Title: Don't Fear the Reaper
#: 03. All First Loves
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: A fic about death - as in, everyone you care about dies; this is not an exaggeration. A fic wherein the Chagny family is of intense interest to a soul reaper.
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul, Raoul/Christine
Warning(s): het, AU, reaper!Erik, canonical character death
Word Count: 1,931
Rating: T
A/N: Thanks for all the reviewers. :) I appreciate the support and the fact that you guys like supernatural!AU's as much as I do.
Story note: The age jumps… I chose the most important ones. Or at least the ones I thought to be most important. You probably might not agree. DX
o.o.o.o
Raoul is twelve when he first falls in love.
She is pretty and sweet. The contrast of the red scarf she favours makes her skin look a beautiful porcelain, like one of the dolls her father often gives her. He has never met anyone so pretty. Her brown hair is so curly that it never does what she wants it to do; it always falls in front of her face. He tries to be the one to brush it back for her because he secretly likes the way she blushes whenever he does so. She makes him laugh, and he wants her always to be able to do so. She is petite but her smile is wide and her brown eyes draw him in, making him forget the world around them exists. He loses himself, loses days and weeks to time spent in her attic, having picnics and telling stories, tales of adventure and bravery. Raoul wants nothing more than to be those heroes, maybe even be a hero for her. He wants to protect her from the world.
Then, there is her father. He might love her more because of him. Monsieur Daae is kind and always welcomes him into his home. He plays the violin for them while Christine sings and it is the most enchanting performance Raoul ever sees in his life. She is somehow more than herself when she sings; she becomes part of the music with each crescendo and diminuendo, filling the room, surging through him. Her father even offers to teach Raoul how to play and keeps on trying to even when they learn rather quickly he does not have the gift of music. The older man has a warm laugh and tells the best stories. Monsieur Daae is almost how he remembers his father being.
He says almost because flashes of twisted bodies and empty eyes always arise when he thinks of his parents even now, and it is difficult to remember anything beyond that. He knows his father was strong, kind, and determined. Philippe has told him as much time and again. What he himself remembers more clearly are impressions of how his parents used to make him feel: safe, happy, strong. Anything more specific than that, he only lets himself think about distantly.
He likes Monsieur Daae, who turns out to be more of a father figure than his brother ever tries to be - for which Raoul is actually thankful because he needs his brother more than he needs a brother pretending to be a father.
Right now, he is rather mad at Philippe regardless. His brother wants to ruin his life, tear him away from his happiness. Lying on his bed, he lets himself be angry with him, angry that he is going to be left here while the Daae's move on to better things. They are parting ways tomorrow, and no amount of begging on his part seems to convince Philippe to let it be otherwise. It is not fair. Grabbing the pillow beneath his head, he throws it across the room, pleased when it strikes the wall with a satisfying thud before sliding to the floor.
"A tantrum?"
Raoul turns his head to glance from the corner of his eye at the man who appears from seemingly nowhere. He is used to the leather gloves and black suit-clad form that stands by his bed. He need not turn to look at him completely for he knows what he will see. There is comfort in the consistency of his slicked hair, his poise and composure, of his angry-at-the-world mien. The right half of his face is in ruins. The flesh looks to be a combination of having been melted and scratched off; the muscles and tendons there are poorly concealed beneath mostly thin, scar tissue.
He remembers a time when the older man once shied away from him, worried about what he would think. Even though he finally relented about not hiding his face, the reaper never bothered to ask him directly what he thinks when he sees the deformity. Raoul thinks it to look painful, but knows that to be false. He thinks it to be just another part of him, like his gloves or his hair or his elbow, and he likes it as much as he likes everything else of the reaper's. He does wonder sometimes how he obtained such an injury, but has never received a response when he asks. The reaper is always silent when there is question he cannot or does not want to answer.
"Erik," he reaches out a hand to him. Rather obediently, Erik takes his hand and sits at the edge of the bed when he is tugged down. "Did you hear what Philippe decreed?"
He nods slowly. Erik just so happened to be around when they were speaking – well, Philippe had been speaking. Raoul had been whining.
The young boy shifts so that he can grab Erik's hand with both of his. Squeezing tightly, he says in complete seriousness, "I shall never love again."
After a moment, Erik realizes that he will not continue. That is the end of his statement and it has been punctuated with a stricken expression as Raoul silently bemoans his fate and imagines a future without love. Raoul does not think to explain further because he has spent entire evenings telling Erik everything that is perfect about Christine: her voice, her skin, and her father. He assumes that Erik will understand why his life is now over.
