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: Late doesn't even begin to describe how long this has taken. I got lost in some things and didn't even write for weeks; and the sad part is that I didn't even realize it. I apologize. I just realized that I must hate finishing fics. It takes me forever to do so.

Story Note: One more chapter after this one and this story arc is complete. And no pron to speak of. Sad, indeed.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 27 - … to relax

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

As promised, Raoul ignored Erik completely after their conversation; that is, after he'd managed to compose himself away from that all too familiar gaze now weighted with something he could almost swear hadn't been there before and after he'd managed to consequently remind himself why they were here in the first place. He might not be able to believe Erik was dead any longer, but he wasn't willing to be hurt again. Not by the same trick. Not by the same man. He'd be foolish to let his guard down, and on some level, it frightened him to think of how much more it would hurt to be left alone again. The mere concept that he could hurt more was overwhelming.

Erik had to be dead for all intents and purposes, and Raoul knew he would simply have to learn how to live with the ever-present knowledge of Erik's choice of Christine over him. There was no point in trying to deny it any longer. Forgetting about the ordeal hadn't worked. Moving on was no longer even an option, what with Erik's presence. The only thing left to do was to accept the pain and when the opportunity presented itself, to run away. Again.

After all, running away was the only available resort. Erik might chase him; alright, Erik would chase him. For a while. But Erik wouldn't be able to find him if he really tried to get away, not that he hadn't been trying the last time. This time, though, this time he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't even consider stopping by any of the properties he owned. He'd leave completely to a place that he didn't even know, where no one knew him or even of him. He'd go to a place where Comtes, prima donnas, opera houses – and opera ghosts – were a novelty. There or somewhere even further, he could start life over again and become a person he could live with, someone who wasn't so naïve and so easily hurt.

That was only if he was able to get away though. He had a feeling that would take some time.

There were surprisingly no more confrontations. Erik was quiet, pensive even. The only thing he did was keep Raoul within his sight. Beyond that, he kept a respectable distance away. The last he'd checked of Erik's presence – when his eyes swept the room to make sure everything was in order, not to specifically search for the man – Erik had been sitting by the balcony, pointedly reading L'Homme Qui Rit, a fact that had not slipped Raoul's notice even as much as he continued to pretend not to.

He didn't have the energy to think about what they'd said to each other, what Erik had said to him. In fact, he didn't want to because he knew that he'd simply dissect every word and inflection before inevitably coming to the wrong conclusions. So, he distracted himself by gorging on the food that the servants had brought, fussing over his clothing, and making certain to close the heavy curtains for the sake of blocking out the sun, which was still streaming through the balcony doors and windows and would be doing so for a few more hours.

After travelling, swimming, and the emotionally draining process of dealing with Erik, his mind was driven towards blankness and by the time he dropped onto the bed, he'd somehow managed to forget Erik was even there. All it took was closing his eyes and he fell asleep despite the few reservations he had regarding his company.

o.o.o

After their conversation, Erik had dropped into the chair near the balcony, not quite confident on what his next course of action should be. His eyes followed Raoul as the younger man walked to and fro within the confines of their – no, Erik corrected his thoughts – Raoul's room. This wasn't their room, not their house. It was Chagny property, and that distinction had never seemed so significant until this moment. He was an interloper, had always been one in Raoul's life.

However, as much as the estate in Paris had been Chagny property, it had also been theirs. The servants, the trees, the rooms, everything had become a part of his domain. He'd lived there for such a short time compared to the opera house and still, he felt more attached to the estate than he did to the Opera Populaire. He doubted it was the estate itself. In fact, Erik knew it had nothing to do with the building, the lawn, or servants and everything to do with the man in front of him who had not only moved on without him but preferred to think of him as deceased.

Raoul didn't care he was back. Erik nearly laughed at that particular understatement since Raoul didn't care if he was alive.

For a mere second, Erik tore his gaze away from Raoul unable to even look at him. This was worse than his time in the Opera Populaire pining after Christine; she too had been close and untouchable. Yet, he knew that she would have been more receptive to his presence than Raoul at the moment.

