A/N: 102 reads and only two reviews ..slow burn…
Sorry about the last ch. Being so short..It was basically the prologue, and short little wifts are my specialty. This will be longer, Jane promises!
Disclaimer: Amazing, but I STILL don't own Phantom…
She was on the bed again, a piece of clandestine irony Erik coveted. For one who claimed to despise him so, Christine seemed to end up there a lot, rather in the arms that boy. No thanks to him, that voice in the back of his head whispered, the one who'd entered his life the same day as Christine.
His conscience? Erik didn't believe so. Not after all these years, when he finally had Christine as his own. Erik refused to believe it. God hadn't seemed incline to give him one, along with many other things, when he'd been born. Or perhaps it had been his mother's fault? It didn't matter. The list of those who'd wronged him stretched back too far for him to remember.
Christine shifted, the red and black satin of the bed sheets moving with her, and Erik froze. He didn't want to have to speak with her, to see the pain on her face, the pain he, Erik, had caused her. He was a coward. He didn't deserve her, yet would never let her go. Christine was his; Erik had won her, saved her from the boy. Soon she'd appreciate it.
With that in mind, Erik began to move, albeit softly, around the room, rearranging things for the one thousandth time for her comfort, or simply staring at her. Her soft russet curls, which melded so perfectly with her strong Grecian features, were mussed and fell softly around her. She'd brought a hand upward in her sleep, clutching her fist tightly. Gently, Erik glided over and un-pried the fingers. He almost allowed a startled cry to escape his lips when he saw what was there; a perfectly cut diamond ring, set in an elegant gold ornament. Bringing it up to the light, Erik threw it as hard as he could at the wall, which did no damage, and replaced it with his own plain, dilapidated band.
It didn't do justice on the hand of a Goddess, but it would have to do. It was the one thing Erik had that had belonged to his poor, pitiful mother; it brought him a sort of sick satisfaction to see it on the hand of his beloved. Soon to be his wife. His. The thought sent a giddy shiver through him now, a mix of delight and anxiety. Christine would hate him when she awoke; that much Erik knew. He could only hope that one day she would learn to tolerate him, even with the horrid monstrosity that was his face,
But Erik would dwell on that later. He had more important things to do, and one required immediate attention. Drawing himself to Christine's side once more, Erik allowed himself one moment to sweep a stray curl from her face, reveling in the tremor just that simple act of touch sent through him. Christine didn't seem to be awakening anytime soon; Erik silently made his way to his desk, shoving the accumulated clutter to one side, and taking up his customary red ink. He had a very special letter to write, one that needed all of his expected signs.
My Dear Managers:
As you surely witnessed the events of last night's performance, I am writing to inform you of Miss Daae's temporary retreat from the stage. Let it be understood that she will be coming back, and I shall expect her to ascend to her natural role of replacing that toad Carlotta.
You should also be aware that I am going to be requiring a higher salary. My wife shall have all she desires, and I will expect you, gentlemen, to pay for it.
I remain, as always,
O.G.
With that completed, Erik turned hurriedly from the desk, anxious to get out of the house that, once perfect for him, seemed too small to hide in.
(A/N: Erlack..It's official, my work is too short…I tried to make it longer, but I have to figure out where I'm going with the story..)