Just a fair warning, this is a small chapter. But Erik gets 9 hugs from my lovely reviewers! Thank you so much for sticking around and reviewing! It seriously means a lot to me. I hope you're all ready for this chapter. . .And the next one! I just hope that this one came out alright!
I do not own Scarred by Doro (if you go to Drowning in Illusions playlist on you tube, you'll find the song), or anything by the Phantom of the Opera. I only own my OC's, especially Clare!
Enjoy!
. . .
Sometimes it feels like the world is trying to keep me from you. . .
My previous words ran through my head. It seemed true. While I pondered over that, Erik looked back down at his hands. . .Or perhaps his music sheets; I couldn't quite tell from where I was standing. I gazed at his long fingers. They looked elegant to me. Hell, they even looked soft. I then recalled once seeing his right hand bandaged up. That was the most distant memory I had of him.
No. I take that back. I corrected myself. I also had a memory of kissing his cheek when he was mourning over his rejection from Christine. That was the most distant memory I had of him. Though thinking back to his hand, I still wasn't sure of what had happened to it. Every time I thought of it though, I was reminded of the nightmare I had of the man laying on the ground, surrounded by blood. His own blood. Erik's blood. I found myself searching his pale hands for any scars, but couldn't find any. Whatever injury he had, must had healed long ago.
"It. . ." His voice suddenly faltered, catching my attention. "It does seem like the world is trying to keep us apart, doesn't it?" He asked softly, his voice trembling. I felt my eyes widen when I recognized that heartbreaking tone. Was he. . .Was Erik about to cry? I immediately regretted ever bringing up my last statement, especially as soon as his shoulders began to shake.
I felt my slumped back straighten in shock. "Erik?" I asked in alarm. He didn't respond. He merely dropped his head, and his shoulders quaked, rising and falling with sobs and uneven breaths. I felt horrible, and guilt racked through me fiercely.
I didn't even remember moving; I didn't remember feeling a single muscle move, but before I knew it, I was sitting beside him. One of my hands clutched his shoulder, while my other hand found his that resided upon the keys of the organ. His hand was clenched in a tight, furled fist. I couldn't hear him quietly sobbing until I sat right next him. My heart grew heavy like lead, and tears stung my eyes.
I made Erik cry!
"Shh. . ." I hushed, gently rubbing his back. "It's alright. Don't cry."
Even though I tried to reassure that everything was okay, I found myself apologizing to him over and over. I grasped his warm and clammy hand and brought it to my lips, gently pressing kisses against his knuckles, and then the palm of his hand. Apologetic kisses. And probably the worst kisses. Apologetic kisses were sickening emotionally. It was riddled with regret and guilt. It was such a sad feeling; probably one of the most dreadful emotions, especially since I was the one who was to blame. And that itself was distressing to me. I would rather be hurt, than to hurt another.
"I'm so sorry." I whispered as my eyes burned strongly. I gently touched his face; his bare cheek that wasn't covered by a mask. The only thing it was covered in, were tears. His face felt warm and moist beneath my cool hand. Deep down, I had a strange feeling that he would push me away, but he never did. I removed my hand from his shoulder, and used it to cup the masked side of his face. His mask remained dry, and it quickly occurred to me that his tears probably ran right beneath his mask. It felt so odd to be touching his mask; I was almost afraid to cross a line. I knew that no one probably ever touched his mask. Though now that I was, I recognized just how precisely it fitted on his face. I could feel every faint crease and curve of his face through the mask. And for a moment, I wanted nothing more than to just pull his mask off.
Although almost as soon as I touched his mask, he shakily grabbed my arm. Not harshly, rather than anxiously. He softly led my hand away, until not even my fingertips could graze the surface of his mask. I felt even worse. I was crossing boundaries; I was intruding far too much. I was only making everything worse. Even if I only meant to comfort him after wronging him. I had actually gotten him to look at me in the eyes, and I wanted to weep when I saw his dark eyes that were drowning in tears. His face was flushing red from his sobs, and his lips trembled. It was all my fault. Almost immediately, he averted his eyes, as though in shame. He turned his head away from me, breaking contact with my other hand that had remained on the smooth side of his face. Was it too painful for him to look at me? Or did he not want me to look at him?
You're terrible. You made him cry by saying something so stupid.
I felt so incredibly unworthy of him. I made someone like him weep. Someone who was practically the equivalent of an angel. What kind of person was I? A terrible one, for bringing anguish so carelessly. I never even meant for it to come; I never meant to cause him pain. And it was utterly heartbreaking to see Erik sob. I made someone I cared for cry. I may had read about our past through my letters, but his past remained a mystery to me.
Not only did it make me sick that I couldn't remember his past, but it also bothered me that we hadn't discussed such things yet. I wasn't sure whether that were my fault, or his. Perhaps mine for not asking, or his for simply not bringing it up. Although as I sat there beside him, listening to him sob, I knew that it wouldn't have been right of me to pick at him for such answers. Whatever lied in his past, remained to torture him relentlessly. I had seen it in his dark blue eyes; his eyes that shed tears.
They always did say that eyes were the windows to your soul. And seeing his cobalt eyes strikingly reminded me of my painting from art class. It made my breath hitch in my throat. I had painted a picture of pain; Erik's pain. And I realized that before me, it came to life as I watched Erik cry. It all only made me feel even more responsible for his heartache - I had created such misery, and it took a toll on Erik. I had painted a picture of Erik crying, and hadn't even realized it at the time. I just wasn't ready to watch it play out before me. But then I realized that I never would have. His tears were pure torment to me.
At the time, I only painted what my heart recognized deep down; it still yearned for Erik. It still longed for Erik, who suffered. It recognized his lonely soul, even if my mind couldn't resurface such memories.
Just as his eyes showed his pain, and his past, I couldn't help but to think that his drooping, and trembling shoulders showed it just as much. He was captured in mental shackles. He was a prisoner of his own mind; his bottled up pain that plagued him persistently. Things that I knew not of. What had the world done to him? What continued to bother him, even when he appeared to always be secluded in his lair. What was he afraid of?
All I knew was I wanted to kiss away his pain. I wanted to him to forget his past. I wanted to take back what I had spoken of earlier. I had triggered his pain, and I was paying the price. It was all my fault, and the idea of it made me sick. Really, the idea of him being in pain would be distressing no matter what, but it was far worse when I was the one to blame. Innumerable apologizes would never feel good enough. It would never suffice in my heart. Not as long as I would remember.
I only helplessly wondered what was running through his mind at that very moment. He didn't utter a word, which made my stomach knot up with unbearable guilt. He only continued to uncontrollably sob. His tears smothered any attempt to speak, and I found myself succumbing to my guilt as tears seeped from my eyes, and rolled down my cheeks in great regret.
. . .
I'm not happy with this chapter to be honest. Told ya it was a short chapter. I REALLY wanted to add on more with this one, but like the last chapter, if I had continued this, it would've ended at an odd spot. . .AND, it would've taken forever to get this up. Better to get a chapter up rather than taking ages to update. Even if that means that it takes several short chapters to accomplish ONE scene! xD
Anyways, poor Erik! Clare, why'd you have to say that? I'm sure we all know that she didn't mean it to hit a nerve in him, but the poor guy has had a long day of nothing but hell.
Well, Erik is gonna need more hugs, so don't forget to give them! Thank you for reading! And don't forget to check out "Drowning Series" on face book! I try give a lot shout outs on what's going on recently with updates and what-not. But mostly sharing POTO pics, and clips of what I imagine Clare would look like. And if you end up liking the page, feel free to share POTO pictures and stuff like that!
