that. He wasn’t about to push.

But as much as he liked their banter, he liked it better when Erik was exercising. Those sexual come-ons would lessen gradually and Raoul could gauge how intensive their workouts were simply by that. When Erik started cursing him out, that was where Raoul tried to stay because if Erik had enough breath to waste it on cursing him, then they were all right. Sometimes Raoul urged him on further than that, to where the words were cut off and all that remained were bursts of disjointed insults. It simply meant that Erik was trying even harder.

Raoul could see the progress of their combined efforts. Erik was more active and it took him less energy to stay upright or reach across the bed to grab something. It was promising and Raoul could barely contain his excitement whenever he managed to upset Erik enough that the man physically threw something at him. It usually ended up being the tissue box, so while painful if it connected, Raoul could usually avoid it. He also knew that Erik intentionally missed sometimes.

He was content enough with work and Erik to not care that he didn’t have a personal life, that he barely had time to exercise when he got home and usually he skipped it in favour of sleeping. It was enough.

o.o.o

“So,” Christine said, looking too pleased with herself as she walked into Erik’s room with a tray of food. “Am I going to be bringing in an IV, heart monitor, and drugs soon?”

“The pain’s lessened by itself.” Erik’s voice was harsh but barely so. He watched her put the food on the table before sliding it over to him. It was pointless to do so since Erik really only ate alone or in Raoul’s presence, and even then it was a challenge to make it so that the prying young doctor wouldn’t see anything.

“That’s probably because you’re exercising,” she said, moving away from him already. She’d found that as much as he stopped ordering her away, he’d become rather self-reliant and her close proximity often irritated him, which meant the only person Erik allowed within touching distance for any duration was Raoul. She didn’t think Erik even realized it yet. “It didn’t happen by itself.”

“Same difference,” Erik replied, eyeing the food. The food that Raoul snuck in during lunch was better.

He’d scoffed the first time Raoul had presented him with the meal, pretending to pass it off as the tripe that the hospital served. Refusing to eat it until Raoul told him where it came from, Erik had enjoyed the sullen expression as Raoul revealed how much thought and effort he’d put into making sure Erik enjoyed eating without missing any important nutrients. He’d been thoroughly amused that Raoul hadn’t believed Erik would trust anything he offered after that banana incident. Raoul had still found it necessary to promise that there were no drugs at all, barring vitamins and minerals.

Christine grinned, “And Raoul? How’s he?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Erik turned away from her. She was in one of her moods again and it made him wary. She was planning something; he was sure. “You see him often enough.”

“Not as often as you do. And while I could ask him, I’d rather ask you.” Christine added when Erik continued to ignore her, “I hear he touches you.”

Erik leveled a half-hearted glare at her.

Ever since Raoul had returned to normal, Christine had become more playful, more daring in what she said to him. He wasn’t sure whether she was becoming braver or he was becoming less imposing. He doubted the latter was even possible. Still, he let her say these things because he needed some form of entertainment now that he wasn’t simply sleeping his days away. If he sent her away like he knew he could, he’d have no one to speak to until Raoul came.

“But really…” If he could guess, she almost looked excited at the prospect of Raoul touching him. She was one step away from giggling and he loathed that sound. “Does he?”

“They’re massages, Christine,” Erik explained, slowly as though to a child, “It’s part of our deal.”

“Oh,” she chuckled, “I see. So, how’s the touching?”

“Physical therapy and a massage,” Erik repeated, “That’s all.”

“And…?” She prompted.

“And what?”

“Well,” she leaned against the door. “I usually see Raoul after he leaves the room. Are you sure nothing’s happening?”

Erik took a moment to decipher what she was implying before discarding the idea that came to mind. He asked, “What does he look like?”

She shrugged. “Happy. Really happy.”

“So?”

“Happy,” she sighed loudly, pretending to be annoyed that Erik wasn’t getting it, “like he-has-someone-he-likes-happy.”

Erik pushed himself up. “What?”

“Unless he’s finally found a girlfriend,” Christine mused aloud to herself. “Maybe he’s lost interest in you after all.”

“What?” Erik repeated.

“He’s probably given up by now.” She added, tsking at Erik. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“Christine,” he stated, voice demanding that she stop and listen to him. “What are you talking about?”

She ignored him, still choosing to muse aloud. “He has that look about him though, and I thought for certain…”

“Start making sense, Christine.” Erik tried to get her attention but she was resolutely not looking in his direction. He looked around him for that tissue box. He would throw it at her if he had to.

“And, he’s been really busy lately.”

Erik thought about it. Raoul had been busy lately, very busy and happy like... happy. Moreso than usual.

“I guess I know why now. Women’s intuition and all.”

Raoul found a girlfriend? Erik tried to think if there had been any indication that Raoul had been seeing someone outside of the hospital. Raoul never talked about anyone else though. He talked about his likes and dislikes and whatever was happening at the hospital, but he never spoke about his personal life.

Christine made a quick exit before Erik could stop her. She closed the door behind her firmly, ignoring Erik calling her name. Giggling to herself, she was making her way down the hallway when she ran into Raoul. He had just finished speaking with Meg. “Morning, Raoul.”

“Christine,” he brightened when he saw her, and Christine had to wonder if that was how Raoul reacted to everyone, as though it had been years since they’d last met and not just last morning. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m ready for this shift to be over, but other than that, I’d say,” she thought of her conversation with Erik, “everything is going smoothly. What were you and Meg talking about?”

Raoul looked over his shoulder to where Meg had disappeared to. “She didn’t tell you, yet? She was talking about her trip up north to go whale watching.”

“Oh,” Christine nodded, “Yes, she did tell me, right when our shift started. She’s been telling everyone. I’m kind of jealous.”

“You too?” Raoul sighed. “I’d love to go, preferably have a vacation where I don’t end up sick.”

“Usually, that’s good,” Christine patted him on his arm in understanding. “It’s odd because Erik was just talking about wanting to get out as well. You should tell him all about Meg’s trip. You know, to prompt him to talk about it.”

“Really?” he asked excitedly, “Well, I doubt he’s ready for that much travel, but I hadn’t thought about that. He’s been cooped out in that room for a while now.” Raoul perked up and Christine almost felt bad that this was too easy. He continued resolutely, “Okay. I’ll be sure to tell him. Maybe we should go out.”

He waved bye to Christine before hurrying down the hall. How absentminded of him to not even think that Erik might want to leave the hospital room. Erik would never have admitted it without prompting because it would be a sign of weakness. Raoul glanced over his shoulder to look at Christine. Erik had told her though. Raoul didn’t even want to think why that disappointed him. He should be happy that Erik told someone. So what if that someone hadn’t been him?

Making sure he was smiling and in good spirits, Raoul entered Erik’s room. “Morning, Erik.” He exuded as much happiness as possible. He didn’t need Erik to think he was jealous of Christine or something. Because he wasn’t.

Raoul hesitated near Erik’s bed when he received no reply. “Erik?”

“Why are you so happy this morning?” Erik asked suspiciously, trying to categorize everything he saw about Raoul as the younger man sat down in his chair by Erik’s bed, not at all pleased that he hadn’t noticed how happy Raoul had been lately. He would’ve liked to think that he’d been the cause of that, but Christine had made him wonder just what Raoul did away from the hospital.

Seeing his opening, Raoul leaned forward in the chair and started, “Well. I was talking to Meg this morning about her…”

“Meg?” Erik interrupted. “Who’s Meg?”

“Meg. The nurse?” Raoul said. He was certain Erik had seen her before because Meg certainly said that she’d seen him. “She works on this floor and is best friends with Christine?” When Erik still didn’t say anything, Raoul repeated, “Meg.”

“Yes, Raoul. I do believe I now know her name.” Erik scoffed before asking brusquely, “Why are we wasting time talking about her?”

Raoul scratched his head in confusion. Erik was acting oddly; maybe he was becoming stir crazy in this room. He said a little more hesitantly, “Well, she went on a trip.” When Erik stiffened at the mention of her again, Raoul couldn’t ignore it. “Are you alright?” He stood up, “Do you feel any pain? Is it bad?”

He moved closer and this was a new development in their interactions that made Erik rather appreciate the fact he couldn’t hide from Raoul when he was feeling pain. Raoul’s hands systematically searched across his body, touching and testing, all completely innocent, careful, and significantly less than what Raoul usually did when he massaged Erik, but this was somehow different. Raoul didn’t need to touch him; yet, he did. Raoul’s mind couldn’t wander. His brows would furrow and a bit of his tongue would peak out from the corner of his mouth as he tried to spot any signs of discomfort, the slightest of muscle twitches and Raoul would know when it hurt. He knew Erik’s body. And as always, when Erik was in pain, Raoul was. He’d pout slightly before doing his best to relieve him. At times, he could do nothing but murmur complete nonsense and wait for it to lessen on its own, but Erik couldn’t complain.

Smirking, he decided that he wasn’t about to tell Raoul he didn’t feel any pain more than was normal. It would actually only make him try harder to find some phantom pain since Raoul no longer believed when Erik told him he was fine.

“Are you sure the pain is manageable?” Raoul asked when his search came up fruitless. He was standing at the foot of the bed by then, one hand still on Erik’s left ankle.

“Yes, Raoul,” Erik replied more docilely than he would’ve liked.

Luckily, Raoul thought it was simply a ruse because he walked back towards the head of the bed and started his examination over again. He pressed lightly across Erik’s shoulders, trying to find the now familiar sign of a rigid group of muscles that indicated the source of pain. Unwilling to let Raoul continue his examination and get that close to his groin so soon again, Erik grabbed his hands.

They both glanced down at the contact. Raoul’s eyes widened in surprise. Erik was just about to release his hands with some snide remark when Raoul squeezed back.

Smiling, he turned Erik’s hands in his, examining them. “You’re getting stronger. Are you hiding the fact that you’ve been getting better faster than I expected?”

Erik was speechless for a moment before he recovered. “Me, Raoul?” Erik mockingly asked, “Fool you?”

Raoul only smiled at him fondly. “I’ve been thinking.”

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Raoul didn’t miss a beat, “That only happens when I think and walk at the same time.” He paused, waiting to see if Erik would retort. When he didn’t, Raoul continued, “I think you need another nurse to watch you.”

“No,” Erik said. He didn’t even have to consider it. “Why would I need another one?”

“Well, since you’re eating more regularly and you never do know if you can make it to the bathroom in time,” Raoul rushed through the example before adding, “You know. Just regular stuff. What if you need something and both Christine and I aren’t available?”

“I’ll be fine.” Erik rolled his eyes at Raoul’s over-concern. “I’m not going to crap all over myself.”

“Yeah, you might just to spite me,” Raoul replied.

“And why would I do that?”

“You’ve been asking me for another sponge bath lately. Don’t think I can’t see through your ruse.” Raoul winked at him and squeezed his hand one more time before releasing it to check Erik’s vital signs.

o.o.o

Erik exhaled through clenched teeth as he continued to do the prescribed exercises he was to do on his own. He tried to do twice as many just to speed up the process because now that he was intent to get back in shape, it was downright frustrating that it was taking so long. He remembered what he was like before the accident. He’d been active, athletic. He’d been strong, not this weak pathetic shell he’d become after so long.

And, he had no one to blame but himself. Blaming fate had proved to be fruitless. He’d even blamed and cursed everyone around him, all of them: friends, supposed friends, colleagues. He had no family, but it wasn’t as though that mattered. They’d all gone. He was the only one left, the only one to blame for what had happened. That was how he’d thought it was supposed to be, except he wasn’t alone anymore. He could be something more than weak and useless despite the pain.

The diagnosis had been debilitating pain. Erik now knew debilitating meant useless. He hadn’t understood the concept until it had been too late and by then, it had been too late to prepare himself for the helplessness.

Pushing himself harder through sore muscles and the excruciating pain that still sometimes hit, he kept struggling, just enough so that he wouldn’t injure himself. He refused to submit to his own weakness. Not again.

His session with Raoul that afternoon had gone well. As usual, Raoul had reminded him to do his exercises, and Erik might have once again alluded that he didn’t do them. The first time he’d said so, he’d merely said it sarcastically, but now, he just didn’t want Raoul to know. He already disliked the fact that Raoul knew just how weak he was. He didn’t need him to know just how much effort it took simply to survive their sessions. Even though Raoul never once looked disappointed that he couldn’t do another repetition or he could only lie on the bed uselessly, Erik never wanted to give him such an opportunity.

He almost didn’t hear anyone approaching his room through his harsh breathing, but he managed to settle himself in bed before the door opened.

“Raoul?”

Raoul shuffled into the room with a half-hearted wave before dropping into his chair, slumping down so that he could rest his head on the backrest. “Morning, Erik.” He mumbled. His eyes barely stayed open.

“You look like crap.”

Raoul hmm’d his agreement before saying, “Nightshift in the ER.”

“What are you doing here?” Erik asked, worried that Raoul would ask why he was out of breath.

“Home’s too far,” Raoul flung his arm out, in what Erik assumed was to indicate the direction of his home. “I’m going to crash here somewhere, maybe an office, but I just wanted to tell you because I don’t think I’m waking up until after noon.”

Erik realized his fears were unfounded since Raoul was truly out of it to notice anything. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Raoul repeated, and it wasn’t long before his breathing steadied.

Staring at him, Erik sighed. With Raoul’s head twisted sideways, it was inevitable that he would wake up with a stiff neck. “Raoul.”

“Mm.”

“Raoul.” He said again, reluctantly amused by this. He’d been thinking all afternoon about talking to Raoul and now was as good a time as any. Maybe Erik would be lucky and Raoul wouldn’t ask too many questions.

Raoul lifted up his head, eyes barely opening.

“I want to tell you something,” Erik continued when Raoul managed to stay upright.

“Okay.” Raoul was forced to stifle a yawn.

“Are you awake?” He asked, unwilling to have to repeat what he was about to say.

Raoul considered it for a moment. His mind was a little slow and he was having trouble concentrating, but he certainly wasn’t asleep. “Sort of.”

“I have two things to tell you then.” Erik had sifted through all the things he’d kept from Raoul and had narrowed it down to these two important facts.

Raoul grinned, “Does that count as one?”

“No, Raoul,” Erik said exasperated, “Just listen.”

Noting Erik’s behaviour, Raoul sobered, “I’m listening.”

It was then that Erik hesitated.

“Erik?” Raoul wondered if Erik had fallen asleep instead, which he considered entirely unfair.

“I can have anything I want in life,” Erik stated suddenly.

Realizing that statement was the first thing Erik wanted to say, Raoul replied, “Duh?” It wasn’t that surprising. “You and your stupid voice. Of course you can.” He leaned his head back down again, already making himself comfortable. He didn’t know what Erik was trying to do, but he just hoped Erik would finish soon.

Ignoring his response, Erik concluded, “And two, I have a brain tumor.”

Raoul lifted his head to stare at him. “What?”

Erik didn’t reply. He’d already said what he needed to say, and no amount of staring on Raoul’s part would make him repeat himself. As always, Raoul managed to surprise him.

Clearing his throat, Raoul feigned nonchalance as he noted, “My guess had been proteus syndrome.”

Erik wracked his brain for why that sounded familiar. “The elephant man?”

“Brain tumor doesn’t really explain the bandages otherwise,” Raoul pointed out, frighteningly lucid at the moment.

“You thought I looked like the elephant man?” Erik said in disbelief.

Raoul shrugged unapologetically. What else would he have thought? “Just a plain old brain tumor, huh?” He worried his bottom lip in thought. “But that’s only half the mystery, I’m guessing.”

Erik briefly wondered why he kept underestimating Raoul as he parroted, “Half.”

“Why did you…?” Raoul motioned vaguely with his hands.

Pausing a moment to think of his answer, Erik replied honestly, “Just keeping you interested.”

Raoul laughed softly, an action more breath than sound that made his eyes nearly close. “I’m always interested, Erik.” Realizing what he’d just said, he looked away as he quickly added, “Do you know what I’m interested in right now?”

“My face?” Erik guessed.

“No,” Raoul leaned forward onto Erik’s bed. “Sleep.” Using his arms as a pillow, Raoul let his head drop forward. “Wake me up in fifteen minutes and then I think I’ll be ready to drive home. Please?”

Erik stared at the blonde head that was once again within his reach. He responded automatically, “Sure.”

o.o.o

Erik was mostly asleep when Christine walked into the room later that morning. He distantly heard the door open and struggled to wake.

“Why is it that whenever Raoul’s missing, he ends up here?” Christine mused aloud.

“I must be cursed like that I guess.” Erik muttered back, shifting slightly in the bed.

She looked pointedly at where Erik’s fingers were once again tangled in some of Raoul’s hair. “And that was the position that got you in trouble last time.”

Fully awake, Erik glanced down at his hand, rubbing a few strands of blond hair between his fingers. He’d tugged off Raoul’s hair tie earlier and couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. “I don’t see his brother around, do you?”

Christine shook her head but didn’t comment. She took the empty tray away before dropping off breakfast. “How long’s he been asleep?”

Glancing up at the clock, Erik answered, “An hour or more. I lost track.”

“I doubt that.” Christine tried to remember when Raoul should have gotten off his shift. Erik didn’t lose track of time; he intentionally let Raoul sleep near him. It was enough to make her smile. She asked, knowing that Raoul wouldn’t have wanted to sleep here, “When did he want to be woken?”

Erik shrugged.

With a shake of her head, she said, “You could have at least offered your bed.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Erik pretended to ask innocently.

Christine smirked at him, “He’s not in it.”

o.o.o.o

End chapter 09

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Sigh. One more chapter. Is it enough? I have ideas, don’t worry if it isn’t. This is going to be completed at Chapter 10 though. Undeniably so.

or check it out on ff.net

fic: More Than Friends Ch 02

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 18:25:48 GMT

A/N: Sorry this was late. I had to re-read IF just to make sure I don’t do anything stupid, and IF’s not a quick read. I spent my free time (and parts of my work day) reading it; I still haven’t finished.
Story note: Just a sidenote, the OC’s names will probably never change from story to story (you’ll see what I mean later). I’m not creative like that and may grow too attached to OCs.

o.o.o.o

More Than Friends
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Chapter 02 – Restraint

o.o.o.o

Philippe had closed his eyes and forced his breathing to slow down after Raoul began to speak. He almost felt bad for doing this, but it was as effective a tactic as any other he’d thought of. He just hoped, no prayed, that he wouldn’t hear anything that he didn’t want to hear. However, when Raoul’s chatter finally tapered off and Philippe heard him shift his attention towards Erik, he couldn’t help but not care what was said as long as something happened.

It was difficult to remain impassive as they spoke, tempted as he was to open his eyes and see what was happening, but he knew if he allowed himself that luxury, Erik would certainly realize he was awake. That would automatically mean he would treat Raoul differently. Philippe wasn’t quite sure what ‘normal’ could be defined as but from Raoul’s recounting of what had happened at the Opera Populaire, the way they were acting now was well out of the norm.

He was startled into losing his train of thought when Erik began to sing. The sound demanded every bit of his attention, and he struggled to keep his eyes closed even when he wanted to confirm that Erik was indeed the person singing. Reluctant to believe it, Philippe was surprised that the cold man who’d dealt with the managers and the Comte could sound this compelling.

It shouldn’t have surprised him though. He’d been able to reconcile the fact that the ghost was Erik and the devil’s child was Raoul’s saviour. It had been a hard-learned lesson but it wasn’t so difficult when he’d seen the two mixed together. Those moments had somehow de-villanized the man. Erik’s face wasn’t so frightening when he was saving his brother. His actions were less vicious when in all truths, Philippe would have done exactly the same to protect Raoul.

Sometimes he wondered if Erik knew how to separate himself from those roles, from those people he’d been. He worried that one day Erik would do something that was more opera ghost than man and of course, Raoul would be hurt whether directly or indirectly.

A part of him, the part that understood the depth of sacrifice Erik had suffered for Raoul’s sake, knew his fears were unfounded. He wondered if he should worry about his own safety, even though Erik had shown nothing but deference to him and his staff. Not his entire staff, but surprisingly, the ones who had managed to kidnap him – and that had been a story that amused Philippe to no end now that he had the luxury of being amused. He’d found himself wanting to tease Erik but decided against it until he was certain no one would die from the experience.

His thoughts tapered off when Erik transitioned into another song, one that was all too familiar to Philippe, the one he’d learned for Raoul.

o.o.o

Raoul’s breath caught in his throat. He might’ve been able to stay lying down during the first song that Erik sang. The song was something altogether unfamiliar but just hearing Erik’s voice had been enough; Raoul had barely listened to the words. However, the second song, this second one… he pushed himself to a sitting position. Staring wide-eyed at Erik, he never once looked away as he moved.

This. Raoul thought to himself more than to Erik, This is you. His eyes closed as a gentle peace seemed to wash over him. Even though this was the same song he heard every night before he fell asleep, it had never truly sounded like this. He’d forgotten how it felt as the sound moved through him, how he could actually feel Erik singing. I missed this. And Raoul didn’t hesitate when he added. I missed you.

Erik responded back, And we missed you.

As calm as he felt, Raoul couldn’t deny the dull twinge of pain in his chest that was spreading. How many years has it been? Why you, Erik?

Why me? Erik replied, not quite following Raoul’s train of thought.

Why couldn’t I forget you, even when I did forget you? Raoul explained, thoroughly distressed all of a sudden. It was a desperate feeling that grabbed him – his mind had brushed the thought of a life that had been ripped away from him at a time when he’d barely understood what was happening. Why does this feel so right even though I don’t understand it?

Raoul could feel Erik’s bemusement cut through his own emotions. It was enough to pull him away from those what-might-have-been’s. Erik replied, Maybe because we’re supposed to be here. You know that. And Raoul could feel Erik’s smile as he added, You’ve known it all your life.

Simply listening to Erik sing, Raoul didn’t respond for a long while, trying to memorize the feel of his voice. Looking up at him, their eyes immediately met. He could feel himself blushing at the thought that Erik had been watching him this whole time. He didn’t miss a beat in the song.

The urge to move was strong. While Erik was sitting up straight, one leg bent beneath the other, his notebook balancing precariously on it, he was sitting cross-legged, slouched forward. He held his chin in the palm of his hands, elbows propped on his knees. It was unfair for him to have this vantage point when Erik was already taller than him on a normal basis. He felt vulnerable, but he couldn’t seem to move. It was as though Erik were staring straight into his thoughts, as though the words of his song were drawing his very soul forth, drawing him ever closer.

I don’t think you’ll ever be able to get close enough. Erik commented.

Ignoring his momentary confusion at Erik’s words, Raoul grinned and released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Erik was right on that one count; the once opera ghost belonged with them, with him. He couldn’t be anything but certain of that fact after everything that had happened. After all, Raoul did believe in destiny, fate, whatever one could call it. Even if he hadn’t, he knew that something had been missing from his life ever since he’d been a child. There’d been a dissatisfaction, an emptiness; besides his family, he hadn’t cared about anything half as much as he cared for this man beside him.

But after all the years they’d spent apart, he just didn’t know, What is he to me?

I have some ideas, Erik replied, amused.

Too bad Raoul couldn’t share that emotion as well. There were moments when he could convince himself that what he’d felt, his physical reaction to Erik, had been fleeting. There were reasons that could explain it away since he’d never actually felt his body respond to someone as it did to Erik: it had been stress or because it had been quite some time since he’d… well, since he’d relieved himself of that type of tension. Mostly, he blamed it on confusion and the pressure he’d been placed under.

Then, there would be those moments when he couldn’t rationalize it away. Sometimes a single look was all it took before Raoul wanted to somehow bridge the distance between them, as though across the room, a meter, a centimeter was still too far. Sometimes it wasn’t even Erik looking at him; it was Raoul looking at Erik, and at that moment it physically hurt to be so far from him.

Those times were few and far between though.

When Erik finished his song, Raoul sighed contentedly and with a small grin breathed out, “I like your voice.” Realizing he’d repeated the same words he’d said all those years ago, he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Still. Of course.” He shrugged, turning away to look at the grass. “You sing incredibly well. But that’s to be expected.” Raoul stopped himself from continuing, biting his tongue.

Erik fought the urge to grin back. Instead, only a corner of his lips quirked upwards. With Raoul turned away from him, Erik’s eyes followed the smooth skin from his cheek down to that slender neck. He moved his hand to caress that skin before he caught himself, closing his hands into fists at his side. Chastising himself, he knew that he would ruin everything if he gave into such base instinct. Raoul deserved better than that; he deserved whatever he wanted and Erik wasn’t going to push him. He just couldn’t keep looking at him; it was too tempting. Instead, he looked past Raoul, seeing Philippe – an even better reason why he should keep to himself.

His eyebrow quirked before he turned his attention back on Raoul. “Is that why you remembered me?”

“I hear your voice,” Raoul replied after a moment. He still refused to look at Erik, knowing that those green eyes would be completely focused on him. Trying not to squirm under that gaze, he wondered what Erik saw when he looked at him. The four year old who cried and complained all the time? The man who had called him a monster? He added when he realized he had replied so vaguely, “Before I go to sleep, I hear that song.” He dared look at Erik as he finished, “I just hadn’t known whose voice it had been until I met you.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed in thought. “That first time we met. In the tunnels.”

Raoul nodded. Of course he remembered the first time he’d run into the famed opera ghost.

“My voice reminded you…?” Erik asked.

“Of that lullaby,” Raoul quickly filled in. He definitely couldn’t say that it reminded him of the voice in his head. That was one topic he hoped to never have to explain.

Why? You’re going to have to eventually.

Erik frowned at seeing his distraction, and Raoul inwardly raged at the voice in his head.

We apparently don’t like having you distracted from our conversations. Erik laughed at him.

Raoul ducked his head when he couldn’t help but frown at the further distraction.

Erik tried to school his features. After all, Raoul’s preoccupation wasn’t new. He took a deep breath; the only thing he could do was to remain calm.

“You remembered me ever since that moment,” Raoul muttered to himself. They’d already established that point. He just marveled at it sometimes. It didn’t really explain Erik’s actions but it could be used an excuse for why Erik had been rather irritable with him. Raoul hadn’t remembered him; he would’ve been angry had their positions been reversed. However, he also would’ve tried to explain that they had a past together instead of avoiding him.

“I doubted that you would believe me,” Erik answered his unasked question, which wasn’t a total lie. He had doubted, but it was more that he’d been resolved to leave Raoul alone. He wondered how that had ever been an option.

Raoul nodded, unwilling to argue that he should have still tried. It faintly hurt that Erik hadn’t, that Erik had waited until his life was in danger before he’d been convinced to approach him. It hurt that he’d been so willing to ignore their shared past.

We didn’t ignore that. We just…

Raoul didn’t wait for him to finish. “I doubt I would’ve believed you as well.”

I’ll say. You can’t be angry. Erik retorted, You didn’t believe it until later even though I was telling you all along.

It wasn’t like you were sure yourself at the time, Raoul argued. And I’m not angry.

But I was right, wasn’t I? We did come back for you every time.

Erik cleared his throat.

Raoul mentally cursed. “Sorry,” he quickly said. He couldn’t help himself. Didn’t we talk about this already? No comments unless we’re alone. “I…”

Erik had to admit that Raoul looked completely miserable; it didn’t erase the annoyance he felt, but he was able to better control himself. Taking mercy on him, he said, “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me until you want to.”

What if I never want to? Raoul wondered.

Then I’m guessing he’ll never know. Erik said, matter-of-factly. Oops.

“We never really got to talk about…” Raoul hesitated, “well, everything.”

Erik wondered how Raoul would react if he gave into his impulse and reached across to touch him. He wanted to pull Raoul closer; the mental image of holding him close, close enough that Raoul would be forced to sit on his lap or between his legs, close enough that Erik would be able to breathe the same air as Raoul, refused to leave him. He could clearly remember what it felt to hug him, could feel it still. “It has been chaotic,” he said distractedly.

“I’ll say.” Raoul said wryly. ‘Chaotic’ was quite tame for what they’d been through, first with the Comte and then with Madame Giry.

Their eyes met again and both turned away from what they saw. Erik, growing increasingly agitated with his wayward thoughts and Raoul, from the intensity of his gaze.

It was quiet for long moments before Raoul offered, “So… the beginning? It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Erik turned away. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t control his thoughts when he’d already convinced himself just being near Raoul was enough. He was already becoming greedy. That was dangerous and no matter what he did to curb such thoughts, he simply failed. Busy tamping down on his anger, he was unnecessarily curt when he replied, “You remember everything that happened.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished to take them back. It wasn’t as though he were angry with Raoul, just himself.

Either Raoul didn’t notice or expected such a response from him since he didn’t react. Instead, he replied, “I think I do.”

“You were a kid.” Erik focused on keeping his voice steady; however, that wasn’t enough for him not to notice the way the sun looked as it shone on Raoul’s hair. It wasn’t enough for him to not wonder how it would feel to run his fingers through those strands. He was certain if he asked, Raoul wouldn’t deny him. He forced out, “It can be hard to remember things that long ago.”

