Oh wow, my fingers are in such pain right now. But anyway, worked on this chapter ALL day and trust me when I tell you this, my fingers typed faster than I could think, so this chapter turned out to be completely different for what I had planned and how I have written it may have made me finished the story a lot earlier than I had meant to. Since by the looks of things, Part one of this story is going to end with the chapter after this one... yeah, I know. And trust me, I wasn't planning that for a while now but like I said my fingers were typing faster than my mind could even comprehend so there. Well, I'm not going to bore you any more, because I am sure every one is just going to love this chapter! So without further adieu, I present, Chapter Nineteen!
Chapter XIX: Hymne A L'Amour
"Erik," she mumbled his name, her hazel eyes looking him up and down as he dragged her out of the gondola. His expression was twisted and emotionless. On the way down to his lair, the two hadn't spoken a single word to each other. Erik, was contemplating himself what he was doing, while Theresa simply had forgotten what had just happened before she arrived to her room and was almost mesmerized by the fact that Erik finally had come to her. She carefully picked up the skirt of her dress as Erik helped her out, her eyes roaming the lair for the second time.
It was just like the first. It seemed to be almost in the same condition it was in a few months ago, when she had woken up here. There was music sprawled all over it, instruments laying carefully on top of the tables or pressed against the wall, and there were various paintings and drawings hanging from the walls. It almost brought a smile to her face when she looked at them. But when her eyes fell on the woman she just met, a frown threatened to show. Christine Daae, in all of her beauty, was still there.
Theresa tore her eyes away from her, feeling herself gulp just from the sight of her. Her smile slid off and she let go of Erik's gloved hand as he walked away from her. A look of confusion suddenly consumed her, she did not understand what she was doing here. Erik took off his cape, draping it over the chair to his organ before taking a stand and moving it slightly in front of the organ.
"Erik," she said, this time with more force in her voice. He delicately placed the velvety red folder on top of the stand. "What am I doing here?" She asked him almost reluctantly.
"We were supposed to meet, I gave you a note." A note? Theresa hardly noticed a note all day today, and if she did notice the note than she wouldn't have confronted Madame Giry before dinner. She would have not done a lot of things tonight. But she felt her heart actually grow heavy, he responded back to her with a note after... what had happened? A note? After nights of waiting for him to see if he would come to her, nights of walking aimlessly to catch a glimpse of him somewhere, he came to her with a note?
Theresa tried not to show that what he said bothered her, not even in the slightest. But she had cast her eyes downward for a moment, folding her hands over her lap. "I did not get a note."
"I have put it in your room last night, along with this folder." Erik told her, the tone in his voice holding little to no emotion. Theresa narrowed her eyes at him confused, she picked up her skirt as she moved toward him. She was barely in her room today and when she was, she didn't notice it. Theresa—honestly—had other things on her mind. He was in her room though last night? Theresa remembered waiting up for him that night, for a little while, before she gave up on him, falling asleep because she was just so tired. Then she had the most wonderful dream with him in it—that he did come to her room.
She carefully stepped up to him and her eyebrow slowly raised. "So... it wasn't a dream then," Theresa said to him slowly. Erik looked up at her, his eyes locking with her own. "You were actually there, with me." It wasn't a question, she knew he was there now. She remembered it more clearly now just looking at him. He nodded his head to her reluctantly, but almost immediately did Theresa's face churn.
"I've waited up for you, every single night since I... I kissed you." She heard her own voice actually crack and tears prick her eyes. From that simple nod, she felt something like hurt attack her every being. He was so discreet, why was he so discreet with her? She did not understand it, nor did she really want to. Erik straightened his back, looking down at her like what she said did not affect him. "I wanted to hear from you all these days, I tried my earnest just to see you walking around at night, and you come the night I give up on waiting for you?"
"Theresa, I—."
