Erik's POV
I was ill and I knew it. There weren't many times that I liked to admit that something was wrong, but something was indeed wrong with me. My body took on a terrible fever, the pain in my side never giving up for a single second. The dull ache turned into a burning throb, and the area of my wound was oozing some sort of sticky substance. Though, I didn't want to involve Christine in such affairs, for I needed to learn how to take care of myself or else, come springtime, I wouldn't know what to do. I wasn't the type of person to stay in bed for long periods of time, but when the fever started, I refused to budge. I kept the door locked at all times, all except for when Gustave came knocking. I hadn't spoken to him since the ball, and it only seemed right that I did. At the moment, I had no shirt on, and was laying in bed pressing a towel to the side of my irritated wound. When I heard him knocking at the door, I stood up from bed and moved towards the door to open it for him.
"Papa, is everything all right?"
I pulled the child inside and locked the door again before moving back to my bed to lay down. What was I to do? I couldn't get myself to the doctor's on my own, and the infection was getting worse as each hour passed. My son knelt on my bed at my side as I rested with my eyes closed.
"Papa, you don't look well."
"I feel perfectly well." I lied. Oh, if this child was in here to mother me like Christine, I swear to God-
I felt his hand make contact with my burning forehead.
"Papa, you're burning up!"
"Gustave, I'm all right." I growled. "Now please, just go away."
"Mama is worried about you, Mister Y."
"Don't bring her up, Gustave. I'm no longer speaking with your mother, and when spring comes, we can all rest peacefully."
"So you're giving up? Is that what this is all about?"
"Go away!" I pushed Gustave off the bed. "Get the hell out of here!"
My son seemed frightened and scurried out the door as I ordered him to. After that, my body seemed to let me sleep peacefully, if only for a few hours. When I woke again, my body was in agony, and my heart was pounding against my ears. I clutched my side, crawling towards the bathroom where I finally collapsed. When I dared to move my hand away from my side, I noticed that it was oozing not only puss, but blood as well.
"Erik?"
Christine then came storming in dressed in my robe. She immediately knelt at my side, examining my infected wound.
"Erik, you need a doctor."
Why couldn't she just leave me be? If I were to die, then so be it! I wanted to hate this woman with all that I was, but the only way to do so was to ignore her very existence. Me-hate Christine? It wasn't possible, but if I pretended that she wasn't here, I could go on living my life. She placed her hand on my oozing wound, causing me to scream in agony. I was so weak, so weak and so exhausted.
"Up we go, Erik…"
My angel lifted me to my feet and helped me back to bed, taking her time as I took each step. When I was back into bed, she fluffed the pillow beneath my head and went on about getting me my doctor. I begged her not to call any doctor, but she wouldn't listen to me. My world was spinning, spinning in a toxic frenzy. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to close my eyes, but my angel begged me to keep them open. Christine called my regular physician, the one I had seen about my heartache. Within the hour, he was at the flat, and entering my room where I lay sprawled out on death's door.
"I'll make you some tea." Christine whispered, caressing my cheek one last time before leaving my doctor and I alone.
"Well, Mister Y," my doctor began. "Your wife is a very charming woman."
"She's not my wife." I managed to groan. "Just the mother of my child."
My doctor sat at my side, examining my infected wound.
"Well, she's lovely all the same- My, my, look at this monstrosity. You're lucky, it seems as though it was taking a turn for the worst."
My doctor placed on his stethoscope and put the end of it over my chest as he worked on my side.
"Nearly septic…The procedure you had done a few days back usually leaves one with an infection such as this, but I can only wonder why you waited so long to call a doctor."
"Must you ask…"
My doctor chuckled as he placed a hot blade against my open wound. I cringed, and laid there motionless as he worked on getting out the infection.
"Almost done, Mister Y…I'll stitch you up and be out of your way."
I was so tired by the time the doctor stitched my wound, that I could hardly keep my eyes open.
"At least a week's worth of bed rest." he told me, as he packed his stuff up. "And after that, don't be overdoing yourself. Your legs aren't going to withstand it for long."
After bidding me goodnight, I was left alone. From out in the hall, I heard Christine and my doctor talking about me and my condition. When it silenced, a few moments later, my angel came walking in with a steaming mug in her hand.
"I have your favorite tea."
Confused on why she was being so nice to me, I accepted her tea and allowed her to lift my head up in order to drink it.
