Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: ErikRaoul slash (finally). Story continuation of A Mask for All Occasions. Finally, a conversation.
Warning(s): I dunno…
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul
Story note: none that I can think of right now.
A/N: Way on the sorry side of things. I had a major project due this weekend and I did not have any time to write. I tried to finish it yesterday, but I had to work. I was doing so well, too:o(
Do you know what I just realized? I realized that I actually haven't watched the movie in a very long long long time. I saw a clip of it earlier this week and noticed that it looked completely foreign. I had constructed a whole POTO world in my head that it was odd to see the differences on the screen – especially since Raoul was not acting the way I wanted him to. I can give some leeway to Erik of course, but I remembered why initially I had not liked Raoul. He's not really given a good role to play in general. :o( We should just remake the whole film the way we want it. Raoul deserves better. He's not a fop. (that and the movie was not all that great!)
o.o.o.o
Unmasking the Chains
Chapter 08
o.o.o.o
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt
o.o.o.o
Erik's POV
o.o.o
Last time:
I could see that he was nervous. He was thrown off by the turn of events, but what should he expect? He had been the one spying on me. I looked at him closely. We had yet to break eye contact and I could see that in his shock, he had yet to revert back to his persona. He still had the open expression I was starting to appreciate.
I was content to just watch him, and I could see him wracking his brain for something appropriate to say.
"So," he stated uncertainly, "you're alive."
I tried to hide the smirk on my face, and hoped that I looked unimpressed. I had the urge to laugh though.
Oh, this would definitely be amusing.
o.o.o
I hoped it seemed as though I was not grinning. I'm not sure why, but the usual annoyance I felt when I saw him was a distant memory. I was torn in deciding whether that was a good or a bad thing.
He still looked a little frightened so that was a good sign. I would not want him thinking he should not fear me. I would not want him thinking that I would not hurt him. However, as I continued to look at his face, I doubted if I could. At least, not this time.
I liked this expression. Not because of the usual reason of being able to assert my authority, but because on this boy, the look was alluring. His fear was plainly visible in his eyes, the eyes he had yet to guard. His mouth was slightly agape though a moment ago, his tongue had darted out to wet his lips. My eyes immediately caught the action. He gulped and my eyes trailed down his neck. I caught myself from the path my eyes had been following and focused on his face.
I wondered briefly what was wrong with me. I had already assessed the Vicomte's physical attributes the moment he had walked into the opera house. I had to assess him because every new patron was a potential threat. Everything and everyone had a price but me. I will admit that I had the salary that I demanded, but that was really just a bonus. It was a reason to become angry and not something that would actually appease me. I would injure whoever I wanted whenever I wanted, whether or not I received my pay. Worse though, I had correctly pegged the new managers as people who would have a price. Theirs was just lower than what I had initially estimated. It made running my opera house a little more difficult. It had meant that I had to watch the new patron more closely. So I had. Possibly more closely than I had necessarily had to, but for the sake of my livelihood, I had.
With so many unoccupied locations in the opera house, it had been easy observing the Vicomte. I knew his posture, his stance, his gait. I knew his voice and his hand gestures. I knew his laugh, his smiles, and his looks. I knew every aspect I could of him. Yet, only the most obvious aspects. It had only been this morning that I had been able to see the Vicomte up close. It had only been a few hours ago that I had realized the boy who I had been watching was not the real thing. I had been observing a role. A role that he played exceedingly well. I was both wary and intrigued by him further with this news. It was a challenge to discover who the real person was and I was excited to be able to take it on. I liked challenges.
It seemed as though he was making it easy for me. Right now, it was as though I could read him easily. Not that I found myself minding. This was one challenge that did not seem to matter on the difficulty. It only mattered what I discovered in the end. I would have to pay more attention to him. I could feel myself become eager, and I immediately quashed the feeling.
I could see him mentally berating himself for his comment. Of course I was alive. I was standing right in front of him. It was not as though anyone had chased me away. I could not be chased away.
I had simply been avoiding human contact for the past five months. I had been planning my revenge. Now, however, the plan seemed to have no basis. I had not yet killed the boy, and the initial plan was to be done with him quickly. There had been other plans – plans that involved intricate designs and very interesting torture sequences, but I had decided on simplicity. I did not have the energy to do such things any longer. I wanted this lunacy to end just as much as the Vicomte probably did. So, I had thought to kill him quickly. However, I had not thought he would actually walk right up to me.
