Note: I promise this is the last bout of real unrestrained abuse from Erik. Sheesh. That, and I apologize for the length. Long. Also, it's tech week, those of us who truly knows what that means will understand if I dont get this thing moving for another few days. Thanks for reading :D
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21
Raoul said he would not rot and waste from hunger inflicted by the Phantom of the Opera. For almost a month he has kept from the liquor, and he has eaten, but a grumbling belly is the least of his suffering. He is almost entirely alone. Erik is hardly there, only every few days does he appear to bring food, or to check on the state of his prison, a dark warden silent enough to mock. Raoul does not know where the only other human voice has gone. He only knows that he is alone.
While Erik is gone, he continuously searches for Erik's exits, continuously tries to escape, but the ghost hides his secrets well.
He has been in this dank, dark little hole for half of one year. Half a year, and none have found him. He has finally given in, and become a victim to his drink. Half a bottle later, Erik returns. It is late at night, or so Raoul may suppose from the silent clock. Midnight or somewhere past, he cannot care to focus. He hides the bottle sloppily behind his thigh, as he resides on the rocky steps. Erik pauses, and as he removes his cloak he regards Raoul with quiet suspicion. He is dressed and masked well this night, and Erik passes into his studio. He returns, still in his dress coat, but with neither a wig or a mask. He can only stand to masquerade for so long. Darkened eyes flick to Raoul.
"What an interesting smell you've acquired tonight," he says. "No point in concealing your drink, we all know what we are."
Raoul keeps the neck of the bottle clutched in a sweat-slicked fist, and he comes slowly to his feet, rising to Erik and coming short several inches. "Where have you been?" he asks, voice thick and bordering on a slur. Erik ignores him. "Where have you been?" he demands, begins to build in anger, and Erik detects it. He pointedly ignores Raoul's question, and removes his coat.
"Goodnight," he murmurs, insincere. He knows none of Raoul's nights are good ones. "I take my leave."
"No," Raoul snaps. Erik frowns at him, raking his gaze over the young man's body with new disgust. He is drunk, red faced and flustered, stupid, and he is still beautiful. Instant courage is pumping through him with every beat of his heart. He is in dangerous waters. The young man stares at him, trying to look through him, understand, lips burning with the color that taints his cheekbones, breath shallow. The smell of liquor is thick around him. "You are never going to let me go," he whispers. "Are you?"
Erik decides he is not worth the trouble. He turns away, but Raoul's voice rises.
"Don't ignore me," he growls. "Don't ignore me, and leave me here – answer me!" His tone has dropped, dangerously. Erik ignores still, and he hates it. He seethes hatred, breathing hard, hissing in his own ears. Erik has kept him here too long, he has waited too long alone in be passed over. "I said don't leave," he grits through clenched teeth. "Come back," Erik keeps heading up the steps. "Tell me where you have been!"
"I let you know all you need to know," Erik says, over his shoulder. "Go to bed, Vicomte. Sleep it away."
Raoul follows him with unsteady, ill-placed steps, and his hip bumps the table. Erik is in his bedroom, hanging a coat on a thin wooden rack. "You're a monster," Raoul says, and earns a scathing look from Erik. "You're a monster, you wretched, pitiful creature," his voice becomes a hoarse, slurred growl, and Erik's mouth tightens into a white line. "You watch her, don't you? You wear your mask when you're out, because you know if she saw you again she would reel at your face!"
Even in a haze of drink, Raoul knows his attack serves no purpose, save reaction, but it is all he wants, answers, even if it is hate. He can accept hate. The liquor has dulled his senses, so when Erik rips the bottle from his fingers, and backhands him with the other he can hardly feel it. He feels impact, but only faint pain. He loses his footing, only to the edge of the bed. Still stands, but Erik towers.
"Hit me if you want," Raoul challenges. "But answer my question, where have you been?" Erik hits him again, hard in the ribs, and Raoul falls to the bed and curls around the source of pain. It spreads, but he lifts his head and glares at his attacker. "You can't even tell me, you coward!" he shouts, hoarsely. "You're ashamed," a fist against his cheek. Erik still grips the liquor, and Raoul can feel a tooth is now loose in the back of his mouth. He spits blood. "How can you even bear to be seen around me like this!" Raoul expects more pain, more impact, but instead Erik brings the liquor to his lips and takes several hard swallows. He throws it, blindly, against the wall, and Raoul watches it break, staring back at Erik in horror. "What are you- you don't drink!"
"For what I am about to do to you," Erik snarls, removing his waist coat next. "It would be better this way." Raoul frowns, not quite understanding, until a cage of fingers are around his throat, and Erik forces him flat onto the bed. Raoul freezes, and Erik pushes a hard knee between his thighs, seeking leverage. Before he can be choked, Raoul ducks into the mattress, and Erik loses his grip. The young man plows a bare-knuckled fist into Erik's chest, and it cracks. He rolls onto his side, and scrambles clumsily away, too slow, to the other side of the bed. The red sheets glare in the candlelight.
