Chapter Title: Mornings After Are Always Hell
Warning: A quick warning to everyone who might be reading this…
This will be slash, not now, not this particular chapter, but soon. And slash is a homosexual relationship between two men, which is, ya know, sexual. And stuff.
Just so everyone knows.
It wasn't just that people didn't know. If they didn't know they would have said, We don't know, instead they shifted their eyes to the left or right or they glanced behind themselves and muttered things about letting dead dogs lie and leaving the past in its grave. Even for a man who had no recollection of his wife as an anything other than a childhood friend the words stung and the pitying looks he got made him cringe on the inside.
It was enough to drive a man to drink.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It wasn't that people weren't talking about it. Erik had been through the entire building, listening in on everyone from the ballet rats to the managers themselves. But what they were saying didn't make sense. This was Opera after all, no one could actually keep a secret, least of all from him. Yet everywhere he turned there were frantic whispers in shadowed corners about Raoul's dangerous encounter with the Opera Ghost. And not the faintest breath about any plot the child had made to draw him out.
"Poor man, the grief is still getting to him, even without his memories of her…"
'Oh the unfortunate child, probably hallucinating from that nasty fall he took…'
'The dear heart, best not to tell him too much about what really happened, it might unhinge him further…'
And from the ever inventive corps de ballet…
'The Phantom is a real Ghost now and he's come back from the grave to kill Raoul!'
'Oh no, he's become a real angel like Christine said! He's carrying messages to Raoul from her…'
It was enough to drive a man to kill.
In the end there wasn't really anything to do about it except what he'd always done. The Vicomte had apparently stepped out for drink, approximately three hours ago … but when he returned there would be something waiting for him.
A Note.
My Foolish Rival,
I grow tired of your games. Perhaps this token will jog your memory. Meet me in Box 5 at midnight tonight.
O.G.
Author's Note: Yeah, I may have more kissy-kissy stuff in the next chapter. After that things sorta heat up. I'm excited yet nervous, seeing as how I really don't know what I'm doing with this smut stuff. I hope no one hates me soon! Sorry about the short chapters and the long time between updates, my beta broke all ten of her fingers. She ended up editing this using nothing but a McDonald's straw, a bit of super glue and her old hockey mouth guard. True story. A big thanks again to anyone who reviews; I've discovered that my writing is directly linked to how soon I get those magic e-mails.