I stared deeper into his eyes, trying to gauge what ulterior motives he could have. I briefly wondered if I should just make my escape now, or if I should wait and see what he had to say. I was curious as to why he had been watching me.
His eyes glazed over a bit. It was then that I noticed that his breath was coming shorter and faster. He pinched the bridge of his nose and those eyes that I had been caught in shut tightly.
My hand shot out and I stopped myself before I touched him. I stared at my limb as though it was foreign. I had not consciously meant to move. I did not know what I was doing. It seemed every time I was with the Vicomte, my impulses took over. I had not meant to stay and eavesdrop at the mirror. I had not meant to stare at him. I had not meant to draw him. I had not meant to get caught up in his eyes. I had not meant to confront him at all. I had not…
I heard his breath hitch and the short distance between my hand and his shoulder was gone. I leaned forward and tried to catch his eyes, but they were squeezed shut. I looked at his pained expression and felt a pang of worry.
He felt warm underneath my touch. I had to steady him because he was swaying, and it sounded almost as though he was going to hyperventilate. I was not sure whether it was because he was breathing hard or because I was close to him, but I could feel his breath on my face. I deduced that it was the former because I could not be that close. I always demanded my personal space. I abhorred being too close to strangers, to anyone really. The only person I had been physically near was Christine. I thought that she was the only person I could stand to be near. So, I could not be that close to him. I was just close enough to see the slight creases at the corner of his eyes and the small movement his open lips made as they struggled to breathe in more air.
"Breathe slower. Deeply." The words left my mouth before I really had time to assess the situation completely. I shut my mouth quickly with a frown. I was not supposed to be showing him this much concern. I was supposed to observe and find out more about him. My tirade would have continued but almost immediately after I had commanded him to control his breathing, he did it.
My hand was still on his shoulder and I was a little shocked to feel him taking deeper breaths. I had to mentally pause at that. He had listened to me? We were enemies, rivals, and he followed my suggestion. Though I did not currently want to analyze why I had helped him at all, there was something very wrong with his reaction. I could not pinpoint what exactly was wrong with it, but I knew that something was off. The behaviour was so acquiescent. Almost like he had been trained, and the thought was more disturbing to me than I would like to admit. Something had to be wrong, and it probably had something to do with the reason why the Vicomte had been staring at me.
I could feel him calming down beneath my fingertips. I was loathe to remove my hand, so I simply did not do it. He was currently in no position to say otherwise.
He looked up at me finally. I searched his eyes to see if he was really alright. He looked alright. His eyes were a little unfocused, but that was to be expected. He was, however, keeping a tight rein on his breathing. I noticed the extra effort to keep it steady. Maybe he would have another episode.
I noticed his face had a slightly red hue, almost as though he was blushing. I was not certain though. It could have been just because he had been having problems breathing, but I could almost swear. What reason was there to blush though?
He could be sick. Then again, I had just seen him earlier this morning, and he had seemed well enough. He was however a little warm beneath my hand. Technically the only other person I had touched liked this had been Christine and she had been a little cold to my touch. It was probably because of the chill in my home, so I did not have anyone to really compare to. I was tempted to feel his forehead, but I had a sneaking suspicion he would really blush if I did.
I wondered if it was my fault that he had had that episode. I probably was considering all the rumours that went around about me. It might also be because he knew we were enemies, and the last time he had heard about me, I had murdered someone. Well, he had actually been there too. I tried not to think about that night because it would only bring me memories of the rooftop. I concentrated on the moment.
When I was appeased that he would not have another episode, I looked to find some other reason than myself as to why he had hyperventilated.
He kept my gaze evenly for a bit before looking away and turning his head to the side.
I found that I also liked this expression on his face. I liked the rose tint on his usually pale cheeks. I liked the uncertainty. It was not fear, but it was something akin to shyness, timidity… embarrassment. That was it. He was embarrassed? He bit his lip and continued to stare at the wall. I knew he could feel my gaze and he was beginning to shift in his seat. Yes, he was embarrassed. He did have some sort of episode in front of me. I did not particularly care but I could understand why he could feel some sort of embarrassment. It was a sign of weakness. I was his rival, and any sign of weakness was something to be embarrassed about.
But, then again my thoughts brought me back to the possibility that maybe I was making him uncomfortable.
