White Roses

Disclaimer: I asked my parents if I could have POTO for my birthday and they walked away muttering strange things under their breath. I think that equates to a no.

Harsh Reality

Erik woke early the next morning to the sound of the bell ringing loudly, its sound echoing through the underground tunnels. Sighing, he made his way over to the foot of the staircase and was greeted by an angry Antoinette.

"What did you do that for?" she half-shouted at him, not giving him time to reply before beginning to rant. "That was really dangerous! What if one of the dancers had gotten really badly hurt? They could have missed opening night and the whole dance would be ruined!"

"They appear to be fine," Erik replied dismissively.

"Really?" Antoinette scoffed. "Little Madeleine was hysterical all night - to say nothing of the others!"

"They probably thrive on scandals. Another will do them no harm."

"And that's the other thing!" she cried. "What were you thinking - wandering around the opera house like that?"

Now it was Erik's turn to become incensed. "I'll tell you what I was thinking! I was thinking that since you obviously cannot keep a commitment, I would have to search you out and remind you!"

"I -" Antoinette had been completely ready to fire back a retort, but hadobviously become somewhat humbled by Erik's own.

"Why, Antoinette?" he yelled back at her, taking full advantage of the girl's lack of rebuttal. "Do you not think that I worry about you when I pace around here for hours on end waiting for you?"

"No, Erik, I -"

"Do you ever stop to think about how I might feel when you turn up the next morning, flick your hair and expect me to excuse you? Sometimes it hurts, Antoinette!"

Tears were welling in her eyes as she stammered a response. "E-Erik, surely a simple visit is not that important. Why do you, well, care so much?"

"Because I lo-" Erik broke off suddenly, horrified at what he had almost said. I love you? Where did that come from?

"What was that, Erik?" Antoinette said, meeting his eyes finally.

"I said, that, well, i-it's because, I - I -I'm, well, l-lonely, I suppose," Erik stammered, fully expecting her to scoff and run back up the stairs.

However to his surprise, she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. Erik stood stock still, simply letting Antoinette hold him tightly and rest her head on his shoulder. It seemed to take both an eternity and mere seconds for her to let go, and Erik was surprised to see that her cheeks were tearstained.

"I'm sorry, Erik," she sniffed. "I know that it's hard for you. And I do promise to be more, well, reliable, I suppose. I care about you, Erik - I always will. Please do not think that I would leave you alone!"

"No, Antoinette," Erik mumbled, still taken aback by her response.

"But please, try and refrain from doing anything rash in my name," she continued. "It really does concern me. You are not invincible, Erik."

"I know, Antoinette."

She nodded and wiped away a few final tears still clinging to her cheeks. "Take care, Erik. I will visit you tonight - I promise."

"I will make sure that you do," Erik replied, in a sterner tone.

"Erik."

"Yes?"

"Nothing ... stupid, do you hear?"

"I am not an idiot, Antoinette," Erik said, a little offended.

"Exactly," Antoinette replied, smiling drolly. "Act like the prodigy that you are."

"Very well, then," Erik said, mollified.

"Good-bye, then Erik."

In what had become almost standard, Antoinette moved towards Erik and brushed her lips against his cheek - a simple gesture to most. The girl then turned and began to bound up the staircase, leaving Erik to pole the gondola back to his lair with a lot to think about.

x-x-x-x

Antoinette was greeted by Isabelle as she began to warm up for rehearsals. The ballet rat was holding back giggles, her heart-shaped face scarlet, one dainty hand pressed to her lips and the other habitually twirling a strand of wavy auburn hair. Antoinette knew that look and inwardly groaned. It meant that Isabelle wanted a scandalous gossip.

"Antoinette," Isabelle giggled. "You will never guess what happened last night!"

"I probably will not," Antoinette replied, while thinking that she probably did not want to know. Isabelle had been conspicuously absent from the dormitories the previous night.

"Well, I was having dinner with Joseph - you know Joseph? The stagehand? The dark-haired one?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good. Anyway, afterwards - we had had a bottle of wine, you see - and we went and - you know, Antoinette, you should try that sometime, it really is quite fun - soJoseph and I -"

"Isabelle," Antoinette said, loudly, cutting the other girl off. "Why are you telling me this?" The girl is almost proud of her promiscuity, she thought, disgustedly. This is the third version of this story I have heard in six weeks!

"Oh! You are no fun!" Isabelle said indignantly, stamping her foot and frowning.

Antoinette simply sighed and turned back to the barre, but Isabelle, upon the prospect of losing her, albeit reluctant, audience, immediately resumed her chattering.

"Oh, and did you know that Lucas Giry has been asking for you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Antoinette snapped around, then cursed herself for appearing so interested in what Isabelle had to say.

"Apparently he wanted to meet you this evening," the older girl went on, smug smile on her face. "You know, for a private dinner."

This was too much for both Isabelle and Antoinette. The former dissolved into a helpless pile of giddy mirth and the latter began to fume, eyes blazing and fists clenched.

