Erik groaned as he woke up; face down, naked on his rug, surrounded by the stinking mess of stains that was his own vomit.
"Ew…what happened?" he groaned and it came back to him.
He had been depressed about Christine and his stupidness at the thought that composing something could make her smile again and forget Raoul. As she had walked off into the garden, he lay on his bed in a state of self-pity. Then he remembered his stash of drink. He had gotten up and began to drink. Vodka then some rum…but then what happened. He strained his eyes as if he was trying to see again what had happened; He had sat back down at his piano, onto his second bottle of Rum when someone came in…it wasn't Christine…Annamaria! She had taken him and put him to bed, taking his bottle from him. That was nice of her, he thought, remembering the girls kindness, but then he remembered what had happened next.
As he had lain there drunk, calling out sentences of nonsense and drunken babble, she had searched his room, and then he had seen her with his flask of scotch. She had drunk from it and was now intoxicated with him and he asked her to bed and she fell in, and he cringed at the next memory.
Him, crying out hers and Christines names intermingling into one, screaming them in arousal, her groaning with pain. Her, kissing him then straddling him, him, kissing her back and her body on his. Him, inside her, her, kissing him more.
He grimaced as he remembered the night he lost his virginity, scowling at the thought of it not being Christine, not that that would ever happen now.
He groaned at the pounding in his head and heard a door open then a shriek from the other maid, Marie. He rolled over and she shrieked again and he looked up at her, wondering what the shrieks and covering of her eyes was all about.
He remembered: he was naked. He jumped up and grabbed his pillow from in his bed and held it in front of his manhood. He looked at the carpet, stained from his vomit and the bin, with Annamaria's obviously.
Where was she?
"Ummm…yes, well maybe in half-an-hour you could come back Marie and clear that up please" he said awkwardly "You, can…ummm…go now" he added and she backed out of the room, still with her hands over her eyes.
He sighed and grabbed a glass of water from his bedside table and looked around the room. Vomit everywhere on the carpet and empty beer and rum bottles littered the ground. He dressed, only just able to stand up and washed his face.
As he put on his mask, wig and prosthetics he walked from the room, down the corridors to the kitchen.
The cook and his helpers looked at Erik in surprise, they never saw him in the kitchen.
"Can I have the strongest pot of coffee you can make, please?" he requested, holding the bench to steady himself.
The staff looked at him curiously but set about making it as he left the room and went to sit in the dining room, staring out the window.
Christine entered in her usual black dress, her hair tied up. She didn't feel too well and she suspected her temperature might be up. She had decided that she would get up and have some food; it always made her feel better, and if she didn't feel better by eleven she would go back to bed and rest.
She was confused though; that morning she had not woken up to see a rose on her pillow. Could he possibly have given up?
But then she saw the look on his face, he was completely hung over, black bags under his eyes the size of Paris and he was drinking the strongest coffee she had ever seen.
He looked at her and his face didn't brighten like it did every time she had entered the room for the past couple weeks.
"Good Morning angel" he said roughly, exhausted, dehydrated and famished after throwing up the contents of his stomach all the night before and he wiped his face as if trying to wipe away the throbbing in his head.
"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, forgetting her hatred for him, intrigued on how he gotten so plastered.
"Well I lost my virginity if you really wanted to know" he said coolly and her jaw dropped.
"You…erm…what?" she said incredulously, amazed at his bluntness.
He began to speak but at that moment Annamaria came in with the breakfast, with the same look of a hang over which merely said 'kill me'. Christine gaped from her to Erik and realised what had happened.
Annamaria ignored Christines shocked gaze and Erik's questioning one. Going red she set down their trays and began to walk out.
Erik stood and walked out after her, and Christine watched him scurry after her and began to eat her plain piece of toast, smiling to herself, but then she stopped chewing…she felt really dizzy and she shivered. She dragged in a breath but found it difficult and choked, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and she lost her balance and fell from her chair to the ground, unseen by neither Erik nor Annamaria who had just left.
Erik ran after Annamaria, and she finally stopped walking and turned to face him.
"What do you want?" she asked coldly, her tone resembling Christines.
"Just…was last night real? Really? Please?" he begged, pleading with her.
"Well I remember you were plastered, I got plastered and then we screwed and fell asleep, shortly followed by me heaving my guts out into your bin and stumbling down the corridors and collapsing in the foyer" she said indifferent to what she was saying, staring at him with a cold face, all life gone from it.
"Shit!" he cursed and she shrugged and walked away. "Wait!" he called after her.
"Why'd you do it?"
"Do what? I believe you invited me to bed and I drunkly agreed," she replied.
"No, why'd you have a drink anyway?" he asked, wondering what had compelled her to have some. If she wanted to seduce him she didn't need the drink, she just could've jumped into bed and everything would've happened as it did, minus her throwing up.
"Because I wanted to," she replied.
"Seriously" he asked, holding her by the shoulders.
"Because I was depressed," she said, looking away from his piercing green eyes.
"Why? Because I was drunk? What was there to be depressed about?" he asked, confused. She took a deep breath, this was it.
"Because I lo-" she began but there was a shriek from the dining room.
"Miss Daae!" Marie screeched and Erik ran to the dining room as Annamaria sighed and shook her head; it was better anyway, him not knowing the truth.
She entered the dining room and Christine was slumped on the ground, fallen from her chair, coughing and shivering while muttering Raoul's name over and over.
Erik lifted her and carried her to her chambers while calling out for Marie to get a doctor in from Bordeaux. Wrapped in his own self-loathing from the drink he hadn't noticed the paleness of her face, and now he noticed the extreme warmth of her skin.
He felt her forehead and he gasped; it was burning hot.
He lay her down in her bed and pulled the blankets over her, frustrated at the memory of his bed as he last saw it. She coughed and shivered-she was still cold? He pulled another blanket from underneath her bed and laid it on her.
Penny his housekeeper came in, a worried look on her face.
"I've sent for a doctor" she said, feeling Christines forehead and gasping "She's so hot! I've seen this before monsieur, I think it's the flu" she said, uneasy at the poor girls state. Erik looked at her, fear in his eyes.
"Will…will we…" he gulped in fear "Lose her?" he asked, scared for the woman he loved.
"Hopefully not monsieur, but it's not just a head cold." Penny said, anxious for Christine and Erik's condition as he sat down slowly on the bed, his mouth open in shock and shaking from the distress caused by the thought of Christine dying. And it would be his fault! He gasped in pain and buried his head in his hands.
Christine was dragging in racking breaths and Marie came in with a wet cloth and began to sponge her forehead, which now blazing hot.
"No, I'll do it" Erik said and he took the sponge from her hands and moved towards Christines head. "My angel" he whispered "please my angel, please wake up" he said softly, a single tear running down his face and reaching it's end, dropping down to Christines chin and sliding away. "Don't be sick, I love you"