Hi everyone! Here is the story what took me the longest to write. Though it's relatively short, I hope you'll like it! I tried very hard to correct all my mistakes but since english is not my mother tongue please feel free to write me a PM if I missed something and I'll fix it.
Thank you for reading!
For You
She was running.
In fact she'd been running for far too long, running from reality, from decisions but for now running was the decision itself. The only thing she could do to finally live in realitiy, a thing she'd never wished to do before. The first time in her short life she made a decision on her own and she still dread the consequences of it.
It could be the beginning of her dreams or the end of her hopes.
- o -
He didn't know how long he'd been there, sitting on the floor of his once sheltering home, unmoving. Time lost its meaning since she'd left... Forever...
Only darkness and silence existed since that fateful night, only his memories left him chained to this mercilessly abandoned place... and to Christine...
Everywhere he looked he was reminded of the one minute bliss in his life, the short time he was actually happy despite who he was and what he'd done. It was torturing him, knowing he'd never feel that again - yet he couldn'd move, he didn't want to. He didn't want to forget her. He wanted to remember every moment he spent with her, no matter how it hurt now. He needed to remember…
He always saw her face, he always heard her voice - the voice he'd created. He couldn't tell anymore whether he was awake or not. He always felt her kiss... The soft touch of her lips on his own as she saved the life of her love... And it wasn't him. It's never been him who she loved.
It had never been this painful to know he'd been left alone, before her. Before he knew how it felt to have somebody who cared for him, who treated him as human. Before he knew love...
Nothing but the endless misery remained. No more...
He wished death to free him from this wretched and meaningless existence. Wouldn't it be easier to end his life with his own hands? It could have been quick, he could have done it painlessly…
A loud crash broke the silence of his solitude as glass hit the wall then a small object broke into several shivers.
How he hated hope…
- o -
She stumbled down the now well-known passages, deliberately forcing back her sob of despair and fear but tears she couldn't stop. One of her trembling hands clutched forcefully on the stone wall in a vain attempt to keep her balance, the other clasping a torch with the remnant of her strength.
She couldn't let it unfinished. Finally there was actually something she did know - she had to make it right. Or at least she had to try, even if it was late.
She wished it wasn't too late...
- o -
He heard her voice. He always heard her voice. But this time it was so real, so convincing, crying despairingly 'Angel' from the direction of the portcullis that he almost believed she was coming. Almost.
She'd never call him Angel after what she'd seen...
And then, the cruel truth of the situation dawned on him.
No... Not the visions...
He wanted to scream, to chase the cruel joke of his twisted mind from his ears but he had no more strength left. He had no more willpower left, either, to refuse this unmercifully comforting illusion; all he wanted was to succomb to that illusion, even if was just in his mind, to loose reality in his dreams and never wake again.
- o -
She fell twice in her effort to reach her destination as quickly as possible, ruining her once charming light blue dress.
She didn't care.
As soon as she reached the shore she took the pole and climbed hastily into the boat, now trembling violently from her supressed sob and the threatening proximity of her darkest fears.
She wished she wasn't too late... She wished she'd been more mature... She wished she'd done it four days earlier...
- o -
He was sure he heard the sound of water, as if somebody was paddling through the lake. A single tear made its way down his already wet cheek.
Just a hallucination…
All he had left was his sanity - and now he lost that, too, with the return of useless hope.
- o -
The boat hit the shore with such swing that she almost fell again. She wiped the tears which blurred her sight with the back of her hand and looked around worriedly.
No light.
No sounds.
No Angel...
A choked sob left her throat no matter how she tried to keep it from escaping. She didn't want this. She never meant to cause this much hurt to either of them. She felt that everything was her fault.
She stood rooted to her spot and dared not to move for several moments, she dared not to face with the effect of her previous hurried and childish actions. It took her all of her willpower to light some candle in his lair after several minutes of fighting with her emotions, fearing to see the damage of the mob's anger but when she allowed her eyes to wander she realized that there was none of it. Everything was on its place but as she looked around she realized the sparkling pieces of mirrors, covering the floor all around her.
No...
She tried to call for him, to know he's there, to know he's alive but no sound came from her throat. She ran frantically through his deserted home, searching for him with the remnants of her power and sanity.
