Some Author's notes:

This series is slash, yaoi, mxm, whatever you want to call it. It's two males in a homosexual relationship. If it's not your cuppa tea, please don't read it.

This is my first shot at writing PotO slash. It really just began as an exercise to help me understand how I wanted to portray the characters in my style of writing, but it sounded good so I figured I'd share. There's not enough Erik/Raoul here and it makes me sad.

My version of the Phantom is a hybrid. My base (and mental image) model for Erik is Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom, and I've fleshed him out with many personality traits and aspects of Leroux's Phantom. So, think about it as Musical!Erik universe with underlying Leroux!Erik traits. This is as much a character study as it is a psychoanalysis of Erik. Leroux!Erik is incredibly Bipolar, swinging between episodes of mania and depression constantly. He also shows many traits of a schizophrenic. Webber!Erik shows more symptoms of full blown psychosis. This is my attempt to balance the mental instabilities of the two Eriks together.

I very much imagine that the Erik in this story resembles Peter Jöback (But with Ramin's voice), and Raoul resembles Killian Donnelly (Both physically and vocally).

Warnings: This series is for Mature readers only. There's a lot of ideologically sensitive subjects in here that may not to appeal to everybody; suicidal tendencies, implied rape, murder, graphic displays of violence, explicit sex. These vignettes so far have come off as pretty tame, but I have a feeling things will escalate pretty quickly (as most of my writing tends to do).

((Some context related notes: A piano or organ's "Fall" is the wooden cover that lifts up and down over the keyboard to protect the keys, in case anyone isn't familiar with musician's jargon))

Disclaimer: I do not own "Phantom Of The Opera", Erik, Raoul De Chagny or anything of the like, and make no profit from this. If I did, the musical would have ended with Erik snatching away Raoul and getting married while Christine just sits in his lair and cries.

With all of that said, Enjoy

-Cat

((Fall))

When I became involved with him, I cannot recall.

Whether it is for the better or for the worse, I am unsure.

But it pains me greatly. I find myself pacing more, whispering incomprehensible utterances to an audience that I know only exists in my head. I break and destroy what I see fit even more now, even when I don't want to, and I've noticed an incredible increase in risky behaviour that threatens my very existence. I no longer care.
When had this sudden fixation bloomed? I was fighting a losing battle, and I knew it.
Prima Donna was pushed to the far recesses of my blackened mind. I no longer cared. She could have her life.
The only life I wanted was his, and if wringing it out of him with my scarred hands gripped around his neck was what it took, then goddammit, I was ready.

I sat on the stool, breath shaky, head cradled in my hands as I hunched myself over the organ, both elbows resting neatly on top of the instrument's fall.

Nothing but empty sheet music tonight. Not even a chord. Only blotted black stains and angry pen scratches covered the music staff paper, obvious signs of the boiling frustration underneath my sullen exterior. I swiped my hand at the paper in frustration, crumpling the sheet between my fingers. I could feel a scream building in my throat.

Who was I? Where did I go?

I knew I was falling apart, I just refused to admit it.

Extinguishing the last lit candles perched atop the organ with a shallow breath, I retreated to my bed, jealous that I couldn't be snuffed out as easily as the flames.

I tangled myself in the sheets. It was the only solace I had.
I buried my head into the pillow and lulled myself to sleep with soft sighs.