Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: Offshoot from Gallery Piece chapter 03. Good graces are often given to those with persistence.
Warning(s): slash, angst
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 2,254
A/N: I have decided that I hate multi-chaptered fics completely.
Story note: The title depends on your perspective of course.
o.o.o.o
All Apologies
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt
Chapter 04 – It Gets Worse (Or Better)
o.o.o.o
Trudging up the stairs, Raoul tried not to focus on the overwhelming fatigue that weighed him down. Maintaining the type of anger he felt towards Erik was proving to be, if not difficult – because his anger came all too easily, but taxing. He knew a part of that might be the fact that he had been eating quite irregularly and sleeping even less as of late; the very thought of food was unsettling though. Perhaps his appetite would return by morning after, hopefully, a long rest. It helped that he had no plan to return to the opera house just yet.
Unbuttoning his jacket and vest, he continued to loosen his cravat. Upon entering his bedroom, he began shedding his clothing haphazardly. He was halfway through removing his shirt when he noticed the note on his bed. Letting out a quick groan of frustration, he snatched it off the bed and tore at it, bits of paper floating almost lazily to the floor as opposed to the frenzy with which Raoul ripped it.
"It is quite rude to destroy all my notes."
There, Raoul finally heard it, there was the anger at being defied coming from the opera ghost himself, and he finally felt himself relax in a way that did not relieve any of the tension that had been building. He did not relax, so much as he felt a dam being lifted, a dam on his emotions, on his ability to finally release his anger openly because Erik was finally reacting.
He turned to the balcony from where the voice had come, body aching for a confrontation. He wanted to say all the things he had failed to think of when they had first argued after the incident. The door was ajar and Raoul approached it cautiously, not trusting that they were going to be able to avoid violence in this encounter. He did not expect anything less. There was nothing but shadow until Erik moved from behind the curtain, not at all from outside from where Raoul had heard the voice sound.
"It is also quite pointless to write notes if you are present," he said pointedly. He sneered upon seeing the man, who despite all that had changed between them seemed the same. He himself felt too changed to resemble the man he was once, so different from the visage he saw in the mirror. Not the man who had loved Christine, nor the one who had fallen for the opera ghost.
"Oh," said opera ghost took a step further into the room, prompting Raoul to move further away. "Truly? And when did such an occasion to speak with you arise?" Erik rose to his full height, trying to look imposing, but Raoul had seen him in worse roles than a supposed jilted lover. "When you were avoiding the opera house? When you simply removed me from your life without a second thought to become naught but an abandoned memory?"
Raoul could not help it; he laughed. Loudly and unabashedly because the very thought that he could have forgotten Erik in the past few days was absurd. It would take at least a lifetime to stop thinking about the man and much more to succeed in forgetting him if it were at all possible. "I ask you," he said, remnants of his laughter darkening to something mocking, "Do you have selective memory?"
Erik moved further into the room, and Raoul could not help it when he, in turn, moved away from the older man. He told himself he wanted to stave off a physical altercation until after they each had spoken their piece, but he had a sinking sensation that that was not the case.
"What have I done?" Erik challenged.
His question was enough of a surprise that Raoul blurted out, "What haven't you done?"
His eyes narrowed at the accusation; his body tensed even as he tilted his head slightly, a motion that should have seemed casual. "You," the word was quiet, the low mutter of a man barely able to keep from yelling. "You seem to be working under the assumption that I have done something wrong." He finished, voice suggesting that Raoul take the alternative he was so graciously offering, "Unless you are simply being unreasonable."
Raoul's mouth hung open for a moment while he tried to process what Erik had just said to him, fury warring with disbelief. He did not even know where to begin to refute his statement. "Not only have you threatened my driver and his family, but you essentially kidnapped him and -" Raoul stopped himself from listing the large number of faults that had immediately sprung to mind. Instead, he focused on the one that had been the start of their downfall, "Do you truly fail to remember what had transpired before my apparent bout of unreasonableness began?"
Avoiding the question, Erik stated instead, "I needed to ensure that he would deliver the message." He added blithely, "His family still lives."
"Listen to me right now," Raoul pointed to the floor and the ghost was actually stunned to hear him so adamant or else he would have rebelled against such a direct order. "Leave my family," he met Erik's eyes unflinchingly, "my staff and their family alone." He paused to let the statement settle before adding, "This is non-negotiable. If I hear any word to the contrary, I will not hesitate to kill you myself."
And Erik found that he did not doubt his statement. Beyond the indignation at being told what to do, he was confused at the feeling that had arisen at hearing the blond speak to him as such. It took a few moments to figure out that he vaguely felt proud of Raoul, in his tenacity and strength; proud also in himself that he had managed to garner the affection of this singularly loyal man. He was certain, had the situation been different, that he would be within the circle of Raoul's consideration.
Erik decided right then that he would accept no less than what Raoul was offering; he needed an equal in all things and the viscount had proven and was still proving to be well-matched. This was a man he could eventually trust with his life, not only to value but also to defend against others. His obstinacy suddenly appeared in a different light and though some annoyance was still present, much of the fury at Raoul's impertinence was simply gone.
Not letting Erik fully assimilate his moment of revelation, Raoul interrupted his thoughts when he redirected their focus. "What you did that night was…" he hesitated, not knowing how to finish his sentiment: wrong, horrible, the end of them?