He couldn't have left…
From the already known rooms of his lair she raced to the opposite area where she'd never been before. Her heart almost stopped at the soft sound she heard before her roaming sight cast upon a sitting form in a corner.
The huddled form of her Angel.
He was sitting with his back to the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms around them, his head leaned on his arms. Though she didn't hear it, she was still sure he was crying. Crying for her, mourning her, the love he never had, his life...
She called carefully "Angel" and at her voice he lifted his head slightly, allowing her to see his haunted and exhausted expression.
He seemed so tired...
The torch hit the floor with a dull thud, leaving them in almost complete darkness, only the moonlight seeped through the gate to the Rue Scribe as she sank to her knees in front of him powerlessly while violent sobs shook her whole frame. She tried to speak, her lips tried to form words of regret, words of relief, words of anything - but no voice came out. She saw the signs of previous tears on his face as she watched him through her own ones, helplessly trying to speak. She'd never felt more childish before.
She knew what she wanted - yet she didn't know whether she was allowed to do that. She knew what she felt - yet she wasn't sure she was permitted to say it. She knew what she wished to do - yet she dared not. At long last she was certain of herself - yet she'd never felt this weak before.
When she was a child she would ask her Angel, now he was in front of her - but she couldn't ask him anymore. Not now when it was about them.
She hoped there still was them.
That vivid illusion was tormenting him. Seeing her so broken made him eager to comfort her - and at the same time he was longing to find comfort in doing so. He scrambled closer to her but stopped before he could touch her. The apparition. The thought of his Angel being only a daydream made his heart ache with such intensity he never thought was possible. How could life be this unjust? Inhuman... As much as he tried to avoid the recognition of his despairing state he still wasn't able to get rid of his curiosity.
Tentatively, as if he was trying to touch something what would break in the instant he'd do so he lifted one hand to feel her curls, just to prove she's there, just to show her that he was there, too. He reverently brushed away some of the hair what fell over her face and was caught off guard as she gripped his trembling hand with such power as if her very life depended on it and he stiffend abruptly.
But now at least he knew she was real.
She moved her other hand to his wrist and pressed his hand to her tear-streaked face, still sobbing pathetically but now her weeping was a relieved one, as she knew that even if he wouldn't believe her, she still would be able to tell him. He still would… she wasn't sure what she expected of him. What she hoped, though, seemed irational, unsure, inappropriate and painfully undescribable. And yet, deep down, that indefinite wish promised her what she always wanted: confidence.
He was sitting in an awkward position, letting her cry and took in the feeling of her tears, her breath, all the while trying to figure it out why on earth was she there. In addition to that, sobbing fitfully, now into his palm. He let her go, why would she come back?
As her cries subdued bit by bit, he eventually gain his courage, and still not really sure she wouldn't vanish if he spoke, he ventured to ask:
"Why are you here?"
"To be with you."
He felt his eyes filling with tears. "Are you real?" He whispered, as if to himself.
"Yes." She kissed his palm tentatively. "I'm real."
He drew back his hand as if it was burned.
"Where is that boy?" He asked angrily. "You came back only to help him to kill me?"
"He's not here. I came by myself," she answered, deeply offended.
"Why should I believe you? You play now just as perfectly as the last time I believed you. You won't destroy me again." He started to leave her but her words stopped him.
"I left him." She saw how his back tensed but couldn't swallow the rest of her sentence. "For you."
How he wanted to not to show her any weakness as he slowly, ever so slowly turned back to her but he felt tears gathering once again in his eyes. Now he seriously wanted to break something. Anything. Cursed the days he spent without sleeping, cursed hope, cursed the love he still felt for her.
"Why are you doing this?" He asked her in agony. "Giving me hope then taking it away. Why?" He gripped her shoulders forcefully. "Tell me why!"
Tears welled in her eyes threateningly and no matter how she tried to stop them his words caused her more pain than she'd expected. As he saw the first glistening tear escaping her eyes he knew he was lost. This time he was the one who took away hope. Why would she stay with a monster who makes her fear him with every movement he does? All he wanted was to make her love him but all he achieved was showing her why not to. He dropped his hands, completely devastated.
"Go," he choked, air suddenly gone from his lungs. "Leave now."