"No," Theresa interjected, taking a step toward him. She put a finger up, pointing straight up at him. "I thought you were repulsed by me, Erik. Do you know how hard it was not knowing what you thought after I did that? I was practically in turmoil, Erik! I thought you were staying away from me after that because you didn't feel like I had felt. So, the fact that you came the night I came to terms with that, after I have gone to bed and after I have fallen asleep, upsets me."
"You are angry with me," Erik said to her, hardly with an emotion in his voice just as before. Theresa almost faltered from that, what was the matter with him? She nodded her head, hesitating to do so at first. But she didn't believe herself at that moment, she could never be angry at Erik. She was more frustrated with him. Erik and her stood in front of each other, Theresa's glare faltering in the loudest silence she stood through all day. Erik visibly gulped in front of her, why was it, that she was one of the two people who was able to talk to him like she did?
Antoinette and her, always use such language, such language that was always a verbal slap in the face. No one else. And he would allow them to talk to him like they do. No one else, just them. Theresa had the nerve of no woman when talking to him though. Antoinette would sometimes have a sharp tongue, but not like Theresa. Antoinette knew when to not speak to him. Theresa would let all of her thoughts fall out of her mouth, not putting much thought into it, and with little fear. She wasn't frightened of him at all. Why?
Erik still didn't understand why, he could recall how many times he had hurt her. So many times that it could put fear in any woman. But she stood there like a rock at many times. The silence between was long and tense. It became deafening, even if no words or sounds were being made.
Erik saw the tears streaming from Theresa's eyes, falling onto her cheeks. She made no effort holding them back in front of him like she would do usually. He wanted so badly to wipe them away from her beautiful hazel eyes and rub her cheek dry to get the wetness off. His chest was heaving up and down and he took a step toward her. There wasn't much space between them, not much at all. Theresa turned her face, trying hard to avoid him looking at him. Erik took another step, his breathing becoming even more uneven.
He brought up his hand and with it stroked one of her cheeks tentatively, wiping away all the moisture. Just as the night before, Theresa closed her eyes and though she flinched away at first, she leaned into it. Erik felt her shiver as he rubbed the top of her cheekbone with his thumb. "No," she mustered, but it was so soft that Erik could barely hear it. "Please no." Though she said no, Erik didn't believe it to be true. His hand retreated for a moment, only to take off both of his gloves. Theresa's eyes were still shut, her body still somewhat shaking, and when she thought Erik actually listened to her, she felt his hand again.
This time though, she didn't feel the coldness of leather, she felt his warm hand. His warm, calloused hand was on her cheek firmly, and almost possessively. Erik looked down at her, feeling her body under his touch stop shivering. Though his fingers were rough, they made her feel safe. They belonged to a musician, who could only produce beautiful things, who to her were almost without any flaws. Theresa almost had forgotten her anger, just from this touch.
To Erik's amazement, Theresa's hand was brought up to actually lay on top of his. He stared at her hand in disbelief as she closed her fingers over it, to keep it there. He looked down at her with his brow furrowing down at her. Her eyes slowly opened and though strained and red from tears, she smiled up at him. Erik found her so much more beautiful than ever before at that moment, and he felt a smile being curved on top of his own face. Theresa, going unnoticed by him, shook her head, but she kept her grip on his hand tight and in place.
She bit her bottom lip anxiously as she saw Erik's pale green eyes flicker down to her lips. Her eyes never left him as she noticed him tilting his head, his eyes slowly closing. Theresa's breath hitched as she felt herself, beyond her control, doing the same toward him. His lips then gently caressed hers, they were soft, just as they were before. Erik was careful as he kissed, he kept his soft and his lips, though stiff at first, just had her bottom lip in their possession. Erik's hand went to take her waist as he, for a moment, continued to suck on her bottom before Theresa's upper lip took his.
Erik parted from her mouth for a moment, his eye briefly opening to see if this was really happening, before he felt Theresa's lips passionately crash into his own. Theresa allowed Erik's hand to fall from her cheek, both of her hands going on either side of Erik's neck. He let his hand push her loose hair out of her face before he moved his lips loosely on top of hers. Theresa opened her mouth just a bit more, feeling his wet tongue slip in.
