Erik's POV

The hottest day of the summer brought me exhaustion as I stood before the construction workers of my new park. The sun beat down upon my shoulders and neck, sending uncomfortable warmth upon my flesh. I stood there watching them build the first attraction for my park, which was the Galion, the ship that Gustave had come up with. When I could no longer bear standing out in the sun, I took shelter in my office. It might have been warm, but at least I was out of the sunlight. Too many years of staying below the ground has started paying off.

A few moments later, a knock occurred at the door and I looked up to see Christine and Gustave coming through the door. Christine placed a picnic basket down on my desk and smiled.

"Now is not a good time, Christine," I growled, looking down at my paper work. "I'm quite busy at the moment."

"Too busy for lunch?" she questioned. "And look at you, you look as though you haven't had a drink of water all day."

"So what if I didn't? Oh, Christine, I told you before…"

But Christine wouldn't let me argue.

"Your office is nice," she replied, glancing around the room.

"Thanks," I growled, placing the picnic basket in front of me.

"Mr. Erik, look what I have for you."

The child hopped up onto my desk and handed me a stack of drawings.

"I've been drawing all sorts of ideas…"

I chuckled and picked the stack of papers up.

"I see. They look wonderful, Gustave. I think I might have to steal a few of these ideas."

I placed the drawings into my folder of blueprints. "I'll examine these later, boy…For now, let's have some lunch. Your mother seems hungry."

Christine smiled and dug into the basket, pulling out a few sandwiches. "I thought you could use a break. I brought some lemonade as well."

"Thank you," I said. "Even though you didn't have to do this. I told you before that I wished to be left alone."

"And do I ever listen?"

"Obviously not," I said, unwrapping my sandwich. I was about to take a bit of my lunch, when the door to my office opened.

"Mister E…"

I looked up to see one of my construction workers standing at the door.

"What?" I growled. "Can't you see that I'm a little busy?"

"There's a problem on the site, sir…"

"A problem? What kind of problem could there possibly be?"

The man was silent, and therefore, I stood to my feet.

"I'll be right back, Christine."

"Could I come?" Gustave excitedly asked.

"No, stay here…I'll be right back."

When I was outside in the hot sun, I followed my worker all the way to the site where my coaster was being built.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" I asked, gazing up at the tall hill.

"The pulley is stuck, sir," he replied, pointing upward where a piece of heavy wood was being hauled by pulleys. It was paused, and I spotted my men attempting to un-jam it.

"I'm the brains of the operation, you fool," I barked. "You're the construction worker…Fix it! I don't care if you have to climb up that damn hill yourself to un jam the pulley…Just get it done!"

I knew my men feared me, for they all gasped when I yelled at them. Though, no one dared to move. Oh, they were fools! If you wanted something done right, one had to do it on their own.

"You see how easy this is?!" I shouted, climbing the stairs of my rollercoaster. "It's simple!"

I climbed all the way until I couldn't climb any longer, until I was face to face with the pulley.

"There's a knot in the rope, you idiots!" I snatched the rope out of my worker's hand and began to pull apart the knot. Though, all of my workers let their end of the rope loose, causing the piece of wood to slip and hit me in the shoulder. Oh, I was going to kill them all! Ignorant fools! Whatever happened to quality workers? The wood had torn my shirt and cut deep into my flesh. I screamed out from the agony I felt upon contact. They were all going to die!

"If you all wish to stay on my watch, I suggest you turn your brain's on!" I forced the end of the rope back into one of my worker's hands and made my way down the stairs. Yes, they tried to reach out and help me, but I moved away from them. Fools! They were all fools!

"Erik," Christine gasped when she noticed me walking through the door with my injury.

"I'm perfectly well, thank you…"

"No you're not…Erik, we need to get you home. You're bleeding, what happened?!"

"Nothing, an accident, Christine."

"Come, Erik, I'll take care of your wounds."

I didn't want to leave my job site, but Christine was right. I most likely had splinters lodged into my flesh, splinters that I wouldn't be able to remove myself. When we arrived at my home, I took a seat in the kitchen and pulled back my torn shirt.