Placing a hand on Raoul's head, he brushes the stray hairs away from his face. It takes him a while before he knows what to say, but Raoul is so caught up in his misery that he is actually patient enough to wait for it.
"All first loves feel like this," he says.
There is a wistful tone to the words that make Raoul sit up, forgetting his own woes for a moment. He scoots beside him, ducking under Erik's arm in order to press up against his side.
"And you know?" he asks, tugging Erik's arm tighter around his shoulder in order to take comfort in his solid presence.
Erik looks down at the wide blue eyes longing to find both camaraderie in his woes and insight into moving on, if there is such a thing. Raoul knows he will be honest with him no matter what and his eagerness is tempered with a bit of fear.
The reaper picks his words carefully. "I could never forget the first time someone mattered more than myself. Can you?"
Raoul leans his head back against his shoulder, brows furrowed as he thinks. "Is that what love is? Someone mattering more than me?"
After a moment, Erik explains, "There are different types of love, Raoul." He turns to press his chin on the top of his head.
"I know that." Raoul retorts with the fickleness of youth spurring him on. He ducks from beneath Erik's arm, shrugging away from him. He flings himself back down onto the bed with a large sigh. "It is too true," he mutters to himself as he turns to his side and curls his body around where Erik sits. He sounds less invested in the words, a part of him still thinking about what has been said. Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath and his frown deepens.
Erik grabs his hand and Raoul shifts forward to press his cheek against the leather glove.
"Does love always hurt like this?" he asks instead.
When he does not receive an answer immediately, he looks up at him worried. He has his answer when Erik will not meet his eyes.
"Just take me now then," he moans, turning his face into his comforter.
Erik's response is immediate and biting. "Never say that."
Surprised, Raoul freezes when he sees Erik has tensed; his shoulders are stiff and his back is too straight. His gaze is intense and Raoul has never seen this particular expression on his face before. He cannot quite decipher what the reaper is feeling: angry, hurt, scared?
"Never say that again," he repeats, shaking his head. His voice is hard even though his touch is still gentle, almost painfully so since it seems to make Raoul's chest hurt more. Erik is always gentle with him.
He nods hesitantly, looking properly chastised as he averts his eyes. Laying his head back down, he stares at their clasped hands. When Erik places his hand on his head once more, he leans into the touch.
"I am sorry," he murmurs, peering from beneath his hand.
Erik has relaxed if only a fraction and Raoul does know what his current expression means. He, too, is sorry even if the words themselves never pass his lips.
"Please never make jest about the contract," he implores and Raoul does not understand why he is so affected by a single piece of paper. He has seen it and both Philippe and Erik have explained what it means, and Raoul would have chosen the same thing as his father. He cannot imagine what his life would have been like without his mother, even if he had her for only five years. It is merely a piece of paper. For the reaper's sake though, he knows he will comply. He is willing to forget all about the contract and never mention it again.
Erik, however, is the one who continues the topic. "I gave my word to let you live your life," he explains. The words are familiar but Raoul has never seen Erik so intent on making him understand. "And you would not truly want me to end it so soon." He looks away and echoes, "It is too soon."
Raoul does understand, but for that moment, his chest had hurt so badly thinking about what he was losing that the words simply fell out. He could not explain it now because it seems silly in the wake of Erik's reaction. He knows the reaper would never hurt him even if he asked.
"I…" He is not sure what to say, maybe apologize again, but when Erik seems to pull away from him, he just grabs his wrist tightly to keep his palm and the cool leather against his cheek. Eventually, he agrees with him, "I know it is too soon."
Erik smiles down at him sadly, a small upturn of his disfigured lips. "The girl," he says. "When you see her tomorrow…"
Raoul looks at him in confusion because Erik rarely speaks of Christine even when he spends entire evenings only upon that single subject. He decides he does not like it, especially when Erik extracts his hand from Raoul's in order to stand up and turn his back to him.
His voice is flat when he tells him, "Her father will die within the year."
It takes a moment for the words to make sense. Raoul pushes himself partly up. "Monsieur Daae? You… but…"
"You have my leave to inform her." Erik glances over his shoulder, pain in his expression.
The reaper is gone before he can respond, and Raoul is left mourning Monsieur Daae's impending death and wondering what to tell Christine when he sees her tomorrow. This is a gift, he knows, one of the only and most important gifts a reaper can give, a timeline. He just does not know what to do with it.
Raoul is twelve and he cannot find the words to tell his first love that her father is going to die.
o.o.o.o
End chapter 03
A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Raoul is so dramatic. :D
Third chapter and three people are already dead (his parents and Msr Daae). DX What is with this body count? But honestly, not everyone dies in this fic.