Disclaimer: You know what? These things end Chap. 10. You know all this already and I doubt you even read it.
Eep. Review-responses...
Lady-Mariam: Let me explain. She could not tell Daniel that she didn't want to marry him for several reasons. A; he obviously loved her more than life itself. B; she actually did love him at one point. C; she wasn't entirely sure why she didn't love him and why she didn't want to marry him. This situation is very different from the one with her Father's best friend, and you'll realize why in this chapter.
Nibblesfan: Yes, and it's going to cause some issues. I think you'll like this chapter.
Last Chapter: Erik saved Camillé from a marriage she didn't want to Daniel. When he left, he told her that he loved her.
Chapter Nine: Realization
Camillé held onto Erik for dear life. She didn't know why, but he was comforting to her, and she couldn't face Daniel. She would change her mind, go to England with him, and marry him there. But she couldn't. When she heard him declaring his love for her, she nearly broke. It was almost too much. He sounded so heartbroken, as if his entire world had been stolen from him. Perhaps it had. He was all the way down the stairs before she responded, in a voice weaker than she'd hoped it would be.
"I know."
And she did. She knew that he loved her and that he may always love her. Daniel had always been sentimental. To think that he had waited four months for her, only to have her already in the arms of someone else. Then it hit her – she really was in the arms of someone else. Surprised, she tried to back out of Erik's arms, but he held her by the forearms and looked her in the face.
"Mon chat, are you alright?" he asked, looking truly concerned.
She nodded. "Je suis bien (I am good), Erik. Can we go home now?"
He smiled gently at her and pulled her into his arms again.
"Yes, Camillé," he muttered into her hair.
She sighed. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
Her companion kissed the top of her head as he whispered, "You're welcome."
Her friend was being awfully friendly today, but she didn't reject his hug, nor did she pull her hand from his as he led her home. The top of her head was still tingling from his kiss. All of her daydream images came to the front of her mind when they reached the lair, and she pulled her hand from his quite suddenly. He turned to look at her, surprised, and she turned around, face burning with embarrassment. This was fine with a regular rogue, this was fine with someone who flirted with her and made their desire for her obvious, but with Erik? No… this couldn't be happening. Just… no.
She could not possibly fall for Erik. That would make everything awkward.
"Camillé, are you sure you're alright?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders. Normally, that was a comforting, friendly gesture, but right now, she didn't need that.
She shrugged him off. "I'm… fine. I am just tired and need some sleep. I will see you in the morning. Bon Nuit (Good Night)!" she called as she ran past him and up to her bedroom.
"Bon Nuit, mon ami (Good Night, my friend)," he called back, in a softer voice.
She slid down the wall. Oh, this was going to make everything difficult. Why couldn't she just forget about those daydreams and move on? The answer was simple. Because they wouldn't be forgotten. It was like learning that the world was round as opposed to flat – once you know that the world is round, it just never leaves you, and you always wonder why we once thought it was flat. Camillé was wondering why she hadn't found him attractive before. Obviously, she hadn't been looking hard enough.
For the second time that day, she mentally slapped herself. Where were these thoughts coming from? Erik was her friend; her savior; giving her shelter; being her companion. He was not her beloved. That just didn't happen. Right? Right. Of course, the way he had pulled her close and kissed her head earlier… she shouldn't think about that, it would make this harder than it already was. With a determined nod, she resolved to push her apparent attraction to him to the back of her mind. He was her friend, nothing more. Likely, he would never be more. She swallowed the sudden sadness that overcame her. Nope, still not going to be more than friends. Get a grip, Camillé, she told herself, you're becoming one of those love-sick puppy dogs. Erik does not love us, will not love us, and SHOULD NOT love us. We are staying with him as a friend. End of story. She couldn't help the kicked puppy feeling in her chest. In desperation, she buried her head in her hands. What was happening to her?
Erik sat on his organ bench, thinking. Camillé's letter sat on the keys, taunting him with its closing. 'Erik… tu me manques.' She couldn't have meant it in the way that it was usually used. That meaning was so… personal. It was as if she had written it unintentionally. Obviously, she did not mean it that way. Yet she had grown up in France, she knew how it was used. A feeling he was very unused to flitted around in his chest. It was almost like he wanted her to mean that. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands.
'Erik… tu me manques. Erik, you are missing from me.'
Those words flew around in his head, mocking him with their sentimental meaning. They pounded on his heart until it was racing. A sudden realization came to him, and filled his mind completely. He hadn't lied to Madame Giry that night. He did care for her. But to say that he loved her… that would have been too much then. Now, however, it may have been just right.
The next morning came before Camillé was ready for it. She had spent a large amount of the night before fretting over her newfound attraction to Erik, and hadn't slept nearly as much as she should have. When she awoke, however, Erik was sitting on her bed, softly shaking her shoulders. Groaning, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillows. She was rewarded by his musical laughter.
"Mon chat, I thought you slept last night. It appears I was mistaken. Nevertheless, it is well past time for you to rise," he told her, turning her back over.
She moaned in response. "I don't want to."
He gave her a stern look that reminded her of her father. "Camillé, you cannot sleep the whole day."
"Yes, I can, and I daresay I will," she retorted, rolling back over.
"Alright, but do not say I did not wake you nicely," he sighed, and she turned around to look at him.
