Disclaimer: Read chapter 1.
Raoul:
We went out to eat the night before Christine was to go, though it felt awkward at first. She thanked me profusely at times, moving the food around her plate with the fork, eyeing me shyly. I drank in her appearance, listened to her voice, trying to remember everything I could of this beautiful woman who sat before me. I watched her sadly, and struggled to keep the tears from falling from my eyes. She smiled brightly in a way she hadn't for weeks and I forced myself to forget that she would be smiling like that for another man very soon. Hate coursed through my veins, and I could nearly feel the Phantom's neck in my fingers. . .
I shook my head to clear it of the sudden bloodlust; I paid for the dinner and rose to my feet, offering my hand to her. "It's getting late," I said, almost plaintively. "Come, you have to be up early tomorrow."
She nodded slowly and accepted my hand, allowing me to lead her out of the restaurant and into the carriage. For the most part, we rode in silence as I sat across from her. I stared outside at the passing scenery distantly, my fingers on my temple. If I didn't look at her, I reasoned, maybe I could forget her. . .
This wasn't to be, of course. She took my hand gently with both her hers, wrapping her fingers around mine with a timid squeeze. I savored the warmth from her touch, locking it away with my other memories. My mind painted a portrait of her to remember for ever - the way her dark curls fell over her shoulders in small waves; the way her eyes glittered under the starlight through the carriage window; the way she seemed to glow from her own hidden light. I showed her a smile then, but secretly my heart broke in two.
When she changed into her nightgown, I tucked her in as if she were a child, kissing her forehead and pulling the covers closer around her shoulders. She sighed contentedly and buried herself in the pillows, murmuring, "Good night, Raoul. . ."
I sat in the parlor, left alone with my thoughts. I didn't sleep that night, for, I knew if I did, all my dreams would be of her. I would hear her voice ringing in my ears, my name on her lips. I would dream of how silky her hair would feel in my hands; how soft her skin beneath my fingertips. I would dream of how her eyes had glittered like small suns. I would dream she was an Angel of the Light, my Little Lotte. . . No - if I slept that night, I would have died of sorrow. . .
I waited for her as I moved the food around my plate at breakfast; I didn't have an appetite, and any food I ate fell into my stomach like stones. She walked in gracefully, much like a goddess, the glow of sleep still lingering around her. Christine was dressed already and ate little. There was a bounce in her step that had been absent for extremely long weeks. She giggled softly, though neither of us had said anything. Absently, she hummed a few scales, each ending in a contented sigh. Her smile was ethereal, her eyes glimmering.
I escaped into my study, for lack of anything better to do, and there sat at the desk. It felt as if I remained there for hours, when in reality I was only there for mere minutes, flipping through the pages of a book that I didn't intend to read. The door opened slowly and was shut quietly as I listened to the footsteps draw nearer. I didn't need to look up to know who it was; I tried to appear indifferent, when in fact so many emotions raged through me that I became dizzy.
"Raoul," she said softly, standing in front of the desk with her hands behind her back. I glanced at her quickly to see that her head was bowed shyly in much the same way of a child. When I stood, she raised her eyes and I could see the tears swimming in them. "Raoul. . . I. . . Here."
She held out her palm, and there I saw the diamond necklace and the engagement ring I had given to her. Her hand shook slightly as she batted her eyes to blink away the tears. I stared at the items absently at first and lifted a shaking hand to retrieve them. But rather than take the jewelry, I closed her fingers over her palm.
"No, no. . . I want you to keep them."
"But - but, Raoul, I couldn't possibly. . ."
I silenced her by raising a hand, smiling as warmly as I could. I took her other hand and brushed my lips against her fingers. Pulling her close to me, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and smelled her vanilla-scented hair. "Keep them," I murmured into her ear. "Keep them, so you don't forget that I still love you."
I watched her get into the carriage from the front door, forcing away my tears. I waved goodbye to her and she truly smield in return. Oh, how I had missed that smile! She continued to wave goodbye from the carriage window; some of her things had been packed into her valise and the rest would be sent to her flat. Christine pressed her lips to her fingers gently and blew the kiss towards me as the carriage began to move away. With one final wave, I watched her until it disappeared around a corner.
It was an odd feeling. . . I thought I knew what would happen, yet things couldn't always go my way. I couldn't help but feel sad; I had only to wait. After she got there, it would only take a little while for her to realize her contempt for that man and come back. I was so convinced that my plans wouldn't go awry. It would work. . . It had to. . .
"Master," said the servant behind me. "Mademoiselle Daae's things have been packed away. Shall we send them now?"
"Yes, thank you. You are dismissed."
He paused and remained where he was. I turned to face him and asked what he wanted. "Sir," he said finally, "forgive me for my curiousity, but do you think it wise to allow Miss Daae to go?"
I watched him silently for several moments. "No, I don't. That's why I've already arranged for her return."
Baffled, he tilted his head to the side. "Excuse me for asking, sir, but how can you be so certain?"
A laugh escaped me and I walked past him. "She won't be there for long, I should say. No, not for long. . ."
(A/N: *insert dramatic music here, here, and. . . yes, there.* Again, I apologize profusely for the delay. Homework, I've deduced, is not, fun.)