He thought, not for the first and definitely not the last time that this was not how it was supposed to happen. Raoul was Dea; he had no right to reject Erik, to not... Erik hesitated simply because as much as it made sense, as much as it was meant to be, the concept was still a little foreign to him; Raoul had no right to not love him after everything they'd been through. After everything that Erik had been through, how much of his past that he'd just left behind, how much he'd had to concede to admit his own feelings, Raoul couldn't not love him.

Perhaps Raoul simply didn't understand what he'd meant calling him Dea – as unlikely as that was considering Raoul had read the book and knew the reference. There was the alternative – and Erik was unwilling to believe this – Raoul had understood the reference and simply didn't care.

Their time together must have meant something to him though. It was a rather hypocritical assumption on his part, Erik knew that. He'd left Raoul without a second thought, simply because he hadn't thought of their time together as meaningful. He hadn't realized what exactly they'd had together until it was too late.

Raoul wasn't him though. Raoul hadn't blinded himself to everyone but Christine. He hadn't spent near a lifetime pining after her, hadn't believed that he'd simply been biding his time until he could leave with her.

That somehow made it worse.

Still, Erik hadn't lied when he'd told Raoul that he knew him better than he knew himself. He didn't care if Raoul considered him dead, didn't care if Raoul tried to ignore him because Erik knew that Raoul wouldn't be able to ignore him forever. He knew that given time, Raoul would stop fighting him and just maybe love him.

Time and patience. Erik believed he had one and could learn the other.

So, when Raoul closed the curtains despite the fact that he was still pretending to read, he didn't say anything. He shut his book and returned to watching Raoul, only blatantly now. The young man did well to ignore him though. It was quite easy on Raoul's part since as soon as his head touched the pillow he fell asleep.

In the darkness that his eyes easily adjusted to, Erik watched Raoul for a long while, just taking in the sight and allowing his mind wander. He was supposed to be here, as awkward as it currently was. It was a little odd how he was absolutely certain of this fact now. There was nowhere else he would rather be, where he could be. With the whole world at his disposal, he only wanted to be here, and though some part of him said that fact should worry him, it didn't.

He did realize how much easier this would be if he only lusted after Raoul; he would have taken what he wanted by this time regardless of the blonde's affections or wishes. It would be less confusing and probably more satisfying, but it was ultimately unrealistic. Why would he have given up on Christine if he'd only wanted Raoul's body? In fact, this situation would have been easier if he'd simply only wanted Raoul's companionship like before. He would've been able to have both Christine and Raoul with that scenario.

He wanted more than what they'd once had though. It was becoming increasingly obvious by the way his body gravitated to Raoul's. It was nothing like being with Christine; his body had known before he'd even brushed against the thought. His impulses were a constant tug on his limbs to move him ever closer to Raoul not only to ensure that Raoul was by his side but that he was also safe. His mind flashed back to the sight that had greeted him upon his return to the Chagny estate and to the one thought that seemed to keep arising.

Dea died in the novel.

Suddenly unable to stay seated, Erik stood up noisily, keeping an eye on Raoul to see if he was indeed asleep. When there was not so much as a rustle on the bed, he quickly retreated to the bathroom to clean himself of the sand that had accumulated during his confrontation with Raoul. It was a luxury that he'd missed while travelling with Christine. He'd gotten soft – after all, he wanted his old bed, regular meals, quiet mornings, the feeling of cleanliness, and Raoul. He'd stopped being the infamous opera ghost long before he'd realized it and moreover, long before he could do anything to stop the change. There was nothing to do now but chase after what he wanted.

Once clean, he ate what was left of Raoul's meal. He thought of leaving the room to obtain more food but thought against it. Slowly approaching the bed to observe the blonde more closely, he reached out, wanting to card his fingers through Raoul's hair. He'd felt them against him on the ride over when Raoul had smelt of ocean and sweat, a combination that Erik could find no fault in. This though, the blonde strands were still damp but finally untangled; they would be smoother. He could just imagine what it would be like.

Stopping short, Erik took a step back, shaking his head. That impulse had been strong, and he had to exert more self control. He'd completely lost focus – or perhaps, he'd focused much too intensely on Raoul. The blonde needed his sleep, and Erik realized that he did as well. Unfortunately, there was the problem of Raoul running away once he did fall asleep. In the past, he wouldn't have thought it possible, they were so attuned to each other, but he wasn't willing to be proven wrong a second time. The panic he'd experienced once had been one time too many; he didn't know what he would do if he woke up to find Raoul missing again. Luck had never truly been on his side before.