Erik then slowly moved her backward, her back hitting the table gently. Theresa moaned inside of his mouth before she felt a smile on Erik's smile. An actual smile, she couldn't remember the last time she made him smile, but it must have been a while ago. Her hands fell from his neck, going to his shoulders. Erik slowly explored her mouth, his tongue skimming hers. Her eyes slowly opened, as if to check that this was really reality and she wasn't imagining it. When she felt his white mask brush against her nose, Theresa reminded herself where they were and what happened before they were in this position. As Erik parted from her, he heard Theresa's breath nearly gone as his was.
Theresa leaned her head forward as she felt Erik tilt up her chin. Theresa's eyes went up, they remained open as Erik kissed the corner of her lip, before placing other kisses along her jawline. One of his hands skimmed her long neck. Theresa blinked several times, feeling her hot tears burn out of her eyes. She contained her bottom lip from trembling. Each kiss that she received, tore on the strings of her heart—painfully. Because now, she remembered what also happened today before and after the dinner with the Fortescues.
Henri. He happened to her.
If this was last night, Theresa would feel so differently. But as Erik's hand played with the neckline of her dress, Theresa couldn't stand it. "No," she said to him loudly, her eyes widening almost alarmed by the volume her voice was. Erik looked up at her from where he was. His eyes looking at her as if for the first time. Theresa's mouth parted for a moment and she found the words that she wanted to say completely evaporated. Her mouth went dry as she locked her eyes with his and she found that, the words that she wanted to say, weren't the truth at all.
She couldn't bring herself
She swallowed the moisture gathering up in her mouth before she asked him slowly, "This... kiss wasn't your intention when bringing me down here, was it?" The question was strange, even to her. She didn't understand the meaning of why she asked it. Erik didn't know what she was asking, but he shook his head no. This wasn't the intention at all. He wanted her to look at his music, read the lyrics he made especially for her. "Then... this sort of... just happened?" She said, sounding unsure of herself.
Theresa didn't even give him time to answer, instead she reached up to his mask. Erik immediately stiffened just as her hands touched it, he stared down at her pointedly. "What are you doing?" He asked her slowly, reaching up to move one of her hands away from it. But Theresa kept her hands there firmly.
"Can I?" She asked him. "Please?" One of her hands curled around the edge of his mask. Erik breathed in sharply, his eyes still narrowed down at it like it would kill him if she took it off. She pursed her lips before stating, "I'm not... going to reject you, Erik. I promise you." He didn't say a word to her, he didn't even nod to her to tell her that it was okay for her to do. He just closed his eyes quickly as he felt Theresa took off the mask, gently placing it on top of the table behind her. Erik didn't dare open his eyes, waiting for the same reaction she had more than a month ago.
But she didn't push him away, she didn't gasp or scream in front of him, instead both corners of her mouth twitched upward into a small smile. Erik's eyes still didn't open until Theresa laid her hand on top of his distorted cheek. She then noticed how his hair was lifted up from its line. Like Theresa had done with him before, Erik leaned into her touch, his hand went over hers, and he gripped it tightly. Theresa reached up with her other hand, her eyes never leaving Erik's now as she took off the wig on top of his head.
Theresa saw how thin and light his hair actually was. It was a drastic difference without the wig, but it didn't frighten her in the slightest. Erik waited for her to say something, since he was at a loss for words of what to really say to her. Her smile grew to him. "There you are," she murmured to him, "you're absolutely beautiful." Erik searched her eyes to see if he could find any sort of lies in her eyes, but to his dismay, he didn't find one. She was actually telling him the truth.
