Title: Living Alone, So to Speak (Halloween Variation 01)
Chapter: 1 of 2
Author
: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: Short ficlet variations on a theme: Halloween meet cute. Erik purchases a haunted loft. (Turned out more angsty than expected.)
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Pairing(s): pre-slash Erik/Raoul
Warning(s)
: modern!AU, established character death
Word Count: 1,241
Rating: K+

o.o.o.o

Erik does not notice it at first.

It takes several weeks after moving in and after emptying all those cardboard boxes before he even begins to wonder what is happening. He thinks he has simply misplaced his shirts, his keys, several glasses of water, his plates, and everything else under the sun that normal people simply put down and forget until they need it later. When it comes to his tools though, his trade: paintbrushes, portfolios, sheets of music he has spent all evening working on, all of these important facets of his life ending up in places he would never even think to leave it that Erik becomes certain that the someone or something he had been warned about before purchasing this loft is more relevant and dangerous than he has given it credit for being.

He bemoans his fate because this loft is perfect in terms of price, location and space. His neighbors are relatively quiet and more importantly, they leave him alone. He is generally not a superstitious man though he has connections to people who undeniably make their living off of those who are. He considers all those who have abandoned this loft before him in fear of some spectre to be fools – though their foolishness is his gain – not because of what they believe, but because they chose to leave. All in all, he is unwilling to accept that option; however, that leaves him with little else more than trying to figure out what to do now.

If he is not leaving, then something like an exorcism is in order because even he cannot deny that supernatural events have been occurring. A priest might help, but he does not know any priests. He does know a woman from the old country able to communicate with ghosts and, more importantly, able to exorcise and repel them. Madame Giry is busiest this time of year, October being a sufficiently superstition-heavy month, but he calls in several favours to get her to do a house call. Ghosts know better than cross her path; she knows how to send them to their final resting place, whichever direction that may be. So, he hopes that her very presence will fix his haunting problem before it gets out of hand.

When the stern woman enters his loft and claims that no ghosts are present at the moment, he insists that she offer some sort of protection.

Her accent is thick when she answers, "Their hold on this place is much too strong. A full exorcism will be needed." She adds at his expectant look, "At a later time."

Erik cannot help but think it sounds like a line to get more money; however, as she walks through his apartment, her face changes almost imperceptibly and her hand hovers over the very objects that have gone missing or been moved, and he believes her.

Still, he insists, "I need something." He eventually admits that losing his belongings might be the least of his problems because he has begun to hear footsteps, nails scratching down walls, and whispers. So far, he has done his best to ignore it all, feeling that a reaction is all that is needed for further escalation but he can only do so much.

The disapproving look she has upon hearing the true extent of the haunting makes him shrug in response. Still, she must see something in his face, which he doubts, or she knows something of the ghost that haunts his loft, which is slightly worrying, but eventually, she agrees, giving him a handful of incense sticks to burn, a poultice to rub on his own throat and temples, and a note he is not to read until the time is right. There are more instructions involved but he is busy opening the jar and reeling back from the awful smell that wafts out and by the time he seals it shut again, she has finished speaking. He is wholly unwilling to admit that he has not been listening. Luckily, when she leaves, she reminds him only to use the ingredients tomorrow after the evening bell.

He nods dutifully, shutting the door behind her.

Morning breaks.

His sleep has been disturbed by what felt like a weight upon his chest.

And his mask is missing.

It is to be war between this ghost and him.

His apartment is in shambles in no time at all, partly from the search but mostly from the irrepressible need to break things in frustration and anger. He glances at the incense and poultice jar at intervals during the entire process, hoping that cleansing his loft will be a very painful process for the ghost that has decided to cross him and wondering if there are ways to make it hurt excruciating.

The loss of his mask is technically not a hindrance to his plans for the day. He has no intention of leaving his home on most days, and today in particular only serves to grate on his nerves when others find his 'costume' to be lackluster. He refuses to explain the necessity of his mask to strangers, and only sheer force of will holds back any biting remarks and violent actions that is warranted by such rudeness. Usually, his jaw aches by the end of the day and there is no saving his mood. No, it is best to remain inside on Halloween and work.

However, he finds he cannot even find solace in the creative process since the absence of his mask serves as too big a distraction. His eyes are drawn back to Giry's gifts and before he can reconsider, he lights half of the incense sticks, shoving them with more force than necessary into the black sand of the celadon porcelain incense bowl. The hour has barely hit ten o'clock in the morning when he opens the squat mason jar, bracing himself for the stench and steeling himself for the act of dipping his fingers into the concoction. He hesitates for the briefest of moments. Evening has yet to fall, but there is no way he can wait the seven hours to find out where his mask has gone. He needs to rid himself of this ghost immediately.

Positioning himself on the couch, he dips his fingers into the jar making sure to use the poultice sparingly in case he needs to perform these actions more than once. The mixture is both gooey and sticky and he rubs it on his skin while holding his breath. After closing the jar and placing it on the side table next to the closed note, he lays his head back and breathes through his mouth while waiting. His throat and temples feel warm and itchy at the same time. He waits for long moments, eyes closed and concentrated, not quite sure what to expect but knowing he will recognize it when it comes.

Nothing happens, and Erik is certain that exorcisms involve more action than silence. Lifting his head, he looks around to see if anything has started to glow or move on its own accord but nothing has changed. Mentally, he curses all those supernatural movies as he pushes himself off the couch. He is prepared to burn the rest of the incense and use the entirety of that jar when the room spins on his first step and his body simply gives way from beneath him.

Everything goes dark.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 01

A/N: Broken up because it felt awkward for the time shift. He blacks out. Happy Halloween. Notice the variation theme? Yeah. That's happening to help you keep the Halloween spirit until you finish all your leftover candy. :) Also, one-a-days are going to be horrible if they keep getting longer than 1k words. D: (Shady editing, I apologize but it's already Halloween and I had sort of planned to start next month's variation week earlier than today so that it was more oriented to the Halloween season. My bad.)
Fic Review: Whatever ghost is haunting Erik just totally succeeded in pissing him off. Also, the little nods to POTO always make me grin.