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: I hate weekend writing. There's something about working during a weekend that makes it near impossible to concentrate. Don't you agree? But I muscled through this one and just missed posting on the right day.

Story Note: There's a scene that's missing from this chapter. Like, I had an idea when I was away from both computer and pen/paper, and now that I'm here, I can't remember it. All I know is that it was a really nice E/R interaction scene. T.T Stupid fleeting thoughts.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 15 - … to laugh

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

o.o.o

Raoul was getting used to the new schedule they'd fallen into.

They would wake up in the morning, one of them on the bed and one on the floor beside it. Thinking about their sleeping situation, Raoul couldn't help but feel it had been one of his first and only victory with the ghost, because that was the first time Erik had actually listened to him in a direct confrontation. He hadn't been able to save Christine's things as they had mostly been burned. What Erik hadn't burned had been sold and in some cases where Raoul had been able to talk to his attendant secretly, donated, though he was certain Erik had just let him believe he was doing it secretly. The man really had quite an extraordinary ability at being everywhere and hearing, seeing, noticing everything. The bed, though, was definitely a victory.

After sharing breakfast, Raoul would attend to whatever business needed attention. He wasn't sure whether it was in deference to Erik, who still refused to leave him alone for any long duration of time, or because he himself did not wish to venture far from his estate, but he'd managed to conduct all his business from his den through missives. None of his business partners seemed to mind – he was certain that was mostly due to the fact that no one wanted him to be such a public patron any longer after the Opera Populaire fiasco, not that he could blame them.

While he was working, Erik would usually be reading or scribbling away on paper that he'd claimed as his own – Raoul didn't particularly mind that Erik never asked for anything and would simply take it and claim it as his own. It was probably just his situation in life that had brought about such a personality quirk. He could just imagine how a poorly treated deformed child or man would never be able to ask for anything. Erik had probably only received pain and suffering when he asked for things.

The only thing that bothered Raoul was that he didn't know what the man was writing. His curiosity got the better of him, but Erik never shared. He didn't think it was particularly fair when Erik spent several hours a day just looking over his shoulder at what he was working on. The man even criticized his decisions and suggested ideas. It seemed only fair that he should be able to see what the other man was doing, too. So far, he hadn't gotten far; he'd actually only gotten several bruises, a sound talking to, and more than his normal share of Erik's criticisms.

They would work until lunch, which they would usually take in the den, simply because Raoul would never be able to finish all his duties in the morning. Ever since he'd become a silent contributor, he'd taken on more responsibilities. He hated to admit that he'd done so mostly because he'd wanted a distraction from Christine's continued presence in his home but absence from him. He refused to back out of any of them even though it was only tiring him further and more often than not, he was working by rote. In the end, he knew that he would still need the distraction.

After finishing his work by late afternoon, they would finally leave the den and relax in the sitting room, drinking brandy and reading. It was this time that Erik would begin to show signs of restlessness. Raoul took special note of this. The ghost would walk around the room, never being able to stay seated for a while. It wasn't as though Raoul didn't understand. The man didn't have anything to do. He had nothing to keep him interested and everyone had a limit to how much time they could spend reading and writing, even if Raoul didn't know what he was writing.

It was during these moments that Raoul would suddenly remember that this wasn't permanent. Erik would eventually leave, wanted to, and Raoul didn't know why he was beginning to wish he wouldn't. Was it just because he was afraid of being alone or was it something else? He didn't want to think of the answer to that question. It wouldn't' matter. The ghost was going to leave when he saw fit.

When the time came, they would go to the dining room to eat, neither of them sitting at the head of the table in an unspoken agreement – one that was there simply for the sake of avoiding an unnecessary argument. Instead, they sat across from each other not sharing any more words than was necessary. Raoul found, like the ghost's continued presence, that the silence didn't disturb him very much. It felt almost natural, and he supposed it was natural. After all, they'd been living together, been inseparable for weeks now. It was only natural that it wasn't completely awkward to have periods of silence. They each had enough to think about anyway.

After dinner, they would walk around the estate even when the moon was hidden behind clouds and Raoul would trip over every dirt mound and protruding root. Erik never had any problems, and while Raoul was jealous of such an ability, he didn't bother complaining. He rather appreciated their walks. The night air was cool and the animals were less cheery than those birds during the daytime.

