Christine thought over Raoul's words during lulls in rehearsal. Her dear old friend - he had always been so sweet and innocent. Of course he'd believe in fairytale endings and the triumph of true love.
Christine knew better. The world didn't work that way.
At that very moment, Raoul was striding purposefully around the outside of the Opera House. He knew there was an entrance to the cellars on the Rue Scribe side, and that's where he was headed.
He managed to get in through the first gate, and, with the help of a rather large spool of thread so he wouldn't get lost, he began to walk down the winding tunnels.
Erik first heard the rattling noise very faintly, nothing more than a mere afterthought in his haze of self pity and grief. It seemed his path back to his home was also drawing him closer to the source of noise, and as he drew closer to that noise, he began to realize that in addition to the rattling there was also a voice calling out.
"Monsieur Phantom! I know you're down there!"
Raoul didn't actually know for certain if he was down there. The Opera House was quite large, and the man might be anywhere in it. This was, in fact, the fifth air vent grate that Raoul had spent several minutes rattling and yelling down. Surely, thought Raoul, he would hear at some point and come forward - it was only a matter of time, and even if he had to rattle every single vent in every single room on every single floor, Raoul would do it if it meant helping his Little Lottie.
Erik's shoulders stiffened at the words, his woeful reverie broken and anger beginning to bubble up.
That insolent boy! What was he doing down here? Was it enough to have won Christine's love, did he now have to seek him out and rub it in his face, too?
"What, exactly, do you want, Monsieur Le Vicomte?" Erik hissed when he finally approached the small grate that boy had his grubby hands on.
Raoul shuddered at the iciness of that voice. For the briefest of flashes he regretted his choices in coming down to the cellars, in seeking this man out. But the moment passed.
"Are you the Phantom? Are you Erik?" he asked eagerly.
A flash of dread passed through Erik, and he instinctively took a step backwards even though he know Raoul couldn't see him at all from this angle anyway.
"Who told you that name?"
"Christine did," he said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Fear turned to exquisite pain in his chest. Christine had been talking about him, then. He hadn't specifically asked her not to talk about him, but she knew he was a private person, that he didn't like very many people knowing very many things about him.
She had told people his name. A name was such a personal thing - if someone knows your name, they have power if you. He had trusted her with his name - not Angel, not Phantom, not the Opera Ghost, but Erik - and she had gone and told this boy about it. Who knows how many others she'd told as well? How many the boy would tell? And now he knew where to find him, where he lived! Christine must have told him that, too. He leaned against the wall and sank to his knees, the full weight of the implications hitting him. Did she care so little for him, that she'd go and tell his secrets to all and sundry?
Oh, Christine! Why?
"What are your intentions towards Christine?" Raoul demanded.
"Intentions?" Erik sputtered. "Why, I'm her vocal instructor, nothing more! My only intention is to help her refine her voice!"
"Nothing more?" Raoul repeated.
"What do you want?" Erik snapped at him. "Why are you seeking me out like this? Are you here to dismiss me as Christine's voice teacher? Do you not want your future wife up on stage anymore, is that it? Or perhaps you're unhappy with her spending so much time with another man? You have nothing to fear on that account, I assure you."
"Wife?!" Raoul cried. "No! I'm not going to marry Christine!"
Erik frowned. Was the boy merely toying with her affections, then? How dare he string her along like this! Why, he had half a mind to reach up through the grate and strangle him for that!
"And why ever not, Monsieur Le Vicomte?" his voice was deadly cold.
"Because she doesn't love me, that's why!"
Erik paused. How could Christine not love Raoul? He was young, handsome, rich... They both got along splendidly, at least it seemed that way. He felt at a loss for words.
"She doesn't love you?" he parroted back dumbly. "Wh-why not?"
Raoul rolled his eyes.
"Because she loves you, you great dolt!" he cried, exasperated. "How can you not see that?"
"Don't call me that!" Erik shot back, but his mind was already elsewhere.
Christine loved him? Could it truly be? If he were not already on his knees, this news certainly would have brought him to them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting those words echo through his mind, through his heart, for one glorious moment before he'd have to face the cold, unfeeling reality of the situation.
Christine loved him.
Christine loved him.
He opened his eyes.
He was vaguely aware that the boy had been blathering on that whole time, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what had come after those words he had so longed to hear and before he had become lost in them.
"-and that's why I'm here, because she says she doesn't want to ever marry anyone else but you! So I must know, do you really only care about her voice?"
Erik flushed with embarrassment.
"What I feel towards her is none of your business, I should think!"
He longed to simply walk away from this bothersome little Vicomte and pretend this whole conversation had never happened - boy the boy had already pursued him thus far, and if he left he feared Raoul might try to follow him again. He couldn't risk him - or anyone - finding where he lived and showing up at his doorstep.
