A/N: First of all I would like to dedicate this chapter to the ONE AND ONLY person that reviewed the first chapter. So, thank you "lotrfanfreak" I'm glad you like the story so far and I hope that I don't disappoint you with this chapter.
Once again with the disclaimer: I own nothing, though I would not mind having my own private Gerard all to myself. The song lyrics are from the song "Bittersweet" by HIM featuring Apocalyptica and Lauri Y from "The Rasmas." I wouldn't mind taking Ville Valo home with me either…. But, anyway. The lyrics of the song are really important. When I heard the lyrics for the first time, I knew that I wanted to use them for this story. They convey a feeling that I could never put into text. I highly suggest downloading the song so you can hear it for yourself.
Well, anyway, enough with my rambling. On with the story:
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A thin layer of sweat covered his bare torso as he bent over his work. Over the weeks, he had set himself the task of cleaning up his lair. That is, after spending a few days hiding in his elevated hole, fearing people may return to loot or cause more damage to his underground home.
Once he finally let himself down from his perch, the severity of the damage hit him even harder. His possessions had been reduced to rubble and ashes. His organ had been beaten and dented beyond recognition. Looking upon the heap made him remember when the mobs had attacked it with sticks, pitchforks, anything they could use to cause damage. He was still haunted by the horrible chords that had erupted from the instrument as the attackers pounded the keys, breaking them and scattering them around the floor, while the sounds melded with that of the smashing of the pipes, turning the onslaught into a horrible symphony of pain, anger, hate and destruction. His stomach churned at the memory.
He spent days, wandering the rooms, trying to find something, anything, that could be salvaged. He explored the opera house, finding anything that had been spared from the fire. When at last he ventured onto the stage, the sight brought him to his knees. The world that had been crested for his opera was gone. The sets had burned, leaving nothing of his opus behind.
Looking out into the theatre, he could see seats that were once crimson and gold now reduced to piles of black and gray. The beautiful chandelier that once graced the top of the house was in pieces, shards of broken glass littering the floor all around. The ceiling above, once depicting a beautiful blue sky specked with white clouds and cherubs was now a dreary grey from the fire smoke and a hole in the roof showed him the night sky outside.
As the moon came through and a single beam rested upon his face: his unmasked, scarred face, he sang silently to the empty theatre:
I'm
giving up the ghost of love
In the
shadows cast on devotion
She is
the one that I adore
Creed
of my silent suffocation
Break
this bittersweet spell on me
Lost in
the arms of destiny
Bittersweet
I won't
give up
I'm
possessed by her
I'm
bearing her cross
She's
turned into my curse
Break
this bittersweet spell on me
Lost in
the arms of destiny
Bittersweet
I want
you
I
wanted you
And I
need you
I
needed you
Break
this bittersweet spell on me
Lost in
the arms of destiny
Break
this bittersweet spell on me
Lost in
the arms of destiny
He watched, as he sang the face of the moon transformed into that of Christine. He knew he would never see her again. She had left with her precious Raoul and he had let them go. At the end he knew he could never give her the life of light and happiness that she wanted.
As the last chords of his voice rang through the ruins of the Opera Populair, he silently wished that the Gods would help him forget her. He wanted to be let go from his Angel of Music.
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Okay, that was chapter two. Whatcha think? Review and let me know. More to come soon, I hope.