I smirked, glad that he did not see it. If he was this uncomfortable with my presence, he should not have stayed. Now, he would just have to bear with it.
I waited patiently for him to acknowledge me again. I found that my patience was suddenly considerably longer. Usually, it was non-existent, but I did not seem to mind waiting for him. I found myself willing to because I had a feeling it would be worth the wait.
He finally turned to meet my eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, and I leaned forward to test whether I was correct on him being uncomfortable around me. Whatever he might have said died on his lips. He stiffened immediately under my grasp, and I struggled to keep a straight face. The muscles underneath my hand began to twitch slightly.
He tried to pull away from me, but I was still holding him in place. His eyes had widened comically and I felt myself grinning. Cute…
Wait.
I could not believe I had just thought that the Vicomte was cute. Admittedly, he was handsome. I had thought along the same lines when Christine had chosen him. I had deduced that she had chosen him simply because he was nice to look at. I still think she had been thinking of his looks, but now I was certain she thought of the money and the title as well. Now I was thinking of his looks though, and it was disconcerting at best.
Furthermore, I wanted to touch him more. Just having my hand on his shoulder, gave me some sort of thrill. I was calmer, in the sense that I was more patient and the urges to kill had actually gone away. The monster that I was had been suppressed by the Vicomte's presence. It was a vast change because the monster had worsened when the Vicomte first came to the opera house. I had seen him as competition and I had been enraged. It had been preposterous. Everything had been going well with Christine and then a childhood friend appears. It was as though fate were being incredibly unfair to me… again. Did that mean I no longer viewed him as competition? I was actually more worried that it meant that I no longer really wanted Christine, but that could not be true. I had to have Christine. There was no doubt. But this feeling, the peace that thrummed through my whole body was something I had been trying to accomplish that for ages now. It was confusing to find the feeling with the Vicomte.
However, touching him also made me uneasy. My other palm was sweating and I was becoming easily distracted by every breath that the Vicomte took. By the almost unnatural warmth I could feel from his body. By the close proximity of his face, which was set in an expression of not fear and loathing like I usually saw, but almost expectancy. By the eyes that had caught me once again; this time the real things. It felt as though we had a connection. I felt like I suddenly knew him. In my hopes of trying to discover more about this boy, looking at him at this moment I felt a sensation of familiarity.
I saw him redden further. It was a blush. I could feel his heart race faster and I wondered if he was going to have another episode. I heard him concentrate on his breathing again. The slight puffs of air against my exposed cheek made me shudder unexpectedly and I almost pulled away. Some part of me forced my body to stay though.
I realized belatedly that I was nervous. I could not recall the last time I had ever been nervous because I was a man of action. I was a man with a mission and goals, and I never had time to become nervous. Now though, I could feel my own heart beat faster.
I stared at him, trying to find out what it was about him that was making me so confused.
I was a little surprised to see him keep my gaze this time. I wondered why he looked at me so openly. I wondered why he could bear to look at me. I was wearing my mask of course, but the very sight of the mask often was enough to horrify people. Yet, here was the Vicomte, a sworn rival who did not shy away. He was in fact looking back, not in disgust, but in open interest.
I wished he would not look at me so. It was too open, too revealing. I had wanted to know about him, and here it was laid out before me. All it took was a simple glance and I could practically read every emotion. The most frightening fact was that I could not bear to look away. I wanted to watch as each emotion flit across his eyes. I wanted to see him. I wanted to see what was behind that mask he wore. It was as though I could discover what was truly behind my own mask by looking at him. I was tired of masks. I was tired of hiding, and this was my chance to unmask some facts. For some reason, I did not mind that it was the Vicomte I was trying to unmask. In fact, I was relieved that it was him. We were similar, and that was comforting.
Then he looked away and I could tell this time that he was finally putting up the barriers. It was a little too late now because he had dropped all defenses completely already. It felt as though I was addicted to that gaze.
I leaned back in an effort to clear these disturbing thoughts. Looking at his profile, I could not help but feel drawn to him. I had to look away from him to really be able to concentrate.
What was he doing? What was I doing? It would have been better if he had not shown up. Somehow I doubted that because he had already consumed my thoughts before showing up. However, it had only gotten worse with his appearance. Worse or better? It could not be helped any longer. I knew that I wanted to learn more about him; what warm, unspoken secrets will I learn in this meeting?
