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Emptiness	By : Josephine1881 Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Slash Views: 8257 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: See Chapter One!

Chapter Twelve

I saw the joy leave Erik’s face and could have slapped myself for being that insensitive. Why couldn’t I have asked that question sometime later? To him it had to sound as if I were reluctant to stay with him and used every stupid argument I could find to take back my word. But it was not like that, not at all. I had merely thought about the last time I had been here. We had been lying on the floor then. Maybe we could do that again. It was worth a try.

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor,” I told him hastily, before he had the chance to say anything. “It won’t be very comfortable, but it’ll be all right for me, really…”

He merely shook his head.

“No, no, I won’t let you lie on the floor like a dog,” he said firmly. “But it is a good question…” The expression on his face grew pensive. “Perhaps suggesting that you stay here was a little too rash…”

“But I do want to stay here,” I stated, just to make that perfectly clear. I reached up and traced the lines on the left side of his mouth with my index finger. Then I let it wander upwards to his forehead. I wanted to make the lines worry had left there disappear, at least for the moment. “Let me sleep on the floor,” I whispered. “Or I could use the divan.”

“I want you to sleep in my arms,” he gave back. “I want to feel you next to me all night, while I lie awake and think about my miserable, pointless life.”

“But there is no way – “ I argued, only to be interrupted by him.

“There is a way. I’m just afraid you won’t like it. Christine’s room is still the same it used to be. The bed would be big enough for the two of us.” He threw me a questioning glance.

I gulped as two opinions started fighting in my head. On the one hand the prospect of falling asleep in Erik’s arms sounded very promising. I had enjoyed it very much the last time it had happened and was quite eager to repeat it. I was also looking forward to him still being with me in the morning. Since we were in his house, he’d surely not leave the bed too early.

Still… it would be Christine’s bed we’d sleep in, maybe even… do things in. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

My doubts seemed to be visible on my face, for he said:

“We’ve talked about this, Raoul. Christine would have approved of us being together.”.

“Did she ever sleep in that bed?” I asked in a small voice.

He nodded.

“Just once, though,” he replied. “And I changed the sheets. In fact, I changed the sheets only this morning, when I returned from Perros.”

“This morning?” I repeated blankly. I needed a moment to take in what I had just heard. “Does this mean you knew I’d come here today and stay for the night?”

“It means I hoped you’d come and stay for the night,” he corrected me. “I couldn’t know it, of course, and I also didn’t know it would happen today. But I wanted to be prepared.” His thoughtful behaviour made me feel warm inside. So he had been hoping I’d come. It was good that I had done so.

“Let’s do it then,” I decided. “I don’t want all the preparation to have been in vain.”

He smiled.

“Does this mean you want to go to bed right now?” he asked teasingly.

“Well, that depends on what you’re planning to do there,” I replied, trying to adopt the same teasing voice. Yet my efforts were undermined when one of his hands sneaked downwards and gave my private parts a loving squeeze. I yelped in surprise.

“Does this answer your question?” he wanted to know innocently. I could only nod.

He was about to kiss me when another part of my body reacted in a very non-arousing way: My stomach grumbled, complaining about not having got any food since lunch. Erik and I broke apart. He raised an eyebrow.

“It seems that you have other needs we’ve got to satisfy before we can do anything else,” he remarked.

I blushed deeply.

“I’m… sorry,” I mumbled. “It’s just… just…”

“It’s all right,” he assured me. “I wanted to make tea anyway, and we can have something to eat with it. And the rest… we’ll see about that later.”

“You eat?” I blurted out, before I could think about whether that was a very polite question. A part of me still saw the Opera Ghost in him, an almost mystical creature. Ghosts didn’t eat.

“Yes, I eat,” he replied with an exaggerated sigh. “I eat. I drink. I sleep. I use the bathroom. I’m an ordinary man, Raoul, at least in some respects. I thought you had understood that by now.”

If possible, my face grew ever redder as I heard the disappointment in his voice.

“I know that you’re a man,” I told him, suppressing the urge to add that I knew it better than anyone else. This was not the right moment for such a comment. “But I’ve regarded you as a ghost for such a long time. It’s not easy to change that all of a sudden.”

“Can I help you with it?” he asked, sounding rather serious for a change.

“Tell me about yourself,” I answered instantly. “I know nothing about you, only the little Mme.Giry told me.”

“And what did she tell you?” he wanted to know sharply.

I knew that mentioning it had been a mistake as I looked into his face, which was rapidly growing as hard as marble. I had to do something about it quickly. Maybe talking would help.

“She told me you arrived in Paris as part of a circus. One day you escaped, and some time later the Opera Ghost made his first appearance. She also told me that…” My voice faltered. “…that they kept you in a cage,” I finished in a whisper, like a child telling someone an incredible story.

“So you already know all there is to know about me,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And that is more than enough for you. The story of your life is none of your business… Vicomte.”

The old way of addressing me was like a slap in the face. I had worked so hard on him trusting me, and one careless remark had ruined all my efforts. I could have kicked myself… or else him. I wondered which of the two possibilities would be more effective.

“Maybe you’re right,” I muttered. “Maybe it is none of my business. But I want to make it my business. I want to get to know you better, Erik. Why is that such a problem for you?”

“Because most parts of my life were terrible!” he exclaimed. “They were worse than your most dreadful nightmares. I’ve seen things you couldn’t even imagine. You wouldn’t understand what – “

“Then make me understand them!” I called, simply interrupting him. I was seized by the overwhelming urge to take him by the shoulders and shake him hard, so I did exactly that. I shook and shook and shook him, shouting: “I’ve had enough of this! Every other minute I say something that hurts you because I don’t know enough about your life! You grow angry or cold, but you’re not telling me about your life either! Can’t you see that doesn’t fit together? Having a conversation with you is like walking over an old suspension bridge: Every step could be my last…”.

At last Erik seized my wrists and made me stop shaking him.

“Why don’t you try treading more carefully then?” he asked. His voice wasn’t as shrill as mine, but every bit as angry. “But no, you prefer stomping around like a wild ox, not caring about my feelings at all!”

“That’s nonsense!” I cried. “Of course I care about your feelings. But how can I be more careful if I don’t know what will make you angry? I’m not a mind-reader.”

I took a step backwards, feeling very exhausted from the shouting.

“There are two possibilities,” I told him in a deliberately low voice. “One is that you open up to me. I’m not expecting to hear the story of your life in one day. Just a little bit would be enough. And the other one is that I leave. But don’t think I’d come back. I can’t go on like this.”

He didn’t say anything. He merely looked at me, and his face was as cold and hard as marble again. Vaguely I wondered why he didn’t wear a full mask. In this moment it wouldn’t have made any difference. I waited till I had taken five more deep breaths, which was the time limit I had given myself before I’d walk away. Nothing happened, so I freed myself from his grasp, turned around and left the kitchen. I walked very slowly, for there was still a tiny bit of hope inside me that he’d come after me. Yet it was growing fainter with every step I took.

Had I done the right thing? I didn’t know it. For one moment it had felt like the right thing, but by now it more felt like having my heart ripped out of my chest, which just couldn’t be right. Why did it hurt so much to lose someone I had barely had? Another question I didn’t have an answer to. Maybe that someone had meant more to me than I had known myself.

And still… yes, I had done the right thing. Being with him like that had just been too hard. He had had his chance, and he hadn’t seized it. Yes, I had done the right thing. Yet that didn’t explain why there were tears trickling down my face as I walked out of the house and started the long way around the lake. There would be no boat for me… just like there would be no bed.
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Emptiness