That Saturday night, like almost every Saturday night during the past few months, Raul waited in the "haunted" opera house of Paris after watching the show. The first time, maybe first times he did so were because he was invited by his friends to watch an opera with them; later, he would be the one to invite; at last, he started to go alone, realizing there's no reason to lie to himself that he was coming for the shows.
No, he was coming for the visit to the dungeons in the backstage afterwards.
"Come out of your cave, you spineless coward!" He shouted toward the entrance of the catacombs. The gas- lit hallway was somehow empty of performers, and a gas flame flickered and died out behind Raul, leaving him in a lone circle of light inside the pitch- dark hallway.
"That is quite the insult, coming from one as weak and spineless as you." Said an annoying, familliar voice from within the shadows. It might have come from any direction for all Raul knew. He hated it. "Though I doubt anyone could come near your level." The ghost said snarkily.
"Said by a person who's hiding like an animal as he speaks. And you call yourself a man!"
"I am afraid you might not be one to talk, filthy frenchman," said the bastard, stepping into the light (or at least the edges of it) behind Raul, "as you hide behind rows of crowd instead of going to your favored seat at the balcony. Might I ask, if you are afraid of something?" Raul spun around just in time to see the outline of the monster disappear into the shadows again. "Not from me, are you?" was wispered to his ear from behind, and he turned to see the Phantom's horrid grin and menacing figure in the light, like a shadow that gained a body.
And one hell of a body, Raul thought, recalling what the cape was hiding. No! Not. This. Time.
"Never! You are nothing but a lunatic, do not forget that, you idiotic englishman! I have nothing to fear!"
"I'm idiotic? I must have misheard. You, the lover who managed not only to not realize his lady was in love with her 'friend dancer', but even make her run away to a different country?" That bastard needs to be put into his place- "That's-."
"You claim I made her run? You are the one who kidnapped and terrorized her!"
"You haven't even believed her! When she came to you for help, you told her she was imagining things!" He dares blame me and look so appeallling while doing it!
"That would not have been needed if you had not haunted her and attempted to trap her in your dungeon!"
"She would have been happyer in a dungeon with me than in a castle with you!!" That scum-!!!
"She could never have been happy with you! You are nothing but a monster, a repelling monster that no one wants!!!"
The Phantom gasped, and no mask could hide how deep that hurt. Wonderfully deep, certainly. Raul could spend the whole evening watching him wither internally in his loneliness and heartbreak and deserved self- hate.
But the world had other plans, the count realized, as he was grabbed by the shoulders and pinned to the wall, the monster's breath on his face.
"You and I both know that's not true." The english scum was obviously trying to sound confident, but pathetic fear and desperation reached his voice, and it was clear Raul was the only one who knew that.
Raul felt the warmth of the Phantom's hands on his collar bone, hands that reeked of murder, and could skim across his body with the tenderness of a master pianist tapping a key. He eyed the elegant, enticing neck at the hight of his nose, and thought of the disgusting distortion he knew was under the mask. Raul was ripped between his desires: wanting to push the lowly beast away and leave him to drown in loneliness and misery, to drain the man's hope in a mere sentence; and pushing that body as tight to his own as physically possible. For a moment, there was complete balance: and then, the taller man did that nervous, sexy thing with his lips, and it was over.
Needless to say that at the moment their lips tangled, the Phantom's hold on Raul's shoulders was as unpresent as the musician's worth. That musician's hands were now learning Raul's skin beneath his shirt, with all the precision and gentleness the latter knew them to have. The latter grabbed the englishman's body and violently pushed it to the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs, then tightened their bodys to each other and tangled his mouth to the other's. The Phantom moaned, awaking a deep hunger from within the aristocrat's guts. Raul kissed harder, taking up his left hand and scratching the vile thing beneath the monster's mask, and leading his right hand downwards and grabbing the taller man's ass. The murderer made a sound between a gasp of pain and a moan, and might have been both. Raul moved his hand to tangle with the other man's soft, soft hair, kneading his ass with the other while The Phantom touched around his skin.
And then, the composer stopped to look at him, with eyes shining happily.
"Then you did want me."
It was pathetic how eager, desperate, that man was to be loved. Raul's nose wrinkled and he pulled away from The Phantom, took his hands off of himv pushed their bodies apart.
The sudden fear and pain in the composer's eyes was far more empowering than he'd admit.
He put a finger on the taller man's mouth. "Silence."
The composer nodded. Suddenly, he looked like a small, frightened kid looking for comfort. For affection.
"You will listen to me when I speak. When I tell you to do something, you will do so." He looked into The Phantom's eyes and said: "After all, a count's lover has to be complient."
Hope shined in the eyes of Raul's hated lover. Raul grabbed his puppet's mouth with his own, and continued from where he was before they spoke, that Saturday night.