"Mama, is Mr. Erik going to be all right?"

"Yes, pumpkin, just go play in the other room. I'll be right there…"

When Gustave was gone, Christine began to clean my wound. When she poured some alcohol on my shoulder, I cringed.

"Oh, Erik, your shoulder is covered in splinters."

"Do your magic, woman…" I cringed.

"It's going to hurt."

"I've heard that many times before…"

I sat as still as I could while Christine picked each splinter out of my flesh. When she was finished, it felt as though my shoulder were on fire.

"I'll get you some ice, Erik…You should lay down for a while."

And for once, I listened to her. The pain had exhausted me, therefore, I moved to my bed and laid down. When Christine returned, she place a towel filled with ice against my shoulder, holding it there as I rested.

"Better?"

"A little," I cooed. "I'm not feeling well at the moment."

Gustave was at my side in a matter of minutes. "I don't like needles, Mr. Erik. Mama once took a splinter out of my hand…It hurt really bad."

Christine pressed a kiss to Gustave's head and smiled. "I have to get going, pumpkin. I have to get home and change for work. Can you be a good boy for Mr. Erik and let him rest?"

Gustave nodded. "I will, mama…"

"No rough housing with him. Mr. Erik needs to lie still so his shoulder can heal. And Erik, I'm going to leave some sandwiches on the kitchen counter. Make sure you eat them later for dinner…"

Before Christine left, she pressed a kiss to my cheek. Yes, it angered me, but I was in no mood to argue. When the woman was gone, Gustave smiled.

"Is that what people do when they're in love, Mr. Erik?"

"Hmm?" I groaned. "Do what?"

"Mama just kissed you on the cheek. Mama does that to me too…That means that she loves me. Mama just kissed you, so that must mean the same."

"It doesn't, Gustave. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course I do, Mr. Erik…"

"Gustave, enough…I do not love your mother and your mother does not love me. Sometimes friends can kiss one another too. All right? Now, let me rest. I've had a tiring day."

"I thought we were going to hang out with one another?"

"Later, Gustave. I want to rest…Go and play with your toys on the floor and when I'm feeling better we'll do something…"

"But what about the drawings I gave you, Mr. Erik?" the child whined. "What about them? You said you were going to look at them."

"And I promise that I will as soon as I'm feeling better. Now, go play with your toys so I can rest."

Wanting to sleep, I closed my eyes, expecting that Gustave had gone to play. Though, a few seconds later, I felt the boy touching my hurt shoulder.

"Gustave!" I growled. "Enough…"

"I just wanted to see if it hurt or not."

"It does… Now don't touch it again. Please…I'm begging you, go play on the floor so that I may rest for a little while. If I don't get my rest, then I'm not going to play with you later."

"Yes, Mr. Erik…"

When the boy was finally gone, I relaxed myself against my pillows and closed my eyes. Oh, the ice was burning my wound, but it would take down the swelling that had started due to the removal of so many splinters. I must have drifted off, for when I woke, everything was dark and Gustave was sleeping on the couch. Oh, what had I done? I had only expected to fall asleep for an hour or so, but it looks like it had been more than that. I groaned and sat up, taking notice that the towel that had once held the ice was now soaked and flat.

"Here, I'll take that from you."

The lamp on my nightstand was turned on, and before me, stood Christine. Was it really that late?

"Christine?" I lightly groaned. "How long have you been here?"

"About twenty minutes. You were tired, and I didn't want to disturb you."

"It's all right," I rose to my feet and entered the kitchen. My shoulder was still killing me, but I was a little hungry. It seemed wrong to let her sandwiches go to waste, therefore, I took a seat at the kitchen table and unwrapped one.

"Hungry?" Christine asked, approaching me with some sort of wooden crate…Oh, what was she up to now?

"As a matter of fact, I am…" I replied, taking a bite of the sandwich.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Sore," I moaned. "Extremely sore."

Christine placed the crate on the table and took a seat beside me, gently massaging my aches away.

"You don't have to do this," I assured. "Really."

"I know, but I want to do it. You most likely bruised your bone…You're probably going to be in agony for a few days."