She saw his transformation from the vengeful Phantom to her gentle Angel and almost couldn't believe her eyes. She'd seen it once and now it happend again.
"Isn't it familiar?" She asked him with a little hint of fear in her voice.
Once again, her words made him face her. Seeing her eyes slightly red from crying urged him to lift his hand to cover his face. Why was he still here?
"Isn't it familiar, crying together, you asking me to leave while I want to stay?"
"You didn't want to stay last time, nor do you now."
"Then why am I here you think?" She crawled a little closer but he backed away.
"I don't know." His voice sounded dull, almost lifeless.
"Why did I kiss you?"
"I don't know." He whispered almost inaudibly, seeming more and more unstable as madness from lack of sleep and his desperate state took over him.
"You didn't force me; it would have been more than enough to promise you I won't leave."
He said nothing for long minutes.
"You left." He said accusingly at last.
"Yes, it's unforgivable," she admitted, now ashamed as well, but then added "But I came back."
"Why?"
"Why do you think?"
"To torture me," he snapped with unsupressed rage.
"No," she stated calmly. "It seems that 'he' saw it sooner than you do."
"Don't talk to me about him." He warned her menacingly but she didn't flinch nor did she waver.
"He tried to console me for days."
"I don't…" He started but couldn't finish. Now he cared.
"And I hated him for that. I hated him for being nice, for wanting to help me, for asking me to forget. I don't want to forget."
She stopped, searching in his eyes for any sign of belief and saw nothing but his perfectly controlled emotions. How did he do that? In one minute he's shouting at her and in the next he was showing no emotion at all?
"He didn't deserve that from me," she blurted out finally.
He deserves much worse than that for what he did he thought but refrained from voicing it.
"He told me I'd never be free of you." She tried very hard to keep her voice emotionless and she find that she'd done it quite well. Since he remained silent she continued.
"He was right. No matter where I go, no matter what I do, you'll be there and still, you won't be there. I didn't want that."
"Christine…" He began sorrowfully but she cut him off.
"I know, you let me go. It is I who… who can't let you go. I thought I didn't need you but I made a fool of myself. I do need you." Her voice faded as tears of guilt began to choke her.
Again, he said nothing but as she crawled closer to him this time he remained on his spot, deep in thought.
"I can't let you go again." He stated finally, his voice raw. "You can't leave again."
She moved even closer and he examined her warily, not sure what to expect.
"I'll stay with you," she stopped, doubtingly, "my Angel."
That word was mocking him, he was sure. Once it had meant the world to him when he heard it from her lips but no more.
"I'm not." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "My name is Erik."
"Erik," she repeated, a small smile playing on her lips. Knowing his name felt wonderful. It was as if he told her a precious secret and now she felt as unique as never before. He shared a little piece of himself with her and she knew it was only the two of them who knew that secret. It felt marvelous.
She closed that small distance between them, watching his face intently as she moved and gently clasped her fingers around his wrist. A small part of her was frightened that he'd be furious if she tried to pry his hand from his face but the bigger part of her wanted to kiss him. Desperately wanted to. She wanted to show him what she dared not to say, what took her several days to realize.
Looking deeply in his eyes she took his unshaven cheeks into her palms as equals then kissed him thoughtfully. His surprise was evident from his light trembling but then her tender act swept away every of his defences, he returned her gesture with fervent passion and this time their kiss felt whole for both of them. Yet he wasn't able to stop the question, uncertain about the answer as he was.
"Will you stay as my wife? Would you marry me?"
"Yes," she smiled. "Yes, I'll marry you."
"Christine, I love you so much," he breathed and saw how tears began to shine in her eyes in response of his words.
"I love you, too, Erik." She kissed away a tear from his distorted face. "I love you, too."
She couldn't miss even in that darkness how his fingers trembled as he drew his ring from his finger and then slid it on hers. How she feared that ring before! Now it meant the world for her. It meant him. Them.
She fell asleep a long time later on his lap, leaning her head on his shoulder. He still wasn't sure he hadn't gone mad and dreamt all of the night's events. But it was enough to look at her, to see her breast rising and falling with her breathing, to see his ring resting on her finger and he was convinced. Finally he joined her in her sleep, embracing her with an emotion what he described later as sheer happiness.