Chapter Text
“You left me once, Christine. I couldn’t survive you leaving again. Be happy, but, please not by torturing me.”
His words echoed through her; cold and true and made her feel as if she were nothing more than a….Phantom.
She came back for him. She took her time, cleared her head, and actually made a decision without a million voices, including his, clouding her thoughts and she chose him. He was wrong; she felt whole when she was with him.
“But, I am here now. I’m choosing you. I wish to be happy with you.”
“Christine, please just go. I do not want you here.”
He glanced back at her; away from the piano for a moment. His tall thin frame, elegant and surreal against the printed paper on the walls. His white mask, pearlescent, reflecting the dancing candles in the room. An obelisk against the mahogany.
The pale iris’ swimming like a pool of gold with unshed tears.
Love is wishing for the happiness of someone you love, regardless, of your own.
She walked slowly up to him. Being as quiet as she could. And gently, so very gently, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders; standing behind him. Her left arm slinging across his torso, palm resting on his right side, the other across his chest to hold the left side of his masked face. At least, he still had the mouthless mask on. As her embrace had progressed, his body, like waves, had gone through moments of relaxation and tension. The final breath of air came as she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder; softly smelling his hair and trying to stop the quivering in her lips. Erik. Erik. So very Erik.
“Please….” she whispered ”…..be happy with me. No one gave me a chance to speak, to think, to breathe on my own that night and the ones before it. I was so worried for you, for Raoul…” Erik tensed at the mention of his name. The tendons in his forearms growing taught across the keys. ”….and even for your friend, Monsieur Kahn,” she breathed, trying to calm herself. He was so closed off. It was both their faults that it had come to this. Him, for reacting too quickly, and her for not quickly enough. “I breathed again….on my own. Clear headed. And I came back to you. Please don’t send me away. Not when my happiness is so closely tied to yours.” She nuzzled behind his ear softly rubbing her left fingers against the exposed jawline; calmly listening to the rise and fall of his breath. It was too calm, too resigned for her liking.
Wetness hit her palms. He began to turn away from her arms and she let him go.
“I don’t believe I ever loved you, Christine. Not like the boy does. I believe I fell in love with your kindness. The first ever shown to me by a woman. So, therefore, it is with our best interest that we no longer be apart of each other’s lives.”
He faced her as he spoke, still sitting on the piano bench. His hands tightly held to his knees. He peered towards the door; his head turned away from her. She stood so close to him, almost within his open knees.
His outward calm appearance was an illusion to hide the cacophony of thoughts within his head. How could he tell her? How could he say that to her? He loved her! Her! His will, his heart, his loins, heaven help him, cried out for her. Her laugh, her voice, her opinion, her conversation. Christine. Christine. But, his mind, his mind knew all too well. He would drain her. Never be good enough for her. She can deny it and he knows she believed it; that they could be happy. But, he can see it. He would slowly kill her. He’d never lay a hand on her, never harm her. But, the death that always surrounded him would take her too. He had to let her go again. If this was the only way, telling her a lie, then so be it. She’d move on, have a better life without him. A family. Friends. Children. A singing career. But, without him.
He reminded himself over and over again like a tumbler in a music box. She only thinks she loves me.
A part of him wonders if not speaking the truth to her was like taking away her choice; was once again acting like Ra—THAT BOY and taking away her choice. Did he want to be like that?
You will never be her strength. You will drain her. Life and Death walk different paths.
His mind reminded him why he was doing this. It didn’t matter. She had to live, be happy. He’s no longer living; not even in this pretty tomb.
Something brought him back from his thoughts. A soft, sort of….music. A rhythm. He looked up…too quickly for his liking. He had to remain steadfast.
The look of sadness in her face broke him but he could not give in. Tears streamed down her face. Quiet, shallow breathing descended forth from her as her lip quivered. He was weak. So weak. He held out his hand to her. Her own fingers rising to meet him as she moved closer, now standing between his legs. He held both her hands between them. He stared at them. How nice it is to hold her hands. To rub the backs of them. To see them swallowed by his own so gently. He was capable of gentleness, was he not? Apparently so. For her.
She met his eyes and she just looked at him……as if it was the last time she would gaze upon him. For so long, they took each other in. Feeling one, whole, as long as their hands were bound. Christine couldn’t take it any longer. She raised her hand and slowly cupped his lower jaw. His exposed skin. He noticed this. That she touched his skin. Not the mask. As if she wanted…..No, she couldn’t. She stroked his skin softly. She smiled, resigned, tears still gracing her cheeks and he held her hand tighter. He wanted to kiss away her tears. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and slowly kiss and lick away the tears from the pools of her cheeks. Pull them from the swell of her lips. Taste them on her tongue. Gods, how he wanted her. He couldn’t control himself. He raised her hand up a little so that their palms may meet. As he curled his fingers to twine with hers, so did she. So perfectly in sync, they were. She stopped her stroking of his cheek.