He had a feeling that Erik preferred the darkness anyway. He still saw the man turn away to hide his deformity from the servants when they were in the house. Erik never did so around Raoul, but then again, Raoul figured it was probably part of Erik's plan to remind him of his failure. Those words came to his mind sometimes, and he would always find himself frowning. It was his fault though for saying Erik reminded him of Christine.

After their walk, they would retire for the night, already knowing who would have the bed and who would sleep on the floor.

Raoul imagined this was what life would've been like with Christine. Perhaps not the sleeping arrangement, hopefully, but he had to admit, he stopped dreading the morning. There were times when work seemed interminably long, but slowly, he was becoming accustomed to this life. He could even say that he was almost content with the way things were.

This was what he'd wanted for Christine and himself, a happy content life. He'd wanted a life together that had withstood the test of time and even though excitement wouldn't fill every day, they'd have grown comfortable around each other, in the silence, in the space that existed between them, in the way they moved together. This had been their future. This would have been them.

He sighed. That wasn't true. This was what he had wanted life with Christine to be like, but he now knew that it wouldn't have been like this at all.

After learning the ghost's name, Raoul felt as though his eyes had been opened. It felt as though he were seeing the ghost – no, not the ghost, Erik for the very first time, and with that one revelation, it seemed like everything else clicked into place as well.

He could think about Christine, think about them without ignoring their faults. He'd been so blind to her shortcomings. It wasn't that Christine was a bad person. It was just that he hadn't really been seeing her. He hadn't been seeing what she'd been doing to them. She'd used him and prolonged a relationship that she'd known she hadn't wanted.

He wasn't blameless in their relationship either. If only he'd listened to her more. If only he hadn't forced her to do something she hadn't wanted. If only he'd pursued her. He might have seen that she didn't want to get married. He would have seen that her love for him had changed over time, that she'd changed. She wanted something more, something that Raoul would never be able to give her.

She might've loved him at one time, but definitely not in the way that he'd wanted or expected. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered why she'd blamed him for not being able to allow her space to move on. That still didn't make sense to this moment.

While he couldn't hate her for what she'd done, he couldn't quite say he could love her despite those actions. She hadn't been sorry at all with what she'd been putting him through. She never valued his presence, never respected him enough to speak about their relationship as adults should have. Instead, she ran and Raoul hadn't been able to follow her.

He'd reviewed their time together and he discovered that they'd never spent more than a few hours alone together at one time. He couldn't quite believe it at first, but it was the truth. As children, they'd always had her father. In the opera house, she'd always been busy. And in his own home, she'd refused to be in the same room with him at all. From what he could remember, the most he'd ever experienced with her alone had been on the rooftop of the opera house. The meetings after had been stolen moments, nothing longer than a few minutes. His proposal had been interrupted by a servant and after that, there'd been not much of anything else but the planning and the chase.

He could still distinctly remember what loving her had felt like though. He would never deny that he had loved her; he couldn't erase his past like that no matter how much he wanted to sometimes. It had been love. He'd loved the idea of her, the idea of them together in that image he'd constructed, in that fantasy that had no place in reality since it really had been so groundless.

He could imagine what their life would have been like had they actually married.

She would eventually become silent, a mere shadow of who she once was even though he'd tell her to continue singing. She would learn the type of pressure the elite employed, since she would have to socialize with them. Raoul was certain that since she hadn't grown up with that type of coercion that was so normal for him, she would buckle under their scrutiny. He would try to convince her that they were wrong, but the elite had a way of changing minds that was difficult to undo. She would stop singing and would regret every minute of it. He would try to support her, console her, convince her to go back, but she would hold firm in her decision. He would try to shield her from all that, but it would be impossible. Christine would put up a strong façade, but slowly, she would learn to hate him, despise him for the life that she could have had as an opera singer. He wouldn't have been enough for her.

Raoul knew that now, knew it like a sin he was still trying to be absolved of. It stained his soul and remained even as he'd long since performed the act itself. The pain was gone; that stabbing, debilitating pain was gone at least. What had remained was the persistent undercurrent of guilt and an ache in memory of the dream that had died.