“That’s true.” Raoul’s tongue swept across his bottom lip. “I don’t remember getting kidnapped.”

“That had been my master,” Erik supplied quickly, trying to think of the atrocities he’d experienced as a child instead of this moment to distract himself. It was presently unfortunate that those moments were immediately eclipsed with the memory of a younger Raoul. He couldn’t help but feel a little more disgusted with himself, knowing that he still wanted Raoul regardless. His only consolation was the fact that this current Raoul was the only one he’d remotely thought of sexually. In truth, it was little consolation when he also knew he couldn’t act on the urge.

“Master?” Raoul said the word as though it were foreign. He stretched the muscles in his back before leaning backwards onto his arms. He made a face at the concept.

Erik stated, “He owned me.”

Raoul scoffed, though that expression quickly became something more pensive. “People shouldn’t be owned.”

“Well, I used to be.” And Erik wished he hadn’t brought the subject up at all when he saw how affected Raoul seemed.

With enviable ease, Raoul reached forward and put his hand on Erik’s knee, meeting his eyes intently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that.” Erik shook his head, barely able to restrain himself.

Raoul pulled his hand away quickly.

Immediately missing the contact, Erik said, “Not that.”

“You tensed,” Raoul pointed out, keeping his hands to himself.

“I’m just…” Erik tried to think of an excuse, “not used to it. When I said ‘don’t do that,’ I meant be sorry. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.” Hearing him apologize actually made Erik uncomfortable. After all his own failings, Erik couldn’t stand to think that someone like Raoul, who’d never truly done him any wrong, would think he’d somehow failed him.

That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time! Erik cheered. Thank goodness.

When Raoul looked down to stare intently at the grass he was pulling out of the ground, Erik didn’t even have time to restrain himself before he placed his hand atop Raoul’s, stilling the motion. Surprised at his own boldness, he waited for Raoul to pull his hand away, but Raoul simply looked up at him completely unbothered by his touch. Erik chastised himself even while he was inwardly pleased with Raoul’s reaction, his mind already planning for future physical interactions that he knew Raoul would think nothing of.

His hand faintly shook. He almost expected Raoul to disappear. That’s what he’d been waiting for these past weeks, for this illusion, dream to disappear. For it to be reality was unbelievable. Yet, here he was.

Making a conscious effort to focus on their conversation, Raoul used Erik’s hand on his to ground himself in the moment instead of losing himself in an argument with his mental companion. Erik’s hand was larger than his with faint scars that Raoul had never noticed before. Unlike in the mausoleum, his hand was warm, reassuring. He frowned when he thought of how their time together had been sorely reduced because he hadn’t kept his promise. “But I didn’t come back. I remember that we promised each other and I didn’t come back for you.”

Erik slid his hand up to grab Raoul’s wrist, tugging him closer. Raoul didn’t struggle against him, simply scooted closer so that their knees were now touching. Erik could feel his heart speed up. He wanted to touch more of Raoul but contented himself with keeping his hold on Raoul’s wrist. “How could you have come back?”

Raoul shrugged, already quite used to that argument. “I should’ve found a way. You would’ve.”

That one statement was like a physical blow. Erik quickly released Raoul’s wrist and moved slightly away from him. He’d been doing it again; all he ever did was betray Raoul, betray his trust and innocence. It didn’t matter if his touch was insignificant to Raoul. It meant something to him, and that made it inappropriate. Erik was taking advantage of Raoul… again.

Raoul didn’t react to the sudden distance between them, and Erik knew he’d have to pay more attention to his actions. He said gruffly though vehemently, “It’s not your fault. It’s never been your fault.”

Raoul nodded even though he still felt the contrary. He just didn’t want to argue with Erik. If he was anything like the one in his mind, they’d never hear the end of it.

Because I’m right, Erik quipped.

Raoul quickly responded. You’re not.

“And…” Erik started, still battling the annoyance both with himself and with Raoul for being so oblivious. He knew he shouldn’t push his luck, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you even glad I found my way back?”

“What?” Raoul asked incredulously, “I thought I already told you.”

“No, Raoul.” Erik cut him off. It was too late to take back the question and he really needed to know this answer. He needed to know that Raoul still wanted him here even though he’d never leave, because distance was becoming the only clear way that he could protect Raoul from his own intentions. He wanted Raoul to want him. “Not just staying in your home or having your brother help me find employment. Not that. I meant around you because this has to be… strange.” Seeing that Raoul was still about to argue, Erik realized he needed to forego the euphemisms and he nearly spat out, “You’re uncomfortable around me.”

“No, I’m not,” Raoul immediately replied defensively.

Yes, you are. Erik retorted.

“You are,” Erik said a little more calmly. “You avoid me.”

“Well,” Raoul shot back, “It’s not like you’re looking for me either.”

Erik was about to say the contrary, but Raoul was right. “Okay. That’s true. I simply did not wish to make you more uncomfortable.”

“I’m not the one uncomfortable.” Raoul pointed at Erik’s knee. “You’re the one that flinches away from me.”

You’re becoming quite defensive, Raoul. Erik said. Perhaps it would be best to calm down before continuing.

“I told you. I’m just not used to it,” Erik was getting becoming just as defensive. This was not how he’d meant to have this conversation and Raoul was being quite unreasonable.

Why are you two yelling? Erik asked.

“So, you’re saying you don’t mind,” Raoul challenged, clearly expecting him to back down. “When you so obviously do.”

I don’t even know what kind of argument this is.

“I’m just saying that it’d confirm that you don’t mind my presence.”

What’s the difficulty?

“What? So you want me to touch you?” Raoul retorted.

He wants you to touch him.

Erik pointed out, “You’ve always been tactile.”

You want to touch him.

He continued, “More than anyone else I know, Raoul.” He had been watching. It had been all he could do in his life and the person he compared everyone else to, their behaviour, their expressions, laughter and every movement of their bodies had always been compared to Raoul. He’d seen Christine, Meg, and half those ballerinas grow up. He’d seen them as children and knew that while they sought out hugs and physical presence they were also loud, bratty, and couldn’t sit still. While he’d always known that making such a comparison was unreasonable since he’d spent so little time with Raoul, he hadn’t been able to help himself. Even now though, Raoul so freely touched other people, on the shoulder, arm, back. It hadn’t even mattered what they were talking about.

I don’t see a problem.

They stared at each other, and Raoul wondered if they would come to blows like they had on the balcony of the Opera Populaire. The argument then had been just as asinine. Raoul realized with an uneasy laugh that once again, the voice in his head was right about these matters.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “You’re absolutely right.”

Erik let out a harsh breath. He didn’t know why he allowed Raoul’s own responses to carry him away like that. Admittedly, it was easier being angry than it was being restrained; that was certain. He hardly wanted to live with Raoul at a constant state of anger just to combat against his growing urge for physical contact though. For now however, it was an easy way to interact with Raoul without fear of noticing unnecessary details – like how Raoul’s face would slightly redden in anger or how his emotions became so much easier to read or the way his brows furrowed and his breath came quicker. Erik nearly groaned. He had to stop doing this to himself.

Raoul looked away from Erik just to say. You’re quite persistent.

Is that you’re way of calling me a pest?

Maybe. Just let me think without interruptions for several moments, please.

Surprisingly, Erik was silent.

Raoul said aloud, “Philippe says that all the time. And I understand, maybe…”

“Vicomte!” A voice called across the lawn. Raoul turned his attention towards her, not finishing his sentence; Erik watched him for a few moments before turning to glare at the young woman.

Philippe nearly groaned. He was going to fire the person who’d interrupted them. They’d been making some sort of progress, at least addressing one of his main concerns. Erik and Raoul had been avoiding each other. He was pleased that they’d been on the cusp of finding some resolution, even though he had been worried for a while there that he’d have to separate them.

A maid arrived with a blanket and a basket full of food. Raoul and Erik were quiet as they watched the maid laid the blanket on the grass near them and place the food appropriately. Erik pointedly focused on anything but Raoul, trying to get his thoughts in order.

When she left, Erik didn’t spare a second before he stood up. “I’ll wake up your brother.” He wasn’t quite certain he wanted to know what Raoul was going to say when they’d been interrupted, but he’d lost hope that it was anything remotely promising every second that had passed in silence.

Before Erik could walk away, Raoul grabbed Erik’s pant leg. He looked up at him with wide eyes, “I’ll try my best to treat you accordingly.”

Erik nodded mutely not quite sure he could hope.

Raoul patted Erik’s leg once before moving toward the food. He crawled the short distance before dropping onto his stomach. Blood rushed downwards and Erik had to bite his tongue to focus on the pain instead of his sudden desire. Turning around stiffly, Erik squatted beside Philippe. He poked his shoulder roughly.

“Did you enjoy our conversation?” He asked. As much as Philippe looked asleep, Erik had become suspicious earlier. He was beginning to suspect that way this outing had transpired wasn’t a coincidence.

When Philippe still feigned sleep, Erik poked him harder, glad to have an outlet for his frustration. “Stop pretending. It’s insulting to you and me.”

Philippe’s eyes fluttered open. He looked at him innocently. “What conversation?”

“What are you trying at?” Erik demanded.

Pushing himself onto his elbows, Philippe didn’t bother to continue the ruse. He said pointedly, “I’m trying to make something happen.”

Erik parroted in disbelief, “Make something happen?”

“You two are hopeless by yourselves.”

That was it. Erik wasn’t used to other people meddling in his business. In fact, people who did usually ended up dead, and Erik suddenly wished he could hurt Philippe somehow. “What?” He whispered angrily, “Would you like me to bed your brother?”

Philippe froze, eyes widening a fraction before they narrowed to glare at Erik. He pushed himself onto his feet, immediately crowding Erik. He was very near having a violent outburst himself. Erik had stood as well, ready to confront Philippe.

“Philippe? Erik?” Raoul called, confused by their sudden movement.

It was a second before Philippe backed down, taking a small step back so as to not upset his brother. He maintained their tense eye contact as he responded, “We’re just talking business for a second.”

“It’s your day off,” Raoul reminded him, fond exasperation evident.

“Just a moment, please.” Philippe sounded convincingly calm even while his eyes promised a cold death. Erik was vaguely impressed with such control. Raoul had definitely not learned that from him. He could see why Philippe was successful as a Comte.

Raoul grumbled but went back to going through the food.

Satisfied that Raoul wasn’t watching them any longer, Philippe focused entirely on Erik. His voice was a mere whisper, yet managed to convey his threat clearly, “If you treat Raoul as a conquest of some sort, if you hurt him, I won’t hesitate to kill you. Painfully. Slowly. And rather joyfully since I failed to have the opportunity with the Comte de Montmartre.”

Some of the anger actually left Erik to make room for disgust. He was nothing like the Comte de Montmartre, having fooled and used Raoul like he was insignificant. His instinct rebelled against the fact that he wasn’t immediately eliminating the threat Philippe posed, and as it were, Erik continued to stare him down though he kept in his place lest he do something unforgivable in Raoul’s eyes.

Philippe continued, and his tone of voice seemed incongruous to the words he spoke. “I want whatever makes him happy. He deserves it, and though you might not believe it, I want you to be happy, too. But if that means you’ll be friends for the rest of your lives, then you’ll be friends. If he wants anything more, it isn’t my business.”

He smiled at Erik brightly, a fake smile that was as good as any Erik had ever seen. The smile was in place as he finished with a less than friendly pat on his shoulder. “If you do anything Raoul doesn’t want, there is no force on heaven or on earth, no begging from you or him that will stop me from castrating then killing you. I’ll find a way to keep him happy if you can’t. Do we understand each other?”

It took all of Erik’s control to nod curtly. A part of him knew he shouldn’t push Raoul’s brother, but Philippe had to understand there was little he could do to Erik that had any real effect. Erik might not be able to kill him because he’d certainly lose Raoul in doing so, but Philippe could not continue to believe that he had any control over Erik’s actions.

“Now stop looking so morose so that we can join my brother.”

Erik watched Philippe as he walked towards Raoul, completely at ease as though he hadn’t just threatened to kill Erik. He was dangerous. More dangerous than Erik had initially expected and extremely protective of his brother, but Erik had already known the latter attribute. Walking towards the brothers, Erik rather expected Philippe to exclude him from their conversation and the rest of the afternoon. Instead, Philippe acted as though nothing had happened at all.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 02

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Don’t mess with Philippe. He will call you on your shit.

This chapter was surprisingly difficult to write. I think I hate sequels. I’m a little disappointed with this chapter. Let’s get to the good stuff already.

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Reluctantly Willing Ch 26

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 23:41:18 GMT

Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Warning(s): slash (that’s homosexual content for those of you who don’t know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Could writing get any more hectic? There’s so many things going on! D8 I almost mixed up the storylines.

Story Note: This fic was supposed to end at a chapter 28, but looking over my notes, I think I might finish it a chapter earlier, ie the next chapter. I’m not sure. Just a heads up.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 26 - … to stop

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

The grains of sand bit into Raoul’s throat as he choked. He tried to pry Erik’s hand off but could feel his own weakness; his arms felt so heavy, his fingers barely holding on. Raoul was certain Erik couldn’t be that much stronger than he was. Trying to free himself only made it worse though because Erik simply held on tighter. Yet, as Raoul struggled to focus on him, he could tell the anger he saw was different from when Erik had left with Christine. Erik was furious with him, that was undeniable, but it was tempered with annoyance and something that might have been akin to relief.

As darkness started to flicker at the edge of his vision, Raoul stopped trying to pull Erik’s hand off; instead, he just held on tightly, more to keep himself from choking worse as he felt his body slumping. Only then did Erik loosen his hold.

Raoul slumped down to sit on his knees, gasping. He would’ve fallen to the ground completely if Erik’s hand hadn’t strayed to hold the back of his neck. It forced his head to tilt at an uncomfortable angle, one where he couldn’t possibly hide his expressions from Erik. As much as he wanted to move, Raoul couldn’t get his limbs to listen to him.

“Did you hear me?” Erik asked, stifling the urge to shake him. Raoul looked like he could barely focus, a state Erik knew he’d only exacerbated in his anger.

Tears were gathering at the corner of Raoul’s eyes, tears that he blamed on almost dying in the ocean and nearly choking to death by Erik’s hand and not on the fact that Erik was here again, despite all the odds. A type of desperation welled up in him. He didn’t know to what end though. Desperate for Erik or to be as far as possible from him?

He didn’t even know what Erik was mad about now; he hadn’t done anything wrong. He might have left, but if anything, Erik should be happy that he didn’t have to waste his time checking up on him. Wasn’t his departure answer enough? He didn’t want to see either of them any longer. He hadn’t gone after them. He hadn’t somehow contacted Christine, had barely thought of her. He didn’t even know where she was or where they’d gone. He’d simply stopped. He’d long since stopped wanting her and had been on his way to stop wanting him.

Erik lowered himself on one knee so that he could look Raoul in the eye, suddenly mindful of the strain he was putting on Raoul’s neck. He spoke with quiet intensity, “Don’t ever run from me.”

Raoul let out a frustrated breath. Another threat. He knocked away Erik’s hand, and sure enough, he fell backwards onto his elbows without the support. Cursing in his head, Raoul knew he didn’t have the energy to deal with Erik at the moment. He just wanted to lie down and forget about everything. Untucking his legs from beneath him, Raoul pushed himself to a sitting position with shaky arms. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to be properly angry.

“Why did you have to come back?” The question was rhetorical. Raoul wasn’t interested in what excuses Erik might come up with this time around. He barely looked at him when he spoke even though Erik was still kneeling before him. He just wanted to know how it was possible that they’d end up at the same beach, that Erik had somehow made it from the Chagny estate in Paris to this cottage.

The broken way that he asked the question made Erik refrain from reaching out even when his hands itched to do so. He looked at Raoul, really looked at him. There were the scrapes and scratches from the tree yesterday that were still a little red. They were nearly hidden beneath the sand that clung to almost every inch of Raoul’s body. His hair was tangled and sandy. But it was Raoul’s expression that caught his attention. He’d seen it once before, after Christine had left them both. Erik would’ve laughed if it weren’t so frustrating. It was almost ironic. The desperation and anguish that had been present because of Christine’s absence was now there because of his very presence.

What had he been thinking when he’d come back? That Raoul would welcome him with open arms, that he would have been waiting for him, that he wouldn’t have been able to move on? Foolish thoughts for but another fool in their story.

It was obvious that Raoul had moved on. There was that woman. There was his reaction to Erik’s mere presence.

Erik almost regretted leaving Christine behind before he rebelled against the very thought. He knew where he was supposed to be, and that was with Raoul. He’d make Raoul want him back, do whatever it took. He should’ve expected it to be difficult; Raoul always made things difficult for him. Why would now be any different?

Grabbing his arm, Erik pulled it over his shoulder before standing up. Raoul didn’t struggle this time. He was barely able to stand on his own.

“What were you trying to do out there? Kill yourself again?” Erik chastised. He didn’t know why the words came out. He had a feeling Raoul wouldn’t reply, but he needed to calm him down some way and it was either yelling at Raoul or choking him again. And since he rather preferred Raoul to be alive and conscious, he had to settle for the first option.

As expected, Raoul didn’t respond. He simply dug his heels into the sand. It did little to slow Erik down though; he was walking with a purpose.

Raoul didn’t appreciate the way he seemed to fit just so against Erik’s side or the way Erik suddenly didn’t mind such close proximity to him. It was no small secret Erik liked his personal space and that he rarely touched anyone unless it was to injure or kill them – the only time Raoul could remember him willingly doing so was when Erik caught him whenever he fell out of the tree, and that had only been part of the plan to draw Raoul into a sense of security. He wasn’t sure what Erik was trying to accomplish this time around.

“If you don’t stop that,” Erik paused, “I’ll be forced to carry you in my arms. Like a bride.” He shrugged, “Either way is fine with me.”

Raoul barely looked up at him and all Erik could hear for long moments was Raoul’s harsh breathing. He started walking again and was pleased when Raoul attempted to walk as well.

After a distance when the pounding of both his heart and the ocean waves had diminished, Raoul saw two of his horses and a servant holding their reins. He narrowed his eyes. It was his driver, the one he was certain he’d left in Paris.

The driver’s eyes widened. He said incredulously, “You found him?” Remembering himself, he bowed, “Afternoon, Vicomte.”

Raoul could only stare. He couldn’t understand what was happening.

Erik muttered something to the man that Raoul missed in his musing. The driver removed the saddle on one of the horses before mounting his own, saddle in hand. He waited a second before Erik wordlessly motioned that he go ahead; the driver gave him a pointed glare, sparing Raoul a concerned glance before leaving them. The driver knew by now to turn a blind eye to such things and as much as he wanted to make certain himself that the Vicomte would be alright, he calmed himself with the thought that this was for the best. It wasn’t right for the Vicomte to continue to act as he’d done; it wasn’t healthy.

After the driver was far enough, Erik manhandled Raoul onto the remaining horse before mounting behind him. He left at a much more sedate pace.

Raoul protested loudly at such proximity between them. His actual struggle was weak only due to his fatigue, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t able to firmly elbow him several times before Erik was forced to release the reins in order to hold Raoul’s arms down against his body. Raoul almost promised that he wouldn’t run away if he was allowed to ride alone, but he wasn’t a liar. Given the opportunity, no matter how weak he felt, he would have tried to ride away.

Erik was well aware of that fact. So, it was ultimately intelligent and wholly necessary on his part that he sat behind Raoul, one arm securely around the blonde’s waist and arms while the other hand held the reins. And, if he managed to derive some sort of pleasure from the way Raoul’s currently shirtless body was pressed tightly against him or how Raoul’s rear was rocked against groin every time the horse took a step, then it was simply an additional benefit from their current circumstance.

Their circumstance was quickly forcing him to come to the realization that his interest in returning Raoul to the Chagny estate in Paris so that they could resume their lives together delved deeper than the expected comfort and sense of companionship Erik received in his presence. He was finding Raoul more agreeable than he’d ever thought possible – Raoul was a fop; Erik actually hated to admit that Raoul was quite far from a fop though, living with him proved that easily. Erik had simply never really bothered to think of Raoul sexually; it had never crossed his mind when they’d lived together. Raoul was simply Raoul, talkative, playful, annoying, and overall tolerable. After leaving Christine, the idea had crossed his mind, and at the moment, it was the only thing on his mind besides relief.

But Erik was no stranger to lust. He was well acquainted with that particular emotion, and he knew that what he wanted with Raoul was more. He wanted that trust he hadn’t realized Raoul had placed in him until it was too late. He wanted their lives back, everything that Christine had destroyed with her return. Erik scoffed; everything that he would have eventually destroyed by his own hands even if she hadn’t. He knew that.

Raoul was relaxing by increments, not having the energy to remain tense for such an extended period of time. But when Raoul finally leaned against him, his head resting against his shoulder fully exhausted and pliant, Erik considered it a victory and slowed their progress to the cottage considerably. He adjusted his arm, sliding it beneath Raoul’s arms so that he was no longer restraining Raoul so much as holding him. He waited a moment but Raoul didn’t protest, and Erik knew he was grinning.

He missed this even though they’d never been remotely this close to each other before. His body was reacquainting itself with Raoul’s: the steady breathing, the beat of his heart, and the warmth that he could feel. Every step that the horse took was like a piece of what he’d been missing with Christine falling into place.

So by the time they reached the cottage, Erik was certain he’d never willingly let Raoul go again.

“We’re here,” he whispered in Raoul’s ear as they stopped.

Raoul jerked away from him, looking around wildly. He was embarrassed to admit that he’d been dozing lightly. He didn’t want to think about how easy it had been to relax knowing that Erik was there holding him. He’d almost convinced himself that he was dreaming, that he and Erik had come to visit the cottage on a vacation together.

Erik dismounted the horse first and Raoul’s back felt a little chill without his presence. He scowled at his own thoughts. When Erik held his hands out to help him down, Raoul looked at him in disbelief.

“You’ll fall otherwise,” Erik tried to be reasonable. He also wanted to see how much Raoul would be willing to accept him back.

Raoul swung his leg over and slid down to the floor. Even as cautious as he was, his legs buckled. He grabbed onto the horse for support even as Erik moved to steady him. Raoul elbowed his hands away. It felt like there were butterflies in his stomach whenever Erik touched him. It was annoying and no matter how much he told his body to stop reacting to Erik’s presence, it wouldn’t listen.

He walked by himself, albeit unsteadily, into the cottage where the few servants that were present were bustling around trying to get it prepared for his sudden visit. They all greeted him and Raoul made a point to greet them back. His stomach growled loudly and he heard Erik snicker at the sound. Erik walked beside him, close enough that they brushed against each other. His hand was on Raoul’s lower back urging him forward, leading him as though he knew where the kitchen was, and when they stepped into said room, Raoul conceded that apparently he did know.

Erik offered him some grapes. Raoul looked at the fruit then at Erik before turning away. He wasn't that hungry. Stopping a servant, he requested, “Please draw a bath for me. No need to warm it.”

The young girl curtseyed and rushed to do as he’d asked.

“So you’re going to ignore me?” Erik finally asked.

Raoul walked by him, heading towards his room so that he could find a change of clothes. He was tracking sand everywhere in the cottage but couldn’t bring himself to care in his current state. He simply focused on not falling to the floor. Erik was waiting just for such an event to happen so that he would be forced to ask for his help.

Raoul was attempting to climb the stairs when the driver returned from tending to the horses. He was at Raoul’s side immediately.

“Here, Vicomte. Let me help please.”

Raoul smiled at him. If anything, he guessed that this man was also a victim of Erik’s machinations. “Thank you,” he sighed, leaning against the man.

Erik nearly tore them apart with every intent to strangle the driver no matter how integral the man had been in finding Raoul. Only the chance that Raoul might fall down the stairs stopped him.

When they reached the top of the stairs, the driver finally let go of him. “Do you need more assistance?” He asked.

Raoul smiled putting his hand on the driver’s bicep in thanks, and Erik seriously considered killing the man. “I believe I can walk unassisted. Thank you though.”

When Raoul turned to walk down the hall, Erik grabbed the driver’s arm, squeezing it painfully as though he could erase Raoul’s touch from him. The driver’s mouth hung open in a silent yell, knowing not to alarm the Vicomte.

“What?” He whispered, trying to free his arm.

Erik glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Helping him up the stairs. What does it look like?”

Erik released his arm after a moment’s hesitation.

The driver cradled it against himself with a wince. “I didn’t want him to fall, did you?”

“Of course not,” Erik shot back. He looked down the hallway and saw that Raoul already made it to his room. He said through clenched teeth, “Stop being so helpful.”

The driver followed his gaze down the hall. “It would be best if you watch yourself.”

Erik quirked an eyebrow at him. “You should listen to your own advice.”

Not taking the hint, the driver followed Erik as he walked to Raoul’s room. Raoul was leaning against his dresser, clothes in hand when they entered. He didn’t turn around.

“Raoul.” “Vicomte.” They said at the same time.

Raoul looked up, as though in a daze. He let out a small laugh, “I must’ve fallen asleep on my feet.” Seeing their concerned faces, he added, “I’m fine, simply tired.” Other than lifting his head, he didn’t move from his spot against his dresser. It would have been a waste of energy to do so. “I’ve been meaning to ask. How did you find me?”

“How did we find you?” Erik repeated disdainfully. “I know you, Raoul. Know you better than I know myself and once you realize that, life will be easier for us both.”

The driver rolled his eyes at the response and Raoul gave no indication that he had heard.

If the situation had been different, Raoul would have thought those words were something of a confession of love. Perhaps not love, but something unbearably close. After everything that had happened though, Raoul knew them to simply be more lies. Erik might even be partially true about knowing him but that meant nothing about love; it was simply one more taunt, one more humiliation, a taint on the time they’d spent together.

Raoul simply couldn’t let himself hope, hoping hurt too much. And when it came down to it, Erik didn’t know him, not like he thought he did. If he truly did, he would never have left.

Erik ignored the fact that the driver rolled his eyes at the statement. He might have left out the part where they’d tried every village, city, and known person around Paris and farther before Erik had the idea to head towards this cottage, and even then, it had only been partly because of a faint memory of Raoul talking about the place and mostly because of the book he now damned in his head.

As much as he tried, he couldn’t refrain from making the parallels, parallels that he, at turns, enjoyed and hated. L’Homme Qui Rit had ended in the ocean, ended tragically in the ocean. So, even though it was the driver that had led them to the actual cottage, he’d already been inextricably drawn there and had almost been certain that Raoul would be as well.

They’d waited half a day for Raoul to arrive, long enough that Erik had begun to worry that Raoul was simply getting farther and farther away from him as he did nothing but pace through the household. They’d actually left the cottage already and were falling into their rhythm when he saw Raoul’s horse wandering.

He saw it and immediately feared the worse, his heart arresting in his chest. Changing directions quickly, his eyes desperately swept across the wide expanse of ocean, holding his breath against hope. He saw the clothes that were scattered across the beach. Straining forward, he searched for familiar blonde hair or any sign of movement. He’d been on his way to dive into the ocean when he saw Raoul inert on the beach, barely out of the water. It wasn’t until he was closer that he realized Raoul was still alive, and only after he’d released a breath of relief did he wonder whether he should throttle him or throw him back into the ocean.

The only thing that he could think was that he’d almost missed him. His impatience had almost made him miss Raoul.

“Well,” Raoul prompted to the driver.

The driver looked at him in confusion before glancing towards Erik, who nodded tersely. “Uh. How we found you?”

“Yes.”

“We were all worried at your state when you left us,” he explained haltingly, suddenly not sure he wanted to be in the room at the moment. “It was suggested,” he glanced at Erik, “that we go search for you and check the cottage.” He grinned, “We remember how you’d loved it as a child. Where did you go?”

Raoul closed his eyes, feeling weighed down. Could it have been that easy? Erik had decided that Raoul would go to the cottage and sure enough he had. That was it? Raoul had travelled non-stop through France’s countryside, his mind in utter turmoil; he’d been half out of his mind. It had taken him days before even deciding to go to the ocean. He felt the hysterical urge to cry, knowing that he didn’t even have the energy to do that.

“I was wandering for a while,” Raoul said quietly. “I hadn’t decided on a destination until just this morning.”

The driver started, “Erik said…”

Raoul cut him off with an abrupt and cold statement. “Erik is dead to me.”

Erik’s eyes actually widened at that. He’d never heard Raoul sound quite like that before. At least it would explain why Raoul had decided to ignore him, but he wasn’t quite sure how to react to such a response. Deciding that Raoul would eventually abandon his pointless ruse given time, he didn’t respond. He’d make it impossible for Raoul to ignore him.

“I seem very much alive,” Erik commented.

“Is that why…?” The driver thought aloud to himself. Raoul had sometimes referred to mourning, but it had been so vague at the time they’d thought he meant it figuratively.

Raoul pointedly explained, “If you must know, the reason it was so easy for me to move on,” he didn’t consider it lying if it was mostly the truth; it hadn’t been easy so much as it had been easier, “was simply by imagining the opera ghost had simply died.” He even managed a smile that didn’t look as pained as it felt. “Simple as that.”

