Is anyone reading this, a Raoul fan? If you are…you have guts!

It's weird typing my name constantly…

"Swear to me
Never to tell
The secret you know
Of the angel in hell"

Erik

-Charles Hart for Andrew Lloyd Webber

Red Rose

Chapter IV: In the Cellars of His Solitude

The skin beneath his clothing shivered with tiny bumps of gooseflesh, raised by the chill of the cellar's air. It was odd; he had never recalled his surface to shiver. He assumed, with the passing of years, that his body was immune to the icy harshness of such an environment. Yet, something made Erik want to tremble. Perhaps, it was the warmth Christine had made from her contact, for she was still clinging to his arm. She was the only warmth he knew.

Her eyes stung from her shedding of tears. Her vision was blurred from those that had yet to fall. Slowly, she lifted her head to him, almost afraid to speak.

"Erik?"

He nodded.

Christine gave the name approval. At least, she did in her mind.

"My arm, Christine."

The voice had saved her from her thoughts. Miss. Daae had not realized that she had refused to let go of the phantom's arm, and this caused her to flush. "Forgive me…" she whispered into his fabric, releasing the limb.

Erik took a couple steps forward; just enough so that he was out of her reach. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She sat in silence for a moment, her dress draping over the floor. "That's a beautiful name-" The countess whispered, staring sadly at the back of him. He's ignoring me…

"I took the name. My mother couldn't even bare to look at me; no less bless me with a name. For a name, my dear, identifies you as someone, but to her, I was nobody at all…"

Christine's heart ached with pity. Was he intending on doing this? Did she not already feel guilty? She had tasted enough bitter tears for one day.

"You see, Christine Daae, I had a name, but it disappeared a long time ago. Who am I known as, Christine? Certainly not Erik! I am known as a ghost, I am known as a phantom. I have become a phantom!" He clenched his fist to his side; he dare not look at her. "I have no identity." If I were to die down here…nobody would know. Nobody would know…nobody would care... And with a twirl of his black cloak, he withdrew into the darkness.

"Erik! Don't act like this!" She begged, choking on her sobs. Whether the maiden were to admit it, or not, she had come to see him. And he, who was once mad with love, acted as though she had never existed. A dreaded silence filled the room once more.

The past…was a cruel thing.

"Good day, Monsieurs!" Raoul stormed away from the two managers in furry. It was then; he noticed the absence of his female singer. His pulse raced, as he became frantic with worry.

"Monsieur, Christine isn't here." Meg scurried in front of him, blocking his path. Her body became tense as his face took on a rather intimidating look. A cold sweat moistened her skin.

"Do you mind telling me where she is, then?" Victome de Chagny was in no mood to play games.

"She-she's gone to visit her father's grave."

Raoul pushed her against the mahogany walls, scrumming against her. He was no fool, she was a horrible liar.

"No, you mustn't search for her! Christine wishes to be alone!" Meg called from behind. She then hurried down the corridor, after the viscount.

Pushing harshly into the door of Daae's dressing room, he bounded in. Raoul had searched the room from top to bottom for Christine and the Opera ghost. He peeked into every corner of blackness, as if he were a frightened child, searching for creatures in his closet. Little Giry ran in after him, her blond hair flying behind her as she went.

"Sir, no one is here! It would be wise just to wait for her return."

Raoul refused to give up so quickly. He mentally cursed the woman who had so easily disobeyed him. His heart felt as though it was being split in two. Hatred surged through his veins, and if he were to see this opera ghost again, he would put an end to him. Poor phantom, poor, poor phantom... what of poor Raoul? He cringed at the mere thought of Christine with that monster. It seems that the two men had more in common than they thought.

"Humbug! Humbug! Humbug! What a clever friend you are!" His blue eyes spotted the smears on the mirror. The glass was opened just a crack. No, he would not follow after her. Raoul would wait for Christine's explanation, and he would want to hear nothing but the truth!

Let's just see what my darling comes up with!

The dancer was quivering. Maybe a mad Raoul was just as terrifying as a mad specter.

"I shall wait on this sofa, thank you." Nodding to her, he collapsed onto the couch. The material became rumpled underneath him.

Meg continued to look at him, strangely. She did fear for Christine tonight. "Good-bye, Monsieur Changy."

"Farewell, Mademoiselle."

……

Sorry this chapter is so short. I think I might revise it later, when I have more ideas. But, please, review. My goal is 40, if you want me to update! More than that would be greatly appreciated.

Christine (Mikomi Taisho)