Torn in his dilemma, Erik took a moment to consider his options before grinning to himself. There was only one option; he walked around to the other side of the bed and lifted up the blankets.

Raoul stirred when Erik had half his weight on the bed, causing Raoul to lean towards him. He groaned, and peering up at Erik confusedly, asked, "Erik?" He struggled to focus in the darkness.

Despite having the distinct feeling likened to being caught in a destructive act at the opera house, Erik retorted, "You're speaking to me?"

At his tone, Raoul roused even more. Though his limbs felt leaden, his mind was quick to assess the situation. Glowering, he emphasized, "Ghost, what do you think you're doing?"

Considering all the possible bitter remarks he could say, Erik instead, settled for the truth, "I'm going to sleep."

With great effort, Raoul shifted over to crowd Erik, "Not here you're not."

Erik grinned, glad that it was so dark Raoul probably could not see it. The Vicomte actually thought that he'd back away from physical contact? "Where else do you think I'm going to sleep?"

Scoffing, Raoul answered, "Sleep in the barn, in the kitchen. I don't care. Better yet," he grinned maliciously, "sleep on the floor like you normally do when biding your time for Christine."

The accusation was like a physical blow and Erik actually faltered. Refusing to allow another reaction, he simply refused. "No."

Raoul bit his lower lip in frustration. "No?"

"I'm sleeping right here." To prove his point, Erik awkwardly laid down, pulling the blanket securely over himself. However, since Raoul was being stubborn, he ended up lying half on the blonde. Erik vaguely noted that he was right, Raoul's hair was still a little damp, now smelling only faintly of the ocean and more of the soap that they'd both used.

There were a few moments of frantic motion before Raoul managed to move clear to the other side of the bed. Having Erik on him like that did nothing for the pain that was gradually building in his chest.

Erik added, quite pleased with himself despite the fact that Raoul was now extremely tense and too far to even feel his warmth, "And if I'm dead, it hardly matters."

Squeezing his eyes shut and forcing the warmth of Erik's body out of his mind, Raoul tried to think. In his mental state however, he could only reach two obvious conclusions: he could continue arguing with Erik or go back to sleep. Currently, sleep was his priority.

In fact, he realized that he didn't even care where.

Instead of verbally responding, Raoul grabbed his pillow and moved to slide out of the bed. Erik was fast enough to catch him, grabbing him around the waist and dragging them both back to the very center of the bed.

Instinctively, Raoul immediately began to struggle: his arms flailing caught Erik across the jaw and in the stomach. He kicked whatever he could reach, which wasn't as much as he would have liked. They couldn't be so close to each other; he couldn't think properly when they were. His heart thudded desperately in his chest, trying to burst free.

Erik held on tighter, pulling them ever closer. In the end, Raoul gave up fighting before he did.

"Erik." Raoul hated that his voice almost broke. His back was pressed firmly against Erik's chest; he lay limply in his embrace so that Erik wouldn't have any reason to hold him any tighter. Still, he could feel Erik's chest rise with every breath and the puff of warm air against the nape of his neck, and thanks to his previous struggling, every sped up breath was that much more tortuous. "Release me. If you want the bed, you can have it."

"Raoul," Erik responded and his voice seemed much closer than expected.

Raoul squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach tensing. He was wide awake now and glad that Erik couldn't see his expression. "Let me go," his voice was more even than he thought it would be.

"No."

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" Raoul muttered under his breath.

Holding him tighter, Erik answered, "Because nothing else will make you understand that I only want the bed when you're on it."

Raoul's heart skipped a beat, but it was specifically that reaction that made him realize that he was once again falling for all of Erik's empty words. "Fine," he responded tersely, and as he tensed even more, Erik wondered what had set him off this time. Though the words were acquiescent, Raoul's voice screamed an unwilling concession, "We'll both sleep on the bed. Just release me."

Erik considered disregarding his request. He was just as unwilling to release Raoul as Raoul was to stay within his embrace, but ultimately, he decided it was against his best interest to not concede since Raoul had already given in. He needed Raoul to stop fighting and though it came naturally to Erik, being unreasonable was not the way to calm Raoul.

