SORRY FOR SUCH A LONG TIME SINCE UPDATING I EXPLAIN AT THE END.
THANK YOU FOR REVIEWS I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AHHHHHHHHHH!
69 reviews... auehehehehehehe
13sapphire13: I hope so! -wink wink-
Maxine I Love Erik: O.o I'm sorry! Here, here, take a chapter, don't let Erik kill you!
RedDeathLvr: Thanks! I always find it hard to write fluff. I try to make it not awkward or anything lol.
TheRabidWriter: Don't die! And I love music of the night! Haha, I've been waiting to put it in at just the right moment. And LOL at easy bake oven
PanicAtTheEpicness: I"M SORRY! Hahahaa, for some reason I read it wrong! I hope you like this chapter as well... I don't like it as much, I could have done better with it lol. I just had to rush it. And I know, he just had to kiss her. Eleven chapters in, its time for a god damn kiss already, lol. As for sarcasm, I will try to incorporate that in some more dialogue... I just didn't have time to check to see what people wanted me to put in for this chapter because, well, I didn't even have time to make it that long!
SammiRichGirl: I'm so happy I inspired you! I love inspiring people! :D
Xxnikkigirl123xX: HURR IT IZ
PhantomFan01: I know, its like some soap opera, lmao
cHCkrdFLatZ: Thanks! I know before I had trouble with rushing too. The trick is don't rush the beginning to get to the meat of the story. Make people suffer through the set up! Mwuahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...
Poeko: Your name is adorable. Just saying. And I hate those other OC who just drool over Erik too. Its not realistic at all lol. And Erik would never start drooling over someone else from the start either.
Markirs: I am but a slave! Here, enjoy!
goodie58: I hope soooooooooooooooooooo! :D
Tick, tick, tick
The clock is running out.
Time is moving on
Unmoving
Un-phasing.
Repetition is repeating
But, alas, new forms, new moves, new sounds, all at once.
Learning, loving, seeing, breathing
Lift me up, let me soar, let me live!
Tick, tick, tick.
The clock is running out.
Time is moving on.
But, wait…
No.
No pausing, no freezing
Not a moment to spare.
Live it, now! Quickly, quickly, quickly!
Take this chance, do not spare it.
Tick, tick, tick.
Your time, my love, is running out.
Abigail woke to the sound of Beethoven.
Again.
She smiled, snuggling deeper into the silk covers surrounding her, listening to the rises and falls of "Moonlight Sonata". It was such a romantic, and yet, seemingly funeral-esque piece. How could Beethoven have captured such a rare feeling? Perhaps he realized these tones could coincide with each other; they could exist in harmony throughout the piece together… Such contradictory emotions, love and death, both living and breathing through these two hands, rhythmically and peacefully.
Erik ended the song. Abigail's mood instantly dropped; she wanted to cry out, Play it again! Oh, make your hands dance!
But he didn't. Rather, Erik's footsteps glided across the floor, stopping next to her bedside.
"Are you awake yet, my little pianist?" Erik called softly.
She shook her head quickly, wrapping the sheets tighter around herself. Abigail did not want to move; she could stay in this cloud listening to Erik play forever.
A small chuckle escaped his lips. Erik lay down next to her, filling the indentation his body had formed from overnight. Abigail smiled at the memory of him laying there next to her, holding her as dreams stole her away from his touch. Erik wrapped his arms around her, brushing back a large chunk of hair that found its way across her face.
"Our lessons begin soon. I suggest getting ready, or we will begin while you are still half asleep."
"I don't wanna." She pouted.
"If you do not, we will not get to your lesson." He threatened. This disappointed Abigail; she was quite excited to show Erik more of the twenty first century. She had so much lined up for him to do and see!
"Alright." She said, giving in. Abigail offered him a small kiss on his mask, and slipped away to the bathroom.
About an hour later, Abigail found herself singing at the organ, dressed in a strapless yellow sun dress that hugged her near the top, and getting loose near the bottom, stopping just above her knees. She was still drilling different tones, not yet having uttered a sing musical word in her lessons as of yet. However, she did find when singing softly to herself that these drills were doing their job. Abigail could sing higher, lower, and with a better tone than before. She felt new muscles developing not only in her throat, but in her stomach as well.