He didn't kiss her just as he had done before. He gazed her for a few moments, his eyes searching every inch of her face before they dropped to her body, covered by the heavy dress she wore. His hand fell from hers and then he took her in his arms, his face being buried in her shoulder. Theresa wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her nose in his shoulder and closing eyes, kissing the fabric of his shirt. When he picked up his head slowly, Theresa tilted hers toward him. Her hands fell from his neck to rest them on top of his vested chest. Underneath her hands, she could feel his chest rise and fall.
No words were said as she went to the buttons of his vest, her fingers tugging each and every one of them to get them open. Erik didn't protest her actions. He tilted his head up, still keeping her in his embrace, as Theresa pushed his now loosened vest and jacket onto the floor. Her hands went to his neck handkerchief, untying it before dropping it with the jacket. She even untied the loose knot of his shirt that held it together. This was the most she had seen of him, ever. Whenever she would see him, Erik was always so reserved, so covered in dark clothing that she never really imagined him in any other shape or form.
But now he was standing in front of her, locked in an embrace, more than informal in front of her than he had ever been. He wasn't the reserved Erik she had met on the roof many nights ago, he was the vulnerable Erik that she unravelled upon entering here. She moved her hands in that little opening of his shirt, letting them rest there. Erik was in disbelief, astonished that she hadn't yet pushed him away from her in disgust.
He asked her, in that melodic voice that somehow always had put her under a spell, "Is this what you want, mon chéri? The Phantom of the Opera?"
She smirked at him amused and then told him honestly, "No, I want Erik. I do not know who this Phantom is, actually." Her tone actually sounded playful to him. A grin broke out on Erik's face before he took one of her hands tightly within his before he brought it up to his lips to kiss it softly. Erik cupped her hand in both of his before he slowly led her away from the table. Theresa gently picked up the skirt of her dress, following Erik's footsteps and not daring to take her eyes off of him as he carefully manoeuvred her.
Nine hours later.
A smile was on his face as he jumped out of bed that morning, Henri had his best outfit on. When he walked through the halls of the Opera Populaire, there was a hop in his step. He couldn't wait to see the love of his life that morning, after writing to her a cryptic poem as he had done last time to ask her to dinner with him, Henri couldn't wait to see the eyes of his beloved once more. How they would light up and scrunch from the smile that would be on her face.
He sniffed the air almost as if he could smell her scent roaming around the halls. He wouldn't be surprised that she was up and about right now like he was. Henri's feet led him to her room, hoping that she would be in there and awake. When he turned the corner to see if Theresa was in her room, he stopped midway only to see a distressed Firmin and André talking to Henrietta, Theresa's maid.
"I walked in there this morning," Henrietta explained to them both. Henri leaned his back against the wall with his eyebrow furrowed confused. Henrietta had her hand against her forehead like she was distressed. "Like I usually do, and she would usually be sleeping or up reading her book, she would never leave her room until I have prepared her her daily bath. It isn't like her. But this morning, I walk in there, and... and she's not there. The bed doesn't even looked touched, monsieur! It is almost like she never arrived to her room last night!"
"Oh, dear God," Monsieur André said, shaking his head at the news he was hearing. Henri's face contorted, befuddled, he brought her to her room the night before, he remembered clearly, and he saw her go into her room. Why would she not be in there the next day? "Perhaps she had gotten out of her room and went for a short walk?"
"It is possible, monsieur," Henrietta said to him, her voice still laced with the same worry she had in her voice when speaking with him. "But that is not like her, she doesn't like to leave her room like a mess. She likes to wait for me and see me in the mornings. If she were to leave in the morning, she would be in the chapelle praying, but when I checked, she wasn't there. And then I came to you two."
Firmin and André looked between each other, upon hearing this they both suddenly have grown even more worried. This had happened under their management once before with Christine, and it had not gone too well after that. Firmin shook his head at André, "She may be still in the Opera House, we should not worry." He tried to sound sensible, but his voice trembled while speaking. André didn't even look over at his colleague. Firmin turned to Henrietta, "Check the practice rooms and the kitchens, madame. She may be there."