I noticed from the corner of my eye that he was appraising me. I wondered what he saw. Did he see a monster? A beast that was hardly human. Did he see a villain? Was I simply a rival to him, something to be overcome in his desire to be with Christine?
Christine. I had been ignoring this line of thought. I had been ignoring that she ever existed. If she had not been around, things would have not been so complicated. I could not believe I had just thought that. Christine was everything. She was my freedom. How could I wish that she had never existed?
This Vicomte was muddling up my mind. I could not think straight when I was with him.
Christine was an angel. She was beautiful. I could not sing her praises enough. She…
I became distracted when I noticed that the Vicomte had looked down at his hands in sadness. Maybe disdain. I wondered what caused that expression. The walls had come down again, and it was interesting to see him frown again. Just like in Christine's room, this frown held so much emotion in it that I could not look away. This was not only an honest expression; it was one that made me feel sympathy for him again. Like there was some old wound that troubled him. I wanted to learn what it was that followed him, that haunted him.
I quickly looked away when he looked back up, and I could feel him staring at me. I felt a little uneasy being studied by someone else, but I allowed it this time. I had never let people look at me after the circus because all people ever responded with was jeers and horror. At least I had my mask on. It was a comfort, but still, the Vicomte's gaze burned. It was like a raging fire that was flooding my soul. I knew that I could read him easily, and now it felt as though I was transparent as well. It was unnerving and it put me on edge.
"You're staring, Monsieur," I stated caustically. I had not meant for it to come out so roughly, but I could not stand to be under that sort of gaze much longer. I looked at him and suddenly felt bad for my tone. He looked away immediately. "I usually charge a fee for that," I added in hopes that he would be put a little more at ease.
I could see him grinning even though he tried to cover it with his hand and a cough. He was too obvious. I raised my eyebrow at him in the only sign of acknowledgement I would give to his reaction.
At least he had realized I had made a joke. I lost my irritation to the amusement of seeing him unsure of the proper way to react. Of course he had heard stories of my mercurial moods. He wouldn't know what to do.
He schooled his features and I marveled at his mask. I could almost believe this was how he really acted. Maybe he really did act this way though. Maybe what I saw was an anomaly. I was certain that it was the real him though. I was certain of that. I could see that this expression and attitude was merely a cover for what lay beneath. I wondered briefly who he showed it to. If he did not show it to his fiancé or his business partners, maybe he showed it to his family or friends.
Why would he let his guard down with me though? Maybe I just caught him in a moment of weakness. He did have that episode.
I was annoyed though. I was annoyed with this Vicomte. The person that I thought I had known. The one who I could easily have killed. Who did he think he was putting that mask back on? Did he think I was dense enough to not realize he was lying to my face?
"I apologize greatly, Monsieur OG," he bowed his head slightly, "How are you doing this morning?"
I looked away, bored with his question. If he was going to pretend that I was simply another one of those elitists, I would not listen to him. I could not bring myself to leave though. I wanted to stay and learn more about him. I wondered if he would just drop the pretenses again. It was really annoying that he thought I would not be able to see the role he was playing now that I had seen otherwise. He had to have realized I had actually seen him.
I would not talk to a mask.
Hypocrite.
The word rang in my head. I was being hypocritical. I knew it, but I would not remove my mask for him. He had not seen the deformity underneath my mask. In truth, I had not seen his deformity. I still did not know what dark secret he hid in the gaze that seemed so open.
I was surprised when he continued talking as though I had replied. Okay, so maybe he was not so bad when he was playing his role. At least he amused me still.
"I'm doing well."
Now that warranted a response, "Liar."
I watched in fascination as he physically recoiled. So, now he knew that I had been listening in on their conversation. The pretenses were gone in an instant, and I could see him become incensed. I wondered if he would attack me. It was pretty obvious that it had been a private conversation, but no conversation was private inside the opera house. I was surprised once again when he calmed down just as quickly.
This was why I knew I should be wary of him. I did not know how he would react. I did not know what to expect from him. I could easily read him when he acted like the Vicomte, but as this person, this personality, as… as Raoul, I could not even begin to fathom how he would respond.
"Why have you come here?" I asked directly. It was better if I confronted him straight on. I could better gauge his responses and then deduce how he would respond in the future.