Erik wasn’t quite sure if he should be angry or surprised that Raoul had it in him to be so cold. It was near disturbing, but he didn’t believe a single word of it. He refused to.

“Vicomte,” a knock on the door drew all their attentions, “Your bath is ready.”

“Do you need…” the driver trailed off when he saw the look Erik was giving him. “I will take my leave now.” He bowed again before leaving.

Erik waited to see what Raoul would do next. Still ignoring him, Raoul walked to the bathroom as steadily as he could. It was easy to see that it took a concerted effort to walk across the room but Erik stayed back. If Raoul wanted to continue this ruse, then Erik would gladly follow just to see how committed he was.

Entering the bathroom, Raoul saw the tub filled with water. He didn’t hesitate for a second before he began to undress. He knew that Erik wasn’t going to leave him alone. He doubted he’d have privacy for a while or at least until the older man fell asleep. Raoul was already planning it in his head. As much as Raoul feared he was wrong, Erik couldn’t actually know before he did where he was going to go. He’d break free eventually. Until then, all he had to do was ignore him. Raoul noted his presence from the corner of his eye. Or at least pretend to.

He unbuttoned his trousers and tugged them and his underwear off, forcing himself to not care that Erik was in the same room. Erik just stared, thinking to himself that there might be some benefit to being considered dead.

Raoul stepped into the tub and lowered himself into the water with a shiver. The water was freezing, which Raoul was absently thankful for as he felt Erik’s eyes still trained on him. He just wanted to get all the sand off him, and as the sand floated down to the bottom of the tub, he began to feel a little better. Keeping his eyes resolutely away from the man who had taken a seat at the foot of the tub and was currently staring at him unabashedly, Raoul dunked his head underwater. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get as much sand out of it as possible.

Erik smirked, a little disappointed that the tub was small enough that Raoul had to bend his knees to fit completely since it covered some parts unless Erik craned his neck a bit, which he did. That position left little to the imagination though. Raoul was extremely committed to this course of action.

When Raoul surfaced, Erik commented, “So you’re starving yourself.” He purposely looked Raoul over once again, though he did pay special attention to the fact that he could now see how skinny Raoul had gotten. He could count ribs now.

Raoul didn’t respond, simply closed his eyes, once again thankful for the chill of the water. He rested his head against the edge. Erik would have to sleep and then he could make his escape then; maybe he could even lock him in the room. But that wouldn’t work because there were windows and Erik was good at climbing out of those. Maybe he could somehow tie him up, but Erik would surely wake up and struggle. His only hope was really to try and outrun him. If he could somehow take all the horses with him then that would give him enough time to get away. The cottage was quite secluded; there would be no way for Erik to get a horse.

After some time, he opened his eyes and saw Erik closing the door. Raoul frowned; he hadn’t heard it open in the first place. Erik sat at the foot of the tub again holding a tray of food. Raoul’s stomach growled just at the sight.

Smirking, Erik asked, “Are you still going to ignore me now?”

Raoul had to admit that now that he was clean and sufficiently calm that hunger was the last need to fulfill. Erik held up a single grape, taunting him with it. It slipped out of his grasp, falling near his stomach with a plop. Before Raoul could react, Erik reached into the tub, being sure to touch as much of Raoul as possible before the blonde jerked, grabbing his arm before he could do any more damage. By the end of that small movement, water had gotten everywhere. Raoul’s knees were drawn up to his chest as he leaned forward cradling Erik’s arm so as to keep it immobile. Erik had barely managed to keep his hold on the tray of food even though he was now drenched.

“Damn it, Erik!” Raoul lifted Erik’s arm out of the water, holding tightly even while he pushed it as far away from his body as possible.

Erik looked unrepentant, opening his hand to reveal the wayward grape. Raoul let him go and pushed his hair back.

“Not so dead, am I?”

Raoul paused to consider what he should do. “I’m having one conversation with you.” He gave Erik a pointed look before dunking himself under the water again. He came up, smoothing his hair back out of his face. He stood up, making a point of being so forward. He was faintly reminded of the time Erik had tried to gain a reaction from him in the same manner. Stepping out of the tub, he reached for a towel to dry himself off before tugging on some loose pants. “One conversation,” he said, finally looking back at Erik. “That’s it, though there’s nothing you can say that I want to hear or that I’ll even believe from you.”

He returned to his bedroom to grab a brush.

“You’re such a fop,” Erik commented.

“Are you going to waste this conversation?” Raoul asked, struggling to get some of the tangles out. Between almost drowning and Erik’s not so gentle greeting, Raoul wouldn’t be surprised if he had to cut his hair just to make it manageable. Brushing his hair also gave him a convenient way to distract himself from the rather inevitable conversation they were going to have.

Erik took a seat on the edge of the bed, just watching him. He’d watched Raoul run through the routine of trying to tame his hair. He’d said those words before, meaning it then as much as he meant it now. He’d never realized how something as insignificant as this could be something he desired.

Even though he was certain that he could make Raoul speak to him again, this first conversation was something he knew to be important. It was in this conversation that he could make Raoul realize that he didn’t have a reason to run away. Erik could explain how he’d been wrong, that maybe he had started out at the Chagny estate to help his and Christine’s future but it hadn’t been like that in the end. He wasn’t even sure if that had ever really been the reason he’d stayed.

Instead, the first thing out of his mouth was, “You brought my cloak.”

Raoul, who’d been making a concerted effort to remain completely emotionless, looked at him with open confusion. He answered slowly, “It was the nearest thing at hand.”

Deciding it was too late to take back that statement, he pointed out, “Your clothes were just in the next room.”

“I wanted something I didn’t care if it got dirty to sleep on,” Raoul retorted. He tossed the brush down on the dresser so that he could give his full attention to Erik, so that he could glare properly.

“You wanted something to remember me,” Erik challenged.

Raoul couldn’t believe it. “I don’t understand how you can be so arrogant. What happened to that tortured soul who sang of everyone hating him? And no one loving him,” he said mockingly. “Where do you even get this confidence?”

Erik stared at him steadily. “Because,” and Erik knew he was taking a big risk here. “I know you love me.” He didn’t know if Raoul loved him. He didn’t know if whatever Raoul might have felt for him was now completely ruined by having left, but the book had led him to Raoul and he couldn’t accept that he wouldn’t have him in the end, whatever that end might be.

Mouth slightly ajar, Raoul held his gaze. He wondered how Erik had found out. That explained his sudden appearance though. Erik had somehow found out that Raoul had fallen in love with him and was now back to make sure it wouldn’t affect what he’d been trying to accomplish all along. Raoul shut his mouth, lips pressed tightly together as his mind tried to figure a way to get Erik to leave him alone already. There was no use lying now. Erik knew.

“Stop following me,” he said simply. He was so tired, tired of running, of talking, of hurting. He didn’t have any more tears. He didn’t have any more sleepless nights and endless days to spare pining after Erik. He just couldn’t do it anymore.

“Stop running.” Erik stood up and approached him, stopping barely close enough to reach out and touch him if he dared. He was certain if he took a step closer, Raoul would move.

Raoul met his eyes, and Erik hated to see him like this again, resigned. “Just go back to Christine.”

Erik scoffed. “I’m not with Christine.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not,” Erik repeated, hearing Raoul’s apathy towards the statement. Christine had been the problem, hadn’t she? Erik was erasing that problem and Raoul still didn’t seem to care.

Raoul merely shrugged. Erik could say that as many times as he wanted, but there was little he could do to make him believe that lie.

“Why would I be here if I were with Christine?” Erik asked.

Raoul laughed, loudly and bitterly, “Why were you with me before, Erik? Why?”

Erik averted his eyes for a moment.

“Can you tell me why?” Raoul pressed.

“It’s different now,” Erik tried to explain.

“It’s not,” Raoul laughed again and the sound was so broken that he was forced to stop himself. “The answer to that question, Erik, is so that you could be with her,” Raoul said when Erik refused to. “You were with me because you wanted to be with her.” The ache in his chest had returned. He welcomed it; it was familiar and so much better than the butterflies in his stomach. He concluded, “Now, go be with her. I won’t follow.”

Erik, losing his temper and unable to stand Raoul flaunting his own mistakes in his face, reached out and grabbed his shoulders. “I know you won’t follow.” He hadn’t expected Raoul to chase after them even after Raoul had raced down the stairs just in time to see them off. After all, he’d made certain of that, didn’t he?

“Release me,” Raoul said evenly.

“No.” Erik held on tighter. “You need to listen.”

“I’m already listening. I already know.” Raoul didn’t struggle though, knowing it would be pointless.

“I don’t love Christine,” he nearly yelled.

“I heard,” Raoul replied blandly.

Erik shook him. “I came back just for you.”

“So it would seem.”

“I searched for you.”

“I realize.” Raoul continued to look at him calmly.

Erik floundered to find the right words to convince him that it had all been a mistake. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Raoul was already slipping away from him even when he wasn’t running. When he began to believe that he’d be chasing Raoul for the rest of their lives, he suddenly knew what he had to say. “You’re Dea.”

Raoul looked at him in confusion before controlling any further reactions. They stared at each other.

“Is that all?” Raoul asked, clearly in a manner that conveyed he was unimpressed with his declaration. “I want to eat before I fall asleep.”

Erik let him go as though he burned, frowning. He took a few steps back, trying to gather himself. He’d thought… he thought that would mean something to Raoul, that he would understand the reference. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not all.” Raoul looked bored and tired. Erik swallowed through the lump in his throat. He consoled himself with the thought that Raoul might not understand now, but he would eventually. “One more thing.”

“What?” Raoul’s attention was already directed towards the bathroom where they’d left the food.

“Stop running,” Erik held his hand up when Raoul looked like he was about to interrupt. His voice was tired but firm as he finished, “You’ll give up running away from me a lot sooner than I’ll give up running after you.”

Raoul gave a short nod before heading towards the food. Once he was far enough away from Erik, he closed his eyes and breathed in shakily; he wasn’t sure he wanted Erik to be proven wrong.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 26

Word count: 5,714

o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: That was cold on Raoul’s part. Cold! Who knew he had it in him? But he’s got to be affected by Erik’s words somehow, right? Right!?

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Garnier Hospital Ch 08

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 06:41:17 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: AU. I shoved the POTO characters into a hospital setting. Slash btw, as though I write anything but.
Warning(s): slash, AU
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 5,121
Rating: T

A/N: Almost done with this fic! I’m kind of excited for it to be ending (just because it means one less story I’m working on). And, of course, that they’ll finally get together. Of course. Hope you all had a good weekend.
Story note: That’s quite an ominous chapter title, right? (I find it kind of amusing that ever since the UTC ending, you all think I’m going to kill Raoul at any moment. It’s actually downright hilarious, though understandable.) Long chapter (too long IMHO; don’t expect this again).

o.o.o.o

Garnier Hospital – Death
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Philippe arrived at Raoul’s loft mid-morning to check on his brother. Raoul was, thankfully, where he’d last left him, in bed. The fever had only gotten worse after his escapade, so Philippe wasn’t too surprised; even Raoul had to succumb to illness at some point. Unfortunately, it meant that Philippe still hadn’t been able to talk to him about his patient, and the memory of Christine’s challenging voice was starting to irritate him. She thought she knew Raoul better than he did. How could she? She had barely been reunited with him.

And Philippe had just been separated. Maybe he was a little jealous of her. Just a little. As much as Philippe loved his sisters, he was closest to his brother. Raoul was the one he could do more than just tolerate, and while he was happy for Raoul’s newfound independence, he was more than a little worried. This was Raoul, his baby brother.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Philippe gently shook him. “Raoul,” he whispered, placing a hand on Raoul’s brow. It seemed normal, but he’d have to find the thermometer to be sure.

“Raoul,” Philippe shook him again. “It’s time to take medicine.”

Raoul moaned, blinking his eyes open. “Philippe?”

“Recognition.” Philippe smirked. He joked, “That’s good. You didn’t lose too many of your brain cells. Now, what does a high leukocyte reading indicate?”

“Shut up,” Raoul groaned, his voice gravelly, as he weakly pushed him away.

Philippe just laughed.

Raoul pulled the covers up over his head, complaining, “You’re shaking the bed.”

“Come on.” Philippe tugged the blanket down.

Raoul gave no resistance, moving to get off the bed. Philippe pushed him back down. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting ready for today,” Raoul looked at him expectantly. “What else?”

“What?”

“You know,” Raoul was starting to think that he wasn’t the only one who’d been ill. “Our parents asked that I spend the day.”

Philippe pursed his lips before asking, “What day do you think it is today?”

Suddenly unsure, Raoul said, “Saturday?”

“It’s Sunday,” Philippe replied, “I visited yesterday as well. Ring a bell?”

“No.”

Philippe pulled up the blankets higher on him, “Well then. More reason for you to stay in bed now. It’s practically near noon anyway. So whatever plans our parents might’ve had for the weekend are pretty much officially over.”

Raoul reached over to grab his watch off the night stand. He checked it before dropping back onto the bed, “How sick was I?”

“Pretty sick, but you’re unsurprisingly better.” Philippe said, “My diagnosis. You were tired and working too hard.”

Raoul rolled his eyes. “What if it’s a passing bug?”

Scoffing, Philippe patted him on the head in a patronizing manner, “I doubt that, Raoul.”

“Stress induced fever, Philippe?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, “You’re just trying to say that I wanted out of the family event.”

“If you recall, you were at the family event,” Philippe stood up and headed towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water and some Tylenol. He barely had to raise his voice to continue, “I’m just saying you’re stressed, which I’m guessing is a very accurate statement. But even if you were just mentally making yourself sick to get out of family time, I would’ve suggested that you sleep, just like I’m suggesting right now.” Returning bedside, he saw Raoul already had his eyes closed. “Come on. Take your medicine first of course.”

Raoul opened one eye to glance at the medicine before sighing. He swallowed the medicine with a gulp of water. Handing the glass back, he asked, “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Philippe motioned for Raoul to move. “Now scoot over so I can lie down.”

“Are you avoiding home?” Raoul asked, sliding over.

“No,” Philippe answered, “I’m just spending time with you.” He twisted to fluff the pillow Raoul had just been lying on before settling down.

Raoul simply sighed. “I’m tired.”

“That’s shocking,” he answered sarcastically.

Raoul didn’t bother to reply. Even learning that he’d spent all of yesterday asleep, he couldn’t deny the appeal of sleeping today off as well. He wouldn’t want to go to work sick after all.

Relaxing, it was several minutes before the silence was broken.

“Raoul?” Philippe started, “Are you seeing anyone currently?”

“I see a lot of people, Philippe,” Raoul quipped. He grinned to himself, “For instance, I see you right now.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Philippe nudged him with his elbow. “Seriously. Are you interested in anyone?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Raoul pretended to think about it. He flippantly replied, “Nope, no one comes to mind.”

“Really?” Philippe pressed. He didn’t want to go right out and ask about that patient. It would probably bias Raoul’s answer.

“Why would I lie about something like that?”

“I was just wondering,” he was quick to respond.

“Oh God,” Raoul said, pushing himself up so that it was easier to look at Philippe, “I did something didn’t I? Please tell me it wasn’t with Carlotta.”

“No,” Philippe grimaced. “Why would it be with Carlotta?”

“I don’t know,” Raoul exclaimed. “You made me worry. Why are you asking all these questions?”

Philippe knew he had to talk to Raoul about this. Christine had been right about one thing; he’d been acting like his father, and he refused to do that intentionally. “Do you remember what you did the night I brought you home after the charity event?” Philippe amended, “Stupid question, you never remember what you do when you’re sick. What do you remember?”

“I think,” Raoul pushed himself higher on the bed so that he could lean on the headboard. “You and I were talking about going home.”

Waiting for a few seconds for Raoul to continue, Philippe prompted when he didn’t, “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he responded slowly, “About. What did I do?”

“You ended up at the hospital.”

Raoul looked at him expectantly, “Well, which one?”

“Garnier,” Philippe replied.

“Okay, that’s good. I guess,” Raoul shrugged. It was better than ending up at the Chagny hospital. He didn’t need another reason for his father to be disappointed with him. He paused, “Oh no. What did I say to Christine?”

Philippe raised his hands in a placating manner. Sighing, he pushed himself up so that he could sit beside Raoul. “Nothing,” he tried to assuage his fears. “Well, I think nothing.”

“Then what’s with all these relationship questions? What happened?”

Philippe shrugged, a little hesitant having to explain why he’d become overprotective.

Raoul glared. “You wouldn’t ask if I didn’t do something that made you think I was interested in someone. Now what did I do?”

Reluctantly, Philippe said, “You simply ended up in a patient’s room.”

Raoul moaned again. “I think I’m going to get a headache. Which patient? I didn’t harass one of them so that they had to call security? Please tell me I didn’t.”

“I think,” Philippe shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, “it was the other way around.”

“What?” Raoul paused. A patient had harassed him? “Erik? I ended up in Erik’s room?”

Both Raoul and Philippe had to wonder at how quickly he’d managed to come up with that conclusion.

“Yes,” Philippe said suspiciously.

“But why would you ask…?” Raoul looked at him in confusion before stopping himself. “You think I like Erik? Like that?”

Philippe was going to deny that the thought crossed his mind but decided otherwise. A different tactic was in order, “From my experience, I think he’s more interested in you than as his doctor.”

Raoul shook his head, laughing of such a suggestion, “That’s not how it is. I don’t think…”

“He’s interested,” Philippe interrupted. He was certain.

“At least let me finish my sentence,” Raoul paused to see if he would interrupt. Philippe nodded at him to continue. “How do you even know that?” He motioned with his hands vaguely.

“He’s interested.”

“Repeating that isn’t explaining, Philippe.”

“What do you think of him?” Philippe asked instead, knowing he wouldn’t be able to convince his brother without having to explain how the man’s hand had been in his hair. But at least he should be able to gauge how Raoul felt about him, even though Philippe was certain he already knew.

“I think I can help him,” Raoul answered as honestly as he could.

“Raoul,” Philippe sighed. That was definitely Raoul. “You do remember there’s a line not to cross with your patients.”

Raoul would have liked to scoff at such a statement, but he knew that he’d been less than professional with Erik. It wasn’t even just once; it was on a constant basis, since the very beginning, and if Philippe even managed to notice that, he hated to think how badly it had gotten. Maybe he was treading a dangerous path with Erik. Philippe wouldn’t lie to him.

“You get involved with your patient’s lives too much.” Philippe stated frankly. “That’s dangerous.”

“That’s not true brother. I don’t get involved too much,” Raoul was quick to defend, “It’s…” He stopped himself when he realized what he was about to say. It’s only with Erik. “It only happens sometimes,” he finished lamely.

“I know you care, but just be careful. Please,” Philippe asked. He slid out of bed. Leaning back over, he kissed Raoul sloppily on the forehead.

“Philippe!” Raoul wiped his forehead exaggeratedly, “That’s disgusting.”

“Don’t be a baby. I’m going to meet up with our parents now. I’ll tell them you’re deathly ill because of what father did to you at the charity,” he joked. They both knew he’d never do that. It would only make things worse. “Just give some thought over what I said, okay?”

“I always do, brother.” Raoul closed his eyes, listening as Philippe walked to the door. He yelled after him, “Don’t forget to lock the door!”

The door slammed shut. He didn’t hear the lock turn for a few seconds.

“Philippe?”

More seconds passed during which Raoul groaned at the mere thought of having to get up.

“Just kidding!” Philippe called through the door before locking it.

Raoul rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics, even though he couldn’t help but grin. He frowned when his mind immediately turned towards what he’d said. Raoul did care about all his patients. Maybe he cared too much about Erik though. He’d simply gotten so involved with trying to discover more and more about the man that he’d forgotten his place. Philippe was right. He was a professional. He needed to re-establish that boundary between them.

In fact, Raoul needed to find another physical therapist and a masseur while he was at it.

o.o.o

Come Monday, Raoul was ready to be the professional he knew he could be. He strode into Erik’s room with his resolve firmly in place. He’d decided that it was necessary to speak with him first, to explain what he was trying to do; just suddenly acting like a completely different person probably wouldn’t work.

As Sunday had passed, Raoul found that he remembered a bit more than he told Philippe. He couldn’t quite remember how he got to the hospital or back to his loft, but he remembered most, if not all, of his conversation with Erik. He cringed just thinking of the things he’d said to the other man. Massages and happy endings? He knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it, and if he had any hope of acting professional, he had to stop Erik from bringing it up first.

“Good morning, Erik,” Raoul walked into this room, deciding against taking a seat. “About Friday night…”

“Shall I disrobe now or do we need more small talk?” Erik mocked. He’d been waiting all weekend for this moment.

He’d already confronted Christine about what she’d said about Raoul asking for another doctor. She claimed misunderstanding, but Erik was beginning to think otherwise. He’d have to watch out for her. She managed to prove her point though; he wouldn’t tell her such a thing, but the message had gotten across quite well. He needed to treat Raoul better – or at least tell him more, allow Raoul to help him so that he could get closer to him. As slow a progress they’d been making so far, Erik realized that he wasn’t adverse to the idea of getting closer to his young doctor, not adverse to the idea at all. Who was he to deny massages and happy endings?

He continued, “I convinced Christine to give me twenty dollars. Is that enough for a little extra?”

Raoul groaned, making sure the door was closed. “Erik.”

“Or do you need forty to disrobe yourself,” Erik reached under his blankets and pulled out the cash.

“Okay, okay,” Raoul moved closer to the bed. He tried to fight down the blush but could feel his face heat up. “I get it.” He pushed the hand that was holding up the money at him down onto the bed. “In my defense, I was sick.”

Erik glanced down at Raoul’s hand still atop his own, “I think you were hitting on me, doctor.”

Raoul took a second to appreciate the fact that Erik had called him by his title. “And I appreciate you stopping me from undressing.”

“I don’t believe anything in life’s for free,” Erik stated factually. He nodded down to their hands. “I wouldn’t want to be indebted.”

Pulling his hand away quickly, Raoul cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you about that.”

“The fees or the fact that you sounded quite desperate when you said I might just send you away?” Erik asked. He was enjoying this a bit too much. He’d dissected their conversation and was certain that Raoul would eventually and hopefully very soon, give into his advances. Once he realized that’s what they were. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Raoul?”

Even though he thought it impossible, Raoul blushed harder. He’d rather hoped that Erik hadn’t picked up on that. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking; his sister would tell him it’s abandonment issues from a father figure. Raoul just didn’t want to fail to help Erik, just didn’t want to be pushed away when they’d been making so much progress. “Erik, please. I was ill and not thinking.”

Erik was quick to point out, “Not having a filter doesn’t mean you were lying. It usually means you tell truths you’d rather not tell.”

“You’re right,” Raoul said exasperatedly, seeing that he was going about this the wrong way. “I think we need to work on our relationship.”

“Really?” Erik asked, his mocking on pause.

“Yes. I’ve overstepped my bounds. We need to be doctor-patient not…” Raoul gestured with his hands, “Whatever we are right now.”

“You’re breaking up with me before we’re even together?” Erik joked even when he didn’t like where the conversation was heading. He appreciated their relationship the way it was currently, because there was always the possibility of more. And from the moment Erik had met Raoul, more was something he wanted. Maybe he’d been uncertain to the extent, but it had become clear – even Christine had realized it, bribing him.

Raoul nodded. It was as good a summary as any, “Yes. I shouldn’t have said any of those things about… well, about taking advantage of you. I’m here for your health. The other factors shouldn’t have come up.”

Erik definitely didn’t like how this conversation was turning. He hadn’t expected this from Raoul. In fact, it almost sounded like… “Did your brother tell you to say these things?”

“What?” Raoul actually took a step back.

“Your brother,” Erik nearly snarled, and he could hear the complete anger in those two words. He held his breath, waiting to see if Raoul would react how everyone else did when he got as angry as he was now – flee, as quickly as possible.

He very well knew how he could affect people. He didn’t have facial expressions to clue people in, so he’d easily learned how to say more with his voice than simple words. The threat of death, fear, enticement, and a myriad of emotions could easily be conveyed with a single word or in a tone, and he’d found people responded to that subconsciously no matter who they were, as though he could tap into that without trying. He’d been careful around Raoul, careful so that he wouldn’t scare him away anymore, not after that first time. Sure, he’d been testing his limits lately to see how angry he could sound, how much he could try to scare him away, but he’d never lost his control.

“Well,” Raoul only shrugged, and Erik stared at him in confusion even as he let out his breath in relief, “he brought it to my attention and he’s right. You can’t disagree.”

It took Erik several moments before he could form a response. “What if the only reason I want you here is explicitly because I don’t consider this a doctor-patient relationship?”

Raoul’s head tilted as he considered that. “Are you sure that’s what you meant to say because it sounded an awful like…”

“Not romantically or sexually, Raoul,” he amended for Raoul’s sake even while he smirked. He was glad to see Raoul could follow his train of thought.

“If we’re not doctor-patient, then we’re kind of… you know,” Raoul floundered for the right word, “flirting.”

Erik refused to respond to that. Flirting was a very accurate word for what they’d been doing. He’d known it all along and had wondered when Raoul would finally catch on.

“And I know that’s not what we’re doing,” Raoul quickly amended even when he suddenly knew without a doubt that that was exactly what they’d been doing, what he’d been doing.

“I don’t like doctors,” Erik stated simply, expecting it to convey his feeling about Raoul’s newfound dedication to formalities.

“I’d still like to be yours, Erik,” Raoul said, moving closer. “Your doctor,” he clarified.

Erik didn’t respond. He was not going to agree to this new situation.

Raoul sighed. “When I come for lunch, we’ll start your physical therapy like I promised.”

“You?” Erik asked, noting the vague statement for what it was.

“Yes,” Raoul said. He tried to find someone else; he actually did find someone. He’d called and inquired but when it was time to actually set the appointment, he simply hadn’t been able to do it. There were boundaries; he kept reminding himself of this fact. He just wanted to be the one to do this for Erik. He wanted to personally make sure that Erik would get better, and he didn’t want to have to question why.

Amused, Erik baited, “Shouldn’t you find an actual physical therapist to do something like that?”

“Things’ll be different,” Raoul stated firmly. “They will.”

Erik nodded even though he saw Raoul’s new resolve as nothing more than a challenge.

o.o.o

It took almost two weeks before Erik could admit that he’d been overconfident in his abilities to garner a response from Raoul. In fact, this new Raoul who visited him every day was everything but Raoul. Sure, he still smiled and inquired about his day. He still looked pained whenever Erik’s muscles spasmed painfully. He even still offered painkillers – persistent that he was –, and on the days after Erik was having a particularly bad day, Raoul would come with a banana to share with him. True to his word, there were no drugs in it.

But it wasn’t Raoul. He was subdued, didn’t respond to his blatantly obvious attempts at sexual humor, in fact, didn’t even grin in response. He just smiled politely. Erik even received on a constant basis warnings that such actions were looked down upon. Things were different and Erik was rather displeased with this new course of events.

Their physical therapy session went as planned, and no matter what Erik said or did, Raoul simply didn’t react. Even when Raoul was between his legs, helping him stretch, he didn’t respond to the leers and dirty suggestions Erik made, and how Raoul managed that when his hand was quite high on Erik’s thigh, he didn’t even know.

It was all mechanical: stretching, arm exercises – flexion, extension –, leg exercises, abdominals, and more. It was enough that by the end of their sessions, Erik would have stopped trying to sexually harass Raoul and was instead sweating and cursing him out for the amount of pain he was going through trying to get his muscles to respond the way they were supposed to. He’d damned Raoul to hell and called him a variety of names ranging from a breathy laugh of masochist to the devil’s bastard son, and each time, Raoul only nodded his agreement, offered to change the bandages on his face for him, and apologized for his pain, promising that he’d trade places if he could. Erik could only respond by damning him again and lying flat on the bed. The bandages did irritate his skin after their sessions; he didn’t have to tell Raoul no though – Erik still refused to show him his face.

What followed next was the massage, the only reason Erik hadn’t lost his temper in his frustration with Raoul. In retaliation though, Erik refused to remove the hospital gown; even though there were no other injuries to be found on his body, he thought it was only fair that Raoul not get to see him naked since he was no longer cooperating in their now non-existent flirtations. As much as he damned Raoul in physical therapy, he praised him, worshiped him during the massage. His hands were always warm and the pressure applied at times painful, but afterwards… afterwards, Erik would be boneless against the sheets unable to do anything but breathe; that is, if he hadn’t fallen asleep during the massage. He was only thankful that he was too tired to properly respond to how skillful Raoul’s hands were or how his mind often went on dangerous tangents of thoughts concerning them.

Sometimes, he could almost swear that Raoul’s hands lingered longer than necessary, but he was beginning to think that it was simply his imagination. Raoul was more than professional. He was annoyingly unperturbed by whatever Erik tried.

