a/n: this is a long chapter, followed by a very short chapter... so yeah...
thank you:
inkie pinkie: they did review and I thank you for spreading the news around about my stories:hug: the performance is what I am working on currently... it will be very interesting.
Kytten: I can't win ;. I'll try and watch out for that in the upcoming chapters. Thank you!
wolfegurl006: too lazy to sign in? I do the same thing... :D. oh and pants.
Samyo: thank you very much!
Zeech: I'm glad to hear that I'm writing to bring out emotion! I understand about the not reading thing, but sometimes I just have to read updates on certain stories, mostly by you and Kytten until I'm done with a story. I'm so glad that you like my story, andI hope you update yours soon!
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I open my eyes and see Raoul is already awake. I feel his fingers gently playing with my hair.
"I was wondering when you'd wake up," his voice is soft, such a perfect voice to wake up to.
"Unlike you, I never can find a reason to wake up early," I move so I can place a kiss on his forehead.
He flips onto his stomach so he can rest his head on my chest. I start to gently run my fingers down his spine and he smiles, burying his face further into my chest as his back arches like a cat's. One of his hands moves along my side, under my arm, and rests, gently grasping my shoulder.
I feel that I would trade anything at all in my life to be frozen in this one moment with my angel.
My hand moves from his back to his hair, playing with it lightly as he did before to mine. His hair is even perfect: no snags when I run my fingers through it, no knots to mat it, no parts less silky then the rest, just constant waves of perfect honey brown. I wish I could say half of that about mine even: the way it is always unruly and sometimes even matted after long hours of work.
He looks up at me and I decide to ask, "Any idea what the time may be?"
He shrugs, "Past ten in the morning."
It sounds like he's been exploring.
"I had to get up," I nod in understanding.
I take his right hand in mine and raise his arm so I can see it. The bandage stares me in the eyes. I look down at him in silent apology.
He raises his hand to the disfigured half of my face and touches it tenderly. No one has ever done this before. His finger move along what should be a cheek, perfectly lying on the cheekbone, like the one on the left side of my face, up onto my forehead, and back down to my chin. His actions bring tears to my eyes. One strays down and he catches it with his hand, then moves up to kiss my lips.
I realize all over again why I fell in love with this young man. Though it still eludes me how he could love me back.
I am thankful for all that this man does and then some, I am thankful for his compassion and I love him for this and more. Yet, for some reason, this man wants to spoil all he is to learn how to live life like the Opera Ghost.
And then the plans for the day hit me: rehearsal starts in the afternoon. He'll get a tour of the Opera House from my point of view.
"Angel?" his voice shakes me from my thoughts.
I look down, "Come, let's get dressed."
He looks up at me, confused, "Why the sudden rush?"
I smile, "We have a reason to get up now."
He still looks confused, but listens to me, sitting up and moving to get dressed as I do. Before he can leave the room I grab one of my cloaks and throw it at him.
"Take that," I answer his confused look.
"What's this?" does he really need to ask?
"You'll need to wear it," I move to my room to get my clothes as he heads for the forgotten-until-now trunks.
When I emerge from my room I see he is wearing a dark blue shirt with the same colored pants and my cloak wrapped around his shoulders.
I move to him and use an extra brooch to secure the cloak around his neck, careful that it is not too lose and not too tight.
He smiles at me, "So what the big rush?"
I move to the food closet and pull out our breakfast.
"We have plans now," I hand him a piece of bread and an apple.
"Small," he comments.
I hold the same for myself, "Portable."
He looks at me, questioning my motives.
"Follow me," I command.
I start off towards the stage, taking one of my lesser-known entrances. I take a bite of the bread and look back to see Raoul trailing behind.
I stop and lean against the wall, waiting for him to catch up and finish my bread in the process.
He reaches me and stops. I look at him in concern, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just a little out of shape," he smiles, but it is not reassuring.
I slow my pace and we start off again, side by side.
We reach the final exit and I open the door, looking both ways before moving into the hallway and ushering out Raoul.
"Follow close behind and don't make a sound," I close the entrance behind him and he nods.
