This story is based on both Susan Kay's book (Erik's early youth and travelling years) and Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical (the in-between and the rest). I'm saying based because I changed the dates (most importantly, the Erik/Christine drama takes place in 1896, when the chandelier in the Parisian opera did indeed fall) and left out some of Susan Kay's ideas, or used them in a different way. Those who have read the book might realize this, the others can just go with the flow, heh. There's also a little Leroux in it (literally, haha).

Title: Requiem for a lonely heart

Written by: Jennifer, aka Reveria

Rated: PG-13, although a few chapters may be rated higher. I'll put a warning if that's the case.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Erik. Gaston Leroux "invented" him and Susan Kay explored him, and I'm just picking up where Andrew Lloyd Webber left off. All original characters, however, belong to me.

Summary:Every endless night is followed by a dawning day...
Prague, 1900. Four years after Christine broke his heart, Erik is struggling on alone. When he saves a mysterious young woman from being violated, the course of his life changes dramatically. Unable to stay but unwilling to go, Erik finds himself in the middle of an emotional adventure that may lead to happiness after all...

Now, enough bla bla. Abandon thought and let the dream descend!

Prologue - Erik's review

What am I to do with all this silence?
Shy away, shy away, phantom
Run away, terrified child

I once promised myself never to look back, because I believed that what is done is done. I was of the opinion that the present, this brief, precious moment in-between the unchangeable and the unknown, would suffer if one kept glancing backwards as though it would bring a change. I was convinced that contemplating every thought that ever crossed your mind, every word your lips ever spoke, and every action ever taken by you was bound to eventually leave you trapped in the slippery net of regret. And regret has never worked in any other way but bring a man to his knees.

Four years had passed since I'd left Paris, and yet it often felt a lot longer than that. Time weighs heavily on your heart when you've got too much of it, and sometimes the seconds would pass so slowly that they seemed to become tangible. I almost fell for the illusion that if I reached out for those tiny fractions of eternity, they would take form against my gloved palm and eternally remind me that they were unstoppable, that they would keep coming to tease, tempt and torment me as I sat in the dark, silently begging them to move faster. I could see their endlessness when I closed my eyes, and I felt helpless either way. I suppose that this is the reason I reluctantly chose to be passive and patient instead of attempting to take a hold of them. Time can stand still or it can pass you by within a moment, but it does this solely as it wishes. Sometimes the more you want something, the less likely it is that you will get it. You cannot influence the ways of the world, although there used to be a time when I was foolish enough to believe I could alter and manipulate everything to my liking if only I was persistent enough.

Paris, however, had taught me a painful lesson, and when my wounds finally started to heal, I did all I could to prevent a setback of my reconvalescence. But no-one had prepared me for the kind of wounds that aren't of the flesh but of the soul. You might find that strange because hatred, discrimination and persecution have always been part of my life. The difference to a heartache, however, is that I had learned to cope with the former. It is easy to hate those who are hostile towards you, to match their cruelty and ignorance. But a heartache... the bittersweetness of it tears you apart. Like a crippled man who wants to run, I wanted to hate, but couldn't. I was dying to cry tears that just wouldn't come, feeling agonisingly energetic and numb at the very same time. For months, I struggled like a madman, then I realised that pain was a sign that I was still alive – something I hadn't thought possible – and gave up fighting it. Choosing pain over apathy was the safest thing for me to do. I dreaded drifting back into this state between worlds, where nothing has form, and yet the terror of burning in hell for what I've done is as real as it could have been. There never existed a God in the world I lived in, at least not for me. But there certainly was a hell, and even though I was very aware that I had done too many wrongs to count, I did notfeel like I belonged there. The world and its cruelties had made me who I'd become, and I was not going to take the blame for that.

The reason I could not hate Christine was that deep down I understood. I didn't want to, it was something my heart had done without consulting me first. The moment she kissed me was the moment I realised that there is a difference between envy and jealousy. Jealousy is the terrible fear of losing someone you truly and deeply care for. It is a negative form of compassion, and therefore it's natural and just. But an envious person is merely obsessed with gaining possession and control of someone who never belonged to him in the first place. Envy is degrading and selfish. Once upon a time I was jealous of Raoul because the beautiful young woman I had discovered, transformed and cared for decided to share her affection with someone other than me. I began to envy him when it became clear that she would give her heart only to him, that the compassion and pity she felt for her disfigured Angel of Music could not compete with her desire for true love. I envied Raoul because he didn't refuse the gift of her heart, as I'd secretly hoped he would.

When Christine kissed me, I had to make a choice. I could either make two young lovers' lives a living nightmare by tearing apart two hearts that fate had tied together long before I attempted to separate them. Or I could set them free and be miserable myself. The spiteful part of me wanted to make them suffer, to make them feel what it was like to be tormented by a thirst that cannot be quenched. And yet I found myself unable to deny them what I longed for so desperately. I hated to admit it, but always taking an eye for an eye would only make the world end up blind. I do not wish the agony of a broken heart upon anyone, not even my worst enemy. Well, with possibly a few exceptions. But love is a bird that needs to fly, or she will not survive. I could not bear the thought of losing Christine, but forcing her to be unhappy would have been even worse. And so I let them go.

Christine broke my heart and thereby proved that I had one, whether I wanted to acknowledge that or not. By choosing Raoul, she ripped it right out of my chest, leaving it up to me to either mend it or find a way to live without it.

Here comes the moment when I have to change my opinion about the past. Only those who know about their mistakes and the reasons for making them can be certain to never repeat them in the future.

I moved on and learned to be lonely. With time, bitterness and indifference helped me to get by. Darkness once more became my trustworthy companion, and I was sure I would never feel anything again, ever.

Sed errare hominum est.

song credit A Stranger, by A Perfect Circle

Sed errare hominum est (Latin) – It is, however, human to be mistaken.