Title: 25
#: 2. 10 part 2
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: Modern AU. Raoul's known Erik for almost the entirety of his life, or the one where a Chagny ends up changing Erik's life in one way or another.
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul eventually
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 5,385
Rating: K+
A/N: Why do I keep starting stories that are multi-chaptered? D:
Story note: Hey, POV shifts. So many views to do and not enough time to do it.
o.o.o.o
Ages:
Raoul, 10 yo
Philippe, 20 yo
Erik, 20 yo
o.o.o
Raoul remained completely still, back stiff, and head bowed until Erik shut the bedroom door behind him. Only after that did he allow himself to move; even then, he simply shut his eyes and slumped deeper into the cushions of the couch. Those headphones had been the only reason he could pretend to ignore them, his brother especially. The pretense of listening to music, a pretense that his mother had never believed and apparently, Erik quickly saw through, had given him a legitimate excuse not to look them in the eye or speak to them. His first instinct had always been to do just that, and it was not only difficult but also actually hurt to avoid them. Distance made it easier; not having to confront them at all was really the only way he had successfully managed it since he was not strong enough to lie to their faces.
Hugging his bag tighter to himself, he let out a shaky breath that sounded loud in the now empty room. The panic that he had managed to tamp down in the car ride over was now coming back in full force. He could not help but look over his shoulder to where he knew the bedrooms were even though there was no indication that Philippe or Erik would come back out. They would not want to with the way he had been treating them; Raoul knew that.
It took him several long moments, but eventually, he hazarded placing his duffle bag on the floor. The nylon material made too much noise. Standing up slowly, he froze when the thinly carpeted floor creaked softly. No sound came from the hallway, so he snuck forward until both doors were completely in sight. Whitewashed and bare, they made him wish even harder that he were back home, or rather, wished that nothing had changed in the summer. He longed to see the dark mahogany wood and hanging chalkboards with each of their names written on it that labeled the bedrooms within the Chagny house. He missed the messy messages as well as the taunts and graffiti wars that constantly took place.
The rest of the apartment was as undecorated as their bedroom doors. The living room was so small that all it had was the sofa and a small television that sat atop a squat wooden table. The television looked rather unused. He smiled at that. The standing rule in the Chagny household was that during school, they could only watch the news, and when it was summer, they were encouraged to find other activities. They had two televisions in their house, one in the family room and one in their parents' bedroom and neither was used often. It was comforting to know that some things would not change.
Streetlight filtered through the grey slats of the window behind the television. It beckoned Raoul forward. He leaned against the wall, head pressed against the plaster. His parents would have left already. His father had been in a rush to leave, but he watched the cars drive by anyway. There was a lot of movement on the sidewalks, too. Students, very loud and boisterous students, were making their way back on campus. He had found it odd when his mother and he had passed a group of them eager to return to the place where they were forced to learn. Although, from the looks of some of them and their red, plastic cups that obviously held alcohol, he doubted that they were planning to get any studying done. Friday night was party night; he remembered Philippe talking about it last summer. He had not thought that the party would be on campus though, although the concert his brother had mentioned might be the reason why.
A concert was one of the last things Raoul wanted to go to right now. The thought of surrounding himself with all those strangers and the stench of alcohol made him cringe. He doubted he had a choice in the matter though.
Shifting his focus onto the blank cream walls, he let out a deep sigh before taking in the rest of the apartment. A breakfast counter separated the living room from the kitchen. Only two stools were tucked beneath the counter, but in the far corner, he could see four more stacked atop each other. The kitchen looked even smaller now that there were foodstuffs taking up space. On one side, there was the refrigerator, a sink, and the blender; on the other, there were two cabinets, the microwave, and the stove. Remembering Erik's words, he opened the refrigerator and frowned when all he saw were a carton of milk, some jello and pudding cups, and the Tupperware that his mom had brought. She had spent the entire trip worrying if she had brought enough food. He knew that on the way back, she would have enough bags of groceries to last them months.
The contents of the refrigerator mattered a lot less than the photos that clung to the door with colorful magnets. Yellow post-it notes, scraps of papers, even a couple of drawings were interspersed amongst the photos. Raoul brushed his fingers over the first one that caught his eye.