He was about to boycott the whole effort – besides the fact that the muscle spasms had decreased in intensity, though he knew the pain would never go away completely, and the fact that he’d be willing to do almost anything to have Raoul massage him – but without those sessions, he was certain Raoul would avoid him even more than he was doing so lately. They didn’t share lunches anymore, simply physical therapy sessions. In the morning, Raoul barely visited longer than a few minutes to check his vital signs, inquire of the pain, and tell him that he needed to do his self-exercises more often.

Erik simply didn’t know what to do to make Raoul revert to the way things had been before, and he knew exactly who to blame, Raoul’s brother. The first thing he was going to do when he could move again, was kill Raoul’s brother – or just physically harm him in some way and force him to tell Raoul to go back to being his Raoul.

As it were, he was left with nothing but his concerned doctor.

o.o.o

Raoul took a deep breath in and tried to will away the tears that were quickly beginning to form; he just had a few more papers to sign. He’d managed to remain strong while he spoke to his patient’s family, and they had taken it as well as could be expected. They hadn’t blamed him for what had happened, but they didn’t need to. Raoul was blaming himself already even though he knew there was only so much he could do. He couldn’t be with his patients all the time, couldn’t watch over them constantly. He knew that, but he couldn’t stop his mind from running through all the possible different things he could have done in order to avoid this very outcome.

After having finished the paperwork, Raoul immediately escaped to the men’s bathroom to have some privacy. He crouched in a stall, leaning against the flimsy wall and he just couldn’t stop crying. His sniffles sounded pathetic to his own ears as they echoed off the tiled walls.

He’d just spoken to the man that very morning, asked about his grandchildren and what they were planning to do since he’d been okay’d by his specialists to be discharged. Everything on his chart had been normal, or at least in the range of normal. He’d been eager to leave, too.

Raoul sobbed, his throat closing up on him. He took in several shaky breaths. After he felt sufficiently calm, he forced himself to his feet, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. There was too much to do before he could indulge in self-pity. It was almost night. He had other patients to attend to; not many anymore, thankfully, but enough before he could go home.

Exiting the stall, he looked at the mirror only to see red-rimmed eyes and someone he could barely stand to look at. Splashing water on his face, he did his best to dull his emotions. At least he’d stopped crying. People to help, there were people to help, he repeated.

He paid especially close attention to every patient he visited but when he was done, it still felt like a blur. He wandered around the floors, just trying to stay out of the way, lost in the hospital he’d actually grown to love. He ignored everyone, but most of them were smart enough to realize that he wanted to be left alone. He spent several hours sitting in the waiting room, watching people enter and leave, just thinking. Thinking about every single one of his patients and whether he was doing everything in his power to make them healthy.

When it was late and Raoul was sufficiently tired, he stood up to leave. Instead, he gave into an impulse and found himself riding the elevator and walking down a familiar hallway. Entering Erik’s room as quietly as possible, Raoul knew why he was there. He just wanted to make sure he was still alive. Erik was on the bed, facing away from him on his side.

Frowning, Raoul moved into the room. He needed to see the rise and fall of his chest. Otherwise, how could he know for certain? He walked cautiously across the room and stopped when he could just barely see signs that Erik was indeed breathing.

Raoul let out his own breath in relief. It had been a stupid fear, he knew, but the idea had held for some reason. Without a second thought, Raoul took his seat by the bed, just watching the rise and fall of Erik’s chest. Raoul sniffled.

“You’re crying,” Erik stated, though he didn’t move.

Raoul lifted his legs onto the seat so that he could hug them to chest. Placing his chin atop his knees, he took a shaky breath in and just continued to watch Erik breathe.

“Really? Crying?” Erik scoffed, “Who died?” When Raoul only sniffled louder, accompanied by what sounded like near hyperventilation, Erik took a moment to bemoan his choice of words, shifting in the bed uncomfortably.

Raoul ducked his head so that Erik couldn’t see his tears. He knew it would be best that he leave, but if he left now, then Erik would surely see the tears. So, he stayed where he was, hoping he was silent enough.

“Look, Raoul,” Erik started uncertainly. He didn’t know what he should say; he did know that what he wanted to say but was certain that would make Raoul cry more. He tried to sound comforting when he said, “I’m sure you didn’t kill him or something.”

In response, Raoul began to hiccup on top of sobbing. He wiped his nose with his sleeve, and Erik tilted his head heavenward asking for some sort of help. He reached out to grab the tissues bedside, offering it to Raoul – more like, poked Raoul’s head with the edge of the tissue box.

Raoul looked up at him, lips quivering, tears rolling down his face, hiccupping softly.

Using his best command voice, Erik said, “Calm down. People die, Raoul. You did as much as you could have done for him.”

Grabbing several tissues, Raoul blew his nose. He still looked on the verge of tears and the hiccupping almost made the whole situation laughable, but the trust in Raoul’s eyes was undeniable. Erik knew without a doubt Raoul believed him.

It took several more moments after the tears dried up before Raoul could say between the remaining hiccups, “Thank you.”

Erik groused, unused to anyone being gracious to him, “I was just stating the truth. Don’t tell me a patient’s never died on you.”

Raoul’s lip trembled for a second before he replied, “I’ve had patients die.” Pausing when he hiccupped, “None that I thought was going home the next day though. I was just surprised.” He continued, not really looking at Erik. “It was so sudden. There was none the adrenaline that keeps me going in an emergency where you expect death to occur. It wasn’t a life or death situation. He was supposed to just be alive. He wasn’t supposed to die.”

Erik didn’t know what to say to that and figured Raoul didn’t need a response when he lapsed into silence, his eyes still distant. They sat companionably for several moments, only Raoul’s hiccupping breaking the silence. Erik took the time to just watch him like he hadn’t been able to do since Philippe’s meddling.

“I’ve been thinking,” Raoul started. Not waiting for any response from Erik, he continued, needing to say this, “I want to help you in any way I can. Physically, mentally, everything in my abilities.” He stopped short, but his eyes had focused on Erik finally. He nodded to himself after a few seconds, standing up.

Confused, Erik asked, “Was that all? Where are you going?”

“To your bathroom,” Raoul entered the bathroom and came out with a bucket of water. He said, “You smell.”

“It’s all the work you’re making me do,” Erik said defensively. He cleaned himself as best as he could.

“I know.” Raoul nodded, trying to make it clear that he wasn’t mocking. He stared pointedly at the man’s clothes. “Are you going to undress or should I help you there, too?”

“Promise not to take advantage of me?” Erik quipped, already too used to the retorts even though he didn’t expect a response any more.

Raoul grinned and cockily replied, “No promises.”

o.o.o.o

End chapter 08

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: I think I like other people being the catalyst for making Raoul realize his feelings for Erik – otherwise he’d never realize it. That and yes! Raoul giving a sponge bath? Erik’s in heaven right now. Now I’m starting to wonder what Raoul’s got in mind to help Erik. XD He’s pretty innocent in this one though. Don’t expect dirtiness from Raoul.

or check it out on ff.net

fic: More Than Friends Ch 01

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 20:37:13 GMT

A/N: It took a while, but here this is. I hate diverging so much from canon’s plotline (as you well should notice), but seeing how the opera house is burned down already, there’s little else I can do about that. So enjoy this rather big project (in my mind, it is).
Story note: Some points…
1) You should read Imaginary Friends before reading this or else you’ll just miss a lot of the references and characterizations and you’ll probably think Raoul’s really insane instead of… endearing.
2) Expect the rating to go up (eventually). Since there was no smut in IF, you’ll get it here.
3) It’s filled with OC’s (something I’m naturally wary of, but they’re moving away from Opera Populaire life and I don’t see why they’d want to socialize with those people anymore after everything’s that’s happened.)
4) There’s an Alphabet Game insert in this story (a pretty damn promising one too); if you take a guess in a review (only one chance), I’ll tell you if you’re right (and then you can wait with bated breath for it to appear).

Now, if I didn’t dissuade you with all that, here’s the fic. Sorry (truly) and Thanks to all the people who’ve been waiting for this sequel (it’s just five months late).

o.o.o.o

More Than Friends
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Chapter 01 – A Day Off

o.o.o.o

Raoul groaned, tugging the blankets closer to himself high enough to cover his face. The sun was already shining through the windows of his room. He cursed himself for forgetting to close the curtains the night before. A couple more hours seemed like a good plan; he didn’t have anything pressing to attend to. Then maybe, he’d be ready to face the day.

You should probably wake up regardless, Erik suggested.

It’s early. Raoul rolled onto his stomach, wrapping himself tighter into the blankets.

True, Erik admitted, but weren’t you going to spend the day with Philippe today?

Raoul paused to think about that. His brother had been busy the weeks since Erik’s return, which Raoul understood. Philippe had been focused only on him during the entire fiasco, and Raoul couldn’t help but feel guilty that Philippe was now inundated with work. In fact, Erik had been busy as well. He was constantly out of the house, though he never mentioned what he was doing. And while Raoul did have his own work to keep him busy, frequently, he found himself with free time without anyone with whom to spend it. The Opera Populaire had been his biggest venture, and without that, he barely needed time to maintain his other businesses.

Since Philippe owned all the Chagny property, Raoul’s own efforts at offering his support to maintain their lifestyle was rather superfluous. Philippe had always taken care of them, Raoul and his sisters. After their parents had died, instead of taking their inheritance, they’d willingly given it to Philippe to maintain. His brother had given each of them a stipend as well as providing them with food, clothing, and shelter.

His sisters no longer needed the help, having been married off to well-to-do men. To this day, Philippe checked on them every other month to make sure they were still happy and without any want. Raoul, on the other hand, still received that stipend, and not needing any use for it, spent it on charities, supporting the arts, and other business ventures he saw fit. He always believed that it was his duty to help uphold the Chagny name while Philippe was busy in ensuring their futures. Any money Raoul did earn ultimately went straight to the Chagny estate again, but he hadn’t been able to imagine a life where he spent his days doing nothing. He’d been trying to emulate Philippe for so long it only seemed right for him to try his hand at business as well.

Raoul had never found anything that interested him though. He’d never truly invested his time and effort in a project like he had with the Opera Populaire.

But that had only been because of us, Erik commented.

Raoul rolled his eyes. You mean because of the other Erik. You were notably absent for a long while, remember?

I remember. He replied unapologetically, and Raoul knew without asking that he believed it was better when he wasn’t around. They’d been having the same argument over his existence ever since Erik, the once opera ghost, moved into the house. Of course Raoul could see his side of the argument, he simply refused to accept the conclusion that he’d be left alone.

You’re not alone anymore, Erik said, eavesdropping on Raoul’s thoughts. He added, And it’s not eavesdropping.

Raoul grinned for a brief moment before he answered, The other Erik’s just a friend. Well, we’re going to be friends… eventually. You and I on the other hand, are something else.

Erik gave a dramatic sigh, How many times have we gone over this? Make him something more than a friend then.

No.

Raoul. You are attracted to him. You can’t deny that. Erik said pointedly.

Raoul, stiff-lipped, replied, I think I can.

Deny it?

It was momentary and just a knee-jerk reaction to his proximity, Raoul continued to argue, and how can I possibly think of him in such a manner? He knew me as a child.

So? Erik pressed.

It’s… pedophilic.

Erik scoffed, speechless for a second. You don’t even believe that.

But I can argue it, and that’s all that matters. Raoul stated.

You aren’t four anymore, Raoul.

Can we please not talk about this right now? At least wait until I’m fully awake. Rolling onto his back, Raoul flung his arms out, unraveling the blanket from himself. He looked up at his ceiling and paused in confusion.

Why am I upside down on my bed? Raoul asked, not really expecting Erik to know the answer. He actually expected Erik to ignore his request and continue with their previous conversation; so, he was pleasantly surprised when Erik suggested, A nightmare?

Raoul frowned. I think we would’ve remembered a nightmare. At least, he was almost certain he would’ve remembered a nightmare that managed to make him move so that his head was where his feet should be. We don’t move when we sleep, Erik. This is… unsettling.

Erik agreed but was surprisingly subdued about the whole affair besides parroting, Truly unsettling.

Shaking his head, Raoul pushed himself up and out of bed. What do you think we’re going to do today?

I’m not sure. Do you think we will be free today as well? Erik managed to ask the question without provoking another argument; it was only because Raoul had gotten used to him referring to the opera ghost as ‘we’ that he didn’t bring up his word choice.

Raoul shrugged, I hope. He hasn’t even been telling me what he’s been up to lately. He pouted, And you know that isn’t very fair. He talks to Philippe all the time.

Jealous? Erik asked.

No, Raoul was quick to respond. Just curious. Let’s not talk about that either. Breakfast, right?

You do realize that you talk about us constantly, Erik pointed out, and yet you’re always telling me not to talk about him. I’m getting mixed signals.

Raoul refused to respond and Erik was quiet the whole trip to the breakfast nook; Raoul could still easily tell that he was smug. Quickly before entering the room, he remarked, It’s just unfair that Philippe is closer to him is all.

After all, Erik’s only your friend, right? Erik scoffed in Raoul’s head. You hold the monopoly on him even while avoiding him at times.

“Good morning, brother,” Raoul said a little too loudly while walking to the table. Philippe lowered the paper for a second before returning the greeting with a smile.

I do not avoid him, Raoul retorted.

He took a second to take in the scene before him. The breakfast area was small, more intimate than the dining room. The table was rectangular that could comfortably seat six; it was by a large window and was lit by the morning light. Food, an assortment of pastries and fruit, was already on the table with an empty plate waiting for him at a seat next to his brother. Philippe sat at his customary spot at the head of the table while Erik sat directly opposite him; each was reading the newspaper. It had already become their custom to do so since they’d all settled after Erik’s return, but Raoul still had to smile.

Well, you don’t treat him very well. Erik pointed out.

“Good morning, Erik,” he said while sitting down.

I treat him exactly like I treat my brother. Erik scoffed and Raoul amended that statement, Well, maybe not exactly like my brother, but close. Don’t I?

Erik folded the newspaper and placed it on the table beside him. He was wearing his mask; something both Philippe and Raoul had yet to be able to dissuade him from doing even though both of them had already seen his face. They’d only agreed to it in the beginning so that Erik could become accustomed to his surroundings and the servants would become accustomed to his presence. However, considering several weeks had already passed, they’d rather expected Erik to show up one morning without the mask.

“Good morning, Raoul,” Erik said, not smiling but bowing his head slightly. “How was your rest?” he asked, and Raoul knew he had his entire attention even though Erik was seemingly focused on his breakfast. Erik never ate a bite of the food on his plate until he arrived. Raoul couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious when he’d first realized that, but he did have to admit, it was a little nice.

Of course he’d wait for you, Erik retorted.

Raoul ignored him and filled his plate with food. He wondered if he should tell the truth when answering Erik’s question. “Actually, it was odd.”

Philippe lowered his newspaper completely. “Odd?” He and Erik asked at the same time.

They shared a look before focusing on Raoul again. Philippe never trusted ‘odd’ when it came to his brother. Odd usually entailed losing large pieces of memory and then finding an opera ghost. Odd entailed being kidnapped by several people and having to chase him across the country. Odd was never good.

Rolling his eyes, Raoul spared Philippe only a glance before looking back at Erik. “I… moved in my sleep.”

“You moved?” Erik asked, not quite understanding how that was notable. “Is that uncommon?”

“Raoul doesn’t move when he sleeps. Well, he used to,” Philippe said, eyes narrowing in memory, “that was, until after…”

“… until after I was kidnapped and returned,” Raoul finished, already knowing that Philippe would falter.

“Yes,” Philippe cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood, “he used to fall out of bed all the time. For the longest time, our parents thought I didn’t like him and gave him those bruises.”

Erik grinned, seeing Raoul blush at the anecdote.

“He used to call out my name, too, which didn’t help the situation,” Philippe continued. He smirked when Raoul glared at him.

Raoul’s first word when he’d been thrown in the carriage had been Philippe’s name. Erik’s grin faltered. He didn’t understand why that thought had come to mind. He tried to focus on the present.

Clearing his throat, Raoul tried to end Philippe’s tangent, “I’m sure it’s nothing important. I slept well otherwise.”

“That’s good.” Erik gladly accepted the continuation of their original conversation. As much as he wanted to hear more of Raoul’s childhood, he wanted to do so without Philippe present at first, although he had a feeling he’d be able to hear all the really humorous stories from Raoul’s brother.

“And you?” Raoul asked.

“Me?”

“How was your rest? Are you… are you comfortable here?” Raoul asked hesitantly. He generally avoided questions of how Erik was felt about staying at the Chagny estate, not wanting to seem like he was pressuring the older man. Some days he was just afraid that Erik would wake up one day and say to them that he was leaving.

Which is quite the unfounded fear, Erik replied.

I can’t help it if I’m afraid he’ll disappear. He doesn’t have a reason to… Raoul could just sense Erik waiting for him to say the words that he would immediately argue against. So, he changed his statement, He’s used to living without us. Blood doesn’t tie us together and we’ve been separated a long time.

And yet he still remembered you. It was Erik’s usual argument. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?

It’s not as though our relationship is normal.

You don’t need to tell me that, Erik sulked.

Raoul already knew that Erik was getting impatient; he just didn’t know why. It was true that he wasn’t as comfortable around Erik as he was Philippe, but he thought that was understandable since he’d lived with Philippe his entire life. He barely knew where to begin with Erik now that they’d been reunited for an undetermined length of time. He was already mortified with how he’d greeted him when he’d returned; he was simply grateful that the whole experience hadn’t been completely offputting to Erik.

Offputting is the furthest thing we’d been thinking, Erik noted.

I can’t believe I hugged him.

We hugged you back if you recall.

Well, of course. Raoul nearly rolled his eyes. Hugging back is reflex.

Erik laughed loudly. I highly doubt we have that reflex.

“Raoul?” Erik tried to get his attention.

Philippe let the newspaper sag a bit so that he could watch their interaction. He gave a soundless sigh before returning to the same paragraph he’d been reading since Raoul had arrived for breakfast.

“Sorry, Erik,” Raoul ducked his head, “I got a little distracted. You were saying?”

Erik tried to be gracious about it. He’d been coming to realize in the weeks they’d lived together that there was nothing he could do about losing Raoul’s attention at random intervals in the day. It even happened to Philippe – though less than it happened to Erik, he’d noted with no small amount of annoyance. Raoul simply thought about whoever he thought about during those moments, much to Erik’s chagrin.

“Well. I appreciate the accommodations that have been provided.”

Philippe scoffed behind his newspaper. He didn’t need to look over his newspaper to know that Erik was glaring at him.

He’d been keeping an eye on Erik just in case he tried anything with Raoul. Now in hindsight, he almost laughed at the thought. There was nothing to watch. Erik never tried to get Raoul alone and usually waited for Philippe to be in the same room before engaging in any sort of interaction with him. Philippe could almost swear that Erik spent more time with him than with his brother, and when Erik and Raoul were together, they were overly civil. In fact, Philippe had seen Raoul more familiar with complete strangers than he was with Erik.

He’d thought that after everything that had happened maybe things would get better. Admittedly, Raoul seemed well, better than he had been before Erik had come into their lives. It was just that when his brother and Erik were together, Philippe wanted to yell at them to resolve whatever was between them. He couldn’t be the only who noticed it. The stagnation was starting to grate on his nerves.

They weren’t friends. They weren’t more than friends, maybe a little less than friends with the potential to be more, or old friends that were separated for a long time. They had a connection. Period. Philippe understood that. After all, it was that connection that had probably saved Raoul’s life on more than once occasion, and while he wasn’t pleased with its existence, he wasn’t going to wish it away – not that he believed that would work.

He couldn’t define what they were to each other, but he was certain that until they defined it, Erik and Raoul would continue their tentative interactions that they’d been doing so far and neither of them would truly be happy. Philippe was tired of Raoul being unhappy – he’d had more than his lifetime’s quota of seeing his brother unhappy – and now that Erik was with them, he could only hope for the same happiness for him, too.

“Do you have work today?” Raoul asked, biting back his curiosity and ignoring the urge to ask Erik what it was he did when he left.

Erik’s eyes flickered towards Philippe. “No. I was going to spend the day here.”

“You’re welcome to join us today,” Philippe put down the paper. It wasn’t as though he was reading.

Raoul couldn’t help but smile, excited at the prospect. “What are we doing today, brother?”

“Something relaxing,” Philippe replied, “Maybe just a walk on the grounds and a picnic outside. Unless you want to do something else?”

“No,” Raoul glanced out the window. He could see a few clouds outside, but nothing that would ruin the beautiful day. “That sounds perfect. Who needs more excitement?” He laughed at his own joke.

Philippe gave him an indulgent smile even as his side gave a sympathetic twinge while Erik scowled at the memory of what had happened.

Seeing the expression, Philippe waved it off, “I need a break from all that. I’m too old for such things.”

That set off Raoul into laughter. “You are not an old man, brother.” He leaned over and grabbed food off Philippe’s plate. “But if you don’t eat more, you won’t have enough energy to keep up with my youthful energy.”

Philippe ruffled his hair affectionately, knowing that it would annoy him. Sure enough, Raoul quickly retreated to fix his hair. Philippe glanced at Erik and saw a look that he could almost call jealousy, but it wasn’t quite. Yearning, perhaps? As soon as he’d seen it, Erik had recovered. He’d expected anger of some sort, but Erik had been proving him wrong time and again. Philippe often had to chastise himself for thinking so poorly of him; it was reflex though when concerning Raoul. It wasn’t his fault that he was usually right when he considered the worse of the people around Raoul. He already knew he had to adjust his opinion of Erik though.

“A picnic it is then,” Philippe repeated. He had been well aware of the fact that if they’d chosen to do something off the estate, Erik would refuse to accompany them. And Philippe was not about to wait for the resolution between them because he’d come to the conclusion that it would take a miracle before Erik or Raoul acted on their own. He was going to make them define what they were to each other so that he could finally relax.

This waiting was giving him undue stress.

o.o.o

After breakfast, they’d returned to their respective rooms to change into more appropriate clothing and to bring whatever they needed for the rest of the day.

They took a leisurely pace walking around the estate. Raoul and Philippe walking close together even though few words were shared while Erik lagged behind them. Raoul kept glancing backwards and any attempt at conversation Philippe tried went unnoticed.

So, once they were far enough from the main building, he just stopped walking before lying upon the grass and declaring, “I believe it is time for a nap.”

“A nap?” Raoul looked at him incredulously, “We’ve just barely woken up. We just finished breakfast.”

I think I love your brother. Erik randomly declared.

Ignoring the non sequitur, Raoul spared a moment to reply, I almost thought you’d finally run out of things to say.

Perish the thought.

“Food makes one sleepy,” Philippe responded, shielding his eyes from the sun with his arms.

“You’re going to get dirty,” Raoul pointed out. “Grass and dirt all over your clothing.”

“Which is why I changed into clothes with just that consideration in mind,” Philippe spared Raoul a look that said ‘I’m not moving.’ “Take a seat Raoul. Nap, read, or talk to me. It’s your choice. I just want to enjoy this beautiful day with you.”

Raoul was about to complain some more when he saw Erik had already taken a seat on the grass behind him. He had a notebook of sorts out and was writing.

See, Erik said, we’re even sitting down. You brought a book for a reason, right?

Raoul sighed and glanced at Erik curiously before giving in and sitting down rather gracelessly. “What would you like to speak about?” he asked Philippe. He grabbed several blades of grass before snapping them off.

Philippe grinned though he kept his eyes closed. “Whatever you see fit. We haven’t been able to talk in a while; I just want to hear what you’ve been doing.”

Raoul rolled his eyes but began to talk about his more recent business ventures.

Erik watched the brothers, his notebook laying forgotten on his lap. Raoul sat close to Philippe though he was sitting so that he could see both Philippe and Erik if he just turned his head. Erik knew it was his way of trying to keep him in the conversation. Raoul sat with his legs in front of him, both arms behind him supporting his weight. Philippe was sprawled out on the grass, and true to Raoul’s warning had already dirtied his clothing. Erik was certain it was one of the reasons why he could tolerate the Chagny brothers. They were unlike anyone he’d ever met before in his life. Philippe pretended to act childish simply so that his brother would dote on him even though he was the one that often hovered around Raoul protectively. They were busy, yet made the effort to spend time with each other, made the effort to eat breakfast together. They were both relaxed and generous.

Too generous, Erik thought while looking around the estate. He didn’t belong in this place. It was obvious to him already, but he was selfish. He knew it already. He was unwilling to leave Raoul again. Yet, at the same time, he was unwilling to get too close. He didn’t think he’d be able to control himself. Raoul only looked at him as an old friend, maybe not even that. After that one hug upon his return, Raoul, though civil, hadn’t shown any other reaction to his presence.

It was understandable. Erik wasn’t expecting anything from him. Maybe he wanted more, maybe he wanted Raoul to feel comfortable around him, but he held those hopes with a fair amount of skepticism. Whatever Raoul wanted, Erik told himself, he would accept. With one exception: Erik refused to let Raoul push him away completely.

Turning his attention back to his notebook, Erik continued his work. His mind had been filled with ideas. Not having to worry about surviving or worrying about Raoul – though it was more like trying to keep Raoul from filling his every thought – gave him time to focus on all the designs and inspiration he had.

So caught up in his work, Erik only realized that Raoul was staring at him when he noted the silence. He looked up to see Raoul giving him a hopeful look. He leaned backwards far enough to see Philippe, who to his estimation had fallen asleep.

“Yes, Raoul?” Erik asked indulgently, straightening again.

Raoul shifted closer to him. He pouted. “Philippe fell asleep.”

“I’m sure he was interested in the new bakery you helped open,” Erik said, “but he’s just tired from working so hard.”

“You were listening?” Raoul smiled. He’d been certain that Erik was too busy working to hear what he’d been saying.

“Of course.” Of course. They replied at the same time. Raoul’s smile almost faltered. Almost, but somehow, the fact that they both responded simultaneously made him a little more happy.

Erik decided that Raoul looked too pleased. “I…” He wasn’t certain he liked Raoul’s full attention on him like this. “I can multi-task, Raoul,” he tried for flippant but ended up sounding almost derisive. Raoul didn’t seem to react poorly though.

In fact, Raoul was too close, close enough to touch, to smell. All Erik had to do was reach out and pull him closer. He had a feeling that if he did, Raoul would only continue to look at him with guileless albeit confused eyes and let him lead him. Erik could already imagine the gentle warmth and soft skin beneath his fingers, the wisps of hair that would brush against the back of his hand. He’d be able to press a gentle kiss on Raoul’s lips once more, and Raoul would allow it, only to ask afterwards what he was doing – not accusatorily or angrily though, just confused – while Erik still had his hand upon his cheek.

His grip tightened on his notebook. He’d betrayed Raoul one too many times already though. He refused to do so again, so he forced himself to remain still as Raoul moved even closer.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Raoul started, “What have you been doing these past weeks?”

Erik cleared his throat and tried to control his physical reaction to Raoul’s proximity. It was a losing battle. “I did not wish to impose upon you.”

Raoul interrupted unapologetically, “You’d never be an imposition, Erik. I-we want you here.”

Erik bit his tongue to suppress the flood of emotion as well as the errant inappropriate thought at Raoul’s statement. “Nevertheless,” he steadied his voice, “I was in search of employment because while I do have a large sum of money, I desired to do more.” He fought a grin when Raoul nodded encouragingly. He glanced once more behind Raoul to his brother, “Philippe offered me a position as an architect on a project he’s been working on.”

“So you work with Philippe?” Raoul asked.

Jealous? Erik asked smugly.

“No. I work in conjunction with his manservant to communicate with the construction workers.” Erik explained. He’d been uncertain of its efficacy when they first started, but Erik had to admit that he was able to keep an eye on the construction, have his wishes heard, and still remain hidden. It was a very effective arrangement.

“Oh,” Raoul couldn’t help but admit he felt a little better at the thought. “I’ll let you keep working then,” he said, lying down before Erik could say that he wouldn’t mind speaking with him any longer. He was still closer to Erik than Philippe though.

Honestly, Raoul hadn’t known what else to say to him. He’d been building up his courage just to ask that one question; besides inquiries on health and business, they rarely spoke to each other. Raoul was too afraid he’d say something stupid or manage to make him angry.

Coward. Erik accused, the annoyance clear in his voice. Just talk to us like you normally would.

What’s there to say? Raoul said helplessly, Where do we even begin? Another apology, our past, what had happened? I don’t know. I really don’t.

You have to start somewhere. Erik encouraged, the annoyance completely gone. Just say whatever comes to mind.

Raoul still hesitated.

Trust me, Erik said earnestly. You do trust me, right?

“Erik.” Raoul rolled to his side, pillowing his head on one arm. His heart was beating erratically. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this, but Erik was right. It was time he started talking to him.

Erik glanced down at him before tensing at the sight. Raoul looked too inviting, and it ached not to be able to reach out and touch him. It took him a long moment before he could respond, “Yes?”

“Could you,” Raoul worried his bottom lip, “I don’t know, could I hear you sing again? I’ve been waiting a while just to remember you.”