He looked away again. He often looked away when uncertain. It was at those times that I could catch a bit of confusion and uncertainty in his expression. It appeared as though he was torn. Torn between what? Fact and fiction? Would he try to lie to me? That was always a bad choice because I could tell when someone was lying.
I knew that was not completely true. The only people who had successfully lied to me had been myself and the Vicomte. I hoped I could now tell if he was lying to me, but I doubted that I could if the Vicomte really wanted to hide something.
His hands were making some compulsive movements, and I wondered what exactly he was thinking. I wished he would look back at me. He clasped his hands to stop them from moving. He looked up at me, and he looked resigned. I had not expected that.
"I hadn't known you were here," he stated. It appeared to be the truth. It had to be because how would he have been able to figure out I was here. His first words to me had been 'so you're alive.' Evidently, he did not know I was here. It was not quite the answer I was trying to obtain, but at least it had been the truth.
I looked at him, waiting for anything more. Instead he was avoiding my gaze and his leg began to shake.
"Why didn't you leave?" I asked the obvious question seeing he was not going to supply the answer without prompt.
He shifted forward in his seat. I watched as he became a little more agitated. He was nervous, and I waited to see what he would say. His behaviour was confusing. I did not know how to respond to it. The constant movement was making me agitated though.
Running a hand through his hair, he replied, "I don't know. I just didn't."
Now that response truly surprised me. I was still half expecting him to answer as the Vicomte. To answer as my rival, but this honesty was shocking. Enough so that I was sure he saw the expression on my face. There was no falsehood in his response. At least I knew he was as confused as I was about this whole situation. I paused to think about our situation. He had to have some reason to have stayed, but if he did not even know it, then how was I supposed to get it out of him.
I became distracted when he started to tap his fingers against the arm rest. I stared at him for a long moment expecting him to stop, but he did not. In fact, I could see that the silence was making him more uncomfortable. I realized too late that he was going to say something but I did not bother to stop myself from pushing him against the chair, almost violently.
"Stop moving," I whispered irritably at him.
He stopped immediately and nodded his head. The reprieve from those motions did not last very long because Raoul began to squirm in the seat. He was trying to move forward, but my weight would not let him. If he was not going to listen to me, he would be forced to be acquiescent through force.
That was then that I saw the panic and fear in his eyes. I had thought that he was just being disobedient for the sake of rebellion or something. I hadn't thought there could be another reason. He was having another episode and I was about to release him when I thought twice about it. I held him and waited to see what was going to come of it. This time I was certain that I had been the one to set it off, but this was different from last time.
"Let go," he said in a strangled voice. I did not let up though. This was something. This was something I would not have been able to find out about him through simple words. He was barely breathing though, and he started to grab at my arms.
I was stronger than him though, and I was not letting him go until I learned something. He was squirming more, trying to get off of the chair. Maybe he was claustrophobic? I doubted it. I had been closer to him earlier. It was not claustrophobia.
His chest was heaving and I wondered if he was even really getting any air. He struggled harder and I noticed that he was fighting with everything he had to get his back off of the chair. That was the difference between the last time I held him and this time.
"Please," he begged. It was the broken word and the crushed look in his eyes that made me release him. The darkness was back in his eyes. The darkness that I did not know but felt as though I understood. It was something that haunted him. It was what I wanted to discover.
The moment I released him, he threw his body off of the seat. Sitting on the floor, he shakily took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He was having a harder time to control himself this time though. I noticed his mind was somewhere else completely. He was caught up in a memory. I knew what that was like. It was a cage that was more dangerous than any physical cage could ever be. Memories would haunt you into insanity. I wondered how close to that insanity Raoul was.
I sat down in the seat he had just vacated and waited for him to come back to this moment. I looked at him and waited for an explanation.
He looked away from me resolutely and spoke in even tones, "I'm breaking up my engagement with Christine, all ties with her. I wanted you to know." His voice sounded dead, emotionless. It was disturbing – worse than when he spoke like an arrogant fop as the Vicomte.
I watched as he just sat on the floor. He had spoken words that should mean the world to me, and he was sitting slumped on the floor. He was not looking at me. I wanted to know if what he said was the truth.
I did not know how to feel though. I did not understand why I did not feel the elation I knew I should feel. I should feel relieved. I should feel joyful, but instead I felt worried. I felt unsure.