It was progress. He knew he was actually doing it – with Erik's help, he was moving on. The problem was that he wasn't the same. He wasn't the same person he'd been when he'd loved Christine or even the person he'd been before he'd arrived at the opera house. When compared to that person, he couldn't help but feel like they hadn't made much progress at all. He could barely imagine a day without feeling exhausted from the effort of living. He'd been so full of energy before, so intent on doing everything himself, on literally grabbing the reins of life of anything.

He was too drained for all of that. He'd become dependent on others' help whether it was his butler or the 'advice' from the ghost. Advice was a very nice word for it; Raoul would consider them more admonitions. The walk around the estate was the most he could do with the amount of energy he had. He barely had enough energy to grab his utensils to eat.

Still, he had to admit that it was a little easier to smile nowadays; he found more reasons to smile actually. He didn't know if there were simply more occasions that arose or if it were his perception that had changed. He didn't even know if he was truly happy. He didn't know if he could be when his whole ambition for the future had been destroyed in one fell swoop.

And that was what life was for him now. He'd feel better some days while on others, he didn't know what to do with himself. It was as though no matter how much progress he was making, it was never going to be enough until he found something else to hope for. He just couldn't imagine wanting another dream. It hurt too much to lose them.

o.o.o

Erik felt smug, hadn't been able to feel like this in a while. It was more than just the kind of smug he'd felt at seeing Christine and Raoul at odds with each other when he'd first arrived. This was the intense satisfaction of knowing a plan was going to succeed. It was like watching a masterpiece in the process of being completed, progressing further and further towards the final product.

Even if it was just his project on the Vicomte, any step towards success was making him rather pleased. Raoul had stopped having those moments where he'd look to be in pain at the memory of Christine's absence.

He knew that the boy hadn't stopped thinking about her. The signs that said he was were simply different now. It wasn't a tensing of muscles and the irritation afterwards. When Raoul thought of her, it started with a sigh, progressed to the slumping of his shoulders, and ended with a wounded look on his face.

That last expression always made Erik want to gag. Raoul's lips would press together a little tighter, almost a pout, but not quite. His eyes would be open wide and his blue eyes would beg that someone take his pain away. Erik always looked away for that last part. Besides the nausea, that look somehow managed to make him feel badly as well. He didn't know how Raoul managed to do that.

Erik had learned rather quickly that confronting the blonde post thoughts of Christine was not as fun as it had been previously. Raoul wouldn't fight back. In fact, he'd only hang limply in Erik's grasp with his head down. Erik knew the blonde was taking everything he was yelling to heart and then, the boy would apologize. Erik couldn't stand that apology. It was pathetic. It was an indication that Christine still held some sway over him.

Those moments when Raoul still thought about Christine occurred more than Erik would've liked, but Raoul had at least stopped moping as much. He also stopped trying to hide from him, but Erik knew that was because he hadn't given him any choice in the matter.

Overall, even though the plan was taking longer than he'd expected, it was still on track. He was closer to his goal.

A part of him was a bit disappointed though. This wasn't the Raoul he knew. This was a Raoul who had been tainted with the experience of having been completely devastated by the love of his life. Erik, unfortunately, was familiar with that experience. This Raoul simply wasn't putting up much of a fight at all. He would listen to Erik so trustingly that Erik was tempted to lead him astray. He didn't though, only because it would harm his plan if he did.

Every morning, he watched Raoul closely at breakfast to see how much he ate. It was the main indicator of how well the blonde was doing. Some days were better than others.

Today, Raoul seemed to be having a particularly good day. He was a bit clumsy, but something was definitely different about him. Erik was suspicious. He tried to remember what had happened the day before, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Breakfast had been a quiet. In the morning, he'd finally finished that sketch of the Chagny estate and the plans for a better stable than they currently had. Then, there'd been lunch, and he'd rechecked some of the papers Raoul had gone through.

The blonde was good enough, but sometimes he missed opportunities to improve his business ventures. Erik didn't know how some of those businesses succeeded with such incompetence from their actual owners. With Raoul's money and Erik's guidance, he was certain they could be vastly improved.

Then, they'd spent some time in the sitting room. Erik always wished for his organ at that time. Late afternoon was the perfect time to play music; as the sun began to set, it would remind him of his home beneath the opera house. The reds and oranges the sun cast into the room reminded him so much of the candlelight he'd been forced to work by before. While he could continue to read or draw, his fingers simply itched to play. He'd gone so long without music and even though his head was filled with so many songs and melodies nowadays, he didn't like composing without hearing it aloud. He liked to have the music thrum through him.

