They spend the first night in each other's arms on the divan, neither daring to sleep as if by sleeping they will wake to discover it having been a dream. They speak, softly, broken words of wonder in French and Persian. Did you know then?...You could have said…Should have joined me…Should have left some sign…Did not think you wanted me… And when morning comes Erik is dozing with his head on Rahim's chest, and when Darius pokes his head around the door to see about breakfast his face is impassive but his eyes seem almost to read at last.
They do not rush into living with each other. For a long time, in fact the first two years, Erik insists on still living in the damp beneath the Garnier, though most nights he spends on the Rue de Rivoli, tucked in against Rahim. And even after he truly does begin to live above ground Erik insists on keeping the lair, as he has come to refer to it, as an escape for his more involved composing sessions, so as not to upset the neighbours, and Rahim often spends the night down there with him too, in order to ensure that he gets enough rest.
They are not often intimate with each other in that sense. It is rare for the desire to strike them both at the same time. For them it is enough to be close, to kiss each other and hold each other, and even the night that Erik spreads Rahim upon the bed and maps him with tongue and fingers, and the night that Rahim returns the favour, it is infinitely gentle, and infinitely soft.
After the first two years, Rahim manages to convince Erik to have one of his operas performed. It is a shame, he says, to let such music go to waste. And though it requires some persuasion, Erik at last acquiesces and submits a score for consideration. It is selected, and performed, and the mystery of the unknown composer who simply signs it Erik creates a stir that makes the opera a success before it is ever performed. And when it is performed the public swell around it is such that Erik sells a second opera, and a third, and with some of the proceeds Rahim arranges to have Box Five for their own personal use, and Darius' too.
Erik directs the workings of the Opéra House through carefully worded notes, and Rahim keeps him sane, and takes up writing, and reads poetry, and Darius takes care of both of them, and the three of them carve out a corner of peace amidst the bustle of Paris.
It is a comfortable routine they slip into, a comfortable life, and though Rahim and Erik argue from time to time it is never serious, never lasts long, and they always end up tucked in together in bed, murmuring soft apologies, and Rahim cradling Erik close. And closeness is all they want, all they need, and they breathe tender words, and everything is perfect.
For five years, five years that at times seem so long and so short, they are happy. And then Erik starts keeping secrets.
It is not that Rahim worries that he is straying. He has far more faith in Erik than that. No, rather he worries that after five years they may have run their course. Erik becomes quieter, more contemplative, begins spending more time in the lair and haunting the opera than with Rahim.
Rahim does not draw him on it, keeps his worries to himself, afraid of what he might hear if he were to ask Erik questions. He tells himself that Erik is busy, organising the gala for the managers' retirement and being his omniscient self, but still he lies awake at night, unable to believe the sense he tries to tell himself, staring at the ceiling with Erik's breaths soft against his throat. A thousand tumbling thoughts trip though his mind, that Erik has fallen out of love with him, that though Erik has not strayed his heart has found another, and Rahim blinks the tears from his eyes, and holds Erik closer, and wishes that the voices in his head were not so convincing.
The night of the gala comes, and Rahim is sitting in Box Five, trying to work out why Erik is positively vibrating with delight. There are some excellent pieces selected for performance, to be sure, some of them Erik's own, but Erik has never been so delighted watching his own works performed. Normally he is nervous, troubled, swearing that his creations will be butchered, but tonight? Tonight Rahim is certain that he has never seen him so ecstatic at the opera before.
Surely, a little voice whispers in his mind, surely this is related to his strange behaviour.
Rahim swallows the voice down, his stomach churning. If this is to do with Erik's strange behaviour, he thinks he would rather not know.
Carlotta is due to sing an aria, when the announcement is made that there has been a change of plan, that Christine Daaé, a half-familiar name, will sing in Carlotta's place and a glint of gold catches the side of Rahim's eye. He looks over, at Erik beside him, and finds his pocket watch in Erik's hand, the chain twined between his fingers. A sure sign of nerves, though from the way Erik's jaw is set Rahim knows he is keeping his face impassive beneath the mask.
"What is troubling you?" he asks, voice low as the curtain rises, and Erik shushes him.
"Later," he breathes, and sits a little straighter, his gaze never straying from the blonde girl standing centre stage. Rahim half-recognises her as a chorus girl, and sighs inwardly. Whatever are they thinking, putting a chorus girl up to sing? Surely there is someone else to fill the gap!
Then Mademoiselle Daaé starts to sing, and Rahim takes back his uncharitable thoughts. He has never heard someone sing like her before, with a voice so pure and heartfelt, certainly not on the stage. He has only ever heard Erik sing like that, and though Mademoiselle Daaé's voice is slightly poorer than Erik's it strikes him all at once just why his lover has been acting so mysterious, and he cannot look at the stage, only at Erik beside him, whose knuckles are white wrapped around Rahim's own pocket watch.
In that moment, every ounce of fear and worry that has dogged him these last months falls away, and there is only relief.
Daaé finishes, half-fainting on the stage and has to be helped out, and Rahim reaches over, takes Erik's hand and squeezes it. "You did marvellously with her," he murmurs beneath the applause of the audience, and Erik turns to him, his eyes wide with shock.
"How do you—"
Rahim shushes him, presses a finger to his lips. "I would know the mark of your voice anywhere." Erik's lips twitch, and he kisses Rahim's finger.
"I must check on her, and see how she is." There are equal notes of pride and worry in his voice, and Rahim nods.
"Of course. And does she think you a phantom?" The question seems a natural one to ask, even as they stand, and Erik hands him back his watch.
Erik shakes his head. "She knows I am the composer. I have sworn her to secrecy."
Of course he has sworn her to secrecy. It is a typically Erik thing to do, and Rahim feels himself smile. "In that case, may I join you visiting her?"