Erik, of course, will never allow escape, and he regains the upper hand by thrusting forward, and drives an elbow into the boy's side. Raoul twists again, ready to strike, but Erik brings a knee up into the ribs, between them to the bottoms of his lungs and holds it there. Raoul's expression breaks as breath is forced from him.
"All I want is an answer," Raoul says, thinly, and as he drags in a breath it becomes a ragged growl. "Where did you go!" The knee jerks beneath Raoul's waist, at his hip, and presses into the path beside his groin. Raoul bites back a cry, as a rush of thrill and pain racks his body, and he catches Erik's arm in his free hand before it comes down to break his nose. Erik sneers, horribly, irrational, laced with primal insanity. "What would you do," Raoul snarls, wrenching Erik's hand back and rising before him, before that horrible face, those eyes that will not so much as give him a second glance. "-if I tried to kill you!"
Erik simply beats him across the temple with his left hand, and Raoul falls back with his threat. Erik watches, as he clutches his face in growing agony. He only watches, straddling Raoul, half standing and towering.
"Starve me," Raoul growls, glaring at Erik and swallowing a mouthful of blood. "Beat me, hit me, push me, pull me, but answer me!" Erik stares down at him, and a little smile catches the side of his mouth. The malformed eye pulls up, slightly, and a part of the socket looks dark and hollowed. Raoul stares back.
"No," Erik says, quietly, and his hands come around Raoul's wrists, a reminder of his depleted strength. "I know how to silence you." Without warning he heaves upward, and Raoul remains deadweight, allowing himself to be dragged off of the bed. "You were born," Erik snarls, as he readjusts his grip on the young man, hands in his shirt, fingers prodding flesh, hauling carelessly upward. "-so pretty, you. Are you even a man!" Erik cries. "You mewl like an infant in my lake, are you even a man, pretty thing!"
"Don't," he begins, and Raoul suddenly remembers what always eventually forces him to silence. He tears out a cry and struggles, but Erik is stronger. "No!" he shouts, desperately, but of course Erik ignores him. He holds him hard. "No, not the water, not-" They go quickly down the steps, and Raoul's weakened legs try to catch the steps, to slow their descent, but Erik keeps dragging him ever downward. He breaks away, and falls hard to the floor, but Erik is on him again in no time, gripping him beneath the chin, around the jaw and bearing him to the ground. "No," Raoul croaks, and he resists, harder than ever, but Erik is worlds stronger. "Stop!" he cries, and it turns into a scream, deep in his chest, a howl. "I'll die if you want, kill me, don't put me in the water!" At the bank he knows the only way to keep out of the water is to drag Erik down with him. He twists, and clutches at the man dragging him, sick with dread and fear. "I don't care, I don't want answers," he stammers, loud and clumsily, shaking to tears he refuses to release. His resolve dies. "I'm sorry, I'll do anything, don't put me in the-"
Erik shoves him, roughly, before he finishes, but not into the water. His hand is still around Raoul's throat, and the other is still keeping his other arm down. A knee again comes between his legs, allowing Erik to move in closer. He seizes the other man's jaw, forcing him to look the Phantom in the face.
"Why do you do these things!" Erik shouts, demands, and Raoul's eyes are wide with a mix of irrational terror, and they shine with tears of strain. "Why can you not just be here! Why do you make me this way, you make me a monster!"
Raoul says something, inaudible, and Erik releases his throat impatiently.
"I'm alone," he manages, thinly, scratchy. "With only the sound of the water to keep me sane, I hate it," His answer is enough to lift Erik off of him, slightly, too roused and riled to care about killing him anymore. He sits on the bank, now, and his faces buries in his hands. He listens, quietly. Raoul only shakes his head, and pulls up to hunch over his bruised middle. By now, he is almost used to such pain. "All alone," he admits, grimacing bitterness, and numb.
Erik does not let his head up from his hands. He exhales, hard, and closes his eyes against his palms. "The water frightens you?" he says, quietly. "Why does it frighten you out of your wits?"
Raoul runs his hands through his hair, and again shakes his head. "I never lost a battle until you," he murmurs, spiteful, still tasting blood. "I can't win.:
"Did you even try!" Erik snaps, and Raoul feels his heart is slowing as his composure returns. His body is calming down, and he draws in a long breath.
"I have never fought harder than how I fought for her," Raoul glances over at him, half-lidded and bewildered. "I don't know why you hate me like you do," he says. "I only ever loved her, like you did. I tried to protect her."
"Do not speak of her," Erik whispers, dryly. "She has left you."
Raoul knows. After half of a year, he knows.