Nodding wordlessly, Erik had to turn away a moment to gather himself.

o.o.o.o

End chapter

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: What do you know, I kept the corny title. Was that enough Daw and fluff to offset the angst that’s lurking under the surface? This domesticity and false calm can’t last forever with Philippe and imaginary!Erik getting so impatient with them. :) Do I sense a team up in the future? (How?) But how did Erik not just ravish Raoul right there at the end?

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Konquest Ch 05 [Mortal Kombat]

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 01:26:44 GMT

Fandom: Mortal Kombat
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: Scorpion/Johnny Cage slash.
Warning(s): slash, non-con
Pairing(s): Scorpion/Johnny Cage
Word Count: 2,082
Rating: M

Story note: This is basically the movie in written form and I wanted to skip it, but I actually couldn’t because it’s important that this happen (sort of). Welcome! To chapter 05.

o.o.o.o

Konquest
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Everything swam black and Johnny was certain that he’d blacked out completely. However, he was quickly reacquainted with consciousness when his head was banged against the floor, providing a rather painful wake up call to his situation. He wondered what exactly had happened, but hardly had a second before Scorpion stomped on his head once again. He was on his back and going by the sound his head made hitting the floor, on a platform. Not a platform, but the platform that they’d been fighting on in the first place. While common sense told him that of course they would be on the platform, a small part of his mind wondered why he felt disoriented, but he ignored it, blaming head trauma for that feeling.

Scorpion’s foot connected with his head once more. He barely had time to put up his arms to protect his face and rather ineffectively cushion the blow. When Scorpion pulled his foot back, Johnny rolled slightly towards him, the next stomp finally missing. However, it left them in a position such that the ninja was straddling his shoulders, a position Johnny felt distinctly uncomfortable with. A thought tried to form in the back of his mind, but he ignored it in favour of focusing on the fight. He stood up with as much strength as he could muster and threw the ninja off him. He was rather pleased to see his opponent flip head over heels before hitting the floor.

Even though he should have used that moment to press what little advantage he’d gained, he was momentarily distracted by the fact that his legs actually felt a little weak almost buckling beneath his weight. More importantly, a certain part of his anatomy was sore. Quite sore. In ways that left little to the imagination.

He didn’t have time to linger on such thoughts because Scorpion was on his feet almost immediately. Before he could get too close, Johnny kicked at his head with the intention of knocking the ninja clear off the platform. He immediately knew his mistake when his kick wasn’t delivered with quite the same speed or force. He actually winced as he was forced to stretch his legs apart. Hoping that his opponent hadn’t seen his expression or noticed his weakness, Johnny kicked again, following it with several punches. Scorpion blocked each hit. Easily.

Johnny refused to let the panic that was creeping to the forefront of his mind take over. He was a better fighter than this, and sure, he was a little confused, sore and confused, and maybe a little worried, but he wasn’t going to lose this fight. He thought back to his lessons. When pure force didn’t work, one could always use the opponent’s strength against him. Johnny knew for certain that Scorpion had enough strength for the both of them.

He didn’t have to wait long when Scorpion punched. Instead of blocking it, Johnny grabbed his arm, twisting his body to throw him over his hip. That pulled the ninja flush against him and undeniably, Johnny heard a short, low laughter that made his body shiver. He could almost swear that a stray hand had grazed his inner thigh, but it was so fleeting he couldn’t be certain. It could’ve also simply been an accident. Scorpion hit the floor with a yell and Johnny couldn’t understand why his body reacted to that sound. It echoed in his ears. Before he could react, Scorpion used the momentum to flip Johnny over him.

They continued to trade punches and kicks, each managing to land hits. Johnny was chagrin to note that Scorpion still aimed for his face. He tried to return the favor and managed a clean hit though his hand stung after connecting with the mask. That hit only earned him an elbow to his jaw.

Johnny was quickly coming to the realization that he needed to be further from him if he wanted to gain the upper hand. This close combat was not looking very much in his favor. He managed to catch Scorpion’s foot in the next kick, but with both his hands holding the ninja’s foot, he couldn’t block to the two punches to his face. The ninja looked absolutely pleased with himself; Johnny couldn’t say how he could tell. He heaved Scorpion’s foot up, hoping to throw him off balance.

What he hadn’t expected was for Scorpion to flip over completely and kick him on his chest. His ribs complained at the impact and his ass complained at the fall. Johnny sat there a moment as the soreness was forced back to the forefront of his thoughts. He glanced down at himself. He wasn’t wearing a shirt; he’d come to this fight wearing a shirt. After all, he could look good while he fought. It was all about image. That was beside the point right now though. His stomach clenched as a vivid thought – memory? – flashed through his mind. He’d begged Scorpion for it.

Swear yourself as my attendant.

Scorpion’s eyes widened in challenge and Johnny felt a little sick. This was a game. Johnny looked away for a second, reminding himself that he couldn’t lose this fight. He didn’t know what exactly had happened, if it had happened at all – though the evidence for that was a little damning, but he could worry about that later. Seeing the horizontal pole above their heads, Johnny scrambled to his feet. Using his momentum to swing forward and back, he was glad when Scorpion followed so that he could land a solid kick with enough force to push him clear across the platform.

Though the platform shook perilously, Johnny spun around the pole before flipping up to catch the edge of the taller platform. He knew it was a waste of energy as he grunted to pull himself completely up, but space was good. It was more than good; it was necessary at this point. He needed to regroup.

They shared another look, and Scorpion yelled, “Get down here” before kicking one of the platform’s legs out. Johnny grabbed the nearest pole as the platform shook unsteadily. He had a moment to mock the other man in his head. He didn’t talk very much in a fight, only shouted orders. He let out a frustrated yell when that thought backfired on him and he suddenly thought with certainty that Scorpion was a talker during sex though.

Thankfully that train of thought was cut off when the platform fell to its side. Johnny tried to hold onto the pole but as it jerked, he fell through ladder and cobwebs to the ground, barely able to shield himself from falling debris. After the dust settle, he screamed when he saw the bones of a hand on his chest. Worse was seeing the other bones littering the ground. His heart was pounding for other reasons than having fallen a good distance. He quickly sat up, almost half expecting his arms and legs to be bound, but of course they weren’t. He searched desperately for Scorpion, spotting him just in time to see him somersault from the platform onto the ground.

Could Johnny even win this battle? Or had he already lost like Scorpion had said when he was… when would that have even happened though?

Scorpion scrutinized him for a second before reaching for the edge of his mask and pulling it off to reveal a skull.

Johnny could only stare at the macabre image. Kissing the man was out of the question then. But why would he even want to kiss him – he couldn’t chastise himself enough for that errant thought.

Scorpion’s eyes blazed. Literally. And Johnny was more than a little disturbed. He frantically looked around for something to help him. Seeing a shield with blades adorning the edges, he brushed off the skulls atop it and hid behind it just in time to block the stream of fire that the ninja could apparently spit out.

He saw the spear to his right just as the fire was dying. Johnny hefted it and threw it at the man… thing? Ninja. He’d been aiming for his chest, but only managed to glance his arm. The scream that was let out from the skull was inhuman, its sound something Johnny would’ve have liken to a dying animal of some sort.

He almost questioned why he’d so conveniently fallen near a spear and a shield and why Scorpion hadn’t dodged that throw when he was almost certain the other man could have easily done so. Not letting himself question a good thing, he raced towards Scorpion while he was still distracted, screaming and staring at his arm as though Johnny weren’t still a threat.

There were no more spears around, but Johnny did have the shield, whose edge was conveniently adorned with blades. He jumped, landing the first slice to Scorpion’s chest, and for some reason, staring at this creature, Johnny couldn’t associate it with his thoughts of Scorpion. Some red ooze, more like lava than blood, spilled out from the wound, as well as tiny flames of fire. Still, the ninja didn’t retaliate, just stood there screaming, and Johnny was almost certain he’d be having nightmares of that sound for the next couple of days – if he wasn’t having other nightmares. He swung his arm again, the next slash cutting off half of the skull’s face. Johnny had to turn his face from the heat that emanated as the sliced bone slid off.

He tossed the shield away, knowing he’d won this fight. Scorpion’s body was completely engulfed in flames. The skull imploded first, and Johnny knew that was his cue to run. An imploding head was never a good thing. He managed to get a short distance away, diving before the entire body exploded. Bones and organs rained down on and around him.

Some of it burned and he quickly brushed it off. He would have quickly brushed it off regardless because it was body parts. His torso and pants were streaked with red that Johnny was reluctant to call blood. It certainly didn’t stick to him like blood would have.

Glaring at the bitlets around him, Johnny smirked. “Succumb to you, my ass.” He winced at his own choice of words. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a signed autograph, letting it fall to the floor with a flourish.

He couldn’t help the nagging thought that it had been almost too easy to kill the ninja after they’d come down from the platform or how he was still uncertain as to whether he’d actually won this battle even though he was the one still alive. The end had almost been anti-climactic, choreographed like his movies. Shaking his head, he decided the first course of action would be to find a way out of Netherealm. He didn’t even want to think about why he was certain the place was called that.

But now that he didn’t have to focus on surviving, the memories of what exactly had happened between them were coming in quite clearly. It could’ve just been one very elaborate hallucination, just like on the boat. But the boat must have happened because – Johnny rubbed his hand over his left shoulder – he had that mark. He was also shirtless and sore, something his mind couldn’t seem to get over. Even though it must have been something like lifetimes, it hadn’t seemed like any time had passed between the beating he’d been taking on that platform and that encounter bound on the floor before he was back on that platform. One kick had followed the other; hadn’t it?

He wandered aimlessly around for a while, not seeing any way at all to get out of ladder hell. After several hours of shuffling along, he’d somehow managed to walk in one very large circle, returning to where they’d fought. He could tell from the broken platform. What he didn’t see however made him exclaim to no one in general, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Scorpion’s remains were gone, all the pieces of him.

Johnny looked around in hopes that maybe he’d see a smoldering intestine or liver or something.

A hand reached from behind him, grabbing his left shoulder firmly where the snake had bitten. Before Johnny could react, the air around him distorted and suddenly he was back in the grove.

Alone.

“Oh,” he yelled into the grove as loud as he possibly could, “Come on!”

o.o.o.o

End chapter 05

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Story Note: They never did say how Johnny got back from Netherealm after his fight with Scorpion.

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Reluctantly Willing Ch 25

Thu, 02 Jul 2009 07:17:46 GMT

Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Warning(s): slash (that’s homosexual content for those of you who don’t know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: I don’t know why this was actually difficult for me to write. The story’s in my head; it simply refuses to be written. D: But we’re reaching the final stretch (that might be why; I always get a little weird when a fic’s ending).

Story Note: It’s a little awkward because I currently refuse to give any OCs names, downright refuse for some reason (if you didn’t notice or else I would’ve given the girl a name). So please bear with me that they’re called gardener and butler and the like.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 25 - … to panic

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

The sound of a door slamming roused Erik from his sleep, jerking awake in the seat. Looking around the room in confusion, he briefly wondered if he’d simply imagined the sound. Moaning, he raised a hand to his face, confused when he realized he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was lying on the bed. Erik stared at it suspiciously; he didn’t remember taking it off. However, he also didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have at some point.

Standing up, he stretched his neck and back. They were sore from his position on the chair. He yawned and shielded his eyes against the morning light. He hadn’t slept that easily in a while – ever since he left Raoul, if he let himself think about details like that, but he didn’t. If he’d fallen asleep, Raoul must have as well. He silently made his way across the room, endeavoring to not wake him before he wanted to. He leant over to look at the other side of the bed, and Raoul wasn’t there.

Erik straightened and scanned the room once more. Nothing was out of place. The desk was still in front of the door and his papers on it. The dresser was closed; the chair where he’d left it. In fact, the only thing different from when he’d fallen asleep was his mask being on the bed.

Erik suddenly knew with frightening clarity that given the opportunity, Raoul would run from him again. He might climb another tree or do something just as foolish and dangerous. Erik forced himself to remain calm when his thoughts were battered with the fact that Raoul had nearly died yesterday. No one without some kind of death wish climbed a tree that high. Raoul hadn’t even spoken a single word to him before running away.

Stopping that train of thought, he convinced himself that there had to be a logical explanation why Raoul was no longer in the room. It was simply the book affecting his judgment. Yet, everything so far seemed to fit – close enough that it was worrisome. Raoul must have just taken his mask off and then slipped out to sleep in his own room. Of course, why would Raoul want to sleep on the floor? Erik picked up his mask en route to Raoul’s room but didn’t put it on. There was no need anymore, and he was almost glad Raoul had been the one to take it off for him. It seemed fitting in some way.

Opening the door, he paused halfway through the doorway. He let out a deep breath through clenched teeth. His heart was beating erratically. Raoul wasn’t in his room. The bed was already made, almost as though no one had slept in it at all. He frowned, shutting his eyes as he told himself once more that there was a logical explanation for Raoul’s continued absence. He must be eating breakfast already, and while that was plausible, it wasn’t enough to appease him. What disturbed Erik more was the fact that he hadn’t heard Raoul moving about at all. Raoul shouldn’t have been able to leave the room without him noticing.

The door opened and Erik whipped around, “Where do you think…?” His question trailed off when he saw the butler instead of Raoul.

“Monsieur Erik.”

Erik only wanted to know one thing. “Where’s Raoul?” He could swear that the butler almost smirked.

“Do you know,” the man said, leaving the doorway to pick up some clothes that had been left on the sidetable, “that you’re the second person this very morning to ask that question?”

It took a second before Erik connected the noise that woken him to the butler’s seemingly innocuous question before he was shouldering past the older man, rushing down the stairs to the front door. There had been a visitor this morning, someone looking for Raoul, and Erik could only think of one person that would do so. The woman from yesterday. If Raoul left with that woman, Erik didn’t think he would be able to restrain himself from physically harming either Raoul or her. If he’d left knowing that Erik was still sleeping… Erik almost yelled in frustration. Forget worrying about the Raoul’s health, Erik was going to be the cause of those injuries.

“Monsieur,” the butler chased after him, regretting his choice words.

Erik flung the front door open, managing to surprise the gardener and the driver who were just outside. The gardener was by the bushes that lined the building while the driver stood by the carriage that had taken Erik away from this place, cleaning it.

“Where is she?” Erik directed his attention fully on the driver, already knowing the man would give him direct answers.

The driver glared at Erik before replying, “Who?”

“That whore who came here,” Erik spat out, “Where did they go?”

The driver cast a glance behind Erik; Erik followed his gaze. The butler stood behind him, his expression blank although he was a little out of breath now. “I had to inform the young lady,” he emphasized, “that the Vicomte had asked that they no longer meet. He would no longer make any further appointments.”

Erik couldn’t help but grin; he hated to admit that he even relaxed at hearing him say so. “Good.”

“I wouldn’t be talking if I were you,” the driver muttered.

Erik was about to confront him when the butler spoke.

“He also told me,” he cleared his throat, waiting for Erik to stop glaring at the driver and to give him his full attention. Only when Erik did so did he continue, “to tell you that you may stay here as long as you wish.”

Erik momentarily forgot his anger. “What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means?” The driver retorted. “He’s not here anymore.”

Erik took a threatening step towards him, and the other man simply stood there. Wondering if he was losing his touch, Erik’s hands itched for a Punjab lasso. He wouldn’t have any qualms killing this man. Alright, perhaps he would since Raoul would hardly approve and might never speak to him again if he did kill any of his servants. The blonde might be spiteful enough to do so; he simply cared too much about them. Erik hated how he was so certain of that truth. Apparently, the servants were higher in Raoul’s regard than he was, and after everything they’d been through with each other. Erik was once more tempted to kill the driver.

Instead, he asked pointedly to him, “Well, if he’s not here, where is he?”

The driver looked away with a scowl.

Erik scoffed. “You don’t know,” he said. He would have further mocked him if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t know either. Turning his attention back to the butler, Erik could only assume that this man knew. “Well, where is he?” He asked impatiently. The longer time they spent talking here, the more time he wasted apart from Raoul.

“He didn’t say where he was going.”

Erik looked at him incredulously. He glanced at the house and knew that if Raoul had been inside, they would have known. They also would have told him. These men weren’t liars; they were like the Vicomte, honest to a fault. They might not be liars, but perhaps they could be poorly informed. Not willing to accept that Raoul was gone, he headed towards their grove.

“He’s not there either,” the butler’s voice stopped him.

“Where do you think…?”

“You’re going?” The butler finished.

“We checked the entire estate,” the gardener said, sharing a look with the driver. “The entire estate.”

Erik clenched his hands into fists. He needed to think, but Paris was a big place. If Raoul had left with the intention of leaving, Erik didn’t know how it would be possible to find him. There was always a chance if Raoul had stayed in the city but if he’d gone farther. If he’d left… Erik didn’t even want to think of that possibility. He had to be somewhere on the estate.

“I watched him ride away.”

“What?” Erik turned to face the butler and noted that even the gardener and the driver were surprised at the declaration.

“How else would he have given me the message if I hadn’t watched him leave?” The man asked reasonably.

Erik wasn’t feeling very reasonable right now. He closed the distance between them and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt. “Then tell me where he went,” he used his free hand to lightly grab the man by his throat, the threat of tightening his grasp clear.

The gardener and driver were upon him in an instant. The gardener trying to pry his hands away while the driver pulled him bodily back. Erik’s arms were pinned behind him as he was wrestled to the floor. Breathing deeply with his face in the dirt, Erik tried to calm down. He hadn’t struggled against them, hadn’t seen the point. He hadn’t planned on killing the butler; he’d simply wanted information.

“That was too familiar,” the driver ground out.

Erik had forgotten that the driver had been there when he’d left. I was indeed too familiar. Closing his eyes, he let his body go lax. They released him shortly after.

The butler had smoothed down his clothes and was once again in impeccable form when he said, “He didn’t tell me. I do believe he thought it would be dangerous for me to know,” he added pointedly. “Or, he didn’t know himself. He didn’t seem himself.”

The driver rolled his eyes, “He hasn’t been himself lately.” He received a disapproving look for that comment.

“He wouldn’t have wanted us to worry,” the gardener murmured to himself, taking several steps away from Erik to dust himself off.

“I don’t believe you,” Erik pushed himself off the ground. He stood up and looked disdainfully at all three of them.

“What’s not to believe?” The driver was quick to come to the butler’s defense even though he himself was more than a little annoyed at the man for not telling them such information. “You left him. Why does he need to tell you where he went?”

“I came back,” Erik growled.

“For what reason?” The driver yelled.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said, lowering his voice with one look from the butler. “Why did you come back?”

“To,” Erik faltered. Why had he come back? He couldn’t say because he’d read a book where Gwynplaine returned to Dea. Even to him that was hardly a good reason. It wasn’t a reason at all. He was here because he wanted to be here. Did there have to be any other reason besides wanting to? “To stay. I’m here to stay.”

“Well, that’s good,” the driver scoffed. “Then we’ll be seeing each other for a while. Too bad I doubt the Vicomte will return.”

Erik scowled but didn’t respond. He simply refused to accept that as an answer. Paris was big, France larger. He headed towards the stables with the butler and driver at his heels.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The driver asked.

If he had to, Erik would search the entire continent for Raoul, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to. “I’m going to find him. He couldn’t have gotten that far.”

He only stopped walking when one of them grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. He looked down at the offending hand before following it up to the face of the driver. “Do you want to lose that hand?”

The butler and he shared a look before the older man nodded. The driver responded, “I’m going with you.”

o.o.o

Raoul had ridden through the night, pressing his favorite white horse as fast as it could go. He’d ridden fast enough that it had gotten cold, or perhaps it was simply the distance he’d travelled and his body was getting a little tired, an odd mixture of numb and sore. He just knew he couldn’t stop.

He never should have stayed in Paris in the first place. He should’ve known that he was meant to leave. It had been there right in front of him. Leaving his estate had simply been a first step. The next obvious step would have been to leave the city.

It was his fault that he was suffering now. He should have realized that Erik would come back to mock him, to check on him, and to gloat. He’d even stayed exactly where he was so that it had been easier for the other man to find him. He’d been in their tree. He’d even run into their room in his panic. He had made it so easy for him.

Why did Erik have to come back to gloat? Why did he have to ruin everything that Raoul had finally managed to accomplish in his absence?

Erik had come back to see how poor, pathetic Raoul was faring.

Raoul felt ill just thinking about it.

Erik wanted to laugh at his inadequacies, laugh at how he couldn’t even move on from a man who’d never given any indication that he felt any affection for him except perhaps tolerance. Erik had tolerated him and Raoul had fallen in love. He was truly pathetic; he knew that.

He laughed harshly and was glad when the wind carried it quickly away.

He’d managed to fall in love with another wrong person who he was almost certain was the right person this time. He could admit to being wrong the first time, being blinded by his past affection for her, but Erik had been different.

Raoul put one hand to his stomach.

There had been no pre-conceived notions between them – actually, there were but they’d all been rather damning. Yet, somehow, they’d worked. Together. They’d been compatible in ways that he’d never been with Christine and Erik’s absence had eaten away at him in ways it hadn’t with Christine, too. Of course, that had been because Erik had stopped that from occurring. He’d stopped Raoul’s pain when Christine had left.

Raoul was forced to pull the reins roughly. His horse neighed discontentedly, rising on his hind legs before stopping. Dismounting quickly, Raoul fell to his knees before throwing up in the ditch. He sobbed, dry heaving for long moments before he was able to pull himself together. He gathered Erik’s cloak about him, just kneeling in the dirt for a moment.

He’d been wrong again. He wasn’t willing to be wrong about the same person twice.

Mounting the horse once more, Raoul spurred him onward. He was going to finally move on, and if that meant getting away from Paris or France completely, he would do it. He didn’t want to cope. He didn’t want to face anything or get better. He wanted to just forget everything and leave. This was the only way.

He could chase after other dreams now, just like he’d been attempting to do the whole time he’d been in Paris. Too bad those dreams had turned out to be nightmares. Now, he could do anything, and while that thought was exhilarating, Raoul didn’t know he could feel so scared as well. He had a multitude of choices and felt sick to know he had no idea which one to pick.

o.o.o

Raoul didn’t know how long he’d been travelling. He knew he’d slept on the forest floor several times already, but that hadn’t been a hardship. The hardship had been the similar memories of falling asleep in their grove and then Raoul hadn’t been able to sleep very much after that. He wished he’d brought something more than just a cloak and a horse with him, maybe a few francs would have been nice. He hadn’t eaten and hadn’t changed in days. He just kept moving without aim. That was, until a few hours ago. He’d just barely decided upon a destination, upon a new dream to chase, one that actually made sense this time. He’d been happy then.

So, with this new dream to chase, with this new resolve to leave everything of his old life behind, Raoul knew a place where he could stay, maybe for a little while, maybe forever. He wasn’t quite certain just yet, but it was his next stop.

Raoul could feel the change in the air before he actually saw his cottage by the beach, before he heard the ocean. The air was cooler, the salt easily smelt; he could feel it in the air. He spurred his horse faster. He almost felt better just knowing that life here would be different. Even his hunger was subdued in his excitement.

He rode until he was at the ocean’s edge, already having unclasped the robe and unbuttoned his shirt. He kicked off his shoes after dismounting the horse, leaving him only in his pants. He ran into the ocean unhesitatingly, diving under the incoming waves once he was far enough out. He wanted to swim out of his body, wanted to slough off his past and just keep swimming farther and farther away. Raoul tried his best just to do so. He kicked, propelling himself forward, cutting through the water and against the waves with brute force.

He slowed down only when he grew tired. Treading water, he tried to catch his breath while looking towards the horizon. He could swim farther, was almost tempted to do so if it hadn’t been for the fact that he doubted he would be able to make it back.

He still hesitated for several seconds.

Shaking his head, he turned to start his swim back to the shore. He had barely made any progress when he realized with a spike of fear that he had overestimated his own energy. His limbs felt leaden and no matter how much he tried, he barely got any closer to shore. Struggling, he choked as he inadvertently swallowed mouthfuls of water. He was almost too afraid to duck his head underwater, unsure if he would be able to rise to the surface once more or if he would time it wrong so that the next wave would fall upon him preventing his next lungful of air. He floundered, desperation tempering all his movements, but he kept moving. He’d probably never swum so sloppily in his life, but it didn’t matter.

When his feet finally hit sand, he almost cried out in joy. He stumbled, barely staying on his feet as he flung himself forward. His legs gave out beneath him while he was still waist deep into the water, but he was quick to recover. He wasn’t ready to die just yet. Not when he’d finally found a way to move on.

Breathing heavily, he tried to convince his body that he wasn’t on the verge of dying anymore. His heart was still pounding and he went into a coughing fit that brought him to his knees. He managed to clear his lungs, spitting out the salt water. When it was finally done, he turned over to fall to the sand boneless. He was exhausted and now hungrier than he thought possible. He’d have to find his horse and make it back to the cottage where he knew a skeleton staff would be. There was bound to be food.

He was sorely tempted but still couldn’t bring himself to move. Closing his eyes, he let the sound of the waves relax him until his heart stopped racing. He’d stand up soon.

When someone blocked the sun, Raoul opened his eyes to stare at the darkened figure. Smiling, he thought himself lucky – maybe a servant had seen him and he wouldn’t need to walk all that way to the cottage. However, when he discerned who stood there silently watching him, Raoul scrambled to his feet only to have them buckle beneath him again. At least it changed the angle they were looking at each other; he could now clearly see the man’s face.

“Erik?” Maskless. Raoul was certain he wasn’t hallucinating. He’d stopped believing Erik was dead when he’d taken off the man’s mask in the room, when he’d touched the deformity again. Admittedly, if he could’ve, he would have still tried to run just to get as far away from this man as possible.

It didn’t even make any sense. Raoul hadn’t even known he was going to end up here.

Erik reached down and grabbing Raoul’s throat said, “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 25

Word count: 3,426

o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to try to kill him, and it nearly happened – I actually had to rewrite that ending. Way too dramatic; Erik running into the ocean to save him – but that’s not how it goes. Raoul finally finds a reason to live and then what happens? Erik shows up. Man, how the hell did Erik know? He has really horrible timing actually.

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Garnier Hosptial Ch 07

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 19:07:48 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: AU. I shoved the POTO characters into a hospital setting. Slash btw, as though I write anything but.
Warning(s): slash, AU
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 4,652
Rating: T

A/N: Well, this is chapter 7 of 10 and I had been planning to finish by this month but that goal’s been shot to hell. Blame the fact that I thought I was going to be able to finish Reluctantly Willing this month as well. I guess more overlapping stories to follow in July.
Story note: More drama ensues. I think I love Christine (shocking) in this fic.

o.o.o.o

Garnier Hospital – Disease
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

The pain had lessened to a manageable level by the time Christine came to speak with Erik before her shift ended. However, even though the pain had lessened, the self-righteous anger he felt towards Raoul had remained.

Upon entering the room, Christine gave him a disapproving look. Said look was becoming rather common, appearing whenever he made Raoul feel bad, which happened more often than not. It was annoying enough that Christine seemed to know exactly what was being said in their conversations, but she also always had something to say about it, which made him even more disinclined to appreciate her input. He chose to ignore the look, confident in the fact that he’d been completely in the right in their most recent argument. It wasn’t as though she could intimidate him when he was in the comfort of his own bed. She didn’t have any goons with her either, so there was little she could say that could faze him.

“I ran into Raoul in the hallway,” she said.

He replied blithely, “I gathered.” He liked even less the fact that Raoul spent so much time speaking with her.

“He said he’s had enough for today.” She glared at him and Erik glared right back even though he knew it would be pointless to do so. She wouldn’t see it. He realized that she hadn’t moved into the room any more than necessary to avoid the door hitting her when it closed. As much as she could scold him and pay others to deal with him, she was still just as frightened as everyone else, still just as affected by his voice if he so chose – even though he’d stopped trying to chase her away. She simply hid it better, and he almost hated her for being afraid.

She continued angrily, her hands on her hips, “He won’t come back today. In fact, I doubt he’s coming back tomorrow either or the day after that. What did you do?”

His response was immediate. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Then,” Christine stated pointedly, “why did he ask that another doctor look after you?”

“What?” Erik tried to sit up but failed to make it very far before his arms gave out. “He requested another doctor?”

Christine nodded grimly. “Yes. He requested another doctor.”

Erik looked away from her to gather his thoughts. As far as fights went, theirs had been rather tame, barring the fact that Erik had managed to bring his family into the conversation. He’d been rather conscious to avoid doing that so far, but it couldn’t have been that damning. He’d wanted Raoul to leave the room, not stop being his doctor. That wasn’t fair. Erik now expected physical therapy. He now wanted to live what could pass for a normal life. He wanted it only because of Raoul and now, he suddenly decided that he was going to leave him? Raoul wasn’t allowed to do that. Erik wouldn’t allow it.

“What? No, ‘I’m not going to let another doctor see me’ again?” Christine asked.

Her mocking didn’t go unnoticed, but Erik didn’t react to it. He was still thinking about Raoul. He replied absentmindedly, “That goes without saying.”

