Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.
Warning(s): slash, character death mentions (major angst ensues), spoilers to Unmasking the Chains
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul
A/N: We know that when I can't concentrate on what I'm supposed to do, I end up updating this. Good? Maybe. But, the La Belle et La Bete chapter (4) simply needs to be edited. (I say 'simply' despite the fact that editing usually takes the longest for me.) But really… we need more E/R fics. Why isn't it being produced? Although I did see something being posted today. :( Still, this is hardly the exit from fandom I had planned.
Story Note: You may want to only read the first part (it's lighthearted) if you're looking to avoid major angst (emo!Erik). There are spoilers to my fic Unmasking the Chains. Read the warnings. It's applicable (it should always be applicable).
o.o.o.o
Human Anatomy
Chapter 11
o.o.o.o
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt
o.o.o.o
Raoul hesitated at the mirror that had been left ajar in Christine's room. Erik was waiting for him and Christine had insisted.
'Insist' was too polite a word. There had been embarrassingly true stories bandied and threats doled out. In fact, he had been coerced by Little Lotte, and that thought alone would have made him turn right around and leave the room if it weren't for the fact that Little Lotte had never actually lied to him, and if she said that anecdote of his swimming trunks and that stray seagull would somehow be spread, then it would be.
Raising his hand to the level of his eyes, he strode forward into the cool darkness. Only a few torches had been left to light his way.
It wasn't as though he was the one being unreasonable. He had given Erik his answer and he was well-acquainted with the fact that the opera ghost did not deal with rejection well. Who knew how he would react even though the contents of his letters stated that he was in fact not angry, simply impatient to continue their discussion. Raoul had nearly scoffed upon reading such a euphemism. What Erik called a discussion, Raoul called an argument of grand proportions.
Admittedly there had been no 'accidents' – Raoul rather called them tantrums – that was usually the best means to decipher Erik's moods, but it had only been a day since his refusal. Erik was bound to cause some sort of destruction to the opera house soon. Either way, it was easy to seem composed through a letter. It meant little to Raoul. The man had a skull wax seal after all and still refused to sign his letters with anything other than, 'Your obedient servant, O.G.'
The amorous attentions had been nice, and Raoul had allowed himself to revel in it. It might also explain why he was so easily giving into such coercion now. He might have even returned some affection. According to Christine, he had returned a reciprocal amount of affection, but she was wrong. Raoul was not obsessed with Erik. He didn't know the older man's schedule, didn't scare his friends away, nor did he leave him flowers – except for that one time, but that was a different situation entirely. He was too much of a gentleman to go to such lengths. Although, Erik tried to be a gentleman – Raoul was fairly certain Christine was coaching him – but their current situation wasn't about his odd behaviour, his quirks, or who loved the other more. It wasn't about them at all.
He hesitated at a cross-section. Left or right? He hadn't been paying as much attention as he should have been. Both were similarly lit, so that held no clue. Taking the moment's indecision to switch arms so that his left was raised instead, he picked arbitrarily and walked down the left tunnel.
Truthfully speaking, such awkward, unreserved possessiveness had only managed to endear him further to Raoul. It wasn't as though Raoul did not love him, and apparently he was transparent enough that even Christine knew that much. It was just that Philippe wasn't getting married any time soon and that left him with the duty to produce an heir, to keep the Chagny lineage continuing. It was the least he could do for his brother, who'd taken up the burden of heading the family so long ago.
He had tried to explain it to him at the time, but Erik had simply refused to listen to anything beyond Raoul saying he couldn't possibly consider continuing their relationship for much longer, much less indefinitely.
The noose that fell around his neck caught on his arm as the precaution had intended. It tightened quickly. His hand pressed against his cheek, and despite the fact he should have been able to pull the noose free by raising his arm, all he managed to do was raise his arm so that his face was pressed in the crook of his elbow instead of his hand. The rope caught on his elbow, crossing his face and digging into the base of his skull.
He tried to yank the rope free with his other hand, but Erik caught his free wrist easily enough and turned him so that they were face to face in the semi-darkness. Raoul technically could only see parts of his mask and the lower part of Erik's face because of the rope.
"You came." The pleasure in his voice was easy enough to hear, although the smirk was what spoke volumes.
Raoul was still struggling to release the noose, not making much progress considering Erik still held his other wrist and, Raoul stared, he still held the other end of the Punjab lasso.
"Well?" He said, annoyed.
Erik only chastised, "Stop fussing."
Raoul considered struggling harder simply to be contrary, but decided to listen to him just this once. He stopped trying to remove the noose, but the only thing Erik did was pull the rope down a fraction so that Raoul had an unobstructed view of his masked visage.
His arm was beginning to hurt, not to mention the fact he knew he must look like a fool in such a position. He hadn't come here to be ridiculed. Snapping, he asked, "Did you ask me to come here to take my head?"
Erik pulled him closer and Raoul could almost swear his smirk softened enough to be considered a smile, an amused smile that gave him the impression that Erik knew something he didn't. "No. I have come here to take something else." He held Raoul's gaze pointedly as he released his wrist and reached up to pull the suddenly loosened noose from his neck, only breaking eye contact for the barest of seconds.
Raoul was tempted to close the distance between them as he lowered his arm, but somehow it felt inappropriate despite the fact that they were far closer now that the noose was gone.
As though to coax away the pain he had caused, Erik took his hand, raising it to his lips to press a single kiss on the back of his hand. Raoul could only stare into those familiar eyes, and it seemed as though he could say yes, that the only right thing to do was to acquiesce.