Almost five years ago at Amelie's and Mathilde's grammar school carnival, his mother had taken a picture of them in front of the monkey bars. He was seated on Erik's shoulders, face almost completely blocked by blue cotton candy while blue wisps caught in Erik's hair. Mathilde and Amelie were each holding one of Philippe's hands. His sisters were smiling widely. He was, too, though you could not see his mouth. Erik tried to look annoyed but he was smirking, and Philippe stood nearby, grinning at the camera. He remembered that night. Erik had adamantly refused to go – something about his mask and it being a primary school – but when it came down to it, getting him to go had not been that difficult at all.
The one right beside it was a picture of several Christmases ago. They'd had their annual post-gift-unwrapping competition. From the used wrapping paper ripped off their gifts, one of them – usually Raoul and Mathilde – would be the present while the others wrapped them. Since it was boys against girls, his sisters had their mother, who was the best gift wrapper of the family. However, much to their surprise, Raoul had been chosen as best present for that year – not so much for neatness as it was for creativity. The picture was of the winning team. His body was covered in a mosaic of wrapping paper scraps, but most visible was the tape that had held it all together. Philippe had had the brilliant plan to use duct tape that year. In the photo, Erik looked on worriedly from behind Raoul. He was keeping him steady while his brother brandished a pair of scissors that he had been forced to use in order to set him free.
Raoul looked down at himself now. He had grown taller, but not even by that much. Both Amelie and Mathilde were still taller than he was, though his mother assured that he would eventually catch up. Everything about him was skinny though, puny. He hated this new body and wished he would fill out already. He wanted to grow taller, be stronger like his brother or Erik. But, his body did not do anything that he wanted of it. No matter how much he tried, it kept betraying him.
He tried to forcibly push those thoughts away, but it occupied his mind enough that he could only give the barest of attentions to the next photos, simply scanning them. It took a moment for him to realize but he could recognize every photo. It was their family, their home, and a few from their school. At one time or another, he had lived through these pictures and for the ones he had not, he remembered looking at them while his brother and Erik regaled him with their adventures. The hastily scribbled notes interspersed had arrows pointing at certain pictures. He could easily tell their writing apart, although the messages themselves gave away their writer. He could hear their voices in his head simply by the tone.
Most of Erik's notes had a distinctive mocking quality to them. This is when you tripped during our field trip, glad I had my camera. This is where you threw up on the rollercoaster. This is when you got lost. Cross country? I hated you for the entire season. Art club? Hated you for the entire semester. Fencing? Okay, but only because I could stab people. Never wear Hawaiian shirts ever again.
Philippe's messages were trying to embarrass Erik in his own way. That girl was totally checking you out. Tested higher than you! Why are you standing like three feet away from us in this photo? Are you even looking at the camera here? Is that the back of your head? Is that your hand? Is that your leg?! What's with the scowl? I told you I was sorry about that glue gun incident.
Raoul found himself stifling a laugh when he saw a picture of Philippe asleep in a car with his mouth open. There were two notes attached to it. You're drooling here. To which there was a reply, No sleeping shots, creep.
Before Raoul could finish reading all of the notes, a sound from Philippe's room had him rushing out of the kitchen. He narrowly missed slamming his hip on the counter and practically tripped onto the couch. He sat there, heart racing and blood pounding loudly in his ears, waiting for his brother to come out. He did not even know why he'd run. It was not as though he was doing something wrong. He just… he just did not want to seem like he still cared. It was easier to keep his distance if he kept up the ruse. He knew he was a horrible brother. Running a hand through his hair, he pulled his bangs out so that he could look at them. He really did look nothing like he had in those pictures. It only made sense that he should look differently since he felt differently and was nothing like who he had been in those photos anymore. He had already tried and failed. The entire summer had been an effort in convincing himself that it was better this way.
Climbing over the couch, he stared towards the bedrooms again. There were only two, the door closest to living room and across the bathroom was Philippe's and the one that took up the end of the hallway was Erik's. He had taken the tour before the semester had started along with the rest of his family, but now he wanted to see what their rooms looked liked without all the boxes. He simply could not bring himself to knock nor could he walk in, as he once would have.