"How dare you assume things like that!" Antoinette seethed. "Not all of us are -"

"Are what?"

Isabelle was back on her feet and appeared quite interested in what Antoinette had suddenly stopped herself from saying. Antoinette, on the other hand, was still debating in her head whether or not to deliver the insult. She had often longed to tell some of the shallower ballet rats such as the one before her exactly what she thought of them, but found it humiliating to bring herself down to their level. She had often regarded herself as having slightly higher morals than her companions in the dormitories.

"Never mind."

"No, really, what?"

"I said it was not important."

"I don't care."

"Antoinette!"

Antoinette turned, desperate to see her saviour, and was not particularly surprised to see Lucas standing before them, which set Isabelle off into another fit of giggles. Lucas regarded the ballet rat in bemusement, then turned to Antoinette.

"Antoinette, can you meet me after rehearsals?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied.

"There is something I would like to discuss with you," Lucas continued.

Antoinette nodded. "During the lunch break?"

"That will be fine."

Antoinette relaxed upon the realisation that she would not have to lie to excuse herself from an evening meeting; she had sworn to herself that she would keep her promise to Erik this time regardless of the circumstances. She turned to Isabelle, whom she had noticed listening to her conversation, but all she saw was the auburn head running towards Lisette and Élodie.

x-x-x-x

Erik sat at his table, head resting on his left palm. He replayed his encounter with Antoinette over and over in his mind. I love you? The statement repeated itself, echoing louder and louder until it overpowered all other thoughts Erik had. He still had trouble believing what he had nearly said. It was not as if he had even admitted to himself that he had feelings for the ballerina - it had simply spilled out. But whether there was any truth to it was another matter.

Erik sighed moved over to the chest of drawers and looked at the dwindling bouquet of roses. Every so often, he would give one to Antoinette as she appeared to like them so much. He could not deny that the creamy, white buds were pretty, but they seemed to lack something. Perhaps it was their shape? Their fragrance? Colour, perhaps? The white roses just seemed a little too tame if Erik truly did love their recipient. But do I? he thought.

Sitting back down at the table, Erik began to ponder. He could picture Antoinette so clearly in his mind he could close his eyes and pretend that she was sitting opposite him. Every detail of her was memorised. Erik remembered his time with her and the feelings that came with it. With not much else to think about, Erik had become adept at tuning into what he was thinking. He could not deny that he at least felt something for Antoinette; whether that something was more than friendship was the question. How was Erik to know? It was not as if he had ever had a friend to compare Antoinette to.

This thought made him frown, but not out of sadness, rather out of concentration. Nobody ever cared enough about me to try and help me, Erik thought. Only Antoinette offered her hand. It was only one person. Erik knew he was different - there was no use trying to deny it. Perhaps, then, it took something more to form a friendship and in turn, something more to accept it? It was just a thought, but it kept Erik wondering.

Erik shifted position in his chair - a stolen prop. The movement caused one of the legs to fall out; it had always been wobbly and the uneven floor was not helping. Erik jumped up from his seat before the chair tipped and he surveyed the broken object with resent. It had been difficult to take a chair as it was not exactly inconspicuous to carry. What a joke, Erik thought. The horrible ghost in the opera is worried about a chair. It seemed quite trivial, but sparked a new thought, but this one on a totally different subject. Erik took a sheet of parchment from the chest of drawers and his piece of charcoal. It would do. Painstakingly, he began to scratch out a note requesting a new chair - in fairly precise terms. If Erik was going to use his fear to his advantage, he had decided that he should probably milk it for all that it was worth. As he drew towards the end, he wondered how to sign off. 'Erik' would not do - his signature must hold a sense of intrigue. After thinking for a moment, he grinned and wrote with a flourish 'O.G.' - Opera Ghost. It had a nice ring to it.

x-x-x-x

After morning rehearsals Antoinette, true to her word, met with Lucas in front of the stage. She still was not sure what he wanted with her, and he made no attempt to explain, simply bidding her good afternoon, complimenting her on her dancing and beginning to lead her through the opera house.

"Luc, where are we going?" Antoinette asked.

"My father's office," he replied.

"But why?" Of all places, this was the last Antoinette had expected.

"I don't want anybody to overhear us."

Antoinette thought this a little strange, but continued to follow Lucas until they were both shut in the manager's office. Antoinette took a seat as Lucas leaned against the wall. He ran his hands through his hair a few times before looking the girl in the face.

"Antoinette, are you alright?"

The question took her aback a little. "Of course. Why would I not be?"

"I don't know," Lucas replied. "It's just little things. Sometimes I feel that you do not want to spend time with me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

Lucas paused, leaving Antoinette to wonder what on earth had brought about this sudden speculation.

"You often hesitate whenever I ask you for company," Lucas went on, "and even then, you are often in a hurry to get away."

Now it was Antoinette's turn to pause. She had no idea how she would get out of this without mentioning Erik, for it was always because of him that she had reservations about the time she spent with Lucas.

"The other ballet girls say that you often do not return to the dormitories until late. Where do you go?"