He walks behind me as I lead him through the winding backstage of the opera populaire. I love this part, the rush and the sensation of trying to stay unseen, being a ghost that is still alive, and being able to share the experience makes it twice as rewarding.
I take him up a different hallway until we reach where I want to be. I slide open a fake wall that I installed and we find ourselves right next to the entrance to Box 5.
I open the door and let him enter first, then follow him in and shut the door.
I look over and the first thing that reaches my ears is Carlotta's voice. I wince at the sound as she murders yet another one of my opera's.
I look to Raoul; "She really has no respect for the writer." Then I turn back to rehearsal and shout out, "Madame, Madame, you really need to learn that the note you are having trouble with is sharp, not flat, as you so seemingly ignore."
She stops singing and Raoul is staring at me in horror.
I turn back to him and take his hand, quickly moving him from the box and taking him back behind my wall.
There we quickly head up to the ceiling, "I pray, monsieur, that you are not afraid of heights."
He looks at me, "Depends, why?"
I thrust open the door and he sees where we are. I drag him out and stare back down to the panic that is now rehearsal.
I laugh loud enough so that the sound resonates all throughout the hallway and the panic gets wilder.
I motion for him to leave. He gladly opens the door and we are in the maze again.
"This is just a small taste of what I do," I turn to him and see he is pale in the face.
At first I think he is too stunned to talk, but then he collapses. I barely manage to catch him.
"Raoul?" I hold him close to me, sitting slowly so that he is off of his legs, his head against my chest. "What's wrong?"
He gasps, "My leg."
I look down to the leg that had been stabbed and see it is tense and the muscles are visibly twitching.
"Let's get you back," I whisper, holding him tighter to me.
"…But you're plans," he seems ashamed.
"They can wait until you are better," I rest my chin on his head.
"I'm better now," he tries to stand but I hold him in place.
His breath is coming in gasps and I move my hand to his face, gently stroking his cheek, "Shh, shh. Let's get you back."
I move to his side and lift him off the ground, my arms under his shoulders and knees.
"Don't worry, I can walk," he protests.
"Don't be a fool," I look sternly at him.
His weight in my arms feels strange and the first thought that crosses my mind is the day that I had brought Christine to my lair, and she fainted. I now see that she is never the one that I loved; only obsessed over. My heart belongs to one person, one man, and he is in my arms with me now.
I reach my entrance easily and make it down the corridors in half the time it took us to get out.
I walk Raoul to the bed and lay him down gently.
He looks at me like a shamed child, "I'm sorry."
I lay down myself and wrap an arm around his waist, "Don't be."
I prop myself up on one elbow so I can see his leg. I now see blood starting to seep through from the now bleeding wound.
I look around to find one of my nightshirts on a nearby chair. I instantly tear it, pushing a part on the wound and wrapping the makeshift gauze down on wound, tightly. He slightly hisses when I pull the fabric to knot it.
Unconsciously I whisper, "This is all my fault."
He looks at me and frowns, "Don't say that."
"It is!" I turn on him, yelling.
He takes my hand, pulling me down to him, and I find it impossible to keep eye contact.
"Erik," I turn back to him and feel as if a sword was stabbed into my heart again, "Do not blame yourself. I knew that when I came here I was going to bleed. To tell you the truth I had looked forward to the blood, it was a release. I wanted to bleed, I wanted to suffer, but I didn't realize that I would be causing someone else to suffer too. I should be apologizing."
His words bring the sting of tears to my eyes and I pull him close to me, I pull him to my heart.
"I love you," he whispers into my shirt.
My lips graze his hair and twist into a smile, "I love you too."
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," his words cause a tear to stray out and fall into his hair.
"You alone can make my song take flight," I kiss his forehead.
I shift so that I'm lying on my back, and so he can move to rest his head on my chest.
"Erik, I want this suffering to stop, for both of us. I want us to go somewhere where no one can hurt us, and it will just be the two of us," his hand grasps mine.
"I fear there is no such place my love," I run my free hand over his cheek.
"Then let us make one! We can make our grand escape! You and me, side by side," my hand moves to rest on his chest.
"I would like that Raoul," I really would.
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a/n: this time I waited for 5 reviews, so I shall do that again...