"What's with the crate?" I questioned.

Christine stopped massaging my shoulder and opened it, pulling out a stack of papers. But I knew these papers.

"No!" I grabbed the stack out of her hands and placed them aside. "And just what were you doing in my closet?!" I growled. "Just because I have given you permission to come and go as you please in my home does not give you the right to rummage through my personal items."

"I'm sorry, Erik," she replied. "I…I was just hanging up a few of your shirts I found lying about and came across the box. I didn't mean you any harm by it, honestly. Forgive me…"

The crate that Christine had come across was a crate filled to the brim with my music scores. Over the years I had continued to write music, but stuck them within this very crate to rot, just as I had let my heart rot…These scores were meaningless…Meaningless and wordless. There were no lyrics, just melodies without emotion.

"I was just curious to see what you have written over the past five years. I always did admire your music."

"These are nothing," I assured. "Music that is simply useless…"

"Useless?" Christine questioned, lifting a score from the pile. "Surely you don't mean that. Your music was always alive and conquering… There wasn't ever a score that you have written that one would call useless."

Christine's eyes glided over the score…But how was it that she was reading my music? She had done nothing but sing her entire life. How was it that she knew how to read music?

"You won't understand it," I said. "You can't read music…These scores have no lyrics."

"I know enough," she assured. "Spending endless nights rehearsing songs with you has taught me a thing or two about music notes. I've come to know my notes…"

Christine placed the score down and smiled. "They are beautiful melodies, but why don't you have lyrics? Why are they just melodies?"

"Because," I sighed. "I feel nothing…In Paris, I was happy, in Paris, I was alive… Here, I am a dead soul who feels no emotion. How can one possibly write lyrics to songs when they feel nothing?"

"What made Paris so wonderful, Erik? You lived beneath the opera house in a cold and damp lair. You were shut out from the world…What made you feel happy? At least here, in Coney Island you're around people and you live somewhere above ground."

"Because in Paris, I loved you…"

Silence filled the kitchen as she and I sat there staring at one another. Christine looked down at her hands and then back at me. Oh, what was she thinking now?

"You loved me?"

I nodded. "Yes, Christine, I used to love you. When I wrote music in Paris, I wrote because I was happy…I wrote, because there was the slightest hope within me that you would someday find it within your soul to smile upon my face and say a few kind words to your teacher. Though, my scores soon became scattered as my hope began to fade…And when you left my lair that night with the fop, my world became shattered. I no longer loved after that, and I no longer felt happy…In my heart, I know that I will never feel happy again…Which is why there are no lyrics."

"Oh, Erik…" Christine stood from where she was sitting and approached me, placing herself in my lap. I knew what she was doing, but I wouldn't allow it. I no longer loved this woman…She wrapped her arms around my body and brought me close to her. I didn't move at first, but when I felt her lips pressing themselves against my cheek, I stood up.

"Enough, Christine," I painfully growled. "Enough…"

The woman had tears in her eyes, but I wasn't sure why.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm so, so sorry… Erik, please forgive me. I didn't know that you loved me…"

"And what if you did know, Christine? You wouldn't have cared. You had your heart set on that boy, and there was no stopping you. There used to be a time in my life when I did care for you more than life itself, but that time is over with."

"We could try, Erik…"

Christine grabbed a hold of my hand, but I stepped away.

"Never!" I cried. "I will never bring myself heartache ever again! There is no love left to give, and I plan on keeping it that way. Now, be gone with you!"

Christine scooped Gustave's sleeping form up into her arms and headed towards the door.

"You have hurt me for the last time, Christine. You spending time with me is doing nothing but hurting the both of us…Never again. Now go!"

"And why can't you forgive and forget, Erik?"

"Because I cannot forgive you, Christine…I hate you more than anything in the world."

This only caused her to cry harder. I knew our friendship was most likely over, and for the first time in my life, I was glad.

Well, it's nearly time for Ramin Part 2...Philly! Can't wait. Anyway, please review. Your reviews make my ideas soar. But, either way, I shall return in a few days with more of the story. Thanks everyone!