"I want you to sleep, ange…" she mewed. "Doctor's orders."
When the hot liquid was gone, she laid me back down and covered me up.
"I have some leftovers from dinner if you're hungry…"
"No thank you, Christine."
With that, she turned around and headed to the doorway. Yes, I could have let her go, but perhaps I was being a little too hard on her.
"Christine?"
She paused with her hand on the knob.
"Yes, Erik?"
"Stay with me?"
Christine's POV
Erik had asked me to stay with him, and who was I to deny his wishes? I sat there beside his broken body, humming a soft tune to in hopes of lulling him to sleep.
"It hurts, Christine…" he groaned. "So, so much…"
Yes, I could have began conversations about how I had treated him over the past few days, but I decided to save it for later and just concentrate on comforting Erik. I placed pillows at his side and pressed my hand against the bandages in order to sooth his pain. When he finally fell asleep, I worked my way beside his body, laying there, watching over him the entire night. By morning, his fever had broken, but his pain was still there.
"Are you hungry?" I asked him.
When he nodded, I rose to my feet and headed to the kitchen. My poor Erik came out a few moments later, dressed in his robe and looking as though he were a ghost. Oh, my poor, poor angel. He barely made it to his seat before nearly tumbling over. I helped him by setting him down, caressing his cheek in hopes of making him feel better.
"The doctor said a few days of bed rest, Erik."
"The pain is worse when I am laying down. I just want to sit for a while…"
"I'll make you anything you'd like, Erik."
"Thank you, Christine. Tea would be a start…"
I prepared Erik's tea the way he liked it, adding two lumps of sugar and his dash of cream into the mug, before stirring it up and placing it down in front of him.
"Thank you, Christine."
As he was drinking it, I turned around to begin breakfast, stirring the pancake batter and knowing I wouldn't have a piece of mind until I apologized for my actions a few days ago. I could have physically hurt him by refusing to help him around, and yet, I was too angry to see it.
"You know, Erik," I began. "I was very cruel of me to refuse to help you when you needed it. I was just so angry…I'm terribly sorry, love and I want to make it up to you somehow."
"What's done is done, Christine." he groaned. "Don't dwell on such things."
"I really am sorry, Erik. If you would allow me to do so, I would really like to make you something for dinner. Anything of your choosing."
"You don't have to do that. I don't need a pity party, Christine. I'm still alive after the past few days of your abuse. Please, just leave things where they are. I'm tired…"
"But I want to…I'll make you anything, Erik, anything you want."
"If that is what Christine wishes to do." he said. "When I was a boy, my mother used to make me a stew when I wasn't feeling well. Most of the time, she never did anything nice for me, but once in a while if I were good and didn't bother her, she would make it for her poor, ill monster."
"Erik, don't call yourself such things."
But my angel didn't listen. He simply went on explaining the stew his mother used to make.
"It had beef, carrots, beans, potatoes and corn in it. It used to make me feel better when I wasn't feeling well."
"I'll make it for you, Erik."
He didn't thank me, nor did he say another word. He just simply rose when his tea was finished, nearly weakening at the knees. The doctor at the hospital had given him a staff to use when getting around, but I knew he hated the object, which was why he never used it. I came to his aid, taking him by the arm to help him back to his room. Once there, I placed him down into bed and made sure he was comfortable before leaving him. I wanted to apologize to him, to make him feel loved…and I was going to do just that.
Erik's POV
How I hated laying in bed. It just couldn't be done. Therefore, I got up after a few moments of laying there and walked over to my desk. If I couldn't lay in peace, then I would sit up and work on my drawings for new attractions for Phantasma. How would I ever run it now? How would I be able to work with this horrible excuse for a body always paining me.
"Mister Y?"
I turned to spot Gustave standing in my doorway with a few papers in his hand.
"Yes, Gustave?"
"Can I come in?"
I nodded, and my son approached me, taking a seat on the opposite side of my desk.
"What are you working on?"
I placed down my pen for a few moments and looked my boy in the eyes.
"A few drawings for Phantasma. I had some new ideas for some attractions, but I'm not very happy with them."
"Then perhaps you'd like mine."
My son placed the papers he had within his hands down in front of me, beautiful, colorful drawings of what seemed to be a new rollercoaster and a toboggan ride of some sort.
"I was thinking these would be great in Phantasma, papa…"
"Where did you learn to draw like this?"
