AN: I made some changes (mostly to Lucas' parts) in the first 5 chapters. There are no big plot changes, however, so you shouldn't have to reread it unless you want to.

Erik

The next couple of days were painfully quiet. The boy had made a habit of avoiding me. After a lifetime of isolation, I was no stranger to the silence. In fact, I usually found it to be somewhat comforting. This time, however, all I could feel was the void that it created. I knew I deserved it, but it was still frustrating.

When I finished preparing lunch, I glanced over at the boy. I was worried about getting him to eat something. He had been feigning sleep whenever I was in the room and today was no different. I sighed and picked up a bowl of soup.

"You should eat," I said softly, approaching his bed.

He continued to pretend to sleep, giving no indication that he had heard me. I could tell when he was pretending because he would lie too still. He always tossed and turned when he was actually asleep.

I sat down next to him and added, "You are not going to get any better if you continue to refuse to eat."

I put my hand on his shoulder. I felt his body tense, but he did not open his eyes. I fought the urge to force the bowl of soup down his throat. I knew that I had to be patient with him. Unfortunately, patience was not my forte.

After many failed attempts of offering him hot soup, I decided it was best to just give him some space. Perhaps he would finally eat if I were not present. I left the bowl by his bed and headed off to the catacombs, stomping to ensure that he could hear me leaving.

With nothing else to do, I explored the passageways. They actually reminded me a lot of the tunnels below the Opera Populaire. As I wandered around, I thought about the boy and questioned whether staying here was the right decision.

On one hand, the boy was still very ill. I doubted whether, in this weakened state, he could care for himself. I wanted to make sure he was safe and healthy.

On the other hand, I was still a monster. I knew that children should not be exposed to a creature as foul as me. Moreover, the boy did not want me around. His behavior had made this very clear.

I sighed, unsure of what to do. It seemed as if I would be doing something wrong either way.

After a couple of hours, I decided to go check on the boy. Though he was pretending to sleep, I saw that the bowl of soup I had left was empty. I smiled to myself. At least I knew how to get him to eat now.

Lucas

I was trying to lie as still as I could. I could hear Erik walking around the room, and I wanted him to think I was sleeping. I just wanted him to go away. I was still too sick to spend a lot of time out of bed, but pretending to sleep was really boring. I just wanted to do something.

I heard Erik walking up to my bed and the sound of a bowl hitting the floor. Then, I heard him head down to the catacombs again. As I lay there listening, I wondered why he had been walking so loudly lately. He didn't usually walk like that. It was weird.

Finally, I thought as his footsteps faded away. I sat up and quickly ate the bowl of soup that Erik had left me. I then stood up and stretched, thinking about my organ upstairs. I had not played any music for days. The last time I had played was at Mme Dubois' farm. I really wanted to go up there, but I was afraid of what Erik might do if he heard me playing.

I stood there for a bit, trying to decide what to do. Erik was usually gone for a couple of hours whenever he went down to the catacombs. I wondered what he did down there.

I hesitated for another second before scurrying up the stairs. As I sat at my organ, I felt excitement bubble up inside of me. Here, I felt safe for the first time in days. It was just me and the music. I let my fingers glide across the keyboards. I didn't think about what I was playing; I just played the music that was in my heart.

I made sure I didn't stay up there for too long. I wanted to be back in bed, pretending to sleep, when Erik returned. As I made my way to my bed, my foot hit the bowl that I had left on the floor. I picked it up and wondered why Erik was taking care of me. I mean, I was grateful; I knew that I would not have survived the past few days without him. But it didn't make any sense. Why was he doing all of this if he hated me? I wanted to know what was going on.

Erik

By now, I was very familiar with the catacombs below the church, as I had spent a fair part of the last few days exploring them. I actually enjoyed being down there. It felt like being at home.

When I reemerged, I was surprised to find the boy sitting on a bench. It was the first time I had seen him out of bed since the morning following the storm. He had an empty bowl in his hand and looked confused.

I slowly approached him, unsure of whether he was aware that I had returned. I did not want to alarm the boy, so I awkwardly cleared my throat to alert him of my presence.

As I had expected, he did not acknowledge me.

After a short pause, I started to ask, "How are-"

To my surprise, the boy cut me off before I could complete the question.

"Why are you doing this?" It was the first time he had really spoken to me since the storm.

"What do you mean?" I replied, though I thought I knew what he was asking.

"Why are you taking care of me? I don't get it."

I hesitated, unsure of what to say. "I just want you to get better."

He shook his head in disbelief. As I sat down next to him, I added, "Look, I am sorry about what happened. I… I lost my temper. I wish I could take it back, but I know that is not possible."

He seemed to consider what I had just said. After a long pause, he asked, "What does that painting look like?"

"What?" I was completely thrown by the randomness of the question.

"That painting over there. What does it look like?"

I stared at him for a second, bewildered, before looking in the direction that he was pointing. I saw a large painting hanging above the fireplace.

For a second, I wondered how he knew where to point. Then, I realized that he must have remembered that the painting was above the fire and was guided by the crackling of the flames. I smiled to myself. He really was a clever and resourceful boy.

"Well, it shows an angel, flying in the air and playing a trumpet." I paused, trying to formulate a detailed description of the artwork. "She is wearing red and white… But I suppose that does not help you; you would not know what colors look like… I admit, I am not entirely sure how to describe it to someone who cannot see."

"Oh, I know colors and stuff. I used to be able to see," the boy replied quickly. "I've only been blind for like a year and a half. Ever since-" he broke off suddenly.

"I, um, had an accident," he finished abruptly.

I had a feeling that this was not what he was going to say, but I decided not to push the matter. Instead, I went back to describing all of the colors in the painting.

After I finished, he continued to ask me what different things looked like, and I tried my best to answer. After describing pretty much the entire church to him, we arrived at the question that I knew was coming.

"What do you look like?"

I hesitated. "Well, I have brown hair and green eyes," I said before pausing again. I could lie to the boy. He would never know, and there was no reason to inform him of how grotesque I truly was. "I guess I just look like an average person. I do not know how to describe myself. Nothing about me really stands out."

As I spoke, the boy's stomach growled. I immediately leapt at the opportunity to end this dangerous conversation.

"You should eat. I shall go prepare some food," I said as I stood up. I paused before turning around and adding, "I really am sorry about the other night."

"It's… It's okay. We're good," he replied. He gave a small smile before saying, "And, uh, thank you for staying and taking care of me."

Even though I knew I did not deserve it, his words made me feel good. Or at least as close to good as I was capable of feeling. I made my way to the food supply and began to prepare dinner. As I cooked, I found myself humming softly, which was odd. I had not hummed since before she had left me.

AN: As always, please let me know what you guys think! Also, let me know what your thoughts are on chapter length. It's something that I've been struggling with because I personally don't think I like having too many POV switches between chapters. Is this length fine, or would you prefer longer chapters? Longer chapters would have more POV switches and be posted less frequently. (Also, in your opinion, how many POV changes are too many?)

In response to Suindara: Yeah, I was thinking that when I posted the last chapter too. I struggle a bit with writing Lucas' parts. I have a hard time deciding how mature I want him to be, which is bad. (I actually haven't even been able to settle on how old I want him to be. I have a range but not an exact age, which is why I quickly took his age out of chapter 1.) I definitely want him to be, in some ways, mature for his age because of all that he's been through. And then I also struggle with trying to sound well written without getting too out of character when it's his point of view. Hopefully, I'll get better at this as I continue to write. I've never been much of a reader or writer (I've pretty much only written essays before), so I am hoping to improve a lot.