Disclaimer: TT I do not own Phantom of the Opera or Les Miserables (hence the quote in the beginning). Happy? -
To love another person
Is to see the face of God... - from Les Miserables
The Phantom Letters
Christine's POV
Picking up the pen quietly, I sighed, tracing my fingertips over a small piece of paper. I touched the pen to the paper, beginning to write neatly, my eyes a sapphire cloud of distant thoughts. It had been two months since that night. Two months. Two dreadfully long months, in which my thoughts had never deserted him. Every day, I had written him a letter; and every day, I awaited a reply, knowing there would be none. Letting out another soft sigh, I continued to write.
Dearest Erik, Even though I know you shall never reply to these, I continue to write them only because they allow me to keep a firm grasp of my sanity. I know that I have apologized numerous times for my foolishness and my reluctance to recognize my true feelings for you. As I ponder over how it would have been if I only had stayed, tears are brought to my eyes, for I know how different and less painful life would have been. You own my soul, Erik. You stole it the first time you began to sing to me through my mirror. You have never returned it, yet I don't know if I want you to. The wedding is to be in two weeks; and although I do not wish to go through with it, I feel I have no other choice, dear Erik. I have postponed it repeatedly, only causing my feelings for you to wrench my heart even more. Please, write back if you get this letter.
With love,
Christine
Drawing in a shaky breath, I carelessly dropped the pen on the white table. Tiny tears fell, landing on the letter. Wiping them away, I folded the paper, rising to have it sent. I knew Erik wouldn't respond, but I wrote that last sentence in every letter, in hopes that someday he would. Handing it to Julian, Raoul's servant, I presented a weak smile.
"Please take this to the Opera House, Julian. Just leave it at the Rue Scribe as always." I directed him quietly.
"Of course, Mademoiselle Daae!" He exclaimed, gently grasping the letter as he climbed on a brown and white horse. "Giddy up, Sandy."
As I watched him disappear into the distance, I turned on my heel. Making my way back inside, my heart was heavy as always. Curling up on the couch before the fireplace, I sat in the silence, staring at the flames. I was alone in the house. I had given the servants the day off, and Raoul was on a business trip. Julian was only here because he insisted on staying for at least half the day. Smiling slightly, my flames reflected in my eyes. Soon, the smile was wiped away, for memories of the wedding came to me, causing me to chew anxiously on my bottom lip.
Lying down, my eyes never left the fireplace. Oh, how the fire reminded me of him! They blazed passionately, appearing extremely intimidating. Throwing a glance at the diminutive candle on the table beside me, I furrowed my brow. The little flame flickered every so often, seeming so helpless. However, my eyes darted from the fireplace to the candle many times. Both could easy devour a house, a field, anything. All it took was something to set it off... something to knock the candle over, or something to permit the fire to catch onto it. Erik was the same way. All it took was something to infuriate him, and his anger was exactly like fire – furiously flaming. I shivered, remembering one unforgettable time when I discovered his temper... It had been when I unmasked him. Nonetheless, the fire also symbolized his passion. The passion that was displayed in his eyes was never-ending and exhilarating. Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes, deciding it was best to take a nap...
A/N: My apologies. I didn't mean to make this first chapter short (the second might be as well), but the others won't be so short! I just needed something to start this new phic off! Please R&R!