"I should think it bloody well is my business, she's my best friend and I care about her!" Raoul retorted.
Erik mulled this over. He had never had a close friend, not really - the nearest thing he had to such was Christine - and he didn't know enough about that sort of thing to refute him on the matter. He narrowed his eyes at the grate above him, at Raoul's fingers wrapped firmly around the bars.
"It doesn't matter what I feel towards her, there's no kind of life I could give her as a husband," he told him firmly. "Christine deserves a fine life, with sunlight and people and the whole world even, if she wished it. I cannot give her that."
He paused before adding, "But you can."
Raoul squirmed nervously. In order to speak clearly into the grate, he had to lay sprawled out on the floor in a most undignified manner. It was terribly difficult to have such a serious conversation as this in such a way, he thought.
"I didn't ask that, though. I asked what you felt towards her."
Erik shook his head in the darkness.
"She needs someone like you, Vicomte, not a ghost like me. She shouldn't be condemned to haunt these walls as I do."
A silence settled over both of them for a moment.
"So you do love her, then," Raoul said softly.
Erik flinched and wrapped his arms around himself. He hadn't meant for this conversation to get this far, to reveal this much.
"You've clearly thought about this," Raoul continued. "And you care enough about her happiness to send her away. You love her, don't you?"
The word was whispered so quietly, so gently, that Raoul almost missed it.
"Yes."
And then, a little louder, but infinitely sadder, "Yes, I love her, and that is why I know she can never be with me."
Raoul chose to ignore how sadly those words were delivered, a wide smile breaking out on his face.
"But don't dont you see! You both love each other! Surely you can work this out together!"
Erik scrubbed his sleeve across his face, willing himself not to cry in front of this boy who was intent on teasing him with what could never be.
"You don't understand the situation, Vicomte. I've already told you, she deserves the kind of life that I can't give her. It would be best for her to find someone else to court and forget about her silly feelings for me. She- she might not have feelings for someone else at first, but I'm sure she could grow to love someone else if only given the chance. She'll have to."
Raoul's heart sank to hear him talk like that.
"I may not understand the entire situation," he conceded, squinting into the dark to try to catch a glimpse of the Phantom. "But I do understand Christine's heart. And it belongs entirely to you. This isn't some simple crush. She won't even consider anyone else. It's you, or it's no one. You might not be able to give her everything she deserves, but- but if you love her, you can give her that, at least. You can give her your love. And I know Christine well enough to say with certainty that she'd rather live in a cellar with love than live as queen with someone she didn't love."
Raoul paused, waiting for a response from Erik that didn't come.
"She's going to end up alone, Erik. Is that really what you want for her?"
Erik gripped the fragments of his mask so tightly that the broken edges porcelain bit into his fingers and nearly drew blood. How could she love him like that, truly love him? Surely the boy was mistaken somehow. She didn't actually love him - she only loved the idea of him, that had to be it. She couldn't love him, why, she didn't even know what he really looked like-!
And then it dawned on him, what he needed to do.
"I just want her to be happy," he said vacantly. His mind was elsewhere. "I- I will think about what you've told me, Vicomte. You've given me a lot to think about... Can you find your way out again?"
Just as Erik had hoped, that question signaled his wish for Raoul to leave and Raoul complied.
"Yes, I can. I'll be on my way, I suppose," he reluctantly pulled himself up off the floor, his joints stiff from laying across the cold stone.
"Good, good. Take care of yourself, Monsieur Le Vicomte," he struggled to think of something polite to say - the boy might have been annoying and smug and a little simple, but without him Erik might not have had that one moment of blissful peace knowing that Christine loved him. "Perhaps- perhaps you will see Erik again one day."
Erik had no intention of following through with that, but Raoul didn't need to know that, and he took it happily enough.
"I would like that, Erik," Raoul brushed the dust off of his clothes, unaware of the cringe Erik gave at hearing his name said so casually by this stranger. "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir. I bid you good day."
Raoul gave a small bow to the air vent, uncertain if Erik could see him even though he could not see Erik, but he figured it was better to err on the side of caution anyway.
"Yes, yes, goodbye," Erik was growing impatient. Would he never leave?
Raoul's turned and began to follow the thread he'd left behind him, confident it would lead him out quickly. Erik waited until he couldn't hear the boy's footsteps anymore before finally being able to continue on his way home.
Raoul stumbled out into the blinding daylight once more. He swiftly made his way back inside, back behind the stage. Rehearsals would be nearly ending by now, and he had to find Christine.
He waited impatiently for her to finish talking to the director. This was important! Finally - finally! - she was released and he rushed up to her as she left the stage.
"Lottie- Christine," he said breathlessly, grinning widely. "He loves you."