“It may be too late. With the way you constantly treat him, I’m rather surprised that he’s stayed with you for this long,” she said, turning towards the door. Making sure that he couldn’t see her face, she grinned to herself.

“Wait,” he called after her, “You said that you’d convince him to stay as my primary physician. We had a deal. I told him about the bandages.”

Schooling her features, Christine turned to look at him rather unimpressed, “And we saw how well that went. You barely told him anything.”

“And you?” Erik accused.

“I’ve told him the barest of facts, as you well know,” she scoffed, “He doesn’t know why you’re here. Nobody else knows why you’re here, Erik, or why you only see me or him. In fact, everyone thinks you’re still in love with me.”

Erik scoffed right back at her. “With your bedside manner? I’d rather…”

“… have Raoul?” Christine cut him off.

He glared at her again. “Why do I deal with you?”

“Because you need food and you did love me at one point,” she stated confidently.

Erik tugged the hospital blanket up a little higher, muttering to himself. That was in the past, something they never spoke of because Erik didn’t see the point. They both knew what had been wrong. “And you would’ve never really loved me.”

Christine gave the barest of nods. She’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. Turning to leave the room, her hand was on the doorknob already when Erik ordered, “I want to see him again.”

Her back straightened, and she opened the door stiffly. Frowning, Christine replied without looking over her shoulder, “I don’t see the point. You’re not making any progress.” She knew that was a lie. Raoul had been more than overjoyed when Erik had agreed to do physical therapy. “It’s best if you just leave him alone.” Something she knew would not happen if Erik had his way, and she couldn’t think of a time when he hadn’t gotten his way. She left before he could say anything else.

Erik stared at the door in disdain; he wanted to follow her, maybe chase down Raoul and demand answers, but he couldn’t. It was frustrating to know that glaring was the only thing he could do in his current state, and the bandages did well to cover that up. He had no way of finding out what was happening with Raoul or even a way to contact him. He’d long since given up on all means of communication. Erik stared at the door, almost willing anyone to come in so that he could order them to go drag Raoul back into this room. It was only after a few minutes that he gave up that effort so that he could process what Christine had just said.

He would never admit that he spent the whole day going over her words and their argument trying to figure where it had all gone wrong. He was sulking, and he knew it. He rarely allowed himself such weaknesses, and the only reason he allowed himself to do so now was because he was alone – though that was hardly a change. He was alone and Raoul wasn’t going to visit him.

He just couldn’t believe what had happened. He’d actually managed to push Raoul away enough so that he was actually going to stop visiting. Raoul, the doctor whose empathy was annoyingly acute. Raoul, who looked pained whenever he was in pain. Raoul, who looked so earnest when he offered his help. Erik just couldn’t believe it.

It should be good that Raoul would stop bothering him. It should be good that Raoul finally realized that he didn’t need anything else besides this room, the liquid food, and the meager company that Christine provided. He didn’t need solid food, walking, or massages. He didn’t even want any of that. He just wanted to waste away in this bed; he’d already lost his old life. He’d lost everything that had been important to him then. He would’ve been fine too, if only it had been a few weeks ago, if only he’d never met Raoul in the first place.

o.o.o

Raoul hadn’t thought the charity event could be that bad, except it was. He looked at his empty champagne glass in confusion. Where had all the champagne gone? He looked up, searching for the nearest waiter to ask him and saw that the dining hall was practically empty, only a few guests, his family, and the busboys moving about. He was sitting alone at a table in the middle of the room, but no one was talking to him. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried that he’d done something wrong. He brought the champagne glass to his lips to drink and stared at the empty glass again. Where had all the champagne gone?

Someone grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet before steering him to a far corner of the room. Raoul watched the room go by, tilting the glass over to see a drop of champagne fall to the floor.

“Raoul,” Philippe whispered, extracting the glass from Raoul’s grasp.

“Philippe!” Raoul smiled widely.

Shushing him, Philippe placed a hand over Raoul’s mouth. “Speak softer, brother.” He didn’t remove his hand until Raoul nodded.

“Softer,” Raoul whispered.

Philippe frowned. “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” Raoul patted himself down, checking to see if he had any broken limbs. “You’re the doctor. You tell me.” He giggled and lurched forward, grabbing onto Philippe for support. He relaxed against him. “Is the party finally done?”

“Thankfully.” Philippe glanced around the room to see if anyone was watching them. Luckily, no one was paying the slightest bit of attention on them.

Sighing, Raoul asked, “Why’d dad have to do that?”

Philippe winced. “I’m sure he thought he was doing you a favor,” he lied. “Doing it for your benefit.” Philippe was certain that was the last thing on his father’s mind, but he wasn’t about to tell Raoul that.

“Making jokes about me and my hospital to his friends?” Raoul pulled away from Philippe just to pout at him properly, “They were laughing at me and calling the new administration useless idiots.”

“I know,” Philippe patted Raoul on the shoulder. “You know he’s proud of you, right?”

Raoul sniffled. “They all look down on me and it’s because of him. If he just said that he’s proud of me, they would all agree.”

Philippe didn’t try to argue. Arguing with drunks never got him anywhere, and neither did arguing against a true statement.

“He even introduced me to that girl,” Raoul continued, gesturing flippantly, “Carlotta, I think. And to her rich family. I guess he thought I could at least marry well since I wasn’t a good enough doctor.”

Philippe had seen that as well. Raoul had been doing admirably throughout the dinner, taking his father’s cruel joking and his friends’ laughter in stride. Raoul even managed to be polite to Carlotta, whose laugh could be heard from well across the room. It had even made Philippe wince; he didn’t know how Raoul managed to laugh along. Philippe hadn’t heard any complaints and everyone seemed rather charmed by the youngest Chagny. He was undoubtedly proud of Raoul.

“I don’t feel well, Philippe,” Raoul leaned backwards against the wall, hitting it with a thump.

“I’m not that surprised,” Philippe grabbed his arms to steady him, “You drank a lot.”

“No…” Raoul’s legs buckled and Philippe barely caught him before he slid to the floor.

Feeling his forehead, Philippe slung Raoul’s arm over his shoulder. He’d thought his brother had felt a little hot. “You’re sick. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was supposed to be here,” Raoul explained, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Philippe replied immediately, “You could never disappoint me.”

“I did good?” Raoul’s voice was so soft almost fragile. Philippe wished he hadn’t convinced Raoul to come to the event, knowing the evening was the source of that tone of voice. It was too late for that though.

“Yeah. You did good.” Making a decision, Philippe headed towards his car. “I’m taking you home.”

“Home-home?” Raoul could barely get his legs to listen to him, but for his brother’s sake, he struggled to stay on his feet.

“No,” Philippe said, “yours.”

“But this weekend…”

“You’re sick. You should be in your bed. You know how you get when you’re sick.” He mentally added that they both knew how their father got when he was ill. “You need to stay in your own room and not move at all. I should’ve known you weren’t that drunk. You need sleep and I’ll visit you tomorrow morning to see if you’re well enough to spend the weekend with us.”

Raoul mumbled his assent, allowing his brother to lead him.

o.o.o

Even with what Christine said, Erik had waited: all morning, during lunch, and well into the evening to see if Raoul would show regardless. He had been treating Raoul rather poorly, and keeping secrets from him was probably detrimental to their doctor-patient relationship. Maybe Christine was right about putting forth a better effort. Maybe it would be enough to convince Raoul to stay as his doctor. Erik wasn’t sure. But even after all that waiting, Raoul didn’t come, and not having anything else to do, Erik fell asleep disappointed and angry.

He shifted uncomfortably in the bed. It was hot, and that was odd considering the air conditioning in the hospital was quite strong. He tugged at the blanket but it didn’t move. Opening his eyes, he glanced down to see Raoul half-draped on his bed. He could tell even though Raoul’s face turned away from him and his blonde hair was in a messy tangle everywhere.

“Raoul?”

There was no response.

Erik lifted his hand, torn between shoving Raoul off the bed completely and simply trying to wake him. Instead of doing either, he cautiously placed his hand down on the pale smooth skin that his eyes had been drawn to at the nape of his neck. His eyes widened when he felt how hot Raoul was.

“What are you doing here, idiot?” Erik muttered to himself.

“Erik?” Raoul raised his head up, his eyes only half open as they tried to focus on him.

“Go home, Raoul.” Erik reprimanded.

“But,” Raoul paused, lips actually quivering at Erik’s harsh tone of voice, “I came here ‘specially to talk t’you.”

Staring at him for a moment, Erik asked, “Are you sick or drunk?”

Raoul looked up at the ceiling in exaggerated thought. “Both. But more of the sick thing than the drunk one. Or versa vice.”

Erik rolled his eyes and even though he’d wanted the contrary all day, he said again, “Go home, Raoul. Sleep whatever it is off.”

Raoul pouted and looked very close to tears. “M’sorry.” He clutched Erik’s hand with both of his and Erik was actually not surprised when Raoul’s eyes did begin to tear. He was annoyed that he was more concerned with his illness than anything else. Raoul’s hands were even hot. Erik wondered what temperature he was running.

“You need to know,” Raoul blurted out. “You are a bother. Or worth a bother. I bother. Bother? That’s a funny word.” He chuckled.

Erik actually let out a short bark of laughter before he could contain it. He was almost glad he hadn’t been able to contain it when Raoul looked at him so hopefully. He understood what Raoul had been trying to say. It was impossible not to when their argument had been the only thing on his mind since Raoul had left that morning. Erik sighed, disappointed with himself. He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry. Deciding that he would just be angry when Raoul was coherent enough to remember it, he gave Raoul’s hands a little squeeze in response.

That seemed to be a sign to Raoul to continue talking. “Y’see. There was this family thing and they were mean to me. Mean,” Raoul practically wailed, clutching at Erik’s hand even tighter. “I had to go and then this weekend was supposed to be with them too and then you were mean to me, too. I don’t think I’m going.”

Erik decided that Raoul definitely needed to sleep whatever he’d drunk off. He wasn’t making any sense. “Going where? I thought you asked Christine for another doctor,” he said slowly.

Raoul tilted his head in confusion, “For this weekend. It’s why I scheduled our session for next week.” Before Erik could process his words, Raoul stared at him wide-eyed and proclaimed rather suddenly. “You remind me of the invisible man. It’s scary to think that you won’t be there if I take the bandages off.”

Allowing himself to follow Raoul’s subject change, Erik promised himself he would try to figure out what Raoul was talking about later. He replied, “It’s scarier when you see what’s under the bandages.”

“What’s wrong with your face?” Raoul asked innocently.

“Something you don’t want to see,” He replied honestly. “No one wants to see.”

“But I do,” Raoul used one hand to point at himself. He shrugged, “I’m going to see you naked anyways.”

“Naked?”

“Massages, Erik. Massage. I’m a massagers, massoo,” he dropped his head forward onto the bed in an effort to remember the word, mouthing the word massoo.

“Masseur,” Erik replied when it became obvious Raoul was not going to get it. He glanced at the one hand that was still holding onto his own.

“Yes!” Raoul raised up their hands in victory. “Massoo.”

Erik corrected, “Masseur.”

But Raoul was continuing. Tsking, Raoul grinned, “Massages but no happy endings.”

Erik smirked. “Really?”

“Yup. That’s an extra charge, but I do get to see you naked.” Raoul smiled at him, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Erik smirked, glad that Raoul wouldn’t be able to see it. He said seriously, “Then, isn’t that rather unfair?”

Raoul paused to think about that. “D’you want to see me naked?” He moved to stand up but Erik stopped him, tightening his hold on Raoul’s hand.

“No.” He could just imagine what Christine would think if she walked in on them with Raoul naked. He very well wouldn’t be able to look Raoul in the face again once he was better.

“It is cold.” Raoul sat back down and laid his head on the bed, finally releasing Erik’s hand. “And I’m tired.”

They were quiet for a while, Raoul just trying to think through the haze that seemed to be his mind at the moment, and Erik splitting his attention between his hand, which was still warm, and Raoul.

“Why me, Erik?” Raoul said, the words almost completely muffled.

“Why you what?”

Raoul lifted his head only slightly so he could look at him, “Why am I still here?”

Erik retorted, “Because I can’t physically kick you out of my room.”

“I just don’t understand,” Raoul continued as though Erik hadn’t spoken at all. “What is it about your bandages that made you react like that? Why do you let me stay when no one else has? Am I special?”

Erik looked away from him. Raoul had his face turned toward him and though his eyes were a little bloodshot, they seemed too focused.

“You don’t understand,” Erik stated. His bandages were the only things that kept Raoul in the same room. It was his last defense. No one wanted to see his face. Not anymore. Christine had only seen it a few times before Erik refused to let her experience that again. He’d been able to see how affected she’d been. He changed his own bandages now and refused to be seen as some kind of freak show. “You don’t understand,” he repeated.

“And you’re not explaining it,” Raoul replied.

“Does it really matter?”

“To me it does. Because I want to know; I want to help. Because it could mean that one day you’ll be able to just suddenly decide on a whim to scare me away like the others. I already know: head trauma, burns, bruising and scarring.” Raoul counted off his fingers.

“Hearing it and seeing it are two completely different things.”

“I’m not going to stop being your doctor. I’m a doctor. I’ve seen everything; you can’t scare me away. Why can’t you tell me what happened? Why I’m still here?” Raoul pouted once more before turning his face towards the bed and moaning. “I don’t feel too good.”

Erik actually didn’t know what to say in response. It wasn’t so much that he was actually worried about a doctor’s opinion. He knew that doctors had probably seen worse. Erik already knew what his life was going to be like. He knew that there was constructive surgery or other ways to cover up his injuries, but he didn’t want any of that. In a way, the accident had been a blessing in disguise, driving away everyone and everything that had been shallow aspects of his life. And he hated to think how it had driven away everything. No, Erik wasn’t worried about a doctor’s opinion. It was Christine and now Raoul that he worried about, not as nurse or doctor. Erik cursed under his breath at Raoul.

Raoul muttered, “I wanna sleep.”

“Then go home,” Erik placed a hand on Raoul’s head, nudging slightly, “How did you even get here?”

“I walked.”

“You walked?” He repeated incredulously.

“Needed to see you,” Raoul admitted, “Needed to talk.”

“Find Christine to bring you home,” Erik suggested half-heartedly, “She should be here.”

“Okay.”

Raoul didn’t move, and Erik didn’t suggest that he leave again. He pretended to look around the bed, already knowing that there was no way to call Christine from his bed. He’d broken the call button for the nurse’s station long ago. Instead, he settled for waiting for Christine to arrive on her own. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Tentatively, he moved the hand that was on Raoul’s head to the nape of his neck again. Raoul muttered a thank you before falling sleep. Erik followed soon after.

o.o.o

Erik woke when he could no longer feel Raoul beneath his hand. He looked up to see Christine and another man in the room.

Seeing the movement, Christine moved to his side, “Erik this is Philippe, Raoul’s brother.”

Erik scrutinized him. The man did have some of the same features as Raoul, who was currently unconscious and draped over Philippe’s shoulder.

“Is that the best way to carry him?” Erik asked with a scoff.

Christine grinned. That was the point she’d just been trying to make. “He’s going to throw up on you. Why don’t I get you a wheelchair?” She asked before leaving the room.

Seeing nowhere else to place his brother, Philippe lowered Raoul back into the chair, gently lowering his head onto the bed. “So, you’re Erik,” Philippe said conversationally, “I’ve heard about you.”

“I’ve heard nothing about you,” Erik replied, which was partially a lie. He hadn’t heard anything from Raoul, but he’d heard enough about the eldest Chagny long ago from the papers. The man was supposedly brilliant.

Philippe grinned sadly, nodding. “Of course, I’m sure he doesn’t talk about his family much.” Looking down at his brother, his features softened. He found himself saying, “I thought we’d lost him for certain this time.”

“Lost him?” Erik asked, and Philippe was a little surprised to hear the worry in his voice.

Unsure if he should tell Erik anything, but needing to explain his brother’s behaviour, Philippe said, “He moves and talks a lot when he’s ill, even when the words don’t come as easily. It doesn’t make much sense.” Philippe held his tongue on the fact that his father was really to blame for Raoul’s behaviour. He’d drilled it into his head that a little temperature meant nothing. It was odd considering his father would never tell his patients the same thing, but his children, well, they were above illness. They were supposed to keep working hard when they were sick and of course, Raoul did. Raoul kept moving even though his body needed to shut down. “Usually, he’s not very good with locks in this state, so when I left him at home, I thought he’d be alright.” Philippe had returned to Raoul’s loft with medicine he’d bought only to find the door unlocked. He panicked and tore through the building and the neighboring areas. He was just about to call the police when he thought to call the hospital first. Luckily, he managed to get a hold of Christine who found his brother.

Erik didn’t realize when he began to thread his fingers through Raoul’s hair, but Philippe did. He narrowed his eyes at that. He was confused at the patient’s apparent possessiveness towards his brother. It seemed incongruent with how Raoul spoke about him and the arguments they’d had. Whatever the situation though, it would be best to keep him away from such a character. He was certain that he knew the patient almost as well as Raoul did, considering that much of what Raoul knew was simply conjecture: about the other doctors, the rumors, and of course, his voice. Philippe could almost understand what attracted Raoul to it after hearing it.

His brother should know better though. So to help him along, Philippe commented, “He had a bit too much to drink at the charity function on top of his fever.”

“It was that boring, hm?” Erik responded, even though he obviously didn’t care to know the answer.

“There was this girl there that Raoul didn’t have the courage to speak with, so he drank.” It was more like Raoul hadn’t wanted to speak with Carlotta, so he drank, but it was close enough to the truth for Philippe. “You know, a little liquid courage. You should’ve seen him, blushing and everything. In fact, I haven’t seen him that nervous since he wanted to ask Christine out.”

The door opened with Christine pushing the wheelchair in.

“Right, Christine?” Philippe asked.

“Right what?” She looked at him distrustfully.

“Raoul blushed so red when he first asked you out.”

Christine looked from Philippe to Erik, particularly noting Erik’s hand in Raoul’s hair before narrowing her eyes at Philippe. “Yes, but he’d also barely turned ten at the time.”

Undeterred, Philippe added, “He told me how ecstatic he’d been to see you again.”

Seeing Erik tense at the mention, Christine shook her head. “He’d been happy to have a friend in a new place.” Before Philippe could continue, she said, “Perhaps you should get Raoul home.”

Seeing the pointed look from Christine at the statement, Erik reluctantly pulled his hand away.

Philippe was about to say something else, but decided against it. He moved Raoul to the wheelchair with enviable ease then inclined his head towards Erik. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure was all mine, I’m sure,” Erik replied sarcastically.

She frowned at Erik before following Philippe out the door to walk him to the elevator. “What was that?” she asked.

“What?” Philippe tried to act innocent for just a second before saying, “You saw the way he touched Raoul.”

“His hand was on his head,” she defended making it sound insignificant even though she knew it to be anything but.

“He was being possessive, and I think you know that.” Philippe accused. He paused to look her in the eyes; she didn’t look away. He continued, “You know doctors and patients are not supposed to get involved.”

“Erik isn’t quite a patient in this hospital.” She added, “And they aren’t involved.”

Philippe narrowed his eyes at her. “You know more than you let on.”

Christine shrugged and continued walking. Philippe followed.

“I know what Raoul knows about him,” she replied.

“And more.” Philippe lowered his voice when they neared the nurse’s station, “That man shouldn’t be let near my brother, much less touching him.”

“Your brother is a grown man who can decide whoever he wants to treat. Why are you being so protective?”

“He was touching Raoul and he’s a patient,” Philippe responded, “That should be enough to be protective. I have his best interest in mind.”

“Just like your father?” Christine asked pointedly.

The elevator chimed, doors opening. Philippe let out a harsh breath, “I don’t trust that man, and I don’t want Raoul to get hurt.”

She inclined her head at Raoul, “Then talk to him about it. See what he thinks about the situation. Why don’t you ask him if anything’s happening?”

Philippe punched the button for the ground level.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 07

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Christine is playing matchmaker and what does she know about Erik that the rest of us don’t? Tricky tricky. Philippe was kind of being a jackass though. A little protectiveness isn’t that bad though. I mean, he doesn’t think Raoul’s gay. :D Anyway, what’s with Raoul talking about Erik to everyone, right? What about patient-doctor privilege and all – in his defense, he doesn’t know anything about his illness and Erik isn’t taking any medicine/treatment, so basically, he’s just spreading gossip. :)

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Reluctantly Willing Ch 24

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 01:43:22 GMT

Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Warning(s): slash (that’s homosexual content for those of you who don’t know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: I’m starting to doubt that I’m going to make it to my before July 4th deadline in finishing this. I think there are going to be 28 chapters total. I guess that means I’m just going to have to overlap them. :( Looking at the previous chapter, it seems I have a thing with semi-colons right now. I figure they’re better than run-on sentences (though I think I saw several of those as well).

Story Note: Erik is back! But this is a not-so-promising chapter title, but there is some poetic justice in here.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 24 - … to run

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Erik nearly bristled at her ultimatum; she had no right to demand anything of him. No one was allowed to dictate what he chose to do with his life, not anymore. He was no longer caged nor helpless against coercion. It wasn’t difficult to see the manipulation in her words. Her or Raoul? He would’ve lost his temper at such impudence if he hadn’t been intrigued by the choice she was forcing upon him.

“Why would I need to pick between you and Raoul?” The answer seemed apparent to him.

“You need to pick. We cannot continue like this.” At Erik’s steady gaze, she continued, “It’s obvious you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. It’s obvious that he meant something and still means something to you. So choose, already.”

Erik kept his voice even, unsure of how she would react with her obvious growing agitation. His response was immediate though, “I’ve chosen you, Christine. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“No,” she yelled, her voice becoming shrill. She surprised herself by how much she wanted him to care, how much she expected it. That was one thing she could always count on, the ghost’s love, his devotion. He knew what had happened to her and hadn’t left; even in his silence, his presence had spoken volumes to her without her fully realizing it. She’d taken that silence to be acceptance, and even though she hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t wanted it, now that she knew it had simply been her imagination, she couldn’t help but want it back. She’d been betrayed by her last resort, and he didn’t even realize it. “No! You haven’t chosen,” she tried to make him understand that he was doing everything but choosing her, “You can’t say that you’ve chosen me when you’ve barely looked at me this whole time, barely spoken to me.” Her voice grew louder with each word, “You can’t say you’ve chosen me when you so obviously don’t care.”

When Christine finished, she was breathing harshly, chest heaving. She stared at Erik expectantly, hoping that he would be able to assuage her fears, hoping that he would prove this feeling of betrayal to be groundless.

Erik stared at her for long moments, his expression inscrutable. His mind ran through a multitude of thoughts, the most central being the feeling of déjà vu. It didn’t take long for him to remember where he’d heard those words before. It felt like lifetimes ago, but it was easy to remember. And when he did, he was almost glad that he had been preoccupied as of late because it had brought them to this point. It was his negligence that had pushed Christine to this point, as familiar as it was. He couldn’t help but feel a little vindicated on behalf of both Raoul and him. Christine was now the one ordering for a choice to be made.

Choose.

Raoul had been right about Christine and now, Christine was right about him. They hadn’t chosen, not really; they’d simply existed alongside the obvious choice, the unquestioned one, the easy one. Erik had gone with Christine because she had once been the person he loved and cherished above all others, but that had been before the night of Don Juan Triumphant, before releasing her, before being found by Raoul. He’d gone with her because he never stopped to consider that she wouldn’t be what he wanted.

But, she was questioning it now, and she was making him question his choice as well when he would have simply accepted that Christine was who he was meant to be with. Was Christine who he really was meant to be with?

She continued, unable to stand that silence. The silence itself was an answer. “And this hat.” She grabbed it from the table he’d placed it upon, “This stupid fedora that you stare at constantly. God, why didn’t I realize it? You stare at it like you want to stare at Raoul, like you wish it were him.”

Erik didn’t do well with accusations, almost as well as he did with ultimatums. He took a threatening step towards her, unable to help himself. She stepped back in response. He scoffed and gave his own order, one he’d been wanting to say for a while, “Stop saying his name. You have no right.” Instead of his voice rising, it dropped low.

“No right to what?” Christine took a tentative step forward, refusing to admit that he intimidated her as much as he did, “Call him by his name? I was his fiancé. You think you have that right? You tried to kill him, even right before we left.”

Erik stilled. She was right. He’d threatened Raoul before they left, but the blonde was the one who’d driven him to that point. Raoul was the only one who could make him react so violently and still survive. Raoul, just Raoul. And Erik realized that there were actually many exceptions he’d made for him. Erik had let his guard down, done more than that. He’d revealed himself physically in every possible way to that boy and had even found himself trusting him because Raoul had never once turned away or flinched. He’d even let Raoul see his designs and gave him his expertise in business. And, with everything that Erik offered, Raoul accepted them like precious gifts.

Unlike with his mask’s presence, Erik could still distinctly feel Raoul’s absence. It was the main thing that occupied his mind. He couldn’t help but think of him; Erik had simply refused to admit that to himself, refused to dissect the what’s and why’s of what he was doing any longer.

Christine was his goal. It had all been for Christine… until it hadn’t been.

He looked at her, really looked at her and wondered what had changed between them, what had changed with all of them. Despite their past and admittedly, their present, Erik knew that to him Raoul would now and always be Raoul. “He’s the one that told me to call him that. I have every right.”

Angry and seeing a rather bleak future laid out in front of her of one inn room to the next, Christine glared at him. She bit her bottom lip and wanted him to feel the same pain that she felt at this moment. She said pointedly, “I never loved you. Never. I only wanted you for your talent.”

“Josiana.” The name was spat out before Erik even realized he’d thought it, much less voiced that particular thought. “Josiana,” he repeated more to himself than to her, as though voicing it made it real, made it true.

“What?” Christine scoffed, displeased with his reaction. She wanted him to get angry, to feel something other than the detachment he’d shown throughout their travels, as though he’d been above feeling anything with her. “No ‘lying Delilah’? No viper? Just Josiana. Who is that?”

“You,” Erik said with conviction. The realization made his mind falter. “You aren’t Dea.”

Christine looked at him as though he’d gone mad.

Erik looked away from her. He hadn’t gone mad; he’d simply realized the truth. His eyes quickly scanned the room. He strode past her, flinging the luggage open. He stared at the contents. Grabbing his designs, he tossed everything else at Christine’s feet. He grabbed the fedora from her and made sure he had the book with him before once again focusing on Christine, who was staring at the money and clothes that were strewn across the floor in front of her.

“You want my talent?” Erik asked, “I’ve already given you it. I’ve given you everything I could.” Indicating the items on the floor with a tilt of his head, he said, “You may have that as well.” He reached the door and was about to leave when he stopped himself, “I wish you well.” And, honestly, he wasn’t even sure he meant it. Christine would be nothing more than an afterthought once he left the room. She’d been an afterthought this whole time without him realizing it. He’d come to understand that; because as much as he’d needed and wanted her in the past, he – no, they had all changed. “And that choice between you and Raoul? You made it for me by asking, Christine.”

o.o.o

Erik had stolen a horse and travelled day and night to return to the Chagny estate, cursing himself for having gotten so far without realizing that he shouldn’t have left in the first place. He barely slept, but then again, he’d barely slept the past weeks as well. Even through his fatigue, he was spurred on by the fact that he had to return to his Dea. He needed to return to Raoul.

He thought about how Raoul would react to his return, but more than not, he tried not to think at all. He didn’t think about what he would do once he arrived because then he’d start to question himself. He’d question the fact that he’d just left Christine alone, though not without resources. He would, however, be more likely to question who he was running towards instead of away from. He had no idea how Raoul felt or if it should even matter to him.

Erik knew one thing for certain about Raoul. He was Dea in the story. Raoul was Dea and even knowing that, Erik didn’t know exactly what he felt towards him. He didn’t know if that meant they were doomed from the very start, if Raoul even wanted him back and more importantly, if he even loved Raoul.

He knew that he missed the Chagny estate. He missed their bed, their room, their breakfasts… Erik almost laughed at himself. He missed their life, maybe because it was a life he’d once dreamed of so long ago, maybe because he’d become comfortable. He’d stopped fearing for his life and stopped expecting the worse to happen at every moment of the day. It wasn’t just that he’d stopped expecting it; he’d forgotten about that feeling entirely when he was with Raoul. He forgot that he was a monster, the devil’s child. He forgot that he was less than human. Maybe it was because his life had stopped being just his. He’d never known anything other than being alone, even with Christine. If that meant that he loved Raoul as much as Gwynplaine loved Dea, then maybe he’d be willing to admit something like that. Maybe.

Seeing Raoul fall out of the tree – Erik fought the urge to roll his eyes – seeing Raoul in the tree in the first place had made his heart stop. There Raoul had stood on a branch after nearly falling down the tree just to reach that point far more worse for wear than when Erik had left him. The blood, scratches, and bruises were plain to see. He’d forgotten his confusion and worries, and Erik had only known fear, fear for Raoul’s safety, fear for their future. The only response to such overwhelming fear was anger, specifically anger at Raoul.