"Nowhere important," Antoinette replied, cheeks reddening.

"But where?" Lucas pressed.

"T-To see a friend," Antoinette said, consoling herself that it was not a lie, technically. "H-He is lonely, sometimes."

"He?"

"Yes, he. Why? Oh, Luc! You aren't jealous, are you?" Antoinette could barely suppress a laugh.

"Jealous? Why, no - I was simply concerned for your well-being."

"Well, you needn't be."

"Antoinette, I - I like you," Lucas stated, his own face going a little red. "I like you a lot."

"Really?" Antoinette said, rising. "I like you, too."

The tension between the two was so thick that one could almost touch it. Blue eyes locked on brown. Not a sound was heard but the breathing of the two youths. Hesitantly, the boy stepped a little closer to the girl.

"I really like you, Antoinette."

x-x-x-x

True to his word to Antoinette, Erik did not act rashly. This time he took great care to remain inconspicuous as he moved through the opera house, shrinking back into any shadow he could find at the slightest noise. Slowly, he approached the manager's office and turned the handle slowly, ensuring it made no sound. The mechanism clicked quietly and Erik gently pushed the door open, sealed note in hand. He was prepared to simply leave the note on Monsieur Giry's desk and leave. He was not prepared for the two people he saw inside.

Erik's mouth dropped open as he took in the sight. Antoinette - the Antoinette who was his angel, his saviour, his one friend - was being held in the arms of Monsieur Giry's son. But Erik could tell that this was no innocent embrace; the couple's eyes were closed and their lips meeting each others. She is kissing him! Erik realised. He dropped the note, long forgotten, and fled back down to the catacombs to wait for Antoinette.

x-x-x-x

Antoinette returned to afternoon rehearsals, face flushed. She could not put a name to her emotions; all she knew was that it felt like she was floating above the ground rather than walking. The only thing in her head was Lucas - dear Lucas!

As she joined the rest of the corps de ballet, she was greeted by Isabelle, who immediately began to giggle again upon seeing her.

"Oh, for heaven's sake - what is the matter, Isabelle?" Antoinette asked, angry at being brought down to earth again.

"You - you! Antoinette!" Isabelle shrieked. "You kissed him!"

"You let your imagination run away with you, Isabelle." Antoinette had no idea how Isabelle could have found out and had no desire for any scandalous rumours about her own doings to spread. She knew how easily a gossip could stretch the truth until the real event was lost and only the tall tales left.

"I do not! You really are quite silly, Antoinette. Have you looked in a mirror?"

Antoinette shook her head and accepted the small hand mirror that Isabelle passed to her; she had been using it to fix her hair only moments before. Upon seeing her face she gasped. Her lips were swollen and bright scarlet and her brown hair was mussed dreadfully.

"I told you so."

x-x-x-x

Erik was on his feet in a flash as he heard the bell ring. He was with Antoinette in a matter of minutes and was not surprised to see her in a state of what looked like blissful happiness. He was surprised at how much it hurt him, knowing the cause of her happiness. Without questioning her, Erik helped Antoinette into the gondola and brought the both of them back to his lair. Antoinette stepped off the vessel, grin plastered across her face.

"Oh, Erik!" she cried. "You will never believe this!"

"I doubt I will," Erik replied, trying to keep his tone neutral. He did not want Antoinette to know that he had seen her encounter with Lucas.

"Erik - I think I am in love!"

Erik grimaced. The assumption had been enough, but hearing the words come from Antoinette's own mouth brought a horrible sense of rejection to him. Still, he tried to put on a pleased expression.

"Really? With whom?"

"Why, Luc Giry! He's amazing - such a gentleman!"

Erik nodded slowly, still wondering why it hurt so much. He could feel the backs of his eyes burn, but was determined not to cry in front of Antoinette. Why does it hurt?

He allowed Antoinette to ramble for a while, before inviting her to sit and offering to show her his most recent composition on the violin. She readily accepted, but Erik could not help but feel that she did not listen the way that she usually did; instead, she seemed somewhat distant, as if she were thinking of other things. Erik did not want to know what those other things were.

The evening progressed in the same, awkward manner, although Antoinette seemed oblivious to any discomfort on Erik's part. Eventually the time came for her to return to the dormitories, and Erik took her back across the lake and they bid farewell at the foot of the staircase.

"Good night, Antoinette," he said.

"Good night, Erik," she replied, still smiling broadly. "You are such a good friend to me."

Erik simply nodded as he watched her ascend the stairs.

"Antoinette," he murmured, softly, "I think I love you."

Ooh ... long chapter! Anyway, without further ado - reviewer replies!

LoneWolf2005, or should I say - Lisette? ;) I'm actually quite fond of the name. And the backdrop ... well, they did ask for it!

MidnightPrincess, aw, thanks! Good to know that you're enjoying it!

Demon-In-Me, well, there goes all my worrying that I would have to go through everything and change 'Antoinette'. Thanks for reading - hope you like the rest!

Gracie, thanks for reading! Hope I haven't kept you on tenterhooks ( ;) ) for too long!