He had thought, had rather hoped that dreading this visit was misplaced fear. It was just not getting easier being around them. His parents had made him come and his sisters had even stayed at home; it was not fair. However, he could hear his mother's voice, saying, "Your brother misses you terribly. He's been asking for you to visit since you were so busy in the summer."
Well, his brother was not the only one who missed a sibling. That was just what happened with time. Brothers had to go to colleges. People grew apart. Raoul understood that. Why couldn't Philippe?
Turning abruptly away from the rooms, Raoul went to his duffle bag. He pulled out his math book and folder from beneath his extra clothes and made himself comfortable at the breakfast counter. He might as well get some work done. It was easier to do the schoolwork than be left with his thoughts. Often though, he found his eyes turning towards the refrigerator door.
o.o.o
Philippe opened his door as slowly as possible before peeking his head out of his room. The television was on CNN at a low level and Raoul was still engrossed with his homework; he had checked twice before already and nothing had changed. It was now or never. Slipping out of his room, he made a break for Erik's, not bothering to knock. He all but flung himself through the thankfully unlocked door before shutting it quickly though silently behind him. He pressed against the door with relief, certain that Raoul had neither heard nor seen him.
From his place at his desk, Erik stared at him. He spared a glance at his textbook before shoving a bookmark into it roughly and shutting it. "Why do I even try?" he muttered to himself. To Philippe, he said, "What now?"
"I don't…" Philippe gestured behind him frantically. "I don't know what to do about him."
Erik scoffed. "You think I do?"
"I think," Philippe responded slowly, "you may have an idea."
Nodding, Erik had to admit he did. "Just talk to him."
"Talk to him?" Philippe pushed himself away from the door and proceeded to throw himself onto Erik's carefully made bed. He rolled around and for good measure pulled the comforter with him until he had successfully wrapped the blanket around himself. "What do you think I was trying to do earlier?" He shoved his face onto the bed.
Erik glared at him, certain that his supposed best friend was grinning into his bed despite being distraught about his younger brother. He forced himself to calm down about the mess before responding. "Well, he has no choice but to listen now." He held up the confiscated mp3 player when Philippe looked up.
Scrambling out of the bed and bringing the blankets along with him, Philippe took it from him to inspect it while Erik distractedly scowled at the state of his bed.
"He gave it to you?"
The mp3 player had been a joint gift from both of them to Raoul two years ago. Neither of them could afford it separately on their meager part time salaries, and joint gifts were not that uncommon between them – though usually it was Raoul and Philippe or Raoul and Erik giving the joint gift. It still looked rather brand new, and Philippe could not help but smile fondly at the thought of his brother making sure to take good care of it. His parents had scolded them for giving an eight-year-old such an expensive gift, but it had been worth it to see the expression on his face.
"I didn't really give him the chance to say no." Erik shrugged.
"Erik."
He knew the tone was accompanied by a frown without even looking, but he hardly cared. "He'll listen now. Although, I think he was listening earlier, too. He was just pretending to listen to music."
A pained expression crossed Philippe's features as he processed that fact before he shook his head. Erik could almost hear him mentally telling himself that it's just a phase.
Philippe's next question was expected. "Should we even go to the concert?"
That was why Erik's response was immediate, "He can't stay cooped up in here." He had been wondering the same exact thing actually. Raoul hardly looked happy to be with them, and taking him out to a college event probably would not make anything better. Raoul was too young to be in that phase where college held some appeal. He could imagine the younger Chagny sulking the entire time, and the mere thought that they might even lose him in the crowd or have him wandering away from them unaccompanied was terrifying. Raoul had never run away before, but he also no longer followed them, no longer cared to stay with them. He considered it a rather practical fear.
On the other hand, they could not keep him trapped in the apartment. That would only make matters worse. Raoul would continue to ignore them under the guise of working on his homework and Philippe would avoid him and camp out in Erik's bedroom the entire time.
His answer seemed enough of a reason for Philippe to reconsider. "Are you going to come with?" He tilted his head to indicate the abandoned textbook.