Now that they were both on the ground Erik was just beginning to think clearly again. Raoul had literally stepped off the branch. Admittedly, his presence was a surprise, but that was an overreaction.

Raoul hastily got to his feet, stared at him for a long moment before running towards the house.

Erik, who had taken a tentative step towards him, took a few seconds just processing the fact that Raoul was running away from him before he followed. Raoul was surprisingly fast and was up the stairs and in the spare room before Erik even reached the bottom of the stairs.

Leaning against the door, Raoul stared wide-eyed at the items in the room. The bed was exactly as he’d left it. The desk had been moved in here as well. There was barely any space to move around but everything was neat and in order. Not knowing what else to do, not really thinking about what he was doing, Raoul pushed a chair against the door that led to his bedroom, pushed the desk against the other door and scrambled over the bed, dropping to the ground to sit pressing his back against the farthest wall from the door. He couldn’t see over the bed, couldn’t see anything besides the linens and the wood frame.

He was cowering. He knew it, but Erik was dead. He was having a mental breakdown. Seeing ghosts. Something. Something very real but that only made it more frightening. How far gone was he? He’d thought that he was getting better.

The door from the hallway opened and slammed into the desk with a loud enough bang that Raoul flinched. He could hear some muttered curses before covering his ears with his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. He’d been doing so well. He’d found someone to move on with, but she wasn’t Erik. Raoul hated how that fact alone was enough to make him not care for her. Maybe that was why he was hallucinating now. She’d left him alone. Going to their grove had been a bad idea. The inner door opened next, strong enough that the chair was displaced. A very bad idea. Raoul pressed himself further against the wall.

“Raoul.”

The voice was steady and sure, and Raoul was certain he was hallucinating now because he could almost swear Erik sounded concerned.

Erik looked around the room. Raoul had done some redecorating. He was a little surprised to see his belongings still present actually. The desk held the other drawings and designs he’d worked on before he’d left as though they were ready to be used again. The bed was made; the dresser, he was certain, would hold the rest of his clothes. Raoul should have burned all his things or given them away. Keeping them in a single room was… strange.

Running and hiding from him was even stranger. Erik hesitated where he stood. He was tired and now sore from having broken Raoul’s fall. His heartbeat was not slowing and he wasn’t certain whether it was from the scare of Raoul falling out of the tree or running across the Chagny estate. He wasn’t pleased with either event.

If Raoul thought he didn’t see him enter the room, then the blonde would be sorely disappointed to know he wasn’t about to leave, but now that he was in the room, what was he going to do? Drag Raoul from his hiding place? Apparently, Raoul thought he was here under some other pretense. What pretense, Erik couldn’t even begin to guess with that kind of reception to his arrival.

Raoul was just lucky that he hadn’t been around to show himself when that woman had been with him. Maybe that was why Raoul was hiding from him. He thought Erik had come back to ruin his relationship. Even if that were true, it still didn’t explain Raoul’s reaction.

This would be the first time that Raoul had run and hidden from him, and Erik didn’t like it one bit. He walked through the room almost afraid of what he would find. Reaching the bed, he paused. It was the last place that Raoul could possibly be. Huddled in the corner of the room – Raoul was possibly the last person in the world Erik would want to have that effect on. He didn’t have the courage to visually verify that image though.

“Raoul,” he called out again.

He still received no reply.

Seeing the chair, Erik dragged it towards the bed before sitting down. He’d wait for Raoul to come out himself. Whatever Raoul was trying to prove by hiding, Erik wasn’t going to encourage it. He simply wouldn’t. Raoul would eventually have to stand up and then they’d have a long talk. With this plan in mind, the tension in his muscles finally left. He slumped in the chair, and for the first time since he’d left, he felt at ease.

Before long, Erik was dragged into slumber through the combination of sleepless nights, hard travel, and finally being back home.

o.o.o

After long moments where Raoul had been certain that he’d actually heard Erik walking around the room, the noises died down. He’d sat, hugging his knees to his chest hands clasped over his ears though it did little to block out the sound. The chair moved again and it was silent once more.

He didn’t know how long he waited barely allowing himself to breathe. It was long enough that his muscles started to cramp from him position. He only focused on breathing, on calming down. Then, he heard it. Erik’s breathing.

But Erik was dead.

Lowering his hands, the sound became louder. Raoul closed his eyes, just to hear it more clearly. And, yes. The steady rise and fall. The sound that had lulled him to sleep for weeks when they’d been together.

Erik was dead.

The quiet sound that he’d been able to hear even a room away, the sound he’d trained himself to hear. Pressing his back against the wall, Raoul stood up on shaky legs.

Erik was…

… asleep on a chair in the middle of the room. His head was bowed, arms limply at his sides, and wearing clothes that had seen better days. He was also wearing the mask.

Looking around the room in confusion, Raoul turned his attention back at Erik and saw that he was still indeed there. Crawling over the bed cautiously, Raoul winced when it creaked under his weight. He froze; however, Erik didn’t even respond, and that only made Raoul more suspicious. Erik would usually wake at the smallest of sounds. Slowly getting to his feet, Raoul approached the apparition. He frowned at the mask and before he could dissuade himself otherwise, he reached out and stroked the cold porcelain. There still was no reaction.

Feeling bolder and simply needing to be certain, Raoul took his mask off. Staring at the mask in his hands, he suddenly felt his eyes water. He remembered why it had been a bad idea to believe that Erik had died. Gritting his teeth, he let out a shaky breath. He tossed the mask on the bed. Erik was alive, but he’d chosen Christine over him. Erik had only been using him.

Raoul bit his bottom lip until it hurt, thankful for the slight distraction. It was enough to bring him back to this moment. Erik was back. His hand reached out. Gently, he skimmed his fingertips over the ridges of irregular skin near Erik’s forehead, the smooth skin near the top of his head, and then through his hair. He was dirty, his hair tangled. Raoul let out a shaky laugh, willing his eyes to stop watering.

Erik didn’t respond and Raoul remembered another time he’d been able to so freely explore Erik’s face like this. Odd how it was only now that his heart beat this fast, that heat pooled in his belly, and that his chest ached to know that this man was his enemy. He might have even fallen in love with the ghost then. It had at least been the start of everything. The start of understanding Erik as more than a monster, more than a rival. The start of wanting change, wanting him to be happy.

He already knew exactly what the deformity felt like under his hand. He’d long since memorized it, but he still couldn’t help himself. He traced the particularly deep trench in Erik’s cheek, the skin rising up unnaturally, affecting the ghost’s nose. He followed every ridge and dip from his skull to around his eyes. He reverently traced Erik’s jaw and lips. It was only then that Erik reacted. Even then, it was only a soft sigh.

Raoul pulled his hand away, clenching it into a fist.

If only he’d realized it sooner. If only.

Taking a deep breath, Raoul suddenly felt calm. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do now. Daring because this was his last chance, Raoul bent forward and kissed Erik once on the cheek.

Moving with a purpose, Raoul opened Erik’s dresser and pulled out a cloak, draping it over his shoulders. It was a little big, but Raoul didn’t care. He glanced at the window. It was dark outside already. No one had come to find him for dinner, but he figured it was because they’d seen Erik return and knew to leave them alone. Raoul grinned before heading out. This was the right thing to do. He just hadn’t realized it until this moment.

Before he closed the door behind him, Raoul spared one look back at Erik.

“Good-bye,” he whispered.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 24

Word count: 3,457

o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Damn Erik. Why let exhaustion take over at this point? And what the hell is Raoul planning to do? D:

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Konquest Ch 04 [Mortal Kombat]

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 18:02:54 GMT

Story note: Major rating change. This is why I’m not allowed to change movies as I see fit – they all become pornos (well, not all, but close enough). Major OOC, but then again, Scorpion’s technically stalking Johnny and Johnny’s, well, I don’t know, he’s taking it. XD

Yes, Hell in a handbasket.

o.o.o.o

Konquest
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Johnny woke up slowly with his head feeling every bit the amount of pain one expected from having it slammed into the ground several times. Groaning, he squinted when his eyes wouldn’t focus. He was alive? That was pleasantly unexpected.

Trying to move his arms, he found he couldn’t. When his eyes focused, the first thing he saw was dirt. Lifting his head with some effort, he paused midway up when his neck protested against the movement. He was still in ladder hell that was clear. At least he wasn’t on one of those platforms again, which technically might be worse now that he thought about it, since it reduced the possibility of escaping through breaking said platform. He let his head dangle down again just to check and was quite certain he was kneeling on dirt.

He winced when he saw bones littered across the ground. The gaping maw of what thankfully didn’t look quite human smiled at him toothily. He didn’t allow himself to look any closer to those bones though except to sneak a second peek to check if any of those bones might have been his ninja opponent. Who knew, Scorpion might’ve died and disintegrated or something. Johnny laughed to himself; he would never be that lucky. That laughter became a wince when his ribs protested at the movement. He was certain he must’ve broken something or maybe just bruised it extremely badly.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he tugged against his restraints; there was no give. This new development was not good. He was on his knees, legs far enough for him to be grateful that he already could do the splits while his ankles were tied to far corners of what looked to be one of those platforms he’d been on. He’d have been on his hands and knees with this position if it weren’t for the binds on his wrists that held him up. His arms were stretched far enough that it was a little uncomfortable breathing, his chest unable to contract and expand normally, though near-broken ribs probably didn’t help any either. He tried to stand but barely managed an inch before falling. He didn’t have enough leverage to pull himself up. Rolling his head to side to side, he tried to loosen the muscles on his shoulders. He must’ve been in this position for quite some time. His legs and hands were practically numb, and his shoulders were burning.

Jerking forward in hopes of snapping the binds, he grunted when a twinge of pain shot down his shoulder. Well, at least he knew he could dislocate his shoulder if he wanted to, but that would just leave him bound and with a dislocated shoulder.

He tried to look on the bright side. He was still alive. Or was he? Maybe ladder hell was hell-hell? Though, he’d been alive when he’d first come here. Or had he been? He was just confusing himself.

Waiting a few seconds in hopes that a solution would suddenly come to him, Johnny could see no other option but to find help. He yelled, “Hello?” His voice seemed to echo, which he found eerily disturbing. “Anyone there? Help!”

He cut his next cry for help off short when through all the red that colored this place, he spotted something yellow approaching him at a leisurely pace. If it was possible to see through that mask he wore, Johnny would have bet that the ninja was smirking at him.

“Let me go.” Johnny yelled, not bothering to wait for the other man to come closer. “Or kill me. Just don’t leave me like this. This isn’t how the tournament works.”

“You’ve already lost, Johnny Cage.” Scorpion circled him, slowly taking in his position. Stopping behind him, Scorpion grabbed a fistful of Johnny’s hair, yanking his head backwards. Johnny couldn’t stifle the grunt of pain quickly enough. “Now, I get to keep you.”

Staring up at the platform above them, Johnny tried to calm his breathing. He all but spat out, “I’m not a freaking dog.”

“Yet, you’re still mine,” Scorpion replied.

“What does that even mean?” Johnny scoffed and tried to ignore the pain that was beginning to bloom in his chest at being kept in this position.

“I believe I told you already,” Scorpion’s voice was low but clearly smug, “I’m going to break you. You’re mine.”

“I’m no one’s.” Johnny tried to shake his head away from his grasp but only succeeded in what felt like yanking a clump of hair from his scalp instead. Scorpion was still holding rather tightly.

“I’ve already marked you,” Scorpion replied, letting go of his head. Johnny let it drop forward with some relief before Scorpion grabbed the collar of his shirt from the back and ripped it right off him.

Johnny could only sputter in disbelief. Cursing in his head, he knew Velcro jumpsuits that didn’t rip away as easily as that had. He tried to keep his mind occupied on a means to get away. He knew if he stopped to even consider what Scorpion was planning with him on his knees and naked, he would panic. He struggled again, cursing aloud this time. Okay, panic more than he already was panicking. Fingers were brushing against his left shoulder and he knew without having to turn his head that Scorpion was touching the spot that creature from his hand had bitten.

Ohshitohshitohshit. Johnny knew without a doubt that this wasn’t just a sadistic ninja torture technique to get information. If it had been, Johnny would have already yelled that he didn’t know anything, but in his current dilemma, he doubted that would do anything but amuse the ninja – if ninjas did in fact get amused.

The way he had said mine had sent shivers down Johnny’s spine and as the ninja knelt down between his spread knees, he felt something he’d never in his life wanted pressed against his lower back while he was helpless.

“Uh, God,” Johnny babbled, “Was that a phone? I think I hear Shang Tsung calling you.”

“He was the one who told me to deal with you,” Scorpion said.

“Then kill me,” Johnny demanded, already knowing it would do no good. Not when Scorpion’s intent was clearly pressed against his back no matter how far forward Johnny tried to press forward even against the pain. An ungloved hand trailed across his chest. Johnny tried to shy away from that as well, but couldn’t get very far, not when it meant he’d have to press back against that.

“You fight well.”

And it was said so conversationally that he could have simply been saying that the sky was blue. Johnny’s mind was trapped in a cycle of denying that he was in this situation and trying and failing rather spectacularly to block out the fact that everything he was feeling and hearing was pointing to the contrary. “Yeah, well,” Johnny stuttered, “I’m just that good.”

“Arrogant and bullheaded.”

Johnny didn’t even know how many people had said that to him in his lifetime. His sensei and the tabloids were constant reminders of that fact. And he found himself babbling again, as though speaking louder would be able to drown out the feeling of Scorpion’s hands caressing his stomach in a way that made the muscles spasm, as though words would make the rising nausea go away. “People who are just as good as me aren’t being arrogant, we’re being truthful.”

“Like a horse,” Scorpion’s voice almost sounded nostalgic, “you need to be tamed, broken.” And, Johnny tried not to panic at the prospect of being a part of some ninja’s human animal kink-fest.

“Horse, yeah,” Johnny tried to tune out his own thoughts; they were definitely not helping, “I’ve heard myself be compared to a horse before but I’m pretty sure I tamed her and let’s just say I’m glad I didn’t break my horse part.” He desperately hoped that Scorpion wouldn’t do that Velcro ripping away trick with his pants.

Those hands kept exploring, rubbing across his stomach none too gently, nails scraping against his nipples. He might have yelped out at the sudden pain but would deny that as well as this whole occurrence given the first opportunity.

“Wh-where are we?” What else could he do but hope to distract the other man? But, Johnny was realizing too well that the ninja could multi-task.

“Netherealm.”

Johnny squirmed. Those hands were moving to the front of his pants. Well, that answered one unwanted question. What did a ninja do to a tied up prisoner? Well, apparently what every good bdsm fan did. He gulped when the ninja’s hands were far from rough with him at this point and his stomach clenched in fear and disgust with himself when he felt himself responding to the warm hand that rubbed him through the fabric of his pants a little too confidently. There was none of that fumbling he’d experienced with other girls. Where was that nausea? Did ninjas get special training in this as well because Scorpion was entirely too good. His touch was insistent and as much as he knew who was touching him and that this was the furthest thing he wanted, his body wouldn’t listen. It was simply reacting to the stimulation, to the feel of fabric, friction, and warm body.

He struggled harder, but Scorpion apparently only appreciated that more if the body that was pressed up against him was any indication. He stopped struggling and the hand finally stopped its ministrations; he almost let out a sigh of relief. He would have if he thought that the ninja had actually finished with him. He highly doubted that.

“You were never going to win this fight.”

Johnny actually growled, trying to will his body back into apathy.

“You just refused to admit it. I find myself in need of an attendant and you… entertain.” The ninja grabbed his crotch, pants and all, none too gently and Johnny was more than a little ashamed to admit he was already half hard. Of course it wasn’t because of the bondage, okay it might’ve been a little part bondage but that response was one cultivated a long time ago. It was the stimulation and mostly from the adrenaline from his fight. Fighting, apparently even when he was losing, was enough to get a rise out of him in more than one way. It was definitely the fighting.

“Slaves aren’t supposed to have things.” The words left his mouth before he even thought about them.

“We’re guardians to that wizard temporarily,” Scorpion scoffed. “He will fail just as surely as you will succumb to me.”

Scorpion slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Johnny’s pants and grabbed his cock firmly and Johnny tried to remember that he was being violated. Hell, he wasn’t even gay. There may have been an occasional experimentation, but who didn’t experiment when people, guys included, were throwing themselves at him. Johnny liked to think of himself as an equal opportunist in such manners. Who was he to refuse? Pleasure was pleasure, but wasn’t that motto backfiring on him currently?

Johnny was certain Scorpion had to be doing some other ninja trick because the pleasure that was building was more than he’d felt on a good day. He was hard and the firm strokes, though stilted by the confines of his pants, created a rhythm that was absolutely maddening as the ninja ground against him.

A moan echoed through the area, and Johnny realized rather belatedly that that it had been him. Remembering himself, he yelled, “Stop.” He grit his teeth and tried to think of every unsexy thing that his mind could provide: tabloids, the producer’s daughter, that monster thing in the caves. And that was enough to help clear his mind a little. That monster. He grimaced at the very thought.

Scorpion adjusted his grip. His voice breathy near his ear, he whispered, “Don’t fight this. This,” he squeezed his erection while grinding forward against Johnny’s lower back, “will always be man’s weakness. Every man. Can you claim this to be worse than death?”

“Yes,” Johnny immediately answered even when his hips jerked forward of their own accord when Scorpion paused in his motions.

“Really?” Scorpion asked again, tightening his grip on the good side of painful.

“Yes,” Johnny hissed, hips jerking forward again.

Scorpion slid his pants down to his knees with his free hand, and Johnny made a show of struggling even as a moan and a series of curses tore its way out of him. That hand was insistent and now that it had more space to maneuver, there was no denying that the ninja knew exactly what he was doing. His thumb circling the tip of his erection to spread the precum made Johnny almost whine. He had a full blown erection no matter how hard he tried to think of that four armed monster. One would think that the situation itself warranted a non-reaction, but Scorpion was making small noises, grunts and sharp exhales, himself and Johnny was almost certain that those noises were worming their way into his mind, spurring him on.

He let out a yelp in surprise when a blunt finger pressed into his ass. Panic managed to cut through the haze of pleasure then and he struggled in earnest against the intrusion. The pain was sharp, spiking up his back, and the feeling entirely unwelcome. His muscles tensed, but the ninja persisted even when Johnny’s erection was flagging. Between the grunts of pain and the curses interspersed with promises of death that seemed to flow nonstop out of his mouth, Johnny tried to head butt the other man. Still two fingers made their way into him, thrusting with a purpose.

His body jerked to stillness, words dying in his throat, vision bursting into brightness when Scorpion rubbed against something within him. Before he could recover, Scorpion rubbed against it again and Johnny was suddenly coming. With half-closed eyes, he looked down at himself. He didn’t remembering getting hard again. He didn’t understand why he was still hard. And when those fingers pulled back only to press forward again, Johnny nearly sobbed as his body jerked once more at the sensation. He didn’t know something that felt so good could hurt. It felt too good. His body felt raw, the sensations ripping through him.

He was bucking his hips and seeking for those fingers, thrusting his hips backwards for more without conscious thought. It continued interminably, his body betraying him. He couldn’t even think of a witty comment to say or even muster up his control of the English language to tell him to stop because this was too much. And, Johnny thought he was actually going to die like this, that it had been the ninja’s plan from the very beginning. He actually managed to let out a laugh; he’d always wanted to die having sex. Of course, he’d never thought that it would be at the hands of a man who refused to take off his mask and Johnny was almost desperate to pull it off just to get to his mouth because he needed to do something other than breathe harshly, gasping out vowels while writhing like a puppet.

“More?” Scorpion asked, and he sounded more composed than Johnny thought possible for a man with his fingers up his ass. Scorpion stopped knuckle deep within him when he didn’t answer and Johnny sobbed with something torn between relief and despair.

“Yes,” he said before he had time to consider what he was saying.

Scorpion stroked him but refused to move his other hand.

“Do you surrender yourself to me? Swear yourself as my attendant?”

Johnny tried to move on his own, his body aching with the effort. He almost missed the question completely. He didn’t know how long they’ve been doing this, was surprised that he was still conscious. This had to be a record, even for him.

“Answer me.” Scorpion ordered and Johnny obeyed.

“Yes.” He replied before blacking out.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 04

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Story Note: Yeah, that probably came out of left field for some of you people. All that other stuff came about because I wanted to write this. Wow, right?

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Human Anatomy Ch 05

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 04:14:40 GMT

Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that’s homosexual content for those of you who don’t know); adult-adult concept

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: I’m jumping around on these fics too much. Secret – Insecurities was supposed to be a ficlet here, but it got too long and wanted to be its own story.

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Due to Erik’s past, he was well acquainted with death, knew death intimately because he was death, wearing death’s face and for a large part of his life dealing it out. The Punjab lasso had been his weapon of choice because there was something about watching that last breath leave the body that inevitably drew his attention. The heaving chest, the wheezing, and the way the body shuddered with effort.

It was absolutely captivating.

However, he tried to leave death behind when he moved to Paris. He tried to forget everything about that because he needn’t kill any longer, but he couldn’t deny that his new fixation with singing had similarities to those last few seconds before death – the controlled release of air until the point of near panic was merely an acceptable and nonlethal form of what he’d been obsessed with in the past. He’d come to realize that it wasn’t so much about the last breath as it was the struggle to breathe, the intake of air simply a physical action of taking in life. He reveled in that struggle and desired to experience it himself; yet, he found that as much as he tried to drive himself to the same desperation for air as his victims, it wasn’t the same.

His daily routine included walking through every floor of the opera house; it was miles to cover but he never truly tired. He would climb the countless stairs without running out of breath. He barely exerted himself when climbing the ropes to reach the catwalks high above the stage. Singing was just as easy as speaking. Honestly, few things he ever did required him to exert much effort, so he’d been forced to suppress his desire to be able to reach that same point. It had been pointless to keep trying. He’d actually managed to suppress the whole obsession in fact, Christine providing a much needed diversion.

Then, the Vicomte came into his life, and Erik immediately knew he needed to see the blonde with a lasso around his neck. He thought about it constantly from the first moment of seeing him; he planned it, dreamt it. He wanted to see the Vicomte struggle and pant, completely helpless against him. He wanted to see his mouth ajar and hear those gasping sounds that he so relished. Once when Raoul had been given a tour, he had gasped in surprise at some portrait in the opera house, and at that moment, Erik knew he wouldn’t be able to kill him, just because he knew he’d want to be able to hear that sound over and over again.

What he hadn’t expected was that Raoul would be able to drive him to that point of breathless panic. His blood pounded loudly in his ears, his hands almost felt numb, and his throat felt raw with every intake of air. Still he pushed against Raoul, surged against him, rallied to the point where he couldn’t breathe deeply enough, where he could barely take in the next breath. His vision swam for a few moments and Erik would have moaned at the sensation if he’d been able to. Instead, it came as shallow, choked gasps before he forced himself to take deeper breaths so that he could continue his swordfight with Raoul.

It was their first actual physical encounter and Erik hadn’t wanted it to end, regardless of the fact that they were in a graveyard. He glared angrily after them when Christine led them away. He couldn’t remain that angry though; he was still riding the addictive sensation, focusing on the rise and fall of his own chest and the burn in his throat. He hadn’t been able to suppress the anticipation of his next meeting with the Vicomte.

o.o lungs o.o (wc:629)

“Well, hello, Vicomte.”

The predatory smile that Raoul was greeted with put him ill at ease. It probably didn’t help that he was already at a disadvantage. His clothes were soaking wet from his swim after falling into that trap, and he could barely suppress his shivering. Grabbing onto the portcullis in an attempt to stop the shaking, he tried to reign in his annoyance at the man before him, a man who was dry and currently goading him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” Erik didn’t bother to ask him how he’d even found his way down to his home alive. He rather expected some betrayal from Christine or Madame Giry. He would deal with them later; right now, he had to deal with his visitor.

Gritting his teeth, Raoul took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t stutter from the cold. “I was counseled to speak with you.”

Erik sneered before grinning once more. “Oh,” he sauntered into the lake, the water rising up to his knees and Raoul was almost jealous that he showed no outward reaction from the cold. He knew that if he wasn’t holding the iron bars that separated them, he would be hugging himself in some attempt to keep warm. Then again, the ghost was only partially wet. Raoul didn’t know how long he’d been swimming, but it was certainly long enough that his joints were protesting at every movement. In fact, they were protesting against the fact that he was standing.

As the opera ghost approached, self-preservation actually insisted he step away.

“From my protégé, I’m sure.”

Raoul stayed where he was. “Indeed,” he said, grinning himself. He knew that this one fact, he could actually hold over the older man, “Christine was rather adamant that we speak this over like gentlemen.”

“Like gentlemen?” Erik scoffed. “Shall we have a duel, then?”

Raoul pulled a face at that. “No. Speaking of course.”

Erik scrutinized him for a moment, almost not believing him. He took in the now see-through shirt and the pants that were stuck like a second skin. The Vicomte would be unable to hide any sort of weapon on him, and checking him once over, Erik saw none. He almost couldn’t believe Raoul had honestly come without a weapon. Then again, this was Raoul, the boy who probably really wanted to talk and wasn’t using it as some ruse just to try to hurt him. Raoul violently shivered, the portcullis actually rattling a bit, and he actually started to blush. Erik looked him once over again; this could be interesting. “Oh,” he made a dramatic gesture of raising his hands to lift the portcullis. As Raoul warily watched the portcullis, Erik watched him. “It would be rather rude of me to leave you out there, correct?”

Raoul nodded enthusiastically, quickly moving under the portcullis lest the ghost make another gesture and it fall upon him. After that, he didn’t even consider any further traps; getting out of the lake sounded too good a prospect at the moment and the ghost letting him do so was enough to put him at ease. He smiled widely. “I’m glad we can agree on this fact.”

“On speaking?” Erik asked. He frowned with a disapproving shake of his head, “I rather dislike such ‘gentlemen’ things.”

Frowning, Raoul sloshed out of the water with the ghost close behind him. “What? You’d rather be an animal?” He turned around as he spoke, stumbling backward when he almost ran into the ghost. Tripping on a rock, he would have fallen had Erik not caught his arm, jerking Raoul firmly against him. Raoul stared at him wide-eyed. “You… you’re getting wet.” When Erik didn’t let him go, he added a little hesitantly, afraid that a Punjab lasso was a breath away, “We’re not animals.”

“Well,” Erik smirked. This time the predatory nature of it, as well as Erik’s next words, made Raoul’s stomach drop and heat rush to his face. “I do bite.”

o.o teeth o.o (wc:669)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 05

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Warning: Uh… erotic asphyxiation is dangerous. Don’t do it. And, I just ruined that scene for myself now; hell, I just ruined breathing for myself.

- I was thinking about making ‘teeth’ a one-shot as well and keep the prospect of writing more open, but why bother with such things?

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Reluctantly Willing Ch 23

Sat, 20 Jun 2009 21:29:37 GMT

Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Warning(s): slash (that’s homosexual content for those of you who don’t know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: This was supposed to be posted earlier this week, but that didn’t happen.

Story Note: What can I say? The chapter title looks promising.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 23 - … to fight

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Christine used the rest of their day of travel to formulate a plan. She’d discarded many before eventually coming to the conclusion that she would once again have to lie. What was one lie among the others she was willing to say for their happiness? At least, that’s what she told herself. It wasn’t as though lying to the ghost had been an easy decision. It hadn’t been in the beginning, and it wasn’t now. But, she wanted to be happy. She needed to not only survive but be able to look at herself in the morning, to think of herself without feeling disgust, and without the opera house, she didn’t know any other way.

Of all the people that she could count on, shouldn’t the ghost be the first on that list? He’d offered her everything at one point. She could make him happy as well; she knew she could. It was who they were. The ghost wanted her and although Christine hadn’t been able to understand how she could ever be happy with him, she could now. It would be perfect.

So perfect, yet she couldn’t help but be worried about him abandoning her; because as much as she told herself that the silence between was natural, she couldn’t deny that she was afraid. What if it weren’t natural? She didn’t know what she would do if he left her without any resources. Alone again. She could survive; that was some comfort, but she didn’t want to go back to doing what she’d been doing before. And the ghost couldn’t want to be left alone either.

As long as the result was beneficial to them both, what did anything else matter? It wasn’t as though they’d have to return to France ever again, and the ghost didn’t seem too adverse to the idea of leaving anyway.

She waited, her stomach unsettled the whole time, until they had obtained a room for the night. It was the same routine since they’d started their journey. The ghost would sleep on the floor near the door and she would sleep in the bed. She didn’t bother to question it. After all, she hadn’t been ready to have him in her bed, even though she knew that they’d eventually have to share more than just a bed if she were to live this life she had chosen. She didn’t even want him to take off the mask. It wasn’t as though she’d forgotten what he looked like; that would have been impossible. She even remembered how it felt beneath her hand when she’d kissed him. It made her shudder. She could get used to it, simply given more time.

