AUTHOR'S NOTE—This one-shot is set at the very end of the Phantom of the Opera movie, an AU ending. I'm rating this T because of the Phantom's suicide. Please keep this in mind. I hope you enjoy it; I'll definitely be uploading more! I appreciate any and all feedback! I want to apologize for the length—I know it's very short. I just didn't know how to lengthen it, so I didn't.
On a different note; I just wanted to put it out there that I am willing beta for anyone! Slash couples are fine with me, and smut is too! Just PM me if interested.
Thank you, I hope you enjoy. xx
The Final Threshold. |The Phantom's Suicide|
"Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feeling exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once, just once, understand." –Anonymous.
The Phantom's voice, which had once been so melodic and mesmerizing, was now broken and contorted, cracking from here to there. Tears stained his bare cheeks and tears found their crooked way down his face. "Masquerade,"He sang weakly, "Paper faces on parade…Masquerade… Hide your face and the world will never find you…"He felt eyes on him, and looked up. His eyes locked with those of his precious Christine, with her porcelain face and wide, child-like eyes. Where once they were filled with wonder, they were now filled with tears. Her tears cascaded down her cheekbones and off of her chin, her hair tumbling down her back in a lovely mass of curls. Seeing her there, a fraction of a smile distorted the Phantom's lips, but vanished as quickly as it had come when he saw Christine sliding the diamond ring off her finger.
A new sensation gripped the Phantom's soul, a sort of shattering despair he had never felt before. Christine placed the ring in the centre of her Angel's palm, curling his fingers around it. Her hand lingered there for a moment, and she stared deeply into the green, misty wonderland that was his eyes. His face was a mosaic of marred flesh and yet godlike beauty, broken memories and an empty past. He had been so unreachable, yet so attainable at the same time. Such a maze and yet so simple. If only things had been different… This poor, broken man who was once her Angel. And yes… yes, he always would be. He had touched her life in ways she could not voice; her had unveiled her wings and given her the chance to fly.
"Christine, I love you…" He sang to her softly, and she closed her eyes tightly, capturing her tears.
"Forgive me, I beg you, if you can…" She nearly whispered it, her voice strangled, "I brought you, nothing but war…"
"Christine…" He whispered to her, clasping her tiny hands and closing his eyes.
"Forgive me, Angel," She murmured breathlessly, and pulled away slowly. She retreated, and went to Raoul, who was waiting hesitantly on the boat. As they sailed away on the misty lake, Christine turned to give her Angel a final, withering glance. She held tightly to her love by his shoulders, and she latched her gaze with the Phantom's, a knowing, farewell gaze.
The Phantom watched Christine and Raoul disappear into the mist. His body racked with sobs, and he lifted his shaking hands to his wore face. "Damn you," He whispered to nobody at all. He stood, running his fingertips over his mutilated flesh. "You alone can make my song take flight… It's over now; the music of the night!" He cried miserably, his fingers circling a stray candlestick, with such a great force that his knuckles turned white.
He viciously smashed his mirrors, gritting his teeth and snarling like an animal. When all the mirrors lay in pieces, he dropped the candlestick, hearing it smash to the ground. He caught his breath, leaning down and picking up a large, honed piece of the mirror. He played the glass between his palms, listening to his broken heartbeat.
"Not a single star will be left," He said, "The night will not be there. I will die, and with me, the weight of the intolerable universe. I will erase my history, dust of dust. I raise my eyes and look to see the final sunset, but only darkness… Only darkness greets me. I am the last singing bird. I bequeath all of my nothingness to no one." He swallowed his sobbing, and looked down at the piece of mirror wretchedly, seeing his reflection, "Come and see the devil's child." He whispered.
He allowed the sharp edge of the glass to caress his wrist, soothing his writhing skin. He sliced vertically into his arm, ripping open the canvas. For a moment nothing happened, but then blood poured from the cuts, draining him of his pain. The blade gnawed away at his past, and he felt a lightheaded sense of freedom. He bled away all of his fears, and for once, for one moment in all of his miserable life, he saw a small orb of light, calling his name. No more shadows. Only light, as soft as angel wings. Carrying him away, leaving his wretched form, and finding his peace. He let out a strangled cry, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile as he collapsed to his knees. He was all he had ever deserved to be, in a moment.
And with a smile on his lips, the Phantom closed his eyes for a final time, his breath running out. His heartbeat ringing in his ears, until the very last one.
The mob inhabited his lair, their voices going unheard by the Phantom. The ballerina Meg Giry saw him first, and she approached the broken shards of the mirror. She gasped and felt tears spring to her eyes as she saw the sight—the Phantom of the Opera; defeated.