Yesterday, while he paced around the room, he'd mentally finished drafting the extension for the house that would hold an organ just for him. He doubted Raoul would stop him if he wanted it enough and he didn't just want it; he needed it.

Luckily dinner had arrived and had been enough of a distraction to banish those unnecessary thoughts from his mind. The walk after had helped as well. Those evening walks were completely new for him. While it reminded him of the tunnels of the opera house, the coolness of fresh outside air was something absolutely new to him. He didn't even remember how they'd started that part of their ritual. It had simply been there. He also appreciated it for the fact that Raoul had horrible night vision. It was constant amusement for him to watch the blonde trip over, what was for him, obvious discrepancies in the grass. They spent hours in the darkness of the Chagny estate walking first through the lawns, where Raoul would trip on the uneven grass, to the woods, where Raoul would trip on roots and shrubs. Still, the blonde never complained. He rather took everything in stride, frowning for a moment at the offending piece of earth before the now common neutral expression took over.

No, nothing had happened yesterday. He didn't know why Raoul would be acting oddly now.

Raoul had a secret, an actual secret from Erik. It was one of those unexpected occurrences that made him smile, and he knew he was doing a horrible job at keeping it from Erik. He just couldn't help it. He'd woken that morning on his bed that smelled of both him and Erik and he'd had an epiphany. Then during breakfast, he 'accidentally' dropped his utensil and went into the kitchen to get a replacement. As he'd expected, Erik hadn't followed him, hadn't even appeared suspicious when he'd returned not too long after with a new fork.

It hadn't taken long to put his plan into action. And now, he had a secret. He called it victory number two in his head.

Erik watched Raoul closely. He was acting odd and it took him a moment to realize why. The blonde seemed excited. He was hiding something, but that was impossible. Erik was constantly with him. What could he possibly hide? He wondered if maybe this was simply the next stage in how Raoul was coping with Christine's absence. It seemed too abrupt a change though. Yesterday had been normal. This new development was simply too drastic and made him uneasy.

Maybe the blonde had finally reached the conclusion that if he pretended to be happy then Erik would finally leave him alone. Erik didn't think he would be able to have such foresight. He didn't think the boy could lie to him that effectively in order to try to fool him to such an extent. So, he watched Raoul as they worked and ate lunch. Raoul was hiding something, but he wasn't acting.

Erik didn't know why he was worried that Raoul had actually gotten better in a single day. It was unlikely, but if it were true, then he should be overjoyed that he could finally leave.

His mind raced as he sat in his chair, hand gripping the book he'd grabbed off the shelf without looking. He should be watching Raoul as he worked, maybe go through some of the paperwork, but he could only think that he might have already succeeded in his plan.

Now, he was at a loss for what to do next. He had to chase after Christine, right? This was the moment that he'd been waiting for. He needed to pack all of the clothes he'd accumulated thanks to Raoul's funds. He'd have to figure out where to start to look for her. She could be anywhere right now, out of the city, out of the country. He could pay for some investigators. He could track Madame Giry. Christine would have left word with her. She would have had to. That was the only family she had left, and Christine was always concerned about family. She wouldn't have disappeared completely.

And Raoul. Raoul would be happy in this house, sleeping in the bed that Erik adored for its texture, its softness, its smell. Raoul would go on doing business averagely and morosely spending his afternoons sitting by the fireplace with a snifter in hand, reading a book. He'd take his walks through the estate and do an even worse job staying on his feet because Erik wasn't there to lead him through the areas with the least amount of obstacles on the ground.

Erik shook his head, eyes barely focusing on the page he'd opened the book to. He didn't believe it. He didn't believe that Raoul stopped loving her already. He wouldn't believe it until he saw some concrete proof. Until that moment actually occurred, he still had time to prepare himself to find Christine.

Raoul placed his pen down with a sigh. He expected Erik to look at him, but the other man was simply staring at his book. He narrowed his eyes at his inattentiveness. Erik was never inattentive; Raoul almost feared that he'd already been found out. It didn't seem like it though. Tilting his head to the side, Raoul tried to see what book he was reading but was unable to see it.

Instead, he tried to obtain Erik's attention again. Standing up, he pushed his chair back, making sure it scraped the floor before stretching rather loudly.

