A/N: Wow, getting pretty fluffy. Could it be our two lost souls are close to finding some kind of happiness...
He had done it again. Once more, his emotions had taken control, and instead of simply letting Remy tell her story, he had broken down and told her his. He had allowed himself to drown in his miserable past, and wallow in his own self-pity. The difference between this time and all the other times he had let go like this was that now this woman was trying to save him, reaching out her hands to pull him from the sea of his sorrow.
He felt as pathetic as he was sure he looked, on his knees in front of her, but something inside him had not been able to resist the simple human contact that she had offered. It was a simple enough gesture on her part, to try to comfort him, but her touch had crashed through one of the walls he had built around his soul, driving him to the ground with the emotion that burst through.
And now she just stood there, not moving, not pulling away, just standing still. They stayed like that for a few moments, until she bent down and wrapped her arms gently around his shoulders, bringing one hand up to gently stroke his hair. He buried his face in her neck so that she could not see it, so that she could not tell that tears had begun to roll down his cheeks.
I had no idea how I had provoked such a reaction. My words had been meant to calm him, but instead, I seemed to have unleashed some deeper pain than that he had been willing to tell me about. I had no idea what I should do in such a situation. I felt the dampness of tears on my neck, and realized with a shock that he was crying. I had never seen a man cry before, and Erik wasn't just any man. His emotions were obviously entirely erratic, and I knew he was at least a little insane.
I had comforted people before: gypsy children with scraped elbows and bruised knees from adventures gone awry, heartsick ladies' maids whose objects of affection did not return their love; young peasant brides whose children died at birth. For some reason or another, I had always been good at soothing words and comforting gestures, and I prayed that those skills would not fail me now.
I began to hum, the tune my mother used to sing to me, to comfort me when I cried. I had a fleeting fear that my tuneless voice would grate on ears that were used to listening to operatically trained sopranos, but I decided that he was in such a distraught state that he wouldn't really care.
He had never been held like this before, never had someone stay so close for so long. He waited for her to pull away and leave him in his sorry state, but she didn't. She stayed with him, cradling his head on her shoulder, letting him take comfort in the warmth of her arms.
His own mother had never had the courage or the love to hold him, or speak kindly to him, or kiss him. Now, listening toRemy's voice, he knew that he could not let himself do this; he could not lose himself in this solace. She let him be close to her now, but what about later? As soon as she was strong enough, she would be gone from his life. He didn't know if she had come to Paris with any kind of plan for leaving, but she would not wish to stay in the darkness forever. And when she was gone, the memory of any relief she had given him would burn at his soul until it consumed him. So it had been with Christine, so it would be with Remy.
He had accepted Christine's kiss, believed for a few short moments that she would stay with him, and those moments of hope pained him more than any other memories of the time he had spent in her company. The worst kind of pain in the world was the pain of having a void where pleasure used to be, and he would not let Remy hurt him that way.
Erik almost knocked me over when he stood up abruptly, pushing my arms away from his shoulders impatiently. He took a few steps away from me, brushing his glossy hair back into place and readjusting his mask, which must have been knocked loose. Once again, I was astounded by his ability to change emotions the way others change clothes, as though his feelings were just another mask that could be put on or removed at a moments notice.
I stood as well, and stared in shock as he sauntered over to the chair that his waistcoat and evening jacket had been flung over. He proceeded to ignore my presence and everything that had just passed between us while calmly getting redressed. He looked like any gentleman preparing for a night of entertainment, instead of the emotional wreck I had just held in my arms.
When he finished adjusting his cravat, he turned back to me and ran his eyes over me, as if I was the insane one. Which I supposed I was. I had been stupid enough to think I had some insight into his character, that I could feel comfortable with him.
"We are running low on vital supplies. I need to go out and buy some food. I suggest that you do not accompany me, in light of what happened last time you did."
I had the insatiable urge to throw something at him, and my eyes had settled on a wonderfully sized lamp that I was sure would fly beautifully, but I managed to restrain myself. I had to clench my fists tightly and bit my tongue to do it, but I didn't send any objects hurling in his direction. Who did he think he was? He was the one who had collapsed in my arms, not the other way around. I could tell that he wanted a response, but I was too busy seething in my impotent rage to give him one. I ended up just glaring at him. He finally looked away, hopefully ashamed of his cavalier attitude.
"I will only be gone an hour or two. You will be perfectly safe here. I promise."
I nodded and turned my back on him, allowing my skirts to swish around me in the most satisfying manner, and stalked off to my room, leaving him staring after me.
A/N: I guess not. Sorry to all the fluff lovers, I promise there will be more cuteness eventually, but there is just way too much emotional damage, and overall instability for a healthy relationship to be that easy...