"Again." Erik demanded.
She sang.
"No, no, that's not it. It's this." And he would sing it to her.
A couple of hours later, their lesson came to an end. Abigail, although slightly frustrated at her lack in progress, was pleased with the day's results.
"Okay!" Abigail cried, jumping off the seat, "Today, we are going to listen to some recent artists."
"Very well." Erik replied. The sound of papers being put away met Abigail's ears. She heard him get up and stand next to her.
"Do you have a radio around here somewhere?"
"No."
"Well," Abigail said, "we can just go to my apartment for the rest of the day then. I have everything we need there."
A pause.
"Your home?"
"Uh, yeah. Why?" she asked, making her way to the boat. An arm grabbed her just as she was about to fall into the water.
"I don't know. I never thought about where you might have lived before here." He said, steering her over to the boat.
"Well, do you have a car or something?" Abigail said, sitting down.
"No. We will have to walk."
"Well, it's quite the walk. About ten, fifteen minutes. I suggest changing out of your cape."
A huff came from the darkness, "Very well." And Erik walked off. A couple minutes later, Erik returned, the usual snap of his shoes gone and replaced with a much softer step.
"Well, don't you look dashing!" she cried.
"You can't even see me."
"But I know you look hot." She said, jokingly wagging her eyebrows.
"Shut up." He snapped, pushing the boat off and jumping inside. Abigail laughed. He was so easy to annoy.
After making the trip outside of the Opera House (the time spent mostly by Abigail bugging Erik as to what exactly he was wearing), Abigail paused, breathing in the afternoon air.
Clean, cool, fresh air. It was so much different than the musky air down in the dungeon. The air above ground was lighter; it carried more of a happy feeling to it. Abigail felt Erik's eyes on the back of her neck, and decided to continue on.
She directed him exactly where her apartment was; the trip would take about fifteen minutes, she repeated from before.
"I do not understand this technology nonsense. I was perfectly fine without all of it." Erik said, grabbing her hand quite hastily. He sounded a bit distracted.
Abigail blushed a little bit at this new contact, but let him hold her hand. She liked it, even if it was a little uncomfortable to her. Abigail never had someone besides Doug hold her hand before, and that was when he was directing her, not out of liking her. He was not wearing any gloves today; his hands felt soft and rough at the same time. Erik's thumb ran across her knuckles soothingly, going back and forth, not stopping.
Was this what couple did? Hold hands and snuggle at night? Was Erik and her a couple? Were they dating? What did that mean for them now? It's not like he asked her or gave her a choice. Perhaps he just assumed that she wanted to be with him. Suddenly, she had the question burning at her lips.
"Erik, are we… Going out?" she asked nervously.
"What is… Going out?" he replied, confused.
"Like, dating."
Erik stopped, making her face him as he spoke, "I thought you agreed to that when you kissed me."
"You never really asked me, though." She replied, "I don't feel like it's really… Official."
Erik sighed. He took both of her hands, kissed each one once and said, "Abigail. Would you do me the honor and allowing me to, officially, become your love interest?"
Abigail burst out in laughter. Love interest? It was too cute.
"What?" Erik said annoyed, "You wanted me to ask!"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Yes, yes, I will." She said, wiping a tear from her eye, "It was just really adorable how you worded it."
"Adorable? I am not adorable." Erik hissed, walking on without her.
Abigail laughed, running a bit to catch up with him. Erik took her hand in his again, forgiving her instantly. Abigail smiled up at him, enjoying his power she held.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at her small little apartment. Abigail walked up to the door and instinctively located the poorly hidden key. After unlocking it, she opened her house to Erik, dropping the key on the small table next to the door for safe keeping.
"Now don't go and move things around," she warned, "otherwise I won't know where anything is anymore."
"It's very small." Erik called, already exploring. She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, well, I can't afford much. And I don't need much either, so it sort of works out."
"How do you read these?" Erik yelled from where her bookshelves were. She followed his voice, arriving next to him. Abigail plucked the novel from Erik's hands and moved a couple fingers over the title. It was Harry Potter and the Sorceress Stone. A giant smile spread across her face.
"Ah, Harry Potter! Best series ever."