Erik looked up at the sound. He stared at Raoul suspiciously before asking, "Done already?" He knew Raoul couldn't have finished already. There were too many papers on his desk.

Raoul looked down at all the work he had yet to complete. He wasn't anywhere near done yet, but they were things he could simply finish tomorrow. He shrugged and inclined his head towards the book still in Erik's hand. "How far did you get in the book?"

Erik glanced at the book. He had forgotten he was even holding it. He'd just needed a distraction, or at least to look like he was doing something other than thinking. He snapped the book shut.

Not minding that his question was left unanswered, Raoul suggested, "Let's go for a walk. I don't feel like working right now."

If Raoul were trying to prove a point about being better already, Erik was not convinced. Just because this behavior was different than their normal schedule didn't mean anything.

He looked closely at the blonde's expression. He wasn't smiling. His expression was serious, but there was that hint of something more. Erik couldn't describe it. Maybe Raoul didn't look as impassive as he usually did or act as indifferent either. Erik could tell that he really wanted to go for that walk right now.

Playing along for now, Erik stood up and placed his book on the seat. He headed out first. Raoul followed closely, but paused to look at the title of the book that Erik had been reading. L'homme Qui Rit. Raoul frowned. He hadn't read that book in a while, but from what he recalled, he didn't understand why Erik had been so engrossed. Deciding he could think about it later, Raoul pushed it to the back of his mind. There were more important things to think about right now, like his secret.

All he had to do now was keep Erik busy until dinner. That shouldn't be too difficult. He decided the best way would be to enjoy the prolonged victory with a walk around the estate. It was afternoon, but luckily for them, the sky had clouds. Well, it was lucky for Erik. Raoul knew how much the man disliked the sun.

Keeping his composure, Raoul tried to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary. He kept their pace slow, allowed himself to notice the things he'd failed to notice and appreciate for so long now.

This secret was making everything look brighter, or maybe it was the fact that he could actually see where he was going now. The fact that he wasn't tripping was an added bonus. They went towards the back of the estate first and Raoul suddenly realized this was where he'd run from Christine. This was where he'd screamed his pain knowing that everything had ended between them. He'd thought Erik had left with her; it would have made sense.

It was odd now to think about how the phantom was now walking with him here. He couldn't help but wonder why the ghost wasn't leaving just yet. He knew the reasons that were on the surface. He could even see why Erik was trying to make him forget about Christine. He didn't want a repeat of what had already happened.

Raoul glanced at Erik.

Erik wouldn't have that problem. There was no way that Raoul was going to make the same mistake twice. He just wondered if the ghost were making a mistake too, by chasing after her. It wasn't any of his business though. He didn't have a say in such things. He could only wait for the day when Erik would leave. Just like Christine had.

Erik almost shouted out in victory. Instead, he managed to simply smirk. "You thought of her," he pointed out.

Nodding, Raoul didn't bother trying to lie about it. He averted his eyes, however, in hopes that Erik couldn't tell that he'd been thinking of him as well. Nowadays, every thought of Christine seemed to have a corresponding thought of Erik attached to it. It was a bit confusing.

He answered wryly, "It happens sometimes."

"Too many times," Erik replied even though they'd walked so far without Raoul having thought about Christine that Erik almost thought that he really had gotten over her.

Raoul didn't have a response to that. He did think about her too much, but then again, he thought that once a day was too much. Erik probably had the same definition as him anyway.

They continued through the woods and exited towards the stable. Raoul had calmed considerably, but the thought of his surprise was too good to contain. The silence made him want to blurt out his secret, especially when Erik would look at him so suspiciously. He found himself talking about his childhood just to ignore that urge. He didn't care that Erik probably didn't care about his affinity for horses or how'd he wanted to become a pirate as a child. He avoided the topic of Christine even as he spoke about all the time he'd spent at the beach just looking out into the ocean, swimming out as far as he dared just to look for ships.

He was probably giving Erik more opportunity to mock him later on, but for now, he was simply silent. Raoul glanced every now and then. Erik's eyes were usually drawn towards some tree or just a distance away. He didn't look interested at all, but it passed the time faster than silence.