The second he was free, Raoul moved to the very edge of the bed; Erik barely managed to stifle his automatic reaction to follow him. He too was tired and simply knowing that Raoul was near had brought forth the fatigue he'd been successfully ignoring. Though he struggled to stay awake to ensure Raoul didn't leave, he fell asleep quickly.

o.o.o

Some time in the middle of his sleep, Raoul was certain he'd woken to vague impressions, sounds that he couldn't quite identify and shapes he was certain he shouldn't be able to see in the darkness of the room. His mind focused mostly on the overwhelming warmth the surrounded him, not quite suffocating as a distant part of his brain told him it should be. He hadn't felt this warm in such a long time.

As something akin to peace descended over him, Raoul fell asleep with a gentle sigh.

The next time he woke, his mind was clearer. He recognized the heat for what it was, Erik's body pressed against his. Again. Raoul hated to think that he already knew what that felt like. He didn't want to be able to conjure the feeling when Erik left him again. It would only hurt more to know what he'd never have.

Erik was draped half on him, an arm securely around Raoul's waist. His hand had somehow slipped beneath his shirt and was pressed against his stomach. Raoul would have been angrier if they hadn't been at the very center of the bed. It meant that some time when he was sleeping, he'd actually moved towards Erik.

He swallowed with some difficulty before trying to even his breathing so as to not wake the ghost. He'd barely moved an arm when Erik made a discontent noise, tugging Raoul ever closer – how, Raoul wasn't certain. If Erik pulled him any closer, he would be beneath the older man.

His face heated up at the thought. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to stifle that train of thought.

Instead, he focused on what he needed to do. If he could slip out, then he'd be able to take a horse and leave even though the more he accepted the fact that there was no other choice but to leave everything behind, the more it actually physically hurt to just think it.

He shifted his weight in an effort to turn onto his back but Erik shifted as he'd begun the motion. Raoul froze, afraid Erik would wake up. While he didn't, Raoul knew he'd have to wait until Erik was really asleep or more importantly until his guard had been let down before he could leave.

And it was warm here. Raoul could enjoy it for a little while, couldn't he? He wasn't Erik but he could take a lesson from Erik's repertoire and bide his time.

Tentatively, Raoul placed his hand atop Erik's, feeling the roughness of the skin, the bony fingers. He tentatively entwined their fingers before resting them back against his stomach, letting out a shaky breath. Maybe he could just enjoy this with a healthy dose of skepticism. For the moment, he could pretend that everything was fine. He could ignore the fact that Erik had an ultimate plan where Raoul was just another means to an end, not the end itself. It would be a sensible concession, if it weren't for the fact that he knew he was conceding simply because he wasn't strong enough to keep fighting Erik. Not when every part of him wished to believe Erik wasn't lying.

Staring into the darkness, he tried to keep his mind blank, but more importantly keep his heart from hoping too much.

o.o.o

Erik woke up with a smile on his face. It didn't take him too long to realize why. Raoul hadn't left. In fact, Raoul was in his arms tucked tightly against him. The smell of him filled his every breath; stray blonde hairs tickled his cheek. Erik's throat constricted when he realized that one hand was trapped by one of Raoul's. He couldn't help but grin, his mind providing the image of Raoul's hand caressing his forearm, following it down to the back of his hand before entwining their fingers.

He basked in the sensations; his heart was beating much too quickly for having just woken. It was almost too much; this touching, this proximity without having to fight every centimeter for it.

This. This was why he'd come back. This was why he would never let Raoul out of his sight again if he could prevent it.

Yet, even as he thought that, he knew that he would have to let Raoul go before he woke. Raoul would not react very well to waking up in such a position and then they would start their day together with an argument, an unnecessary argument. Erik resolved to wake up before Raoul every day, unwilling to give up waking up in such a manner. If Raoul knew, he'd make a concerted effort to stay on his side of the bed.

Erik already had the evidence he needed to know that Raoul could – no, he would – love him back. It didn't matter that Raoul might have only sought out his touch thinking of someone else or perhaps because Raoul was simply touch-starved enough that any body would do. Erik would be there to take whatever he gave and would give everything Raoul needed.

He bent his head forward, pressing a kiss to Raoul's neck just to feel his pulse steadily beat out a rhythm that in such a short time, Erik already knew.