The way he had said it, the tone of voice, and his posture were all aspects that screamed submission and the image conflicted with the ones I had of him. He was giving up. Earlier though, he had been speaking to Christine and yet said nothing. How new a development was this? Was this just some whim that he would take back a few days later when he realized what he had done?
I needed answers, but the way that Raoul was sitting on the floor made it seem as though he was really giving up. He did not seem to have any energy left. After having two episodes so close to one another it was not a surprise, but I wanted him to look me in the eyes when he said those words. He looked just about ready to collapse.
I reached forward to get him off of the cold floor before he really got sick. The concern was only selfish of course. I just wanted answers. He actually shied away from me this time though. I tried to move, but his motions were sluggish. I was just beginning to see how tired he really was. Maybe being engaged was too much for him. Maybe Christine was too much for him. Maybe their engagement had been the secret that had been enough to break him.
I grabbed him roughly underneath his arms and lifted him easily into the chair beside me. Once he was seated, I made certain to let go immediately before he had another episode. This way, we could talk. Now though, I did not think I could look him in the eyes.
I knew he was staring at me in confusion. One moment I was holding him down, and then the next moment I was helping him off of the floor. He needn't worry though. I was just as confused with my behaviour as he was. I did not know why I kept treating him well. At least this time, I could say that I wanted him well just to make sure he would leave Christine alone.
I leaned back in the seat and turned to look at the stage. Christine and the ballet corps were onstage practicing. I watched her detachedly. I used to become excited with the mere sight of her. She had been my inspiration. Now there was nothing. Now, it felt as though she would never be what I really needed. That was probably just the depression talking. That was just the frustration.
I glanced at Raoul from the corner of my eye. He was watching the stage as well.
"What are your intentions?" I asked directly. I still did not know how to approach Raoul. With the Vicomte, I knew exactly how to approach him, with sword and lasso. But I did not seem to want to injure Raoul. He seemed broken enough. I wanted to ask him about his episodes, but doubted he would reply honestly. I knew this was the secret he would keep. I saw him gingerly lean back onto the chair, and knew something was wrong with his back.
The sound of Christine's laughter rang through the theatre. She was laughing and joking around with Meg and the others. I knew that laugh and those smiles. It felt incredibly fake. There had been a time when I wanted more than anything for her to smile at me and to share her laughs with me. Now, I felt nothing of the sort. I felt repulsed actually. This was the Christine that looked through me. That did not see me.
"I already told you. I'm giving up on Christine." He replied, but he stared at the stage intently. He was staring at her longingly, and I felt disgusted. I felt a surge of emotion that I could not quite place, but along with it was irritation.
"When you stare at her like that," I commented coldly, "I hardly believe you."
He was probably still in love with her. This was probably some ruse of course. What was I thinking? I had actually thought that Raoul was going to give Christine up. I did not think he would be so conniving. It was a brilliant plot. Make me think that there was no competition so that I would let my guard down. Maybe Raoul was too much of a good actor for me. I could not understand him.
He snorted and replied, "It is not her I love. I do not know her. You need not steal her away from me. I do not own her."
"Stealing what, in truth, is mine," I replied angrily. I turned to face him and he returned the gaze calmly. It was his way of trying to prove to me that he had nothing to hide. I did not know who I was facing though. I thought I had been talking to Raoul, but maybe this was the Vicomte in disguise. I hesitated looking into his eyes, but I resolved myself not to be fooled.
"Indeed," he replied. I was angry and the common reaction would be to cower or try to appease me, but it seemed as though this boy did not care. He stated again, "Conquest is assured. You needn't worry."
He looked at me in the eyes with no hesitation. It was like he was forcing me to see that he was not lying. I was stupid enough to believe him.
I calmed down noticeably. "You do not love her."
I stated the truth I had seen in his eyes. He had once loved her, but now there was nothing. I wondered what brought about this change, but he continued talking.
Looking at the stage, he spoke jokingly, "No dreams within my heart but dreams of love."
How poetic. I did not realize he had it in him. It was a romantic thought that unfortunately I shared with him. The sentiment rang all too true with me. I loved Christine. I was searching for that one person to be with. I just wanted one. I wanted to drop the roles. I wanted the freedom to be whoever I wanted to be. For that, all I needed was one person. Just a single person in the entire world to understand me. A single person to love me. Was it so hard to ask?
