Kytten: yes, there is more. as aparent with this...

lotr: ...eep

me-ladie: i planned on it being serius, but i was really hyper when writting it and it turned out otherwise. glad you found it funny, i had so much fun writting it

emeraldwolf: it is rather amusing isn't it? (i have too much fun writting this)

jokarynn: you had a vaild point, i do not need two stalkers...henceforth, here's your update...and yelling included. but no arm-breaking

Kauzlein: 1. very glad you like it and 2. my computer hates me and doesn't HAVE a workign spellchecker, sides, mesa too lazy...

lonz: updating

sbkar: yes, it is very fun writing erik/raouls slash, and mesa so glad you lie it so much :D makes me feel warm and fuzzy

ok, i'm listenign to Billy Ocen right now while writting this, so this might be a bit on the odd side...

Chapter Two

(raoul)

It was... hard to describe. And it lasted far too short a time. Of course, considering you hated me, I'd taken everything from you, and I had just kissed you, it was amazing it lasted as long as it did.

You drew back abruptly, probably as soon as his brain registered exactly what was happening. It was so odd and unexpected it'd most likely taken you a while. And that while was all I was ever going to get. Considering you were seething.

I was going to die. But right now, I really don't care that much. Too busy dealing with the swarm of emotions suddenly going haywire.

(erik)

What the hell just happened?

(third)

Raoul stood with his head slightly bowed, working on bringing his body to heel, while Erik was half-crouched several feet away, confused and, as he usually was, becoming angry. He wasn't fond of being confused.

"What. The. Hell. Was that?" he growled at the vicomte.

Blushing insanely, the boy didn't answer. "You...just... you... WHY? WHAT? HOW?"

"Do you really want to know?" Raoul whispered miserably.

"YES!"

Raoul winced. "No you don't."

"If I didn't, vicomte, I wouldn't have asked," Erik hissed.

Said vicomte looked pained. Erik could've cared less. Now was not the time to worry about the boy's feelings; he wanted answers. First being, what was the boy thinking when he... he... Damnit. He was NOT going to say it. Yes he was. When the boy... did...that. Erik felt like slamming his head against something.

Sucking in a deep breath, Raoul felt like running, far, far away. Anywhere else. Just to be away from all these thoughts and desires. But he'd tried that before, and it hadn't worked. It'd ended up like this. And now the object of his...thoughts, was demanding to know why he'd kissed him.

"IdiditbecauseIloveyouandhaveforaverylongtimeevenwhenshewasstillhereandIthinkIalways
willloveyouandIcouldn'thelpfromkissingyouatleastthisoncebecauseI'vewantedto
forsolongandyouareprobablygoingtokillmenowbutevenwhenyouwherethreateningto
killmeIlovedandwantedyousomuch."

Eyes budging, Erik stared at the vicomte in shock. He hadn't understood every word said, but the gist had made itself clear. What was he supposed to say to that? WAS there anything to say? No. Of course, being him, being the Phantom, he did the only thing he could think of. "Get out."

It was Raouls' turn to be shocked. "Wha?"

Erik's eyes blazed suddenly. "GET OUT! GET AWAY FROM ME! NEVER COME BACK HERE AGAIN! JUST LEAVE! NEVER TOUCH ME! EVER! NEVER THINK ABOUT TOUCHING ME! IF I EVER FIND YOU HERE AGAIN I'LL KILL YOU! GET OUT!"

Raoul recoiled, eyes wide. "I..."

"OUT!"

The vicomte fled.

Raoul lay on his back in the darkness, arms behind his head, trying not to think about... him. He was failing. The darkness only heightened the memories. The feel of...NO! He would not...But it'd felt so... No. Nonononononononono... Damnit, he still wanted more.

Rolling over, he cried into the pillow. It wasn't fair, but life rarely is.

Erik paced. He'd tried his music, but when he played it, all he got was images of warmth and life and love, not the dark and cold he was trying for in the opera he'd been writing since ...she left. But now it looked like the opera was about to turn into a cheap, soppy love story.

The Phantom began snapping his fingers as he paced. What was it about that damn boy that made his thoughts fly everywhere? He couldn't think straight to save his life at the moment! He suddenly found himself stopped in front of the Swan Bed he'd never slept in. He gently touched the red velvet sheet, rubbing it with one hand. With a snarl, he dropped the sheet and whirled on his organ.

The music started out anger and loud, full of rage, but slowly mellowed into a ballad of loss and fear, of missing something. Erik snarled again, before slowly resting his head against the keys. That boy... That... Feeling...

ah, poor erik. more coming...someday...maybe... (it will)

3/4 went through and proofread... hope this works...