“Erik, May I take off the mask?”
His heart sank. Why? Why? Why? Why couldn’t he have a moment of feeling like an ordinary man and not a corpse? Why must she offer him no respite?
She loved him because he wasn’t an ordinary man. He didn’t understand that.
“I wish to see the face of the man I love, of my friend, of my angel of music, for the last time….before we part.” Her breathing was ragged and the sadness poured out of her eyes and like acid, blazed across their souls.
Erik bowed his head slightly, a nod, leaning towards her hand. As he consents, his fingers tightens around hers where they are still touching. She slips her hand from his and with reverence pulls the mask from his face; letting her hands comb across his temples and into his hair. The mask slips silently to the cushioned bench. She pulls her hands forward, dragging her fingertips across the sensitive skin on his face, across his cheekbones, down the nub where his nose bridge stopped, pressing across his jaw. She gasps softly as his lips open when her thumb crosses them; unable to control her pupils dilating. He’d never seen desire in her eyes, so he didn’t recognize it now. She took him in; unbothered by the skeletal visage. She adored watching the tendons in his cheeks move, she realized. If they were lovers, she would have teased him of the very slight color difference between his exposed mouth and jaw and where the mask usually rests. Tan lines, my dear? She would say. But, they were not lovers and never would be. Tears flooded again. She pressed her thumbs more firmly against his cheeks and the defined tendons. A moan slipped from him and he gently rubbed at the inside of her wrist; his right arm curling about her waist.
Do not give in. Do not give in.
“Tell me you love me no longer, Erik, and I will leave. I will not bother you again.” Tears streaming down her cheeks.
Don Juan glared at him from its perch on the bookshelf. Is this the point of no return?
He can’t. He can’t deny he loves her. No. He couldn’t possibly. His mind, a violent mix of his voice, of the voices of his mother and the circus men, and every person who ever beheld his face, echoed with in his head. So, you will seal her in this tomb with you, forever? Just as expected. Death only ever takes!
She had the bravery to look into his eyes and hold his face as she spoke and he returned it as he gave his reply, “Christine….I mistook my feelings for you. I have never loved you. I believe….I said this.” He tried to add some temperament to his voice, instead of the desperate longing he truly felt. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Her breath hitched. A soft sob echoed and like a scythe cut across his heart. She never looked away. A hopeless smile crossed her face as she wiped a stray tear from his eye. Traitors! His eyes dropped to her lips and hers to his. She pulled him softly to her, waiting for him to stop her. She had to kiss him goodbye. It was the last thing she would ever take of him. He didn’t pull away from her and so, their lips met, pulling softly at each other. Their first kiss. His head found a better angle to kiss her at and a soft moan escaped from both of them. She didn’t understand. She didn’t want to. She held his face with one hand and dropped the other to caress the side of his neck under his jaw. Her thumb greedy for the texture of his skin. She didn’t care that the tip of her nose would touch where his should be. She didn’t care at all….not when their kisses were becoming deeper, longer, hungrier. Their tongues entwining and tasting each other. How she wanted him. His own were just as tumultuous. God, why did he kiss her? Why did he pull her closer to his carcass? His loins stirred rapidly, his trousers tightening over his arousal. Tugs and jolts of arousal cause her core to throb. But, she had to stop. He didn’t want her? Why was he kissing her if he didn’t want her?
Because you’re the first woman to do so. He doesn’t want you for you. He’s not kissing you. He wants only what he sees. Everyone is right. Your head is stuck too much in the clouds. There are no fairies to be seen….there never were.
She pulled back as the natural rhythm of their kissing slowed. Her thoughts had interrupted. But, she couldn’t bring herself to step away. Her face, a grimace, holding back tears as she pressed her cheek to his, her hand still on his neck.
“I love you, my Erik. Goodbye, my love.”
With a parting kiss to his cheek and lips, she slowly pulled herself from his arms, her hands sliding down the top of his shirt, her fingertips tasting his chest where he had loosed the buttons. Her body, her arms went slipping down his wrists and through his palms. He reached out for her slowly as she moved away from him like a fading light; too stunned to react fast. She looked at him for a moment; sorrow coloring her visage as she turned her back to him. Her slow walk to the door seemed like a lifetime. With one final glance back towards him, she forced a smile upon her lips, her hand resting on the open locks. They watched each other, screaming internally for the other. Her smile faltered and she swiftly moved around the door and closed it behind her. He didn’t register the fact that she knew how to open the locks from inside, how to shut the door from the outside. Open them, too. The locking of the door echoed too loudly for him. Like something in his heart was closing too.
Christine . He whispered. His arms finally lowered to his lap. He gazed upon his hands. They felt so empty yet so heavy. Christine .
I love you, my Erik. Goodbye, my love.
What have I done…
What have I done…