When dinner finally came, Raoul had long since run out of acceptable childhood stories and was talking about new business ventures in other cities as well as Paris. He wondered if he should stop speaking once the food arrived since it was custom that they eat in relative silence. However, Erik didn't seem perturbed by the noise and Raoul realized how much he missed talking to someone. The silence wasn't horrible, but this was nice, too.

Once they'd finished dinner and the butler subtly nodded his head towards him, Raoul proclaimed, "I'm exhausted. I need to tell you something, but perhaps somewhere with a little more privacy? The den perhaps?"

In response, Erik glared at him, and Raoul was taken aback for a moment. Maybe he'd been speaking entirely too much.

Erik was annoyed. The blonde had spent the whole afternoon talking. He'd listened to every word and noted every smile. Raoul had seemed almost normal. Perhaps he wasn't as animated at he'd once been, as Erik had once seen him be with Christine, but this was shockingly close. An uneasiness had started when Raoul had first begun to speak and it was so bad now that Erik barely touched his dinner.

He had his proof didn't he? A whole afternoon and Raoul had only thought of Christine once.

Now this. Raoul was going to tell him that he should leave, that he'd accomplished his goal.

Nodding abruptly, Erik stood up stiffly and followed Raoul up the stairs. The blonde was looking at him oddly. Erik could understand his confusion; after all, he was a little confused about his reaction as well.

Biting his bottom lip, Raoul was beginning to wonder if victory number two was such a good idea. Erik looked really angry. It was a really good surprise though, so he focused on getting to the door. Reaching the den, he entered quickly and turned around to see Erik's expression.

Erik walked into the room and stopped short. His head tilted to one side, eyes narrowed in confusion. His mouth hung open as his mind was trying to catch up to the sight that he saw.

The den was not a study any longer. The shelves, seats, and desks were gone. Replacing it was a large four post bed, a dresser, a side table and seat.

He was snapped out of his surprise when he heard Raoul laugh. His attention drawn from the bedroom to Raoul, and he still didn't know how to react. He didn't know why his mind was having a hard time comprehending what he saw and now what he heard. Raoul looked absolutely delighted. Golden hair covered part of his face as he leaned forward, laughing really hard. It wasn't malicious laughter and Erik wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, but he found himself smiling in response.

This was Raoul's secret. This was why the blonde had been excited and why he'd wanted to speak with him. This was why he'd temporarily forgotten about Christine.

When Raoul had first seen Erik's expression, he couldn't help but smile. He'd wanted to raise his arms in victory because he'd managed to keep the secret the entire afternoon, but when Erik continued to stare in absolute confusion, Raoul found himself laughing. He didn't know where it came from. He was surprised at first; he hadn't laughed in so long that it felt good. It felt freeing.

This was the opera ghost, staring open-mouthed at a surprise, one that Raoul had planned. He was extremely pleased with himself, especially as he was forced to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes. He'd managed to surprise a ghost. The idea was both absurd and amusing.

When he finally stopped laughing, he realized that Erik was staring at him now. He couldn't quite tell if he should run or tell the ghost he was sorry, but he held up his hands in a sign of surrender.

"So we won't need to sleep on the floor anymore?" Raoul said slowly and moved to place his hand on one of the posts.

Erik made sure he was frowning as he approached the bed. He needed to do something to Raoul for the anxiety he'd caused him, but his usual response of a Punjabbing definitely was not an option. He didn't need to kill the blonde, just teach him a lesson.

Grabbing one of Raoul's wrists tightly, Erik whispered low, "Don't ever do that again."

Raoul nodded and realized he wasn't scared. He'd been worried about Erik's reaction, but if that was all Erik was going to do, then he would risk the comment that had immediately come to mind. "I hope you like this bed. It's not as good as mine."

Erik tossed him towards the bed. Tripping over his own feet, Raoul hit the bed and rolled off onto the other side. He hit the floor with a thud. Through the sound of his heart pounding loudly, Raoul heard Erik say with a scoff.

"This room is yours."

Seconds later Raoul was laughing again. He stared at the ceiling of his new room, thinking to himself.

It was so worth it. Victory number two.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 15

Word count: 5,670

o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Okay, that was obscenely long and it's past 1AM. I'm posting and going to sleep. That last part might be a bit iffy since I didn't edit it. I'm sleepy though and that part made me laugh. Oh, L'homme qui rit=The man who laughs by Victor Hugo.