The moment was broken however when Erik slipped something on his finger.
Raoul glanced down to see a plain gold band. He shook his head, pulling away from Erik. Moving to take it off, he muttered, "I can't. I told you…"
"Don't."
How that one word arrested his movement, Raoul did not know, but the ring stayed.
"I'm only asking you for forever."
Erik's conviction that forever was as simple as saying yes made Raoul hurt. He could only shake his head again and stare as he pulled the ring up before repositioning it properly. He pulled at it again and Erik reached out to push it back down. It took him a moment to realize that they were wearing matching rings.
"I would say yes. I would give you forever if I could…" Raoul was tempted to ignore everything else in the world, but there was too much at stake. It was his family. Saying yes would be too much of a betrayal.
"I already spoke to your brother," Erik said suddenly.
Raoul was certain he had heard him incorrectly, but scrutinizing Erik's expression, he knew it was no lie. He jerked his hand away again, this time for a different reason. "You what?" His exclamation echoed in the tunnel.
Erik tilted his head slightly, and Raoul feared it wasn't a sign of feigned confusion.
"You didn't. Tell me you didn't. Please." He begged. He hadn't told Philippe anything about their relationship yet. How did Erik even get to him? It had only been a day since his refusal and Philippe had left early yesterday morning.
"Asking your kin for permission to propose," Erik stated, obviously repeating someone else's words, "is of utmost importance and must be planned accordingly."
Raoul's mouth hung open as he realized exactly what that meant, as events he'd simply labeled as unimportant clicked into place. Philippe coming home one evening flustered before proceeding to lock himself in his room. His brother's inquiries to Christine, to his happiness, to the opera house. His most fervent and sudden declaration that Raoul be who he wanted to be.
"How long ago?" He managed to croak out, his mind unable to pinpoint the exact date that first event had occurred.
Instead of answering his question though, Erik kissed the back of his hand again, openly smirking at him. "Can forever begin finally?"
o.o finger o.o (wc:1,449)
I kept my promise, the one you misled me into making.
How you could ask this of me, I know not. It is a cruelty I would have never associated with you, but perhaps I should have expected it. We have always been similar. We share the same scars, the same fears, the same loyalties, but you… you had been the best parts of me. The man I believed myself capable of being died along with you. Nothing remains but the phantom, a broken animal, not even a man, who has lost all but this sole promise.
This heart of mine, it still beats. It beats for you and only you. Can you hear it call your name?
Raoul.
I love you. I forget at times if the words ever crossed my lips – if when you were alive, the words could have ever formed so simply.
I don't think I did. I don't think they would have.
Raoul.
I want you. I need you. We are meant for each other. I love you. These sentiments colored my every action since the moment I first truly saw you, but it is only the latter statement that needed to be spoken aloud to be truly understood. I've said it so many times now that it feels as if my whole life has been spent telling you this, just waiting for you to respond again.
Raoul.
I love you is a promise. Did you know that?
It's a promise that the year after you say the words, you will be there to prove it. Maybe even less than a year, the day, the hour, the minute after saying those words, you will be there to say it again and somehow mean it even more.
Raoul.
I think I miss you. This feels unlike anything else I have ever experienced. The knowledge of you has saturated my every thought and breath, and I am held forever waiting.
Raoul.
It is as if my whole body has been suspended in expectation. I'm forever held at the moment before our eyes met, before our hands touched, before our words reached each other. Just before our lips caressed. The very necessity to ease the tension, to somehow close the gaping distance that lies between us now is so strong it drives me further into despair.
Raoul.
At times though, I am convinced that it is not the moment before.
It will be and has always been the moment after that truly matters. That one single moment after you had given me everything I had ever desired in my miserable existence, after all that and you fell through my grasp.
It must be after because I can still feel the brush of your lips. I can feel your hand against my arm, your body within my embrace. And you hold me in return, tightly enough that it makes me think you never really wanted to go. Or maybe that's my own desire. Maybe I am holding onto you more than I should. Though, never tight enough.
But, there is no one else to hold. No one else who matters any longer. No opera house, no managers, no Christine. There hasn't been for a long while now.
Raoul.
Sometimes, I am certain I hear your voice, a faint murmur. Resigned – whether to love me or leave me, I am uncertain. But I wish you would stop saying the words I want to hear because it makes it worse when I look over my shoulder and you are not there. And at that moment, I have to destroy something, anything within my grasp. I rage against you, against my failings, my self. I hate and despise and love you all in the same breath, left to destroy things, mere trifles, because I cannot destroy myself.
This shell must further wait in the expectation that you will be there, and all I can bitterly think to myself is this.
Raoul, my love.
Don't make promises you can't keep.
o.o heart o.o (wc:666)
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End Chapter 11
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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter review:
Finger – That's sneaky, Erik. Truly sneaky. It's a little jumbled, right? In terms of events. But hopefully not too jumbled. Erik's apparently getting better at feigning innocence.
Heart – Ouch. I'm too dramatic at times. I know. But, at least I'm making Erik suffer in this one instead of Raoul. :) Is that even a consolation? Erik's too OOC in this, but I like to think that he has in fact become just a shell after losing everything and then being forced to live on. (It was going to be a oneshot, but this way I don't mislead any of you into thinking that it's the third part of the Masked Series. It's not, and it's too short anyway – although I do admit, I aimed for 666.)