Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Title:
Left to Chance- Chapter 28
Author:
secretsmile19 (livejournal)/moon maiden of time
Theme:
# 22- shadow; flame; footfall; ouch!
Pairing/Characters:
Erik/Raoul de Chagny
Rating:
PG-13/R
Disclaimer/claimer: "
Phantom of the Opera" belongs to Gaston Leroux; the musical was made by Andrew Lloyd Webber. This is not mine.
Summary:
It was not love. It was…just mere fascination. Really.


Two days. It had only been two days. And yet he was actually worried about the damn Vicomte. About—damn the boy!—Raoul. He worried. What else was he supposed to do all day in the opera cellars? Compose something? Bah. With the thought of the Vicom—of Raoul, flushed and gasping for breath, feverish and ill, nothing could grab his full attention. He could have went and watched the ballet rats, possibly even given them a scare, but he figured that if Madame Giry saw him, she'd smack him with that cane of hers. She had not looked pleased about dealing with an ill Chagny.

And so this was what it came to then. Here he was, in the middle of the night, on the Chagny estate, fiddling with the lock on the balcony doors that led to Raoul's room. The door gave a slight click and opened.

Damn infuriating Vicomte. Being sick and…and….and making him worry like this. If only the fool would not go walking around in the rain when he was sick. Erik would just have to tie the damn boy down. Scowling, he pocketed the lock pick and entered the room, silent.

Erik could see only the vague outline of the bed due to the sliver of nightlight let in by the open door. There was the curve of a naked calf outlined in silver and then the shadowy pits and valleys of a sheet covered torso. The bright white of the pillow was visible in the dark, but shadows took over where Raoul had buried his head. Carefully, Erik eased the door shut and went across the room, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed.

Even in the dark of the room, Erik could see the movement of the sheet as Raoul breathed. The idiot Vicomte was perfectly fine.

His hand was steady as he reached out and brushed a few strands of hair away from Raoul's face. The boy sighed a little and actually leaned into the touch. Raoul's cheek was cooler than what it had been, but it was still a touch too warm. Erik drew back his hand slowly, letting his fingers linger along the soft skin.

It was then, of course, that Raoul had to wake up. His eyes opened slowly, blue eyes unfocused. When they did focus, it was on Erik. Raoul smiled slowly. "Are you a dream?" he whispered.

Erik snorted and looked away. Then, saying in defense because he was caught off guard, "Do you dream about me much, Vicomte?"

The blush that came onto Raoul's face was visible even in the dark. Erik chuckled and gave into the urge to draw his hand along Raoul's cheek once more. The blush deepened, heating the skin against Erik's palm. Raoul sighed, sleepily, and pressed voluntarily into the touch.

Raoul's voice was rough with sleep as he repeated, "Do I dream about you?" There was the faint gleam of teeth as he smiled. "Who wouldn't dream about the haunting, alluring Opera Ghost?"

This angel thought him alluring? "Haunting" was an inescapable description when one was the Opera Ghost. But alluring? Even Christine had never…

Raoul turned to ghost his mouth along Erik's palm in a faint kiss. Then, quietly, "I never did thank you."

Erik swallowed to clear his throat and softly asked, "Thank me for what?"

The mouth against his hand parted as the boy smiled again. "You saved my life and took care of me." The softest exhalation of breath as the boy breathed. "That deserves thanks. So thank you."

Erik shook his head even while knowing the action probably couldn't be seen. "Do not thank me. I saved you for selfish reasons."

Raoul went still. Then, after a moment of silence, "What were those reasons?" Hesitantly said with a tightness in his voice that had not been there seconds before.

Foolish boy. Raoul was probably thinking that Erik just wanted to brush him off once more. His words had been misunderstood. Ah, at least actions could not be misconstrued. Leaning down, Erik brushed his mouth over Raoul's forehead. Softly, gently, as to not frighten.

He started to pull back, but Raoul moved, hands going around Erik's neck to drag Erik down in a slight kiss. It a mere pressure, a mere touch of mouth against mouth. Simple, really, compared to the hot, open kiss Christine had given to him all those months ago as payment for her dear Raoul.

Raoul let go of him and lay back against the pillows. His voice was sleepy as he murmured, "I like those kinds of reasons." A sigh as he shifted, sheet moving along his body. "I knew Madame Giry was wrong." Then, softly, as he drifted back to sleep, "What a nice dream."

Silly angel. Erik gently unwound the loosely clasped hands from around his neck and placed them on the bed. There was only a moment where he stayed, watching the up/down motion of Raoul's breathing. Then, quiet as a shadow, he vanished out the balcony doors.


Madame Giry took one look at him and sighed. "You were there, weren't you Erik?"

"I have no idea what you are talking of, Madame."

"Erik!" Her voice was sharp, just like the whip the gypsies had sometimes yielded.

He stopped his stroll to the cellar stairs to turn and look at her. "Yes, Madame?"

Madame Giry's glare would have cowed many. He just returned it with a raised eyebrow. After a moment she sighed again and started towards her rooms. "Do not let this one end in disaster."

He frowned at her silhouette before starting his walk again. This one would not end in disaster. His step faltered. When had he decided to let this go on? He could remember the soft pressure of Raoul's mouth, first on his hand, then on his own mouth, warm and kind. Ah, yes, that was when he decided to let this continue. He continued walking, a mere shadow in the hallway.