Reluctantly, he managed to leave Raoul alone in the bed before finding some way to occupy his time.

o.o.o

Erik was surprised at how easily they fell back into a proximity of what they'd once been to each other before.

It may have taken more than a week before Raoul eventually stopped pointedly ignoring him. Erik had been able to easily track as his resolve broke. It had started off as eyes sweeping past him then progressed to quick glances in his direction and then lingering gazes. Unfortunately, he'd also taken to looking right through him at times, an action that put Erik ill at ease. To see Raoul's eyes so unfocused towards him made him wonder just who Raoul was seeing.

Even with that disappointing development, Erik enjoyed the fact that this time around there were no arguments about who would get the bed; they shared it. He woke up every morning with Raoul in his arms, though their fingers only wound up entwined some mornings. Each evening, they started at opposite ends of the bed and each morning, he'd be forced to slip out of bed before Raoul awoke to find them embracing.

They still shared breakfast, Raoul notably less animated than before. He was more reticent and since Erik had never quite practiced small talk, much of their time was now spent in silence. Not all comfortable.

They spent some afternoons walking along the beach – though quite far from the ocean itself – and sometimes through the forest. At first, Erik suspected that Raoul was trying to find the easiest route from which to escape. It may have been so the first few weeks, but he'd stopped being suspicious the first time Raoul stopped in front of a tree and proceeded to climb it. And though Erik worried rather unnecessarily over seeing him any sort of distance off the ground, he couldn't help the surge of hope that caught him completely off guard. Raoul had simply been looking for a tree he could climb. Erik settled at the base just as he'd always done though his senses were completely on Raoul, more of a guardian than a companion, but at least less than a captor.

Persistence was proving to be very effective, but it was a slow process. Erik consoled himself with the fact that it had been a slow process in the beginning before they'd even become remotely close to each other.

There were some boundaries that Raoul refused to break even as Erik eroded their once firm limits. One of the biggest ones was space. Unless they were in bed, Raoul refused to be close enough for Erik to reach out and touch. It had been subtle at first. Erik would move and it was so immediate that he had barely noticed that Raoul would move as well. He almost found it ironic how it was Raoul now who was so adverse to touch, when it had been Raoul that had torn down his own physical boundaries.

Another boundary was emotion. Raoul had stopped smiling, at least with him. The servants were bestowed with smiles and gratitude, looks they didn't appreciate as much as Erik would have. Besides the slight downturn of lips when Erik pushed his boundaries, Raoul also no longer yelled or got angry. Just like with the progression of finally making eye contact for extended periods though, Raoul was fighting a losing battle. It hardly mattered that most of the emotion he saw now was exasperation and something Erik might call resignation. Erik could deal with resignation. Maybe Raoul had finally taken to heart what he'd said about chasing after him. After all, he was now more intent to keep Raoul by his side than ever before.

And sometimes, more lately than before, Erik could swear that Raoul looked almost happy – even if he was unwilling to feel that way. When he thought Erik wasn't looking, he'd be able to smile and relax, the line of back less rigid than it normally was. Erik was just waiting, waiting for the space to diminish between them, for the silence to be filled, for the looks to hold something more than wariness. He was waiting for the happiness to be untainted.

But, Erik could understand the wariness. He, like Raoul, couldn't seem to convince himself to be happy. It was close and so very nearly there that all he had to do was accept it, but he couldn't. He was constantly on guard. He was waiting for something else to happen, watching Raoul as though they were still enemies, second guessing all of his actions, wondering when he would try to run again because a part of him didn't want to be caught so unawares again even as a part of himself was yelling for him to give Raoul the benefit of the doubt.

He could be nothing but vigilant even as he stopped worrying about Raoul moving across the room or climbing up a tree. Raoul could move further away from him without having Erik calculating the distance they'd be able to both run before they both tired, but the calculations were still there. He still watched. He still worried.

He was waiting for Raoul to fall in love with him, and then everything else would fall into place.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 27

Word count: 4,541

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: I was going to say I wondered why this chapter was horrible to write, but I realized shortly after that it was because it was something akin to the calm before the storm. Things aren't quite resolved yet, and isn't it kind of cute how romantic Erik is thinking that love will fix everything? Poor, poor Erik. Didn't you learn anything from Christine?

Another chapter coming your way. Hopefully it doesn't take two months to write.