~Erik~
The night was calm and still. No one was about except for the stray cats and dogs and the occasional rat, who roamed the Paris night streets. The moon was shining brightly above, no clouds in the sky. The only human sound was the sound of a man breathing, a man named Erik.
Erik, more commonly known as, "The Phantom of the Opera", was dressed in all black, no different than any other day along with his mask. Because the night was a little chilly, he also wore with warm, black cape. His dark brown hair was parted to the side like normal and slicked back with just enough grease to hold it down, making him look dapper, yet mysterious. The Phantom had only one thing on his mind and at 1:30 in the morning, that one thing was far from clean.
Inside the one and only Paris night club open until dawn sat a man surrounded by all the show girls that should be performing in a large, corner booth. All the women were swooning over him, his every breath, his every word, his every blink, his every movement. All of this was normal to him. Most of the time, the places he wanted to go knew he was going to be there before he even arrived. His name was and is famous around the world. This man with jet black hair, slicked back in a duck tail, blue as the sky eyes that could change to black in a second's notice, tan slacks and a dark red turtle neck sweater had become known as, "The King of Rock and Roll." This man was Elvis.
Erik walked along the dark alleyways and occasionally roof tops, anything to get to the club faster and relieve the very hard member in between his thighs. Silently, he cursed himself for sneaking a glance in the women's changing rooms at the opera house earlier in the night. Lately, he's been becoming a peeping Tom and each time he did this act, he prayed for it more and more. Erik couldn't remember the last time he'd been with a woman. Hell, right now he'd even take a man.
As his mind wandered down that dark path, a path that's rather familiar to him, he became less aware of his surroundings and stumbled over a lose shingle on a rooftop. He tripped and fell off the top of the building, doing a barrel roll in mid-flight making his cape flap wildly, breaking his fall on a pile of empty boxes. He stood up quickly, flipping his cape back behind him where it belonged and stepped out of the boxes, remaining in the shadows. Slowly and silently, he dusted himself off from head to toe, wanting his black suit to be spotless. Then he fixed his hair, not wanting a single piece to be out of place. He breathed one slow breath in and then continued on his walk.
~Elvis~
"Ladies, Ladies, please," Elvis said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and feeling very closed in.
All he could see was boobs, most of which was fake and hey, he was okay with that, dyed hair of every color, faces so colored with makeup that he was beginning to think that all of them were very ugly without it and so many different smells of powerful perfume it was making him sick.
"But Elvis, we just love you so much," one of the girls said in a very French accent and pouted.
Elvis laughed an easy and carefree laugh, "I know y'all do, but all of this attention is going to my head."
"But you're so perfect. You deserve the best!" another girl said and all the others nodded in agreement.
Elvis forced another laugh, "Ladies, there's many other guys in here that are all dying for your attention."
None of the girls moved. A brave one spoke up and said, "No man in here is as important as you are."
Elvis sighed and started to play with one of the pure silver and diamond rings on his finger, running out of ideas. Some of the girls moved closer, making him feel even more uncomfortable and trapped. He began to look around, looking for a distraction of any kind, anything to get him out of this situation. Then he glanced over at the door just as rather tall, rather strong and expensively dressed man in all black with his face down walked in. Something about this man interested Elvis. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. He sort of walked in as though the world should fear him. Maybe it was the power that seemed to radiate from him; once again making it seem like the world should fear him. Elvis blinked and noticed the whole club had gone silent with every set of eyes on the newcomer, including all of the girls still surrounding him.
"He's here!" one girl gasped in a whisper, her face ghost white.
"The Phantom of the Opera," another whispered, her face looking much the same.
Elvis looked around, horribly confused. When he first arrived in Paris a week ago, a few people told him dark and scary rumors about a man who lives in the opera house basement, lurking on women and killing men that came too close to him. Being no stranger to ridiculous rumors, Elvis believed nothing the other people said. Also, Elvis was used to having to hide out from the public eye, so maybe this phantom guy had to do the same.
As Elvis watched the man walk around the club, keeping his face down, people began to move away from him. Something in Elvis changed, a sort of soft emotion that made him want to protect this man from something. The way the people looked in horror at the man who came to close to him began to make Elvis a little mad.
"What's so horrible about this man?" Elvis asked, breaking the silence.
A few of the girls gasped and looked back at Elvis. "How can you not know about the things this man has done? The crimes he's committed?!"
"He's a bad man."
"I can't believe all of you would judge a man when you know nothing about him," Elvis said, anger strong in his voice.
All of the girls just looked at him, blinking. He said his comment loud enough that everyone in the club heard him. The man across the room heard Elvis say this and looked over at him and their eyes locked. The man had an all-white mask on, covering the left side of his face. Elvis's breathing hitched because he didn't expect the man to have something like that on. Maybe that one rumor he heard about his face being scarred was true...
The man's face went about as white as his mask and he quickly spun around, his cape making a full circle around him.
"Wait!" Elvis yelled, trying to get out of the corner booth. "Stop!"
The man froze where he was for a second, shook his head and began to walk out of the club again. Elvis managed to get his legs free from the girls and jump up on and over the table, hurdling two girls. They gasped as Elvis tried to make it to the door before the man could leave. Something made him feel like this man was going to become an important part of his. Being a very hopeful man, Elvis walked as fast as he could to the door, but some people got in his way. Shoving them out of the way, he made it to the door just as it closed, the other man slipping out.
