Disclaimer: Still not mine, nor will they ever be.
Raoul:
I often wonder what motivated me to attack Christine as I did that night. Never before had I ever subjected myself to the blissful unawareness liquor caused. The next day I awoke with a dull headache and saw a change in Christine. At once I remembered what had taken place in surprise.
"Oh, Christine," I cried softly, immediately taking her in my arms. She winced slightly but I chose to ignore it. "Please forgive me. I wasn't myself last night. . . I'm so sorry, my love."
The change in her became painstakingly evident - whenever I entered the room while she was singing, she would stop abruptly and turn away from me. She eyed me warily and she no longer made any attempt to be the first to kiss. She would always flinch when I touched her, no matter how gently. Foolishly, I gave her flowers and chocolates and gifts, hoping everything would get better, that everything would be normal.
I had sent one of my most trusted servants out with a large purse and gave him strict instructions. When he returned with the box, I checked it and soon told him that he would receive a raise in his pay. I walked into the room that Christine always sat in and found her sitting on the ground, sewing in front of the fire. She had been humming but stopped herself when she heard my steps. Her eyes watched me with a hidden cautiousness as I sat down beside her.
"I have a surprise for you," I said softly, brushing a curl from her forehead. Smiling, I handed her the box and gestured for her to open it.
"Raoul," she murmured in surprise, carefully lifting the silver necklace from the case. She timidly fingered the diamond pendant, cut into the shape of delicate heart, encircled with gold. "This must have cost a fortune. . ."
I took the necklace from her and fastened it on her neck. I kissed her cheek and hugged her gently, rubbing my cheek into her soft curls. "There is no price too high for you, my love. . ."
The necklace didn't adorn her neck the next day, nor did it any day after.
Nothing would ever be normal - a fact that I tried to ignore at the time. In the back of my mind I knew that, after that night beneath the opera house, our lives would be forever changed. Even though I had my Christine physically, her mind would always belong to her Angel, that genius. To the Phantom of the Opera, a monster.
I should be thankful that I even have Christine at all. Had that monster not all but pushed her towards me, she would have been trapped with him until the day she died. I should have been happy, but, for obvious reasons, I wasn't. What he granted me, what he allowed me to have, is now a lifeless shell; a jaded woman no matter what I did. It pained me to see her look so apathetic. I missed the way her laugh brightened her face, made her beautiful eyes to glitter. I missed the times when her happiness got the best of her, caused her voice to tremble slightly. But I missed the way that her eyes smiled as she watched me the most.
She was Little Lotte - letting her mind wander; thinking of both everything and nothing together. Had that thing left us alone, Christine wouldn't be this indifferent being who brushed everything aside to sing her little songs. Even our wedding did nothing to excite her, when in the past she was ecstatic with our secret engagement. Nothing would be able to strike any sort of spark in in her - all of her passion for anything was gone.
Would the Angel of Music always sing songs in her head?
(A/N: A short one this time. . .)