Forget Me Not: Chapter 11

As I said, this chapter will be fluffy (phluffy?) so if you hate that sort of thing, I suggest you skip this. However, you will be skipping one of the three events (mwaha) However, I doubt anyone doesn't like a little fluff now and then. I mean, they're so cute and stuff! Don't worry, afterwards the story will return to it's usual angsty, over dramatic, badly written self. Yay!

I do not own POTO. I also am unable to think of a funny disclaimer, so DEAL!

PS: There may be some things in this chapter that are deserving of the T rating…so if you don't want to read that, skip over this chapter. Don't worry, it's not that bad.

All Erik could see was brown. Brown curls that tickled his nose and clouded his vision. All he could hear was murmurs, Christine's sweet, muffled murmurs… He wondered what exactly she was saying, as it was quite impossible to tell through her tears and Erik's increasingly damp vest. And all he could think about was how very lucky he was, how much he did not deserve her and yet, here she was.

His angel.

He had not yet the courage to say anything more to her, he only held her and listened to her, and praised the God that had neglected to love him until this very moment. Truth be told, he didn't even believe there was a God, but this…this proved that there was someone watching over him. There had to be.

Christine finally managed to look up at him, tears still in her eyes.

"I'm sorry…" she managed to whisper. He stared down into her beautiful face, her lovely porcelain skin darkened by a flush of scarlet, lone tears still creating paths. Her brown doe eyes sparkled, though he was not sure whether it was unshed tears that made them glitter so, or-dare he say it?- happiness. Her rosy lips, curled up in a smile…lips that had once kissed him so eagerly…

No.

She was a married woman, and he would NOT take advantage of her. She was, of course, "not his to take"…and yet he so longed….

No.

He had to stop. He really did!

"For what, my dear?" He managed, trying to somehow conceal the small blush that was now creeping up his own face.

"I left you…and for the horrible words…" she sighed and buried her head into his chest again, though his vest was already soaked with her tears. He stood there, for once utterly speechless.

"It's alright…" he finally coaxed, feeling an urge to stroke her mahogany curls, but resisting.

"Erik…you do know I don't hate you…right?" she sobbed, making Erik's spine tingle by moving her hands on his back.

"I know…" he sighed. Calm, Erik…

"And you do not hate me?"

"Of course not!" Erik cried, finding his words came easier than they did before. And yet, as he remembered his words, he felt an alarming sting of guilt. He'd always considered it a useless emotion, guilt…it was foolish of him… "Forgive me…" he sighed.

"Of course…" she sobbed. She finally looked up and faced him. Gingerly, she traced the crack under his eye with her thumb. "How did you…?"

"Oh…" Erik placed his hand to the crack, closing his eyes. "Madame Giry…wasn't exactly gentle when she forced me off the mirror…"

"Forced you …?" Christine's eyes narrowed, then widened as the sick truth hit her.

"Twice he attempted suicide, and twice I found him before he could finally end it"

"Oh God!" she cried, covering her wide open mouth with her hand, then flinging her arms around him again, almost protectively. "Never…never…"

Erik's hand buried itself in her hair, almost against his will. Christine only held him closer.

"Never do anything like that again…"

"I won't…"

She looked up at him.

"You have to promise,"

He took one of her hands.

"I do."

Those two words were enough to make them both uncomfortable. I do. She WAS married. Erik broke away, feeling utterly foolish. Christine stared at the ground.

"You should be getting back to your husband," Erik said finally. Fool! How can you be asking her to go when you desperately need her to stay? He thought, clenching his fists to prevent a string of obscenities aimed at himself to spill from his mouth. Christine, however, merely shook her head.

"Erik, I've left Raoul," she told him, a cross between a smile and a frown on her white face. Erik's fists unclenched, his knuckles rapidly regaining their normal colour.

"You…did…" he said, for once at a loss for words. Christine stared at the ground, the strange look still on her face.

"I tried to tell you,"

Erik cleared his throat as an awkward silence took over.

"May I ask why?" he said finally, noticing as Christine shifted uncomfortably, transforming the strange half smile into a frown.

"I…" she sighed, meeting his strange emerald eyes with her own chocolate ones. "I didn't love him,"

The silence took over once again. Christine was not sure she wanted to elaborate, and Erik was not sure he really wanted to know.

"It's complicated," she said finally. Erik nodded, still saying nothing. Christine sighed. "It's…It's hard, you know? It's really hard…"

"What is?" Erik asked, looking up and onto her face. She looked, he noticed, weary- like she hadn't slept at all that night, which she most likely had not.

"Saying good bye… I couldn't even tell him, you know? I left him a note…I couldn't bear the look on his face…"

"I understand," Erik cut in sharply, baring his teeth as his anger was provoked. "You just couldn't break a man's heart, could you?" he said cruelly, watching her face fall and tears spring into her eyes. But what surprised him, however, that she didn't cry. She merely blinked, and shook her head.

"Never again," she whispered, then took a step closer towards him. "I will never make that mistake again,"

And very, very tentatively, she placed a soft kiss to his lips.

--

She was surprised at her own boldness. Only once had she ever been able to do something like this with Erik, and it was nothing like her present situation.

She'd kissed Erik to save Raoul's life. She'd kissed him because she'd had to. She'd kissed him because she hated him, admired him, loved him in a sense, yet wanted to be away from him all the same. She'd gone away with Raoul that day and tried to forget everything about him, especially his kiss. She didn't want to admit that she'd enjoyed his kiss, that he was a better kisser than Raoul, that she wanted to kiss him again, that….she just wanted to forget. He had also, and he'd succeeded. But this….was different!

The next time, he'd kissed her because he'd hated her, or rather, had claimed to, and she had responded because she had also claimed to hate him. But, of course, you can claim something, and that doesn't make it true. And that could not have been further from the truth…

She kissed him because she loved him. She would stay with him, she would do anything he asked of her, because she loved him, needed him, wanted him. She really, really did.

Erik was frozen. His lips did not move, nor did his arms or head. Slowly, however, he began to kiss her, placing his hand in her curls.

They broke away as quickly as it began. Christine searched his eyes for something, anything that could show her how he felt. He was shocked…but Christine quit searching his eyes when he kissed her again, this time much more passionate. Christine couldn't help but gasp as he kissed her again.

Christine tried to stifle a yawn, but found she couldn't. Erik broke away from her, yet he wore the biggest smile Christine had ever seen on his lips.

"You need your sleep, mon ange," he said, taking her hand and leading her to her bedroom. She tried to protest, but all words were lost in another yawn.

"Goodnight, Erik," she smiled. He placed a small kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight," he replied as she shut the door.

Erik made his way to his own bedroom. His bed, his coffin, his tomb…he no longer needed it. Not now that he was loved. He climbed in, knowing it would be the final time. He no longer prayed for death.

I'm sorry. I told you the first event would happen in this chapter, but it didn't…I'm sorry. Next chapter, I promise!

Also, I used a small bit of French in this chapter…please forgive me if I'm wrong!

Son Kat