"What is a Harry Potter?" Erik asked, confused, "All I see is a black book with bumps on it.
"Not what, Erik, but who. I'll tell you what; I'll read you some of it." She said as she sat down on the floor, patting the ground next to her. She heard Erik sit down next to her, scooting a bit closer.
Abigail opened the book, placed her fingers at the first word, and began to read aloud,
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
"Who are the Dursleys?" Erik interrupted
"Just listen. You can ask questions at the end of each chapter only." Abigail snapped, foreseeing ten thousand questions ahead of them. She read to the end of the chapter, changing her voice along with the character. She could tell Erik was thinking quite hard, for not a sound came from him through the entire chapter. When she finally finished with Harry being left on the foot of the Dursley's house, Erik was still silent, expecting more to come.
"That's the end of the chapter." She reminded him.
"Oh." Erik said, shifting his position slightly, "I'm quite confused…"
And he proceeded to ask thirty questions on a single chapter. Abigail was dumbfounded. Where did he manage to store all of them?
"Erik, maybe I should just keep reading. I'm sure all of your questions will be answered." She said, avoiding answering the continuous stream of curiosity emitting from his brain.
"Very well." Erik replied, leaning back on the bookshelf. He pulled Abigail closer to him. She ignored it, continuing with the next chapter.
They remained there for hours with Abigail calmly reading Harry's adventures to a contemplative Erik. He patiently listened as Abigail brought the story to life with her words, making descriptions come alive as they rolled off of her tongue and into the air around them. She could tell that he was enjoying the tale; he would react to different things with a small laugh at something humorous, or a slight huff when something displeased him. Shockingly, Abigail managed to read the entire novel to him in six hours.
"See you over the summer, then."
"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.
"Oh, I will," said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer...".
Abigail shut the book with a smile, stretching her sore arms. She heard Erik crack his back from next to her. The two were in a post-reading daze; both a little sleepy, both a little light headed. Lack of movement caused the two to groan in misery as they stood, muscles screaming to return to hibernation.
"What did you think of it?" Abigail yawned, placing the novel back on the shelf.
"It was… Pleasant." Erik responded, "Very, very different from the books that I have indeed."
"Writing has changed a lot since the authors of your time, Erik. These books were aimed more towards teenagers, but they still carry a really strong message."
"And what is that?" Erik asked curiously, "All I saw in it was a nice little tale of magical people."
"You need to figure that out for yourself. We should read the rest of the series, or watch the movies. The soundtrack is absolutely amazing. Here, I'll play you a piece from the seventh movie…"
"There's seven movies on this?"
"Actually there are eight," Abigail replied as she walked over to the piano, Erik walking behind her, "There are seven books, but the last one was made into two movies."
"And we will read them all?" he asked, bewildered.
"If you want to. I love them." She said, sitting down at the piano, "The books are not just some fantasy world. You can relate to the characters; they go through pain and suffering, love and hate. Their emotions are exactly of people living today. Here, I'll play you Harry and Ginny."
Abigail placed her hands on the keys, and began to play. It was such a sad tune, but she knew exactly why. They loved each other so much, but could not be together out of fear. Harry longed for Ginny, and she to him, and somehow their love managed to survive through the war they fought. Abigail loved this; all of the pain that the two characters went through was displayed through this piece. There were happy moments, symbolizing the time they spent together, but there was also so much longing and desire. Something was always missing.
"It is beautiful." Erik said, "Quite depressing, however."
"It's a story of two people who love each other, but cannot be together until the end." She replied, "It's a sad song."
"I see. Perhaps I will learn why when we read the next book tomorrow."
Abigail clapped her hands in excitement. She had not read the series in the longest time; this was her chance to have some Harry Potter nostalgia.
She got up and lead him around the rest of her house. When she got to her bedroom, she jumped onto her bed and sighed deeply. It had been so long since she had slept here; it felt almost uncomfortable compared to the swan bed, and yet, it was so much more welcoming and safe.
"Tired?" Erik asked from the doorway.
"Quite."
"Sleep then."
"Nah."
Erik walked over to the bed, pulling the sheets over her, "Sleep, Abigail. I will be just outside."
"Doing what?"
