Author's Note: Yay for the second one. I typed these one after the other so sorry if it's kinda half-assed. And I would just like to share my happiness that we are finally reading decent books in English! No more War of the Worlds for me. Lately we've read The Pigman and The Outsiders, both of which I totally recommend. Even though the rest of my class hated the Outsiders. Guess they didn't see it as slashy as I did : ). Anyway, sorry for my rambling...again.

Disclaimer: War of the Worlds was written by H.G. Wells, The Pigman was written by Paul Zindel, and The Outsiders was written by S.E. Hinton. I don't know if I'm allowed to recommend them, and I didn't mean to put any of them down, I just didn't really enjoy War of the Worlds. It had a great meaning though.

Chapter 8: Erik's Discovery

Erik watched as the viscount examined his latest pieces, frowning when he came to a character death. Erik smirked to himself- he had known the boy liked that one. He continued gazing absentmindedly at his perfect face drawn in concentration. DeChagny began to hum unconsciously, oblivious to the fact that he was doing it. Even in humming the boy's voice held so much potential, and Erik began to wish he had been his student instead of the fickle Christine. He stopped his potentially dangerous thoughts, and focused on a letter to the managers, once agin reminding them his salary was due. He heard the viscount's quiet footsteps as he wandered towards his covered mirrors. There was the unmistakable sound of rustling cloth, however cautiously removed it was. And again. And again. Apparently the vain viscount couldn't restrain himself from gazing in EVERY SINGLE ONE of his mirrors. He heard silence for a moment before the mirrors were recovered. If deChagny thought he could freely examine his possessions and disturb his peace, he had another thing coming. As he turned to yell at him, he saw the viscount reaching to uncover his model of Christine. The manakin was wearing a wedding dress, and was the carbon copy of it's living counterpart. Erik sometimes wondered why he had it, if perhaps he truly was insane. Christine was an odd obsession of his, due only to the fact that she confused him. He was unsure of whether to view her as a student, daughter, friend, or lover. It was this confusion that made him want to spend more time around her. Erik had never been in love. Sure, he had watched people from the shadows with a lust filled gaze, and like every man had passionate dreams, but he had never known what it was like to love and be loved. Or that there was such a thing. He was jerked out of his thoughts by the viscount, who had opened the curtain. He was confused for a moment as to why the viscount was standing so still, but then suppressed a snort as he realized the idiot thought it was the real Christine. Well, it was very realistic. He was still a moron. Seeing deChagny was about to either pass out or strangle the manakin, Erik jumped up and went to him. Apparently, the deChagny was in a daze, confused as to whether she was real or not, or if he should stab her or cry. It made Erik wonder what Christine had done to him in the past. There was no time for that as Raoul stumbled, and Erik reached out to catch him. If the viscount where to injure himself it would not be good for either of them. As he wrapped his arms around the golden haired man, Erik could only think of how right it felt.