Tonight, however, she would take her first step in that direction of becoming closer, becoming more familiar. There needed to be reciprocation in this relationship, and she would try to at least close one distance between them whether it was physical or mental; she’d do it the only way she could think to drive him to her.

What had always worked in the past, Raoul.

o.o.o

Raoul wondered why he kept returning home when it was easily becoming the last thing he wanted to do. The idea of leaving had been there when Christine had left him the first and then again the second time. However, he hadn’t been able to leave that first time. Something in him had kept him on the estate, fear perhaps. He’d been afraid of finding Christine in some other city and seeing her happy, happier than she’d ever been with him. This time though, he could leave. Fear wasn’t keeping him on the estate because he’d left already, albeit only to the city. He’d left his estate and it had been easy. In fact, it was becoming more tempting as the days compounded to simply leave the city entirely. He could finally see the ocean again, maybe chase ships like he used to as a child. He’d be able to relive happier times – a time before everything else had happened, before things got so complicated.

However, he found that although fear wasn’t keeping him on the estate, perhaps hope did. He could wait a little longer before leaving. He could wait to see if his situation did become better, if another outing with that woman could make him forget what could have been. Maybe she’d be worth staying in Paris for, and that was what he was afraid it came down to, sentimentality. He was waiting for a reason to stay in Paris because this was where Erik had been. This was where his memories were, and even though he avoided the Opera Populaire at all costs, it was almost comforting knowing that Erik’s home was nearby if he wanted to see it, just like that room in his house. Whenever he wanted to visit Erik, he could.

But, no. That couldn’t be it. He wanted to move on.

Sometimes, he would still see the disapproving looks from some of his servants when they knew who he was going to meet, and it hurt. Not because they were remotely malicious but because he would be reminded of whom they had actually approved. He hadn’t really thought much about it before, when Erik had been alive. They hadn’t mistreated him. They hadn’t antagonized him for his face, for his crimes, for his constant presence by Raoul. They had welcomed him and simply because Raoul had asked them to. It probably helped that Erik was a bit intimidating, moreso that he’d managed to help him after Christine had left.

It wasn’t as though they had been pretending with their kindness either; Raoul was certain he would have been able to tell, especially after how they’d been acting lately and comparing to their behaviour between Erik and Christine. It was obvious, now. It would have been humorous if it weren’t so depressing. If he didn’t know better, he would have gone to his servants for advice of what to do with his life now, but Raoul knew they didn’t understand. They didn’t understand that Erik was gone and he was supposed to move on.

o.o.o

Christine sat on the edge of the bed watching as Erik stalked the room. He checked the window before securing the door, but before he could blow out the candle and settle down to sleep, she stood up. It was enough to get his attention.

“Angel,” she said regardless.

Erik clenched his jaw at the name and exhaled slowly. It didn’t help. “Yes, Christine,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Would you like to join me on the bed tonight?”

Staring at her in disbelief, Erik shook his head slowly. “It would be best if we did not.” He didn’t really have to think about that response. As much as he was willing to work on their relationship, he wasn’t about to start with sleeping with her, especially when she kept calling him ‘Angel.’ He could remember what it felt like to have her arm clinging onto him, and he still hadn’t been able to explain why his body recoiled at such a touch. It was what he wanted. Sleeping in the same bed would simply confuse him further, he was certain.

“I want,” Christine walked towards him. “I want us to become closer.”

Unmoved by the statement, Erik considered this an opportunity to tell her his name, to tell her that he really was no angel and that she knew that. She’d seen him, spoke with him, and fought with him. She knew he was man, had called him a monster; yet, she still persisted with this attitude when it was obviously all an act. This was the Christine he had seen those months ago before she’d hit him over the head with a lamp. It was a Christine he really didn’t know and hadn’t fallen in love with, but he was willing to learn more because she was still Christine. “Then, let us speak.”

Glancing at his mask, Christine took a deep breath. She reached forward to place her hands on his chest, staring at the point of contact. He simply glanced down at her hands before focusing on her face again. Not getting the reaction she’d rather expected, she stepped back to put some distance between them.

She started, “It was a mistake.”

Erik took a step back as well. He kept his expression neutral. If she really wanted to talk, she would look him in the eyes, and so far, she’d looked everywhere but, her hands, the floor, the bed, his mask, everywhere but his eyes.

“Raoul,” she noted him tensing and was a little relieved that she’d been correct about his reaction to her ex-fiancé, “had never meant anything. He never treated me well.”

This time, Erik was the one who looked away. Didn’t she realize by now that he’d seen through that lie? He would see through any lie she said about Raoul. Didn’t she remember that he’d been there to see how she’d treated the boy? What Raoul had done for her? But, he didn’t stop her from speaking.

“He didn’t, well,” and this was where Christine knew she’d be crossing the line. This was the point of no return for her and she didn’t hesitate. She refused to, not when it could possibly bind the ghost to her, “when I came to find you, he tried to kiss me. I told him no, but he said that we were meant to be, told me that he would always love me, and that we could leave together. He said that I was to stay in his bed before speaking ill of you.”

Every word that Christine spoke drew his eyes away from the window he’d focused on during her first lie to her. He couldn’t quite understand what she hoped to accomplish with this, couldn’t quite understand this Christine. Not seeing any reason to let her continue lest he lose his temper, he stopped her. “Why do you need to lie?” And, he didn’t understand because he was already here with her. He’d already made his choice.

“Lie, Angel?” Christine stared at him wide-eyed.

“Raoul wouldn’t have done that,” Erik stated simply.

“Raoul wouldn’t have done that?” Christine repeated and stared at him in confusion. “Raoul?” Eyes darting to and away from him, she tried to comprehend his reaction. He was calm. He’d called him Raoul with more familiarity than she thought possible. There was no venom in the word, no bitter hatred as she’d heard in the past, and the way he’d said that statement – Christine believed that he did know Raoul wouldn’t have done what she’d said. There was absolutely no doubt in his voice and when she looked, nor in his expression. He knew she was lying.

Slowly, trying to understand how such a thing could happen, she said to herself, “You don’t hate him.”

Erik couldn’t help the reflexive response to defend his dislike of Raoul, “What are you talking about Christine?” It was a dislike that he was loathe to admit had lessened considerably. He could really only feel pity for him. Pity, that was all.

It wasn’t that the ghost simply didn’t hate him. Christine thought back to everything that had happened after her arrival at the Chagny estate that week ago. The ghost had gone to the bedroom and had been surprised to see her. Or at least, she thought he’d been surprised; after all, his first statement had been to ask where Raoul had been. He’d been expecting Raoul in the bed, and Raoul had specifically sent her there.

“Just what were you doing when I was away?” Christine stared at him, and Erik was annoyed, realizing that she could easily look him in the eyes but only when she was accusing him of something, only when she was angry. “Why did Raoul pack your luggage? Better yet, why did he even have your things?” Christine pressed. Still, the ghost didn’t react. The ghost and Raoul. They must have had an argument of some sort for the way they’d been acting, she concluded.

Erik retorted, not quite calm though not seeing a reason to lose his temper just yet, “I was making sure he wouldn’t follow us.”

She laughed harshly. “I’m sure.”

“What?” Erik couldn’t understand why Christine was misunderstanding the situation. He’d been at the Chagny estate solely for her, for them so that they could leave Paris unhindered. His plan had succeeded. Of course, he couldn’t deny that Raoul had been on his mind lately and often, but that was simply because he was angry with his reaction to his leaving. Raoul had been completely ungrateful. He would never have accepted his money. He’d been there because he’d wanted to be there, a place where he’d been able to be maskless, to work without fear of ballet rats or mobs, to experience a summer day outside… his thoughts were cut off as Christine continued.

“You were living at his estate. Weren’t you? You were with him while I was gone.” It was suddenly clear to her. Raoul hadn’t found the ghost for her; the ghost had simply been returning to the estate. The luggage had come from Raoul as well. It would explain why the ghost seemed so distant, why Raoul would stop them like he did, and why Raoul didn’t fight back.

“You, he…” she didn’t want to believe such a thing was possible. It was unnatural. Even Raoul must have realized it at the end, but if she were correct, she couldn’t understand why the ghost had left with her in the first place. Maybe he understood it was unnatural as well. Maybe he had made his choice with her but was simply dwelling on the past; so, confidently, she asked, “You don’t believe me? Angel,” she challengingly looked at him and issued an ultimatum that would hopefully wake the ghost up from whatever temporary mental ailment he’d been experiencing, “it’s either him or me. That’s all it comes down to.”

o.o.o

Raoul told himself that he was ready to take the next step. Though it had taken awhile to muster up the courage to do so, he had finally invited his now frequent lady companion to a date on his estate. It was the first time since Christine and Erik that someone else had been invited to his house. Although technically, Erik hadn’t been invited; he’d been unconscious and in need of medical aid. He hadn’t even wanted to be there.

Much like how he could tell that his date wanted to leave now as well.

Everything had started out pleasant enough. It was late afternoon when she’d arrived in a carriage, looking rather impressed. They’d gone to the sitting room where there had been a wide variety of beverages and snacks – Raoul still didn’t quite know what she liked – waiting for them. They talked at length about the weather, and Raoul had never known a conversation could last that long about humidity and heat. When Raoul hadn’t been able to stand another second of talk of the weather differences between Paris, cities she’d only ever heard of from friends, and the countryside, Raoul had offered a tour of his estate. He’d been more than a little relieved when she had agreed.

As he glanced at her now, he had a feeling that she hadn’t thought a tour of his estate had meant a walk around through the lawn to his stables and the wooded area. In retrospect, he should have left the stable out of the tour. For a woman who travelled by carriage a lot, she held a lot of contempt for horses. He was certain the smell hadn’t helped any. The way she wrinkled her nose and cast contemptuous glances at Raoul’s favorite horses was far from ladylike or even polite; so, Raoul had hurried his steps and glossed over the rest of what he’d been about to say just to leave the stable.

She’d turned to walk back towards the main house when Raoul stopped her.

“I was about to show you the rest of the estate,” Raoul said, offering his arm.

She looked from his arm to the line of trees in the distance. “What else do you have here?” Under her breath, she muttered, “A pig pen perhaps.”

Raoul ignored the last statement since she’d done very little to actually make certain he hadn’t heard her. She was simply irate; he could understand that. He said pleasantly, “There’s the lawn and the trees, and there’s this nice grove…” The word caught in his throat and he forgot everything that was about to say, his mind trapped in that one place that he’d blocked out of his thoughts. He tugged at the front of his shirt, his breathing suddenly difficult against the light pressure.

She looked at him oddly for a second before shaking her head. Seeming to remember herself, she replied, “Perhaps next time we could simply take a walk through the city. I rather like the cobblestones and city streets over” she frowned at the grass “such a quiet area as this.”

When Raoul could finally think again, he made a mental note. As much as she could talk about the weather in the countryside, she did not like it. She preferred the city; Raoul couldn’t fault her for that. Some people were simply fond of the city life. He nodded with a smile and she finally relaxed, as though she’d thought Raoul would drag her through the estate regardless of her opinion. As they approached the main building, Raoul motioned for her carriage. He escorted her into it with a mention that perhaps next time they would take that walk through the city. He only waited long enough to see that the carriage was actually leaving.

Without knowing why, Raoul found himself wandering through his estate. It really couldn’t be considered wandering though. He knew where he was going to end; he knew where his feet were taking him. Slowly approaching the grove, he knew exactly why he’d avoided this place, why he’d avoided the Opera Populaire, avoided entering the room adjacent to his, avoided his estate completely. It was the same reason why he couldn’t leave. The memories.

It was torture to stay here. Torture, yet he found himself walking towards their tree. He drew his fingers lightly across the bark, focusing on the sensation itself. Bowing his head, he let out a shuddered breath. He wanted to cry. He was almost certain that if he could just cry, he’d feel better, but after those first few days, all his tears had been shed.

Raoul jumped the distance to grab the lowest branch of the tree. He was a little out of practice, but he managed to pull himself up. This tree in particular was one of the larger trees that he was able to climb. The branch he sat upon was almost one and a half times as high as he was tall. It had taken a lot of time with Erik watching him futilely try to jump high enough to grab the branch and be able to pull himself up. He could clearly remember Erik’s amusement the times he’d just hung there, refusing to admit that he couldn’t pull himself up. He could clearly remember Erik sitting beneath the tree reading or simply staring out into the grove as they spoke about anything that came to Raoul’s mind at the moment. He could remember it all as though Erik were still there with him.

Holding onto the trunk of the tree, Raoul stood up a little shakily onto the branch. The next branch that would hold his weight was about waist height, but almost on the other side of the tree. He wrapped himself around the trunk to reach it, focused completely on the task before turning towards the next branch that he could reach. Higher and higher Raoul climbed. He needed to get as far away from the base of the tree, needed to do something because he couldn’t scream or cry and the pressure was still building up within him. It lessened just the slightest whenever he reached for that next branch, when his foot slipped and he barely grabbed the branch in time to stop his descent, when he could hardly breathe from the struggle against gravity, against the pull that tried to drag him back to the past.

He climbed until the tree began to sway from his weight, until there were no more branches that would hold his weight. He hadn’t reached the top, but he was close enough to see it. He was close enough that the air felt cooler here, lighter, freer. He hugged the tree trunk even though it scratched his cheek and tried to slow his breathing. His heart was beating rapidly, pulsing strongly against his ribs. He was sweating, and the meager wind was doing its job to cool him. The sun had a few more hours left but nearing the evening, it wasn’t as oppressive as it had been as of late.

Up that high, Raoul could see the tops of the other trees in the grove. He could see his house. Home? He could see the place that had once been home, and he realized it then that it would always hurt to be here, the Chagny estate, Paris. He realized that he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He didn’t know what was right, what he was supposed to do. Stay here or leave? See others or forsake them all for not being Erik? Be sad or fake being happy?

If he left, he’d be losing a part of himself. He cursed and laughed though it sounded more like a sob; it felt more like a sob. He’d already lost a part of himself; it had died.

Suddenly, he needed to feel the ground beneath his feet. He was certain that he would feel less lost on the ground than up in the tree.

The way down was more difficult than he thought possible, his reach always just barely making the lower branch. He was forced to hug the tree trunk several times and slide down towards the nearest branch. His face and hands were bleeding, and his clothes dirtied if not completely ruined. It didn’t slow him down though. He needed to be on the ground before the emptiness that was within him ate him away completely, before he vanished.

As he reached the last branch before he reached the ground, Raoul heard his name. He paused and closed his eyes, a sudden bout of dizziness hitting him. He swayed where he stood and steadied himself on the tree trunk. He knew that voice, the familiar tone of anger and incredulousness that was used whenever Raoul had done something that was deemed foolish.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Erik yelled.

Afraid, Raoul peered down. Sure enough, Erik stood there staring at him – more like glaring at him.

“You’re bleeding.” Erik’s eyes scrutinized every inch of the blonde that he could see. Raoul’s hair was in complete disarray. His cheeks were scratched, tiny rivulets of blood making their way down towards his throat. His shirt was torn in several places and Erik could almost swear that the sleeves were tinged in red as well. Raoul’s pants hadn’t come out unscathed either. He was a mess of torn clothes, blood, and leaves.

Erik had arrived at the Chagny estate in time to see a strange carriage with a woman sitting primly inside it leave the estate. He’d narrowed his eyes at her, memorizing exactly what she looked like. He was tired, but having arrived at his destination and with that rush of anger at seeing that woman, Erik found enough energy to race towards the main building only to be told by rather surprised staff that Raoul was outside.

He’d reached the tree to see Raoul doing a rather careless job of climbing down from a perilously high distance up their tree. His heart felt as though it had lodged its way into his throat as he mutely watched Raoul cling and slip down the tree. He clearly remembered his last thoughts of Raoul as he’d left with Christine.

Ignoring the tightening in his chest, Erik chose to focus on wondering how reckless the boy was to climb a tree that high. Did he want to die?

Erik yelled again not even caring that Raoul wasn’t answering, “Why would you even climb the tree that high? The only thing you can do there is fall to the ground.”

Raoul shook his head, not believing his eyes. No. It couldn’t be. Erik was dead. Raoul felt a little nauseous. Erik was dead. Forgetting himself, he took a step backwards in obvious denial of what he was seeing.

Erik saw the motion and his heart skipped a beat.

Dea died in the novel.

Quickly stepping forward, Erik placed himself directly in Raoul’s path towards the ground as the blonde windmilled and tried to grab the tree trunk again. Raoul flailed with a yell and could do nothing but hold his breath and wait to hit the floor. Instead of hitting the floor though, arms caught him. His body jerked to a stop before Erik’s legs gave out beneath him and they continued their journey to the ground. Raoul fell out of Erik’s hold a few feet away.

Ignoring the aches that were blooming all over his body, Erik pushed himself up onto his knees to better see how Raoul fared.

Raoul moaned, but remembering himself, he scrambled to move further away from Erik. His back hit the tree he’d fallen out of. He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. Erik was still in front of him. He stuttered. “Who…? How…?” His breaths became shorter.

“Raoul?” Erik really looked at Raoul this time. He didn’t seem injured from the fall, but with his current state, Erik wasn’t quite certain he’d be able to differentiate injuries from the climb down versus the fall. He wanted to be angry with him. He knew he should be because Raoul had literally just stepped off the branch, but he was more confused than anything at the moment. Of all the receptions he’d considered upon returning to the Changy estate, and he’d been certain he was prepared for anything in the four day non-stop journey he’d made, this was not one of them.

Then again, Raoul never ceased to surprise him.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 23

Word count: 4,434

o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Oh hell. I just gave you another reason to hate Christine. That was unintentional. It just happened.

We don’t exactly know what Erik’s motives are for returning, but considering Christine’s ultimatum, I can’t help but see this as a good thing, right? Hell, Erik’s back!

or check it out on ff.net

fic: Garnier Hospital Ch 06

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 17:56:20 GMT

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don’t sue. I don’t own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: AU. I shoved the POTO characters into a hospital setting. Slash btw, as though I write anything but.
Warning(s): slash, AU
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 2,341
Rating: T

A/N: Too many damn stories to keep up on. :( And July 4th is coming faster than I’d appreciate.
Oh, and you anon’d reviewers, thanks for the reviews…
Zee – you made me lol IRL. I can see the parallel as well.
Creg – I’m sorry for not updating quick enough. :) But hey, at least it’s sorta not that much time between chapter posts.

o.o.o.o

Garnier Hospital – Trauma
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

“Four days,” Erik said the moment the door to his room opened. He’d known it was Raoul well before the blonde had walked in. His footsteps were different from Christine’s and she was the only other person who dared enter his room this early in the morning.

Raoul winced, hanging his head in defeat. He knew Erik wouldn’t have just conveniently forgotten about their previous discussion, but he’d hoped his patient wouldn’t be too angry with him. That tone of voice said otherwise though.

His cell phone rang; that was all it had been doing the past four days, every half hour. Checking to make sure it wasn’t a patient-related phone call, he groaned at seeing the familiar number before rejecting the call again. He could let his answering machine suffer instead. After all, what was one more message among the dozens he’d already received? He already had a headache and was feeling a little warm. It was nothing some Tylenol and a little rest couldn’t cure. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time for rest. He was feeling better – the medicine already taking effect, but he just didn’t feel one hundred percent himself.

“I apologize, Erik,” Raoul immediately started, and he was sorry. He’d finally managed to get Erik to agree to do some physical therapy, and he hadn’t been able to follow through. Finding another physical therapist had been tempting, but he highly doubted Erik would let the man or woman near his room much less near his limbs. Christine was an option, but she was always so busy and tired after work that he didn’t want to bother her. He also didn’t want to admit that he wanted to be the one to help Erik get better; he wanted to support his first patient in any way that he could manage. Unfortunately, right now, he was barely managing anything.

“You no longer visit in the mornings and during lunch you’re always called away almost immediately,” Erik said evenly, or at least what he hoped was evenly. He was loathe to admit that he’d been waiting for Raoul the entire morning that first day after their conversation. He’d almost looked forward to their meeting, and when Raoul hadn’t shown, he’d been particularly irate the rest of the day.

Raoul’s phone rang again, and he completely ignored it. “I know…”

Erik interrupted, “Are you going to answer that?”

Sighing, Raoul gave in and checked it but rejected the call once more.

“It’s been a trying few days.” Raoul slumped into the chair, and reluctantly, Erik was inclined to believe him. Raoul didn’t look like he’d slept a wink, dark bruising beneath his eyes belaying his fatigue. Erik almost felt sympathy for him but reined in that reaction. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at such a pity-inducing expression. Christine was correct when she’d compared Raoul to a puppy. Erik almost despised her for the amount of time she spent in his room talking about Raoul. It was non-stop, and she knew so much about his young doctor that he was beginning to think that they’d been something more. Actually, he’d heard enough stories to know that they had been more in the past; he was expecting them to now be something of an item.

The idea was almost enough for him to refuse Christine’s assistance, but that was simply absurd. He had no reason to be annoyed except for the fact that Raoul probably spared time for her and didn’t bother to spare him any time for his physical therapy.

Raoul ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t quite sure where to begin. He could tell Erik why he’d been so busy, but in doing so, he’d cross some barrier between his professional and personal life. It wasn’t as though he thought Erik really cared why he missed their meetings, but for some reason, it seemed so impersonal to gloss over his absence with the same man he spoke about losing his professional license to. It felt unfair that he expected Erik to trust him enough to help him with his problems and to break down barriers if he couldn’t do the same.

He’d rather prefer not telling anyone his problems though. He didn’t want anyone to know how he’d been unable to follow his usual schedule because his family had begun to harass him. His brother, two sisters, and mother had separately shown up at his home different mornings to speak with him. He’d feared that today would be his father, but luckily, he’d managed to slip out of his loft without running into any family member sent to bring their wayward son/brother back to the hospital. That was always part of the lengthy speech, though not the focal point. There was the Chagny hospital fundraiser coming up. This evening actually. Raoul hadn’t planned to go. After all, he was not working at the hospital and his family hadn’t spoken to him in the months that he’d left to live his own life, so their sudden appearance and phone calls had been a surprise, a rather unwelcome surprise.

He was to go.

It was an order from his father, one that the rest of his family seemed convinced he should listen to unless he wanted some very detrimental repercussions. Raoul had ignored them at first. He hadn’t been able to understand why his presence was needed at all, but yesterday morning, Philippe had been adamant that Father needed the entire family to be present. Philippe also added with an apologetic smile that it would look better for the press and the fundraising community if they showed a united front. ‘They’d help more people.’ And, Raoul cursed Philippe for knowing what to say to him.

They’d sent his brother as a last resort. Yesterday morning, the lecture he’d received hadn’t been as bad as its predecessors. Philippe obviously hadn’t wanted to convince Raoul to go. He tried to make his visit pleasant even though they both knew its true purpose, but Raoul appreciated the effort. He appreciated the fact that his brother wanted a tour of his loft and a walk around his neighborhood. He appreciated the interest in life at the Garnier Hospital and his patients. Raoul had even spoken about Erik to him. Philippe seemed particularly interested about such a strange patient, as Raoul had well known he would be. It was something of a relief to be able to speak with someone so frankly and Raoul realized how much he’d missed his brother. That was one thing he missed about the Chagny Hospital, maybe the only thing now that the other doctors at the Garnier Hospital were at least willing to help him during his absence.

“I was thinking of scheduling our session next week,” Raoul started with, instead of diving into explanations. The fundraiser was this evening, but he’d been coerced into a family weekend as well, which was nothing but a means of his parents trying to convince him to return. He simply didn’t know how to refuse to go. Actually, he had refused; it just hadn’t mattered. He was the slightest bit guilty that he’d lost touch with them completely. In his defense though, they were the ones that had basically disowned him.

Erik grit his teeth as a wave of pain ran through his body. It had been getting progressively worse. He knew it was because he’d tried to move his limbs just to gauge how much work would need to be done before he could walk or move on his own again. He hadn’t had such thoughts in quite some time. He hadn’t needed to move, had barely wanted anything but to live in this white room with its lone shuttered window and no visitors. This was the life he’d chosen after everything that had happened.

The scars and the pain were his only real companions. Moving became a chore and wholly unnecessary. He’d been wasting away and hadn’t cared. But, it wasn’t as though he’d wanted to die. He’d simply hadn’t the will to live. There had been no reason to, and he didn’t quite understand what Raoul had done to him, why he suddenly wanted to eat ‘real’ food or be able to sit up by himself or walk around. Why do those things when he could lie in his bed? Why do those things when it meant having to leave this world that he’d chosen for himself? Things could never go back to the way they had been before. Why should he even be bothered to try?

The pain made him freeze up and he refused to let Raoul see him in such pain again, not after he’d been fooled into believing the blonde was different than any of his other doctors.

“Get out,” his voice was low, hopefully low enough to mask any verbal slips, “I’m tired and you’re bothering me.”

“Erik,” Raoul could barely look him in the eyes. He was the one at fault and he really didn’t know what to say, “I said I’m sorry.”

“And I said stop bothering me,” Erik said through clenched teeth. He almost expected Raoul to notice that it was simply because of the pain, but he didn’t. It only angered him further.

Raoul sighed. He didn’t have the energy to deal with this. He’d already caved in to his family’s wishes; he’d already started mentally preparing himself. He was going to the dinner, going to spend his weekend there. He’d go and be the good son, mingle and be charming like a good Chagny.

“Just leave. You barely know what you’re doing anyway.”

“Erik…”

“A boy playing to be a man,” Erik didn’t even know where the insults were coming from now. He didn’t believe it, “using his family’s name to get everything he wants in life.”

Erik saw the change in Raoul immediately. Raoul’s eyes widened and the shock was evident. Erik had never let on that he’d known about who Raoul was related to; it was difficult not to know the Chagny hospital, and as much as he was in isolation now, he hadn’t been his entire life. An entire family of doctors was difficult to ignore. Moreover, the Chagny hospital was the biggest privately owned hospital and they tried to be at the forefront of medical advances. They had always been in the newspapers, and if Erik tried, he could remember an article about how their youngest had gone to medical school.

Without a doubt, Erik knew that he’d pressed the right, or wrong depending on perspective, button with that statement.

“Right now’s an inconvenient time for me, so perhaps we could reschedule a later time,” Erik bit out as his thigh muscle cramped up.

Standing up, Raoul scoffed. “Look. I have other patients. I have other responsibilities besides you. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

By this point, Erik knew Raoul was angry enough to run off. It was the heated glare and clenched fists that gave it away. Just another push and Raoul would storm out of the room. Or punch him, but Raoul had yet to do that. “Why can’t you get that I don’t feel like entertaining a fraud right now?”

“You know what?” Raoul almost spluttered.

“No, what?” Erik goaded.

“This is why the other doctors left you. I don’t even know why I bother,” Raoul shouted and left, succeeding in making Erik speechless. He finally got the last word in an argument.

He’d stormed down the hallway, close enough to see the nurse’s station. He lost all his energy at that point. Slumping against the wall, he whispered to himself, Oh shit. Had he really just said that? That was a horrible thing to say to a patient and worse yet, to Erik who didn’t deserve to be abandoned again. He was about to walk right back down the hallway to apologize. It wasn’t Erik’s fault that he couldn’t tell his family no, but if he returned now they’d probably start to argue again. Erik was mad at him and in that state, Raoul didn’t stand a chance of keeping his own temper in check, but he couldn’t let Erik believe he stopped wanting to help. He hadn’t lost hope. Erik could get better.

Christine walked up to him in his indecision. “Bad morning?” She asked empathetically, as though she already knew what had happened. Raoul wouldn’t be surprised if she did. They’d had a yelling match after all, or at least, he’d yelled.

Raoul nodded mutely.

“It’ll get better,” she said and she sounded certain.

Raoul doubted it. He was going to spend his lunch time with Philippe, trying to find proper attire for the fundraiser. He was going to have to wear a bowtie and everything would go downhill from there. This morning was a good start to a horrible weekend.

“I was going to tell Erik that I wouldn’t see him again today and maybe the weekend as well, but we…” He wondered how to word it.

“Had a little spat?” Christine supplied.

Laughing humorlessly, Raoul replied, “Yeah. A spat, I guess. Can you please tell him that I will see him as soon as I can? I just need to finish my round before I have to go.”

“Sure,” Christine agreed without hesitation, “But Raoul. Are you alright?”

Raoul thought about that. Was he alright? At the moment, far from it, but Christine wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t known the answer was already no. So, he explained with one word, “Family.”

“Oh,” she patted him on the shoulder. “I heard about the fundraiser. So you’re…”

“Yeah. I have to.”

“Good luck.”

Raoul smiled at her words. He was going to need luck to make it through the night without making a scene or somehow dishonoring his family, which he so easily seemed to do by their standards. Everyone would be making backhanded comments, parents included; Raoul would be lucky if he made it through the night without punching someone.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 06

A/N: Don’t forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Story Note: Awww… they fought and Erik didn’t even get a massage.

or check it out on ff.net