"Singing you to sleep."
And he did. Abigail heard the piano's fine notes float all through the house, blending perfectly with Erik's voice. It soothed her, and without knowing it, she was pulled out of the world around her into the sea of dreams.
The room was cold. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.
He felt himself dying. He could almost hear bits of his soul leaving his body; he could almost sense his mind shutting down.
He did not care.
Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing, nothing, nothing!
Everything was cold; so, so cold…
A shiver ran up his spine.
Blankets lay at his feet. He did not make a move to retrieve them. Why should he prolong his life? He wanted to die. He wanted to destroy himself. This thing, this hideous thing that was his body, had to end. This horrible mind, this evil soul, must be exterminated.
So he waited.
He waited for something to kill him. He waited for some force to end this miserable mistake.
Darkness slowly became his light.
His stomach ached. Nothing had been consumed. Sleep eluded him. He had no idea how long he had been here. Perhaps it had been years. Months. Weeks? Maybe days. Perhaps only hours. He didn't care. All he knew was that he wished to remain.
He heard a few knocks. Somewhere far, far away there was a door opening. A few words were heard. Move movement. It came closer, closer, closer. Fear overwhelmed him. Was this death, finally coming to save him? To finally destroy this abomination?
A door opened. Light shot through the room.
He wanted to scream.
It burned him, and yet he felt nothing at all.
"My god, it's freezing in here!" came a familiar voice. A few beeps. A loud roar. Warmth began to fill the room again.
"Doug, why are you laying around? Get up, come on."
He did not do as this voice commanded.
"Are you okay, Doug?" the voice said gently. He felt something sit down next to him, "What's wrong?"
He opened his mouth to respond to this apparition, but no words came out.
"Look at me, Doug."
He opened his eyes. Aimee's face filled his view, light shining behind her.
"Why do I feel like this." He cried softly to her, "I want to die."
Tears welled up in Aimee's eyes. She leaned down and hugged him. He sat up, hugging her back. Suddenly, things seemed a little better. Maybe dying wasn't such a good idea.
"Doug, I know. She was your best friend."
"I loved her."
Aimee broke free from him, holding his face in her hands. She searched his eyes, looking deep into his soul.
She would find nothing.
"I think it's time to move on, Doug." She concluded.
Move on? How could he move on from this? The one person who understood him was gone, all because they failed. They were a disgrace.
"Go take a shower." Aimee commanded, pulling him up from the bed and sending him out the door. Doug obeyed. He was glad she was there to tell him what to do. Doug wasn't sure if he could function right now.
He tried to avoid thinking too much; it only brought him pain. So, he concentrated on small tasks. Shampoo. Soap. Water. Don't slip. Hair. Towel. Toothbrush. And so on.
Making his way back into his room, he found it had been cleaned. Aimee was putting the finishing touches on his freshly made bed as he tossed his dirty clothes into a nearby hamper. Doug stood there awkwardly, not sure of what to do next.
"Uh… How was your first practice." Doug mumbled
"It was okay. I met some new people."
"That's nice."
Silence.
"I decided that I'll spend weekdays with you until you're better." Aimee said a bit cheerfully, "And on weekends I'm going to stay with this guy-"
"What guy?" Doug demanded.
"He's playing the Phantom in the musical. We need to practice a lot, so we decided that would be best."
"I don't like the sound of this." Doug replied, shifting back and forth, "You just met the guy. What if he is weird or something?"
"On, Doug," Aimee said, folding her arms over her chest, "he is perfectly normal!"
"I want to meet him."
"Fine! We can stop off here before we leave for his house on Friday!"
"Fine!" Doug said angrily.
Aimee stared at Doug, slightly surprised, "Why are you so upset?"
"Why aren't you?" he demanded, "She was your best friend too."
Aimee sighed, "Doug. People leave your life all of the time."
"But she's with a mad man!"
"Maybe she's better off! The Phantom seemed to… I don't know, like her a bit. You were knocked out, you wouldn't know."
"I know who he is. I don't need to know any more."
"What if she's happy?"
"She's not. I know Abigail."
"You haven't seen her with him."
"I've seen more than you!"