"Yes," Erik replied dismissively, annoyed that they were back to this subject when he had finally moved beyond just a simple fixation on having Raoul, beyond even trusting him. He could not understand why the viscount was making this so difficult when it had all become so clear to him. "I made certain you were not dealing with Christine in anything less than appropriate behaviour."
"You kissed her!" Raoul shouted. "Can you not say it? Can you not admit it?"
"Of course I kissed her," Erik shouted as well, wondering briefly if he was intentionally being obtuse. "How else-"
The rest of his sentence was interrupted by a sudden pounding on the door. "Vicomte!" The door shook with the force of it, and Raoul truly expected them to simply enter. Erik apparently did too because he was at the balcony doors almost immediately. "Are you in need of assistance?" There was the sound of bodies shoving at each other at the door and the mutter of words. The door remained closed though, as if they knew he would not appreciate their interference.
Raoul calmed fractionally, chiding himself for yet another instance of such lack of control. He glanced at Erik, who gave a slight nod in wordless agreement. What needed to be said would be said tonight.
"I am currently not in need of assistance." Knowing that it was wholly unnecessary to pretend he was alone, he added, "We will be able to discuss this by ourselves."
The shuffling behind the door stopped. After a moment, one of the maids asked, "Are you certain?"
"Your precious viscount will survive the night," Erik responded, already away from the balcony.
Raoul glared, sure that the older man had only spoken to make them more anxious. "Thank you for your concern."
Both waited a few moments before giving each other their undivided attention once more.
"Does impertinence infect this entire household?" Erik asked, amusement obvious.
Raoul was almost envious of him; it sounded as though his anger for the moment had subsided. The masked man could rage one moment and then be completely calm in the next. Despite the momentary pause in their conversation, Raoul still felt his ire distinctly and it was only pure force of will that he was not screaming once more.
"Why do you insist on being difficult?" Erik asked, and Raoul clenched his fists when he could hear just how puzzled he was by his actions. "My patience only extends so far."
"Why!" Raoul quickly lowered his voice to something more reasonable, "Why? Do you not understand what you have done?"
Erik looked completely unmoved, simply annoyed that he had to deal with this situation at all. It was not that surprising that he did not understand, but Raoul still felt his stomach drop. Their differences should not be so insurmountable. It shouldn't be because they had made it work even for just a little while, but at the moment, it seemed like it was. Right and wrong had always been different for Erik, but if every aspect of his concept of relationships differed, how was it even possible to be on equal footing? How could he be the only one to fight for them?
"Imagine our roles had been reversed, Erik," Raoul pleaded, suddenly desperate for Erik to fight for them as well. He was not sure what an apology now would mean for them, but the dissolution of their relationship had not been his desire from the beginning. He simply hadn't known what he could withstand.
It looked like Erik was going to ignore his suggestion, but after a moment of tense silence, Raoul knew he had done so when his eyes narrowed.
He pressed on, "Imagine that it had been I who had kissed Christine while you walked in."
Erik shook his head abruptly, as though trying to dislodge the mental image that had formed.
"And then," Raoul continued, hoping that he was getting through to him, "tell me why I have stayed away, why I have not been able to return to you."
In the silence that followed, he held his breath. It was difficult to tell what exactly Erik was thinking, but that he was thinking at all had to be a good sign.
"So," Erik eventually said. "You want me to leave?" he asked, avoiding the hypothetical posited before him, unable to fully let his mind travel down that possibility.
Raoul bowed his head, his lips pressed tightly together. He cleared his throat of the emotion that had tightened it. "Yes," he whispered.
"I will simply return." Erik moved closer, his cloak tossed over his shoulder, and Raoul was only reminded of his own relative state of undress. He had not imagined this confrontation occurring as such nor with this oddly subdued conclusion. The older man continued, "You love me," stating it as though it was reason enough to erase anything else that might have happened between them.
Odd, he had never thought that such a thing could be used against him, at least, not like this and not from the very man he loved. "I might have cared for you at one point," Raoul conceded, "but now, the very sight of you enrages me."
Erik reached out to touch his arm. In the days that had passed, he found that he distinctly missed the rather careless way they had touched each other.
Raoul violently flinched away, almost as surprised by the action as Erik was. "And the thought of your touch…" he shook his head, "makes me physically ill."
Erik froze at his vehemence. Now that was an expression that was too common, too familiar for him to ignore, for him to reason away as Raoul's stubbornness. He turned away from such open revulsion; Raoul had never looked at him so. Before he acted in a manner they would both regret, he looked at Raoul one last time before leaving.
Raoul slumped against the bed, sinking to the floor. He shuddered at the thought of Erik's touch and yet, somewhere beneath the nausea and the anger, he was disappointed to find that Erik was right. He did love him. Maybe love was too strong a word, but for this particular regard for Erik to have survived this still, it had to be.
Shakily climbing into bed, he pulled the blankets tightly around himself and curled into a ball. He did not feel any better for the confrontation. It still hurt to think of them, to think of what Erik and he would probably never be. He muttered to himself, "Stupid, stupid Erik."
Through the balcony doors that were still ajar, Erik heard and for the first time, questioned his initial plan. He watched Raoul until his breathing evened before leaving. He had much to consider.
o.o.o.o
End chapter 04
A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Do you like how in the middle of the conversation, ahem more like argument, Raoul manages to somehow seduce Erik into loving him more? I have a feeling Erik's going to be one of those people who enjoy angry!sex. Poor Raoul; Erik just fell a little more in love with him despite how pissed he is.
Finally though… finally! Erik might even begin to see the error of his ways. Maybe. Hopefully.
