A/n: a rose. It can mean everything and nothing. It can bind hearts and break them. It can mean many things and can come in many colors. But most of all, it is the symbol of love.

This is that sotry that i promised you all! This is slash, people. Again E/R.

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any characters in it!

RAOUL POV

It's been one year since the incident of the Phantom of the Opera. I am glad to say that we have heard no more from him. And also that we have performed a single piece, the opening night last night. The only reason for the delay was the rebuilding of the stage. After the chandelier came down, there was a fire. Two killed, a dozen or more injured.

When I first learned that the managers needed to meet with me, I felt it would be nothing, but their urgency surprised me.

Pulling up in my carriage to the famous Opera Populaire, I hop off and quickly stride to the mangers office. I knock and I hear M. Firmin demand, "Who is it?"

I stand up tall and answer in a calm voice; "It is your patron, Monsieur."

Quickly the bolts on the door slide open and M. Andre pulls me into the office as the door is sealed shut behind me.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demand.

"He's back!" M. Firmin exclaims. He need not give a name: it's the Opera Ghost, the Phantom, Christine's Angel of Music.

"When?" my voice is grave.

M. Andre shakily replies, "We found the note yesterday, and instantly sent for you."

"What does he want?" I know the only reason he would show himself, or let us know he is back, is to get something, "Was he not pleased with the triumph of last nights performance?"

"He's demanding a raise!" M. Firmin screams, outraged.

"Another two thousand francs!" M. Andre points out.

"Well, it would be good not to anger him," I point out. "No matter how much I hate the man, I know that it is unwise to be on his bad side."

"Monsieur Vicomte, we do not have the money to pay," M. Firmin exasperates.

"How much is it again?" I turn to M. Andre, finding M. Firmin far too annoyed to speak to.

"Twenty two thousand francs. Two thousand more than before," he sighs.

"And here's the devil's note to prove it," M. Firmin jabs the note at me.

I take it and read:

My dear Managers,

I have heard of the Opera's new success. I congratulate you on your choice of performers. But in this new light, since I see I am no longer needed to choose who shall perform, I would like to enlighten you with a deal. I leave your casting alone, if you pay me two thousand extra francs a month. A grand total of twenty two thousand francs a month. If you decline, well, I shall say that would be most unfortunate for you.

Your obedient servant and business partner,

O.G.

The nerve. To demand more money from these poor men, poor in more than one sense.

"I'll pay the additional two thousand francs," I sigh out.

"What, Monsieur?" M. Andre moves a step closer to hear me.

"I'll pay the extra two thousand francs," I look at him and realize my tone is harsh. Not caring, I continue, "I can afford it, and I know it's going to a good cause."

"Oh, thank you Monsieur le Vicomte!" M. Andre bows.

"And now if you would excuse me, I have some business to take care of," I add.

"Oh, of course," M. Firmin nods.

"Thank you again, Monsieur," M. Andre yells after me as I walk out the door.

Business indeed. That man will pay, now that I know he is a man, and I know what dirty little tricks he likes to pay. His head will be mine!

ERIK POV

I watch as the fool leaves the room. I watch as the managers re-lock the door, a false sense of security. They know as well as I that the lock is no match for me and that I could still enter the room at will. But I choose not to, and I let them continue their hope that I will not bother them.

For now, I will not, there are far greater matters.

I move from the mirror and make my way to Box 5, listening through the wall to the Vicomte's distinct footfall. He means to challenge me in my own territory. I'll play along, if nothing else, then to satisfy my own need to toy with the incompetent boy.

Easily moving ahead of the boy, I make for my own personal entrance to Box 5, and easily sit in my chair before hearing the door crash open.

"You know, there is such a thing as knocking!" I turn and see his face, red with furry. Something about it actually is attractive.

Keep your thoughts in line! I could never find another man attractive!

"How dare you?" he yells, "You disappear for so long, and then just decide to return as if nothing had happened? As if you had never left? Who do you think you are?"

I stand up and move directly into his face, "My dear childish friend, I am the Opera Ghost, and as such, in being a ghost I can choose when and where I wish to appear. If I had not wanted to, I could have not come here, and not met with you."

"You bastard," he growls.

I slap him hard across the face, "Watch your tongue, boy."

"Oh, I think I hit a nerve," he sneers.

I stand over him and watch him shrink in fear at my presence, suddenly much darker than before, "When you have been ridiculed in front of thousands of people, then you can call me names. But until you feel that pain for yourself I would advise you to watch your tongue." The last three words were clipped.

Before what I said can register, I storm out of the room through the regular door, leaving him with something to think about.

RAOUL POV

I watch as he storms out, leaving me utterly confused. My face stings where his strong hand hit. I was actually quite surprised by his strength. Many things surprised me today.

I remember, as I was coming up to the fence, hearing his words: This face which earned a mother's fear and loathing. A mask my first unfeeling scrap of clothing.

And then what he just yelled: When you have been ridiculed in front of thousands of people, then you can call me names. But until you feel that pain for yourself I would advise you to watch your tongue.

And the story Mme. Giry told me, of the gypsies. His name, the "Devil's Child".

What has this man lived through? I always knew my brother was strict, and sometimes very cruel about it, but never was he anything like the people this man has met.

I know of humanities cruelties, this man has actually lived every day through them.

Maybe he's not really as bad as we think he is, maybe he's just misunderstood.

And maybe I'm not the Vicomte de Chagny! What am I thinking? I don't care about this man!

But still, I wonder…

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a/n: my goal for this story is to get atleast 60 reviews... so please, help me reach my goal, be kind and review!