"Yeah." Erik rolled his eyes. "God forbid I leave you alone with your own brother."
Philippe snorted, "He's not the only one I have to drag out of this place against his will every now and then." He sobered quickly when he admitted, "I don't want to force him to do anything he doesn't want to do."
"We're not offering him drugs," Erik retorted. "We're telling him to spend time with us."
Philippe placed the mp3 player down before tugging the blankets around his shoulders tighter. He dropped onto the bed once more.
Erik cleared his throat and absentmindedly turned his watch around his wrist. He hated it when Philippe was depressed. He was not a Chagny. He did not know the right things to say and even if he did, he was not the person to say it. However, for the wretched blond currently messing up his bed even more, he tried to joke, "We have to go. You even cleared your busy schedule for this weekend. Who's she again? Some Italian art major?"
Frowning, Philippe pulled the blankets over his face. "You know her name's Sorelli."
"Oh, do I?" He did know. He had not met her, but Philippe had been talking about his efforts at wooing the girl non-stop for the past two weeks. Erik might like her simply on principle because she was not falling head-over-heels for Philippe the second he talked to her like every other girl had in the past.
"And she's a dancer studying Italian."
Erik smirked. "Flexible then."
There was a pause. "You don't even know." And, Erik could hear the smile in Philippe's voice.
"You could always ditch your younger brother and spend time with your flexible dancer instead," he suggested blithely, but he had known the outcome of this conversation the second Philippe entered his room.
"Fine." Philippe threw the blankets off and threw a pillow at Erik, which he easily caught before it could hit him in the face. "Let's go."
o.o.o
Forced to check behind him to make sure Raoul was still there, Philippe knew he was going to strain his neck at this rate. Every time either Erik or he had tried to walk behind his brother, Raoul would walk slower and even stop until they walked ahead of him. His younger brother had not stopped being stubborn at least. Despite the crowd, he dutifully remained one step behind them, eyes usually focused on their backs or their shoes. He hardly bothered looking around the campus, at the other students, or at the booths. It was as though he did not even care, and that was something that Philippe needed time to get used to. His brother had always been curious about everything. He wanted to know how things worked, how tall buildings could get, how fast trains or planes could go. He thought Raoul liked to meet new people – not that this was the best time or place – but he thought it was somewhat exciting, especially to a ten-year-old.
The worst part, however, was that he actually had to keep an eye on both Raoul and Erik. His best friend was growing increasingly agitated, if the dirty looks he kept sending people who got too close to them were any indication. He kept sending glares over Raoul's head at the people who spared the young boy a second glance. Philippe knew that normal school day foot traffic was relatively fine for Erik, and even then, that was pushing it. Erik knew all the routes to take to his classes that had the least amount of students, even if they ended up being roundabout.
This was going to end in a disaster. Philippe did not know how Erik had thought that this would be a good idea. Better yet, he did not know how Erik had convinced him that this would be a good idea. He was usually the voice of reason.
Philippe reached over to grab his sleeve. The band was playing and they were at the fringe of the crowd, not even close to the lawn where the main crush of bodies was moving as a writhing mass of limbs, but it was still difficult to hold a conversation. He kept a hand on Raoul's shoulder and was relieved when the touch was not brushed off.
"How 'bout we call it a night?" he yelled over the heavy bass. "We got food." In the line to the booth, they had just barely avoided an argument when the woman in front of them simply refused to stop staring at Erik's mask. Philippe had been afraid that she was going to ask him about it. That never ended well, but they had managed to get through without an incident. "We saw the sights and heard the band." It was hard not to hear the band. He had seen Erik grimace several times, and Philippe knew that even though he heard nothing amiss, someone either had hit an off chord or sang a bad note.
Before either of them could answer, Raoul was propelled forward. Erik caught him beneath his arms before he could fall face first into the pavement. He steadied him while Philippe forcefully redirected the man who looked as though he worked for the band before he could continue to plow right through his brother.
"Hey there," Philippe said good-naturedly, "Careful." He did not have to glance over his shoulder to know that Erik was glaring at him.