~Erik~
Erik made it out into the night again and slipped into the alleyway, shrouding himself in darkness. His breathing was shallow. He felt clammy. Only one other person made him feel this way and she turned against him, running away with another man. He loved Christine with all his heart and never trusted himself to open up to another, but there was something about the man in the club that made him want to tell him his life story. He knew that was a foolish idea and he was acting childish but he needed a new friend. Ever since Madame Giry died five years ago, he's been alone in life.
"Um… Hello?" he heard the man from the club ask a few feet away from him.
How long was I lost in thought? He shook his head and tried to steady his breathing, but something about this made his fine hairs stand up on end and his palms sweaty. Slowly, with him back against the brick wall, he side stepped away from the man. It's not that he was afraid, but he was an American and all Americans that have searched him out in the past sought him out to punish him for his crimes or to shower him in love. The last man that had come after him was just looking for a fight.
"Please, is anyone out here?" the man called, a little bit closer this time.
Erik could hear the longing in the man's voice, causing him to stop moving. He wanted to step out of the shadows and offer some comfort to him, but that just wasn't who he was. The public thought he was a man full of hate, so why should he change that now?
"Elvis, please come back inside," a woman's whiney voice called from the doors.
Some slightly familiar feeling surged through Erik, something similar to jealousy. This man, now know to him as Elvis, was his.
Erik stepped out of the shadows just in time to see Elvis look at him. The moonlight hit Elvis perfectly, causing his hair to look so black, it was blue. The red sweater that he wore fit him perfectly, clinging to his lean body and broad shoulders. Erik let his gaze wander down the length of Elvis's body to find not one flaw on the man at all.
~Elvis~
Elvis found himself staring just about as much as the man in front of him was. This man was taller than him. His shoulders were a little broader, but maybe it was just the way the cape fit him. He was all in black except for the red tie that he wore.
~Erik~
Erik found himself taking a step forward. Elvis didn't move away from him. His face didn't show any horror. This made Erik feel all the more at ease. A cloud began to move across the moon, casting a shadow across both of their bodies. Erik smiled as the darkness surrounded him, giving him a comforting feeling; as though an old friend was giving him a hug.
~Elvis~
Elvis began to look around. Somehow, the man that had just been standing right in front of him had disappeared, almost as though the night ate him up. He sighed. Maybe he wasn't really there at all. Maybe all that perfume is going to my head.
He sighed again. Since coming to this city for a much needed vacation, he had been very lonely. It would have been nice to have a friend.
~Erik~
Erik saw the emotions play across Elvis's face. Elvis suddenly looked as though his dog just died. Erik couldn't help himself anymore. The look on Elvis's face got sadder, breaking Erik's heart even more. It was always the cute and sad ones that he got involved in.
Elvis started to walk away, sticking his hands in his pockets. Erik took a deep breath. It's now or never. Speak now or lose him. "Elvis," Erik said on a whisper, his voice very heavy with a French accent.
Elvis stopped and turned around, looking for the man whose deep and sultry voice called him. Of course he has a deep, French accent.
Erick stepped out of the shadows again, trembling. The last time he'd talked to someone… Let's just say it ended badly. Elvis noticed this and didn't move.
"Yes?" Elvis asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Plaire," Erik started to say, fumbling with American words. "Do no leave." He reached out his hand out, his good hand.
"I have nowhere to go," Elvis said, his voice layered with his southern charm and sounding slight timid.
"Bon," Erick said and causally landed his shoulder against the wall.
~Elvis~
Something about the way the man in front of him stood made Elvis feel at ease. He decided to take a step forward, making the vast space between them a tiny bit smaller. Elvis could have sworn he felt drawn to this man. What could he have possibly done to make people hate him so much?
"Tell, what are you thinking?" The man asked.
Elvis blushed slightly. How silly would I look if I tell him? He coughed and shrugged his shoulders, "Just that it's kinda chilly out here."
"Maybe we go-" was all the more the man could say before one of the show girls came running out, grabbing Elvis by the arm.
Elvis spun around to face the girl, "Honey, I'm just fine. Go back inside and I'll be in a little."
The girl pouted and tugged on his arm again, "The girls miss you."
Elvis smiled as good as a smile as he could, "And I miss them, but I would like to have a little alone time, honey."
The girl's bottom lip came out father and she posed in a way that Elvis could see right down her corset. Being a man, Elvis couldn't help but look. Being a man that adores sex, the member between his legs sprang to life. The girl noticed this and smiled a seductive smile. Unable to resist any long, Elvis let her lead him back into the club to relive his sexual tension.
Erik stepped back into the shadows even before Aurore could see him. He watched the whole scene play out; watched Elvis's member spring to life. Am I switching sides? I think another walk would be nice, along with climbing into bed early. A good night's sleep will clear my mind.
~Erik~
Erik backed out of the alleyway and took his shortcut home, slipping down a sewer and walking along the dryer parts. Within ten minutes, he was at the gate that led to his cave. He pulled his handmade key out of his inside breast pocket, stuck it in the lock, turned it and pushed open his ceiling length wrought iron, handmade gate. Stepping up onto the handmade wooden, raised sidewalk type bridge with music notes and roses (Something Erik added a few months after Christine left, getting tired of treading through dirty water) and walked into his bedroom where his large, red satin sheet cover bed awaited him. He untied his cape and hung it up on his coat hanger, took his jacket off and put that on another peg, removed his vest and hung that beneath the jacket, untied his satin tie and draped that over the shoulder of his cape, unbuttoned his white shirt and let that fall on the floor, took his belt off and then his black dress pants and finally his spotless dress shoes. He walked over to the bed and collapsed on it, hoping the very unfamiliar and naughty thoughts about Elvis would leave his mind in the morning.