It appeared as though Raoul had wanted the same thing. Maybe Christine was the one for him or maybe she was not but I had a feeling that he would have given her up regardless. He probably pitied me and decided to let the monster have his way.
"And haven't you come here," I felt angry again. I was not a charity case. He did not face me, and that only angered me further. I continued, "in pursuit of your deepest urge. Have you not found it in her?"
This time he did look at me. Again he looked at me straight in the eyes with that open expression. There were no walls. There were no pretenses in his look. He was trying so hard to convince me that I swear I could not stand to remain angry with him.
He looked at me calmly, "I do not love her. No second thoughts, I have decided."
I looked at him, searching again for the truth in his statements. It seemed as though there was nothing he could hide from me. I was the first to turn away. I looked at the stage lost in thought. He was not lying. This was not some whimsical decision. He was really going to give up on Christine and let me have her – if she would even accept me.
He continued to explain, "I think she loves you anyway. However, she was once my closest friend and I wish her no harm. So treat her well."
I doubted that she loved me. She probably just loved what I stood for, success, danger, passion. Wait… did he just threaten me?
I looked at him with disdain and disbelief. He did not actually think he could threaten me, did he? He had not said it so seriously, but I knew he meant it. I was a little angry, but it was losing out again to amusement. It seemed absurd that he had just done that. I turned my attention back onto the stage.
I had her. I had Christine and there was no more competition. For some reason, I was saddened by the thought. At least when there had been a rivalry, I had been busy. It had been the most excitement I had had in a long time.
Now though, Raoul was no longer to be my rival. What was he then? What reason would I now have to watch him if he was no longer a threat? I still undoubtedly wanted to learn more about him. It seemed like I was truly obsessed with him. But with his interest in Christine gone, what reason was there for him to visit the opera house so much? I would not see him as much. Everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be. As though he was really just a normal patron.
"So the games we've played till now are at an end," I stated detachedly.
I furtively watched his expression. He seemed sad when I said this. Maybe not though, I could not see his eyes clearly. Maybe he was relieved. I could still kill him, but now I did not have an outright reason to do so. I had no reason to confront him at all.
"Yes. It's over. She's not who I wanted," he said, then appended, "She's not who I thought she was."
I could agree with that sentiment all too well.
He mumbled quietly to himself that I almost missed it, "I'm not who she thinks I am either."
It was eerie how much we thought alike.
This was victory. He had given up all claim and was defeated. However, I should not feel so lost. I should feel relieved that I no longer had a rival. I should be joyous that I can go after Christine only having to worry about her fans who were easily scared away. The only real competition I had had was Raoul, and now that he had conceded, I was free. But was I really? Was freedom where I thought it would be? It had to be. It had to be with Christine. She had to be the one that would understand me. We would go away and live somewhere where we'd never be bothered. We would get married…
"You are still engaged though," I brought to his attention.
"I had thought to do it soon."
I rolled my eyes. He was being a baby. I no longer feared that he was in love with her. I was certain that he was not. He had not lied to me. He just did not want to have to face her when he broke off the engagement. He was being a wimp.
"Soon indeed," I replied suspiciously. I had a feeling he would wait until the last moment to do it. He would keep putting it off saying it was not the right time. He had confronted me. Facing Christine should not be so difficult. Maybe it would be because a woman scorned…
I turned to face him. I would give him some incentive. Looking him directly in the eyes, I stated, "I will be lenient with you. You have until the masquerade to break up the engagement. That is one month. If you do not, I will kill you," I paused to see if he was following, "very slowly."
He nodded his head. I had scared him enough. Maybe he would find the courage to do it soon.
So that was it. This was the end of the conversation. Except… I found myself not wanting it to be.
I did not want him to leave and wondered if he would be going now that everything was settled.
"How did you know about the masquerade?" he asked quickly.
I looked at him as though he was stupid. I finished giving him an ultimatum and the thing he focused on was the masquerade?
He held his hands up in defense. "I understand completely. I heard everything you said. Masquerade. Kill me." he was babbling and I could not help but be amused. "Slowly."
I looked at him, trying to figure out what he was trying to get out of this conversation now. Sure, I did not want this conversation to end, but I did not see a reason why Raoul would want to stay. It seemed like a random question to ask.
He shrugged, "I just wanted to know."
"This is my opera house," I said challengingly, "I know everything that goes on in it."
