Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: ErikRaoul slash. Post-POTO. A bit of R/C (yeah). General discontent runs through the characters as they are forced to adjust their views of happily ever after. I guess a bit of E/C as well (but that's usually unavoidable)
Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul
A/N: Sorry for being late again. I get distracted (no really though… I need a babysitter) when I don't have someone yelling at me to keep track of what I'm supposed to be doing.
Story note: You know… all these chapters are short, so I'll just stop saying short chapter here. Raoul's trying to be the good guy in this chapter. Stupid Christine.
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Reluctantly Willing
Chapter 04 - … to hide
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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt
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Raoul jerked awake. Looking around in confusion for a second, he realized he was in his own den. The steady breathing he heard surprisingly only served to calm him, a fact he would rather not think about. He'd fallen asleep in his chair again, even after he told himself that he would sleep in his own bed. In the past two days, he found himself interned in his study trying to conduct business while still watching over the ghost. Watching the ghost had taken precedence to his dismay, but no matter how many times he told himself he should leave the ghost alone, he had learned that when the man was unconscious, he was really good company.
Wiping the drool that had gathered on his cheek, he stretched out the kink in his neck before standing up to check on his patient. The last two days, the opera ghost had been sleeping in his den, and for those two days, the man had barely stayed conscious enough to do anything for himself. It was aggravating really, considering this was a grown man he was taking care of. Raoul didn't know why the man refused to stay awake, but the most he had ever gotten out of the ghost was half-lidded eyes and a few mumbled words. There had been the swung arm that had hit him, but Raoul was certain that had been due to a dream.
What was more disturbing than the ghost's continued state of unconsciousness was the fact that Raoul had actually gotten comfortable with the new routine of having to take care of him, and it had only been two days. There was no tediousness in the actions – though there were moments of irritation and discomfort. The silence had even given Raoul more time to think, but this time, the unsettled feeling he'd had with the silence around Christine had all but vanished. He felt calm, almost like it was only now that he could finally think clearly. Perhaps it was because he didn't feel like an intruder in his own household any longer.
Whatever the reason, this unexpected change was better than his old routine; that was certain. Pretending that Christine was not in his house had been about as easy as ignoring the ghost's presence in his den. While he had learned that it was ultimately better to do his best to ignore Christine's presence – since it was better than perpetually wondering what was wrong with their relationship -, Raoul found that he didn't need to ignore the ghost's.
He found himself having rather one-sided conversations with the man, but anything was better than the silence he had been forced to live in. It wasn't as though Raoul told the ghost anything specific, and if he so happened to curse at him just to vent his frustrations, then it was a good thing that the ghost was unconscious and wouldn't realize anything.
It was only fair after all. Two entire days of having to deal with him. Maybe the ghost would ask about the bruise on his cheek when he awoke, but that had been Raoul's prerogative after all. He'd been worried about the ghost's well-being – he'd really thought that a strike to the cheek would certainly wake the ghost.
Much of his anger and hatred had actually burned out in the afternoon of the day after Raoul had carried the ghost back to his estate. A man could only yell so much at an unconscious person before he grew tired of not having a response. Raoul almost missed the disdain in the man's eyes and his arrogance. Almost. It certainly would have made yelling more satisfying if he knew the ghost had actually heard any of it. But all he'd accomplished was to make his servants question his sanity; something he was beginning to question himself.
Crouching beside the man who had slept in a more comfortable position than he had, Raoul gently placed his hand on the man's shoulder.
"Monsieur."
No response. Raoul hadn't really been expecting one. He shook him harder and immediately regretted it when the ghost groaned. Raoul froze, but the ghost didn't show any other signs of waking.
Shaking his head, Raoul wondered at his reaction. He should want the ghost to wake up. Life was so much better with him asleep though.
"You owe me a lot for what I'm doing for you. You better remember that when you wake up," he said, leaning over the ghost and touching his face, more specifically, his deformity. For some reason, Raoul was drawn to it every time he was near the ghost. Probably because it had held such horror for him before, and now, it only brought him mixed emotions; none of which was fear or disgust.
"I think Christine would have chosen you without this," he said, tracing over the bumpy skin. He found himself saying that several times a day to him. It was the truth, and as much as it had hurt the first time the words left his mouth, saying them now only served as a reminder of who they were. It was odd, but Raoul found himself forgetting the role he played in their odd little story sometimes. The man in front of him was supposed to be his enemy. Christine, his love. And, he was supposed to be the hero of sorts; nowadays, he never felt like it. He had saved Christine, hadn't he? Then, why couldn't he be happy? Why couldn't she be happy with where they were now?
He laughed harshly. She was probably happy being away from the estate right now. That was going to change today though.
Christine was to return today, and there was no small amount of bitterness in that thought. Part of it was due to the fact that he had decided she had a right to know that the ghost was here. He had spent much of the two days thinking about what to say to Christine and what would be the best course of action. There was little choice. He could hide it, but she deserved to know. There was no more reason to keep the man a secret. It wasn't like they were actually engaged any more. At least with this knowledge, Christine would have to make a definite choice. There would be no more engaged to be engaged charade.
It was almost ironic because she had supposedly already made the decision between them. Now, she would have to choose again. This time though, he'd force her to really make a choice because it wasn't fair to him that she should choose him and at the same time refuse to be in the same room as him.
He was waiting by the front door when she arrived, hidden from direct sight. He watched her undisturbed for a moment, reveling in the smile and light in her eyes as she walked it. This was the Christine he remembered, the Christine he never saw after Don Juan Triumphant. When he walked into her line of sight, the smile immediately disappeared.
Hesitatingly she said, "Hello, Raoul. I didn't see you there."
He reigned in the sarcastic remark and unexpected hostility he felt towards her. Instead, he smiled, trying to ignore the change of her demeanor at the mere sight of him.
"Hello, Christine. How was your visit?"
She shrugged and walked right by him heading up the stairs to her room.
"Christine," he hated that nowadays, the only way he said her name was either to curse her in his head or to plead with her.
"It was nice," she paused and glanced over her shoulder, tersely replying, "I'm awfully tired though, perhaps we should speak later."
"I have to speak with you right now," Raoul pressed. He needed to do this now before he lost track of her completely in his own estate. What he really wanted was for her to talk to him, to really talk to him without feeling obligated to do so.
She took another step forward before turning around fully to look at him in exasperation.
He couldn't stand to look at her. Looking at the banister, he started, "There's something, someone…"
Her eyes widened. Cutting him off, she said, "I said not right now."
She turned and climbed the stairs before he could say anything else to her. He stood there stunned until the slam of her door reached his ears. It was then that he finally realized he shouldn't just stand there.
Slowly walking up the stairs, he headed for the den instead of his room like he usually did when he and Christine managed to find the time to meet and fight. He stared accusatorily at the ghost before slumping down into the chair.
He would never be able to find her now; in fact, he didn't want to find her at all. It wasn't his fault that she wouldn't listen to him. It wasn't his fault if she didn't know that the ghost was alive and in fact living in the very same house.
The ghost would just be his secret. If she didn't want to know, then he wouldn't tell her. He could force her to decide later. It was better this way.
He stood up and slammed his chair down into the ground to punctuate the thought.
At the sound, the ghost groaned, this time opening his eyes fully.
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End Chapter 04
Word count: 1,574
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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter review: Uh, not the best work done, but what's done is done. I needed to post something.