Doug glared at Aimee. How could she imply that Abigail liked the Phantom? He was an insane man living below ground for the past two hundred or so years. HOW on EARTH could she POSSIBLY in a THOUSAND YEARS take a liking to him? He was a brute, a witch, a predator. The man was the opposite of Abigail. Abigail was an angel; he was a devil.
"I do not believe that Abigail could see anything but darkness in his heart." Doug said slowly.
"Maybe she changed him." Aimee said just as slowly, "She's good at that, you know."
It was true. Abigail had touched both of their lives, changing the two of them forever. But this was beyond the point. Nothing could change… That.
All he wanted was Abigail back, safe in his arms. He wanted her to say she loved him, just as much as he loved her.
He knew love was blinding him; Doug did not care. They made their way through the week with difficulty. Every day, Aimee would arrive at his house around ten in the morning. She would make sure he was up and running, which he never was. All he wanted to do was sleep away his troubles. It took about thirty minutes to coax him out of bed and start the day. Aimee would take care of him until she had to leave for practice, or when she didn't, she would stay with him until dinner and then leave.
She would read and watch movies with him. Doug knew she was trying to get him to get his mind off of Abigail, to try to get him to enjoy life again. But all he could think about was a new way of stealing her back. He felt bad for brushing off her efforts, but he knew she would forgive him when he finally got her back. Eventually.
Friday rolled around. He knew that today was the day she would be bringing over this man she would spend weekend with. Doug felt oddly protective of her; perhaps he did not want to lose another friend. He made a point to remind her the day before to bring him over.
Around nine thirty at night, a knock came at the door. Doug rushed over, making sure his grandmother did not get to it first. He opened the door to a smiling Aimee and a tall, handsome man behind her. Doug already did not like him.
"He, Doug. This is Drew." Aimee said, motioning behind her, "Can we come in? It's a bit cold."
Doug nodded stiffly, staring directly at Drew. Shutting the door behind them, Doug folded his arms over his chest, looking back and forth between them.
"So. Drew, right? Why do you want Aimee over your house again?" he asked rudely.
"Well, we need a lot more practice than everyone else." Drew said carefully, and slightly uncomfortably, "The show is literally about us, so we are basically the musical. If we are not perfect, the show is not perfect."
"I don't see the point in her staying over every weekend. I mean, what's the goal in that? Seems a bit much." He replied stiffly.
"Well, it's so we don't need to worry about transportation. She will have the guest bedroom. It's strictly professional, if that's what you're worrying about."
Doug's eyes widened at the comment, but kept his cool.
"You just call me if you need me Aimee." he said, keeping his narrowed eyes on Drew, "I am only a cry for help away."
Drew raised his eyebrows, but didn't retaliate.
"Listen, Aimee," Drew said, "It's late. I'll be in the car waiting."
Aimee nodded, and he left. She sighed, shook her head, and made her way to the door.
"Its fine, Doug. He's not going to rape me or something. We're friends, okay? You need to trust me."
"I do trust you, Aimee. I just don't trust him."
"I'm not getting kidnapped." She glared.
Doug sputtered, but didn't respond. Aimee shook her head and left without another word.
He growled at nobody and returned to his room. Doug began to think. He needed to get serious. One of the main reasons they failed, Doug had realized, was that Aimee and him did not plan enough for their rescue mission.
Doug already knew when he would do it; he just needed a game plan.
He giggled madly at his own ingenious. It was the perfect night to do it; he knew exactly where Abigail would be. Aimee would not be able to stop him. Nobody would be wondering where he would be…
Under the sheet of darkness, he would slip away while everyone's eyes were turned to her. Doug would snatch Abigail from under the Phantom's nose, and nobody would be the wiser.
He laughed again, clutching his hair to contain his master plan.
I feel so guilty... It was so short, I wanted it to be longer, and I wanted to go more into Doug and all, but ugh! Writers block held me back for awhile, but then I got this REALLY GOOD IDEA for the end of the story, so I wrote that down, and THAT wasted time, and I was planning on updating Thursday but then was like, OH FUCK. I havent written anything and its Thursday. So I wrote all of this in like two days (mostly just before uploading now) and I feel like it could have been done so much better. I promise I'll make the next one better, I pinky promise.
Ugh, so mad at myself.