He nodded. This was awkward. I wanted him to stay, but what could I possibly say to make him. I did not actually want to have to say anything at all really. This was a situation I had never been placed in. We no longer had any business with each other, so what we were doing right now was really just socializing. I had never socialized with anyone in my life. What was there to talk about? Would we be making small talk like the Vicomte had tried to do in the beginning?
I did not want to talk about the weather or current events. It was annoying and unnecessary. Maybe I should just leave.
"You aren't," he began quickly, "going to kill me now, are you?"
I scoffed at him. It was better than current events, that was for sure. Maybe staying would not be such a bad idea. The conversation at least was interesting. There was no one to talk to in my home anyway. Curiosity getting to me, I responded, "Does it look like I'm going to kill you?"
"Should I know what that's supposed to look like?" He quipped back.
I hid my amusement, but it was getting harder to. This felt good. It felt almost natural, as though we had never been rivals. I looked him but he would not return my gaze. I wanted to see what he was thinking, and that would be hard without looking at his eyes.
"You'll know," I responded, hoping to see some reaction.
What I did see was surprising. I swore that Raoul was just full of contradictory responses. He had simply smiled my response away. He looked completely at ease around me. We had just been enemies, and now he was lounging in the chair watching the stage with me.
Conversationally, he dared to ask, "Can I see your face?"
I was taken aback, but immediately responded, "Can I see your back?"
He looked at me in shock. It was the proper response. It would quid pro quo. He wanted to see what I was hiding and I wanted to see what he was hiding. I had kept my curiosity at bay, but if he wanted to see me, I would want something in return.
"No," he replied vehemently. I figured.
I tilted my head and gazed at him lazily, "Then no."
I liked this. We were sitting side by side and sharing banter. At least Raoul had some wit to him.
I saw the smile slowly forming. I watched in fascination as he smiled with no sadness and no pain. It was beautiful. I wanted to draw it. I wanted to save this moment because I did not think I would ever be able to catch something so brilliant. Then he just started to laugh. I briefly thought he was laughing at me, but it was filled with no malice. He was simply laughing, and I caught myself smiling. His laugh was contagious, and it only took much of my self control to contain my own laughter. It was like music.
Suddenly, like a damn, a wave of inspiration hit me. I could hear the music in my head, and I knew how I wanted to finish my opera. I stared at him in disbelief. He had been my inspiration.
"I…" he began to say something, but I heard someone yell out 'Vicomte.'
I quickly made my exit and watched from a dark corner as a messenger came running in.
"I've been looking everywhere for you, Monsieur."
Raoul turned around to where I had just been looking worried, and I was a little touched. I was angrier at the messenger for interrupting us because I had not wanted that moment to end.
Raoul faced the messenger and I could see the mask fall into place. There was no amusement or joy in his face. His eyes were guarded and detached. He was the haughty Vicomte once again, "You have found me. Now, tell me what you want."
I really did not like the Vicomte, and I was disappointed that Raoul had to even play the role. It was distressing to see him act like that.
The messenger quickly nodded his head, "I was sent by the Comte to tell you…"
So Raoul's brother was in town? Maybe that was what had caused his mood earlier this morning. I had heard stories of the Comte. He was rather strict and treated Raoul well enough.
The Vicomte interrupted him, "There's no note or letter? How am I to believe you were actually sent by my brother?"
He asked him suspiciously.
I sat watching them in amusement. There was no real reason for him to question the messenger, but it was something I expected the Vicomte to do. It was obvious the man was out of breath and nervous to be inside the opera house in an area not well lit.
"There was no time. He says that you must come home immediately. He says it's urgent and it pertains to your mother's health."
After hearing this, I saw him freeze in his place. Something sounded wrong about the message. It seemed suspicious to me, but Raoul believed it completely. It was his mother's health, but I would know nothing about that. He nodded his thanks to him and sparing one glance around the mezzanine seating, he bolted out into the hallway.
I tried to ignore the happy feeling I got when he spared a glance back to the dark corners of the mezzanine seating, but I could not. I waited until I was sure no one would bother me, and then I walked out of my hiding place and sat in the seat I had just vacated. I took the blank sheet music and began writing the culmination of my opera.
The words flowed easily out and the music was clear in my head. I lost track of everything else.
o.o.o.o
End ch08
word count: 8,139
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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
To make up for the fact that I did not post yesterday, I made this one extremely long! Hope you enjoy.