The man stopped in confusion and shifted the coil of electrical cables on his shoulder. He looked down at Raoul, who flushed at the obvious surprise on the man's face. "Didn't see you." He raised his red cup up before continuing towards the stage with renewed purpose.
"Yeah." Philippe decided, "Let's go."
"Yes," Erik agreed gravely, eyes still following the man until Raoul caught his attention when he shrugged his hands off his shoulders.
Philippe muttered to Raoul, gently bumping his shoulder, "Stay close please."
They had only vacated the immediate area of the concert when Erik stopped them. "I have a better idea." He changed directions and when they were far enough away to hold a decent conversation without yelling, he said, "How about we show him where we spend most of our time?"
Philippe threw his head back, groaning. "Are you going to show him the library?"
"I didn't think you knew what that was." Erik scowled. "We're definitely not going to show him the dance studios."
Philippe could see the beginnings of a smile on Raoul's face and he had finally stopped hunching over himself and staring at the ground. The elder Chagny sighed; apparently his brother was about as sociable as Erik. "You might actually like the libraries here. They're huge. You…" he hesitated, "You still enjoy reading, right?"
Raoul met his eyes for barely a second before looking away. He nodded, eyes following a group of three girls heading towards the main quad.
"The libraries are more impressive in the daytime," Erik said. "They have stained glass windows in the lobbies and some hallways have artwork."
"They're also more G-rated in the daytime, too," Philippe added.
That earned a look from Raoul and a glare from Erik.
He held his hands up in surrender. "From what I've heard." He quickly changed the subject, "Where are we going then?"
"Charge Hall."
Philippe looked appeased with this new destination and let Erik lead them past two buildings. They stopped in front of a tall structure that was quite different from the other red brick structures on campus. It was all steel and glass and had abstract metal sculptures in the two reflection pools in front of it.
"This is the Architecture building," Erik explained. "Most of my classes are here."
"It's actually called the Charles Garnier Hall," Philippe added. He hopped onto the raised walkway that ran around the building and pressed up against the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. "But all the Architecture snobs" – he smirked at Erik - "call it Charge Hall." He waved Raoul over. "Come on."
Reluctantly, Raoul followed him, leaving Erik to stand in the walkway. He copied Philippe, cupping his hands to see through the glare of the streetlamps and into the building. Inside was a large lobby with sofas and coffee tables scattered around. Large metal beams rose into the ceiling, disappearing into the higher floors. The only lights on were shining on several model structures, towers of metal and glass similar to the Hall itself.
"There it is." Philippe pointed. "You see the one that looks like a cross between the Eiffel Tower, a chandelier, and a guillotine?"
That particular model was easy to spot. The framework was metal but unlike the others, it did not look welded together. In fact, Raoul could hardly tell how the structure stayed together. It reminded him of the block city that used to be in his room, beams piled atop each other precariously. He could distinguish the floors easily though. Throughout it, there was glass cut at sharp angles, inset from the beams so that there were balconies. It looked like something that fit in more in the Art department than here.
"You wouldn't think it," his brother continued, "but the glass is like some illusion or something like a kaleidoscope. Do you see that center beam?"
Raoul tried pressing even closer to see better, and he could just barely make out what his brother was talking about. "Uh huh."
Philippe glanced at him in surprise. He shared a look with Erik before continuing, "Well, on that beam, there are two figures in the very center. You can't tell right now, but in the light, it's designed in a way that those figures get reflected on every level, so that it looks like there are people everywhere inside. I had to go up to it to see for myself."
Raoul squinted and was disappointed when he could not see anything of the sort. He could not even see the figures on the beam.
"That one's Erik's," Philippe stated proudly.
Pulling away from the glass slowly, Raoul stared at the floor for a moment before looking towards Erik. "Can we see it?"
Erik and Philippe shared a look of surprise before Erik answered, "The building's closed right now. We'll have to wait until tomorrow."
Raoul offered a small smile before nodding.
"There's nothing as interesting at the Industrial Engineering building." Philippe punctuated his statement with an overdramatic sigh and leaned heavily against the building.
