Title: Unrequited Love
Fandom: Phantom of The Opera
Pairing: Erik/Christine, Raoul/Christine, Christine/Meg, Meg/?
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Note: They're all unrequited love. Well, not really if you contemplate on Meg's section. Have fun reading it! Oh, and please review. Yes, I bet you hear that a hundred times. I don't expect you to write a full page or something (that would be great tho), but a simple and small constructive one will do. Also, please no flames. I'll just laugh at you.
What a pity. What a tragic thing, he sneers.
He looks at her from afar. She is glancing at Antionette's daughter while they rehearse their routine for the fourth time. Foolish woman, he thought, that insolent child will never love you. Only I truly can.
It is her time to sing now. The other girls look at her with envy, while the Viscount watches her with sickening yearning. She is mine, he growls. Halfway through the song, she raises her right hand, just as though she is stroking a face. He closes his eyes, imagining her soft fingertips caressing his hideous scar.
She frowns as the phantom passionately holds her, brushing his lips lightly to her throat. She sees her staring but quickly looks away as if she's ashamed of herself. She grips her dress, hoping it will take away some of her anger towards him. She bites back a sob as the phantom disappears, taking her with him.
Christine. Please be safe. I cannot live without you.
I- I said yes, she says to her
She tries not to hold her breath. But she smiles. She smiles, hoping that she wouldn't see what she feels inside. It hurts. She flashes a grin of her own, the smile that managed to burn itself in the back of her mind.
She thinks she should give a response, a laugh, a nod, and a 'tell me what happened' but if she does, she might just crack a little more than she already has. So she remains silent.
Madame Giry calls her. A minute, mother! She shakes her head, quietly chuckling to herself.
Oh Christine, I love you so very much. Sometimes ... She bites her lower lip, as if choosing whether to say it or not. Sometimes I wish we were more than just mere friends- so that we would never be apart!
Then, her body tenses as she wraps her arms around her. She can feel her soft breathing but it gets overpowered by the sharp stab of false hope and longing in her chest as her last words echo through her mind. (1)
Christine. My sweet, innocent Christine. I can just see you writhe under my body, he thinks. I will you capture soon enough.
I mustn't get distracted, he considers. But slowly, he notices she often becomes distant- more than usual. His keen eyes sees the way she lingers on kissing the Concierge daughter's cheeks, the way she sneaks glances at her, or how she slots her eyes when the other girl talks to a man.
He also knows that she hates him. She blames him for gradually making her and the other girl separate. It's sick and twisted the way he smiles to himself, knowing that he's an obstacle that keeps them apart. As long as she is under his grasp, he is content. It's a raw selfish want, a perverse desire, but he doesn't care. (2)
(1) I'm sorry if you get a little confused there. I just felt as if it was meant to be there, yaknowwhati'msayin'?
(2) Sorry, if I let Raoul get a tad crazy. I couldn't help it.
(3) I apologize for any mistakes. It wasn't beta'd. Now you see how important they are!