Henrietta looked between the two of them before nodding her head slowly to them both before going off to do what she was told. André and Firmin remained frozen in their spots, looking at the door to their leading soprano's room before looking at each other. "You don't think..." André started to Firmin, but trailed off. The idea that popped in his head was so outlandish that he almost didn't believe it himself.
"No, no, Signora Baccelli is smart, she knows not to be involved." Involved in what? The question popped into Henri's head.
"You did not get a note in our office, did you?" André asked him worriedly, ignoring his statement about her before. Henri's brow furrowed even more, what did he mean, note? The puzzlement on his face consumed it whole. "What if he—?"
"I thought we both agreed that he is not alive any more," Firmin said through his teeth, his words almost coming out as a venomous hiss toward him. "The Phantom of the Opera is dead, there is no way he could have taken our leading soprano!"
"He's dead? I never agreed to that, do we remember what had happened at the auditions? When Monsieur D'Aubigne was painted and feathered," Henri actually cringed from the mere mention of the moment, "who else could have done that without being seen?"
"We said that it was a prank being pulled by the stage-hands. They do things like that to scare the performers!"
"Theresa had received a note that day from him," André reasoned with Firmin, "and when someone had found the exact note, they had told us that she had met him the same night on the rooftop." Firmin didn't want to believe it, he shook his head at André. "What if he has gotten her down in his lair as we speak, Firmin!"
"He is not alive, André. You're being absolutely absurd! I would believe that she had fled more than believing that she had been taken by the Opera Ghost!"
"But—."
"No, buts, André," Firmin said to his colleague, and friend, more firmly. He straightened his back and brushed down his clothes. Before taking a final look at Signora Baccelli's room, he looked back at André meaningfully. "If you believe so strongly that the Opera Ghost has taken our beloved soprano, then take it up with the ballet mistress. Maybe she would have some more information on where she is than what we could give." Henri frowned as he heard Firmin's steps walked away from André. André stood there for a moment, looking at the door before looking where Firmin had walked off to.
Henri heard André release a long sigh before he grudgingly followed the steps of Firmin. When Henri stepped out of the shadows of the wall he hid behind, he took a long look at Theresa's bedroom. He carefully looked behind his shoulders to see if anyone was watching him before he slowly walked questionably toward it. Henri wrapped his hand around the doorknob, opening the door reluctantly to peer inside of the room.
All he could see is that Henrietta was more than right, and that Theresa was definitely not in her room. In fact, it looked like she was not in the room at all since the night before, which to him, hardly made any sense because he brought her to her room... he watched her go inside. Henri slowly closed the door behind him, looking around himself for a moment before walking further in her room. The frown on his face deepened further.
His blue-grey eyes skimmed every part of her room, seeing what could have been different. But then... his eyes stopped at the mirror. He narrowed his eyes at the mirror, the frown on his face turning slightly in confusion. He took a step forward and saw how the mirror was actually cracked open away from its frame. Henri's eyes stared at the crack pointedly before his hand curled around the edge of the mirror curiously. "What...?" He asked out loud. Henri then slowly pulled open the mirror, to reveal its other side.
A long, dark, and what seemed to be endless tunnel stared back at him. Curiosity burned in Henri's system, he looked around himself carefully before he slowly took a step inside of the tunnel. Turning his head toward the side of the tunnel, he saw a torch still burning in the tunnel. Henri took it in his hand, leaving the mirror actually opened for others as he moved carefully through the tunnel.
Still there? Like I said, the chapter after the next will be the end of Part One of this story, since it seems like I just completely made it sooner than I have expected it to be. We'll see. I was strongly considering to change the rating of this chapter so I could do a lot more with it (you know what more I am talking about) but I didn't think it right to do that without any warning whatsoever. So if I do decide to change the rating of this story, you will be warned. Because I was going to later on, but this scene just came a lot faster than I had expected it to be.. so yeah. I'm babbling now, so anyways I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Sorry about the cliffhanger!
See you next time!
Tiana xoxo