Disclaimer: "The Phantom of the Opera" is not mine, nor has it ever been. I'm not making any money from this, so don't sue. I only have about a dollar in quarters to my name, anyway. . .
Christine:
And, to my dismay and anger, I awoke with a loud groan. I turned onto my side, burying myself deeper into the covers and shutting my eyes tightly. Perhaps if I just concentrated, I could escape back into my dream. Maybe I could find myself in Erik's arms again; maybe I could feel the warmth from his lips. . .
"Oh, Erik," I sighed mournfully.
"What was that?"
That woke me up quickly. I sat up with a start, looking around wildly, willing it to be my Angel. I tried to count the times I'd wished that he was there beside me on the bed, stroking my cheek lightly, his beautiful voice whispering in my ear. I tried to figure out how many times I'd awoken with Erik's name on the tip of my tongue. I thought I could still feel his lips on my forehead, his arms around my waist. But, no, of course not, it never would be like that. . .
"Nothing, nothing. . . Good morning, Raoul," I said sleepily, giving him a half-hearted smile. I stretched my arms as I watched him across the room, preparing something on the table. How long had I been asleep? I wondered vaguely. He was already dressed, and usually I was the first to wake.
"Good morning, my love," he returned, a bright, crooked smile on his face. He came over and placed a tray on my lap. "Did you have a good sleep?"
I nodded mutely, and Raoul kissed my cheek, moving my hair over my shoulder. "Breakfast in bed?" I laughed a little. "Thank you, Raoul. . ."
"Don't mention it, my dearest." He held me tightly, as if I were a dream. His lips touched my forehead and moved down to either of my eyelids. "Now, eat your breakfast, Christine. I wouldn't want you to faint from malnutrition."
He chuckled softly and hugged me once more. He left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. It was only after I had began eating that I had a sudden revelation. I dropped my fork with a clatter and whispered to myself, "Oh God, did Raoul hear me?"
Raoul:
It was that hopeful look in her eyes that pained me even more than her hidden disappointment when she saw me. I had awoken when I felt her stir slightly and heard her sighing happily in her sleep. I had closed my eyes again when she whispered, "I love you too, Erik. . ."
I sat up in bed quickly, staring at her as she slept peacefully. Her lips were curved into a perfect smile as she lay there, and my mind started to buzz. All of my questions had been finally answered, and though I had been expecting their affirmation, those answers bore through me like a knife. How could she love him? That monster, that fiend! That horrible thing that was willing to kill all those in his way. Perhaps it wasn't true? Many people say things that they don't mean while they dreaming, or so I've heard. . .
But no, I had seen it written on her face, in her every movement, ever since I rescued her from that house on the lake. Christine's heart was no longer mine - just her body. What a fool I had been, thinking I could have her. I knew, when she had taken her bows after her debut, that she was falling for someone else - someone who wasn't me. Already jealousy had taken me, though I had only been with her a moment. Women always adored me, always wanted me, and yet I needed to have the woman who didn't want me. The woman who didn't jump at an invitation to dinner. If I had just left her, though, she would have been hurt, would have been trapped in that Opera House for the rest of her days. I was destined to lead her back into the daylight she had been sheltered from. But was that what Christine truly wanted?
She had her daylight now, but she wasn't happy. That's all I had truly wanted of her - to see the joy light up her face. While she stayed with me, she would never be glad. Before, I was content, as long as I could be with her it was all fine. But I could no longer live like that. Christine was a caged dove, and I had kept her from flying. Well, I shall do that no more. I will give her what she wants. I can't stand to see her so miserable - I love her too much to make her suffer here. I want her to be with me out of her own desire. . .
Or because she had to be. . .
(A/N: Another short one, I would say. . . review please. . .!)