He picked her up bodily, carrying her in both arms and quickly discarding the blankets around her. She squealed and squirmed, but he kept a tight hold on her. Finally, as he carried her down the slope outside her bedroom, she curled into him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Erik, where are you taking me?"
"Oh… nowhere," he said as he reached the writing desk, "I'm simply going to drop you in the lake."
"Quoi (What)? Non, non, Erik, please! No, Erik, don't! Please, Erik!" she begged as he carried her even closer to the lake.
Her arms tightened around him as she clung to him, clamoring and begging for him not to drop her in the lake. All he did was laugh in his melodic way and step even closer to the bank. By now she was holding onto him so tightly that if he had dropped her, they would have both fallen. She looked up into his face, looking for any sign of relenting. His face turned to look at her and their eyes met. The smiles on both their faces soon melted as they realized just how close they were.
He was very close to her. If he were to have leant his head down just a little more, their lips would have touched. In fact, he was sorely tempted to do so. She was so close… just a little more and he'd be kissing her. Kissing the woman he was now sure he loved.
He was so… close. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and picked up the slightest bit of acceleration. Of course, her heart was pounding through the roof and into la Populaire. He couldn't possibly be this close without hearing it. If he leaned down just little farther, she could have kissed him. But she didn't want that… did she? No… she didn't want… Erik? Right?
"Erik… you can put me down now," she breathed, then nearly took it back.
For a moment, he stayed silent and gazed at her eyes, then muttered, "Of course."
Almost as if on autopilot, Erik leaned down and put her back on her feet. She looked up at him and their eyes met again, causing her heart to race. Unbeknownst to her, his did too. A blush rose to her cheeks and she walked away, straight to her bedroom. He watched her go, entranced by the woman. Yes, as he had heard the men of la Maison d'Opera above say, he had it bad. He had well and truly fallen for her.
Camillé leaned against the wall again. She was beginning to think that this was her thinking wall. Of course, at the moment, she wasn't doing much thinking. More… trying to calm her rebellious heartbeat. Why, oh why, did he have to be so… Erik? There really was no other word for him. He was Erik. Her breathing did not return to normal for another few minutes. And then of course, he had to show up again.
He knocked on the wall outside her bedroom, trying to keep from looking in. He had the urge to, but really shouldn't. It would have been so improper.
"Camillé, are you alright?" he asked – she had run off so suddenly, he was worried about her.
She didn't answer for a second. "Yes, Erik, I'm fine. Give me a minute. Just changing."
Heat rose to his cheeks at the thought of her changing and he walked back down the incline. His music sat waiting for him at the organ, so he sat down and began to play. Softly, the music began, then slowly became louder as he determined that he didn't mind her hearing this piece. He barely heard her steps coming down from her room.
"This is new. What's it called?" she asked as she placed a hand on his shoulder.
He could very clearly feel her touch through his shirt, and really didn't want it to leave. "It is called Réalité (Reality). You should recognize the lyrics."
He felt her hand on his shoulder tighten as she leaned over him, placing her head by his to see the lyrics. Almost instinctually, he turned his head towards her and was tempted to kiss the side of her jaw, but that might not have been appropriate. After all, he had no idea as to how she felt. Though… from what he'd seen when he was threatening to drop her in the lake, she felt the same.
Camillé didn't know why she was this close to him. She did know that she liked it. Being this close to Erik was new, was exhilarating, and she loved it. His breath fanned over the side of her face and her neck, and she nearly shivered. Her eyes scanned the music and saw that her poem had been turned into a song. He had turned her poem into a song. She nearly fainted. This… was a love poem. She had written it in one of her more romantic moods. Surely he hadn't meant to… no. He couldn't.
"Do you like it?" he asked softly.
Her head turned to face him and she was less than six inches away from his face. "I… love it. I'm flattered," she breathed, and pulled away before her pesky hormones ran away with her senses.
Erik looked up at her and smiled. "Would you sing it for me?"
"What?"
"Would you sing it for me?" he repeated, softer this time.
She looked him in the eyes and nodded. He scooted over on the organ bench and she sat down beside him, their sides touching as he reached out to play the starting notes for her. Closing her eyes, she began to sing, and his soft playing joined her voice.
"Is it me you dare to see?
Do you see the holes around me?
Save me, my love, before I fall
Bring me back to reality
I've been wand'ring, lost at sea
Throw me a rope and rescue me
Before I drown and then am gone
Bring me back to reality
Someone's looking out for me
Protect me from the ones who see
That my heart to you belongs
Bring me back to reality
As we both know, it is to be
Brought to light by destiny
I love you with a heart so true
Bring me back to reality
I'm living in a world of fantasy
Seeing only what I wish to see
But not the world that you live in,
So bring me home to reality."
The song ended on a high note and her voice rang in the small space. Erik reveled in the sound for a moment before looking at the woman who had written the song's loving lyrics. She still had her eyes closed, seeming lost in her own thoughts. Oh, how he wished to know what she was thinking! What was going on behind those eyes, what was running through her mind? Did she feel the same connection between them that he did when she sang to his music? Did she feel the same about him as he did about her? With all his heart, he hoped she did.
Writing this is killing me. They're falling so slowly!
Review, please! Questions, comments, concerns? Good, bad, somewhere in between?
- Emmy