My son shrugged his shoulders.
"Never really learned, papa…I sort of just did it. Always had it in me."
"That's amazing, Gustave. You truly have promising talent."
"Only because I got it from you."
"In the next two weeks, I'm going to start preparing for my new season." I said. "I have to go around and make sure everyone is opening their stands and everything is working. Would you be interested in accompanying me?"
My boy's eyes widened. "Me? Really?"
"Who better to accompany me on my rounds than the future owner of Phantasma?"
"I'd love to, papa!"
I chuckled, and went back to my drawings, only to have my son question me once more.
"Papa, what do you think is going to happen when spring arrives?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is mama going to stay?"
I slightly looked up again, but only for a mere second before looking back down at my drawings.
"Things haven't been discussed yet."
"Papa, you're running out of time. Spring is only a few weeks away and you and mama haven't even spent any time together over the past few weeks. It's as if you're giving up."
"Gustave, you're mother doesn't love me. Yes, she might have said she does, but-" I paused, trying to explain myself in an easier way of understanding. "I've tried, Gustave. There isn't much more I can do in order to win over your mother's heart. All in all, it's entirely my fault that she is the way she is, because I was the one who left her ten years ago after we conceived you. I didn't know it then, and I was ashamed of myself for what I had done. I should have stayed, but- I can't change the past, Gustave. Your mother has built a relationship with Raoul over the past decade and I cannot blame her for wanting to return to him. Yes, it will hurt deeply when she leaves, and I'm not even sure if I'll be all right without her, but there is nothing I can do to change her mind."
"Papa, if you lose mama, you're going to lose me too… She's taking me back to Paris. I'll never see you. It'll be another ten years before I can get back…No, you have to try harder, for me! Mother does love you, but she won't let her heart fall away from Raoul."
"Gustave, I'm tired." I cried. "Tired of rejection and the pain of your mother not returning the same affection I give her. She is confused on what she wants in life…confused and homesick. I don't wish to confuse her any longer."
"Just one more time…" my son was sobbing now. "Just once more, papa…Please, for me…"
I couldn't refuse my son… How could I? I owed him my very last breath.
"If I agree, I will do things my way. Your last stunt got me nowhere but heartbroken and treated like garbage for nearly a week. If I promise you to try one last time, then I will do things my way. Agreed?"
My son nodded. "What are you going to do?"
"Years ago, I was known as the "Phantom of the Opera." Your mother adored me…I taught her to sing behind closed walls, never showing myself to her until she was nearly eighteen. Even then, she adored me. I might have changed over the past ten years, but I think there's still a little Phantom left in me…enough to bring out his romantic side."
"Mother wasn't afraid of you?" my son questioned. "When you showed yourself to her?"
"White mask and all," I chuckled. "And not one strange stare."
"What about your face?"
"Your mother's curiosity got the best of her, and the following morning, she tore away my mask. I believe she was more frightened of my anger than my hideous appearance."
"How are you going to get mother to love you?"
"Don't be concerned about such things, Gustave. But tomorrow, we shall be taking a little family trip…"
"To where?"
"It's a surprise…"
"Is it to the theater district again?" my son excitedly asked.
"It's someplace even better…"
This was my final chance to win Christine over, and this time, I was going to do it all on my own and with no help from Gustave. If I was going to win my angel's heart, I needed to be the Phantom again, the romantic who always fell at Christine's feet, the man who adored every aspect of her. Yes, I had changed over from Phantom to Erik in the past ten years, but there was still a little Phantom left within me to win over my angel's heart. For tomorrow, I was going to give her one last show, one last performance that would hopefully land her very pulsating heart within my grasp forevermore. For I knew that if she left come springtime, my entire world would become nothing more than an unraveled mess…And to see my son beside her and the ship pulling away-Oh, I would never be able to live. I had a family, and I wanted them with me until the day I died…and I would die trying to make my angel see that I was all she would ever need. I would give her one last chance, and I could only hope that she took this last chance and made it worth my while… For my heart couldn't take another rejection from her. Christine was the light of my life, and my heart's beat. Without my heart, I couldn't live, and without Christine, it couldn't beat. I knew if she left with my son, I would never be able to go on living… Come springtime, my angel would be the result of my continuing life, or my certain death…Yes, there was an angel of life and an angel of death…but my Christine was both.
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