To his surprise, Raoul responded. "Can I-" he hesitated. "Tomorrow. Can I see it anyway?" He did not want to admit how much he had missed the stories that they used to tell about their classes. It was not even really the stories. He just felt like in the few short months that they had not been speaking, he no longer knew them anymore. He had missed this so much and he could almost forget the reason why he had decided to stay away. Almost. He had no choice but to be with them this weekend, so he could make some concessions.
Philippe smiled widely. "Yeah. Of course, yeah. We'll take over a classroom and have lunch in there or something. Charge Hall is too sterile for me. I always feel like I'm going to ruin all the concrete and white walls when I eat in the classrooms."
"You're not supposed to eat in any of the classrooms," Erik interjected.
But Philippe continued, "The ISE building though. Man, that's comfort right there. It's a place you could live in…"
Loud laughter drowned out anything else he might have been saying as a group of four, three men and one woman, passed by the building. One of the men intentionally bumped into Erik. He was easily twice Erik's size. Most of the extra weight was around his waist though since he was a couple of inches shorter than Erik. When he laughed, he clutched at his belly as it jiggled. Stopping, he got up into Erik's face to spit out, "Hey." He pointed, and then laughed loudly while looking towards his friends. "It's a little early for Halloween, isn't it?"
Erik responded with his usual stoicism. He glared, but did nothing more than take a step back. He could smell alcohol on the guy's breath and knew starting a fight would not be worth it. Maybe if the other man were more sober – because this was obviously a drunk-induced bout of bravery – Erik would have said something, but he had learned a long time ago that arguing with drunks was useless and exceedingly frustrating. Not only would the fight be short, it would be unsatisfying. There was also the fact that both he and Philippe had been through this already; they had spent high school fighting for Erik's pride and had been subsequently suspended because of them. He knew there were some battles that his fists could not solve.
"You seem to be saving everyday for assholes," Philippe retorted as he jumped down from the building ledge to stand by Erik's side.
Erik was just about to chastise him, but when he turned, he saw Raoul jumping off the ledge and running straight at the guy. Before Erik could stop him, small, skinny ten-year-old Raoul punched the man near his crotch hard enough that he stumbled backwards towards his friends. He doubled over, both hands clutching at his groin and toppled onto his butt.
"Back off," Raoul stated, and the entire group, even Philippe and Erik, could only stare at him in surprised silence. His hands were clenched in fists so tight that they were shaking at his sides, and he stared at the fallen student.
One of the guy's friends stepped up but stopped when Erik and Philippe went to stand beside Raoul. The odds were in their favour, but they were also drunk. More importantly, the look on both Erik's and Philippe's faces promised severe injuries if they even tried. Raoul was shaking so much, mind raging at the fact that someone dared to make fun of Erik's face that he hardly felt his brother and Erik's presence.
"Let's just go," the girl spoke up as she knelt beside her fallen companion.
The man immediately backed down. He reached down and muttered "Piangi" before chortling at the big man rolling around, holding his groin. Once he started, the others laughed along with him. It took all three of them to drag him to his feet. The guys mocked him all the while about being taken down by a pipsqueak.
As he watched them stumble away, Raoul finally felt how much he was shaking. It took an effort for him to slow his breathing. He waited to be scolded for fighting. He did not even know what had come over him. He had never hit another person in his entire life, had never wanted to, but Erik had not responded. Erik had not defended himself against someone who obviously had no idea of how amazing he was. Raoul had been so angry; there had not been a moment to think. He stared at the ground fixedly, and now his brother and Erik were going to think he was some hooligan, as his father put it.
He looked up in surprise when a hand ruffled his hair. "Thank you." Erik pat his head gently. "But, no need to fight my battles for me, okay?"
Wide-eyed, Raoul nodded silently, fighting the blush he could feel coloring his cheeks.
Philippe slung an arm over his shoulder and for the first time in months, Raoul let himself take comfort in that familiar touch. He still felt jittery, felt as though his heart was going to jump out of his chest. He deserved this for at least a moment.
"Come on, champ." Philippe whooped and pumped a fist in the air. "Mom'll kill me if she knew I was keeping you up carousing at night."
o.o.o.o
End chapter 02 part 2
A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Aww, people shouldn't mess with Erik when Raoul's around. ;3 Also, cameos!