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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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Author’s note: As you can see, I’ve decided to continue this story. Thank you for all the reviews encouraging me to do so (Well, not here on AFFN...)! And don’t forget to keep me informed about whether you like the turns this is taking!

Chapter Two

The funeral took place three days later, on one of those fine days July offers aplenty. All around me nature showed its splendour. Daisies held their white heads out towards the sun, and lilac carnations gave the other graves a slight hint of vivaciousness. The leaves of the tree that stretched its branches over my head rustled in a gentle breeze. I was surrounded by life, but I felt as if a little part of myself was as dead as Christine, who was lying in the wooden bed she’d never stand up from again.

I forced myself not to look into the pit, not to listen to the priest’s words. Instead, I turned my head slightly, glancing at the two other persons who had found their way to the small graveyard of Perros. Mme.Giry gave me a little nod. She appeared just as collected as always, but I didn’t fail to notice that the lines around her eyes had grown deeper since the last time I had seen her.

The woman held the hand of the girl standing next to her. Meg was clutching it as if her life depended on it, sobbing uncontrollably. Her blond curls were dishevelled, covering parts of her pale face. She didn’t seem to listen to the priest either, whereas Mme.Giry watched him attentively. Maybe it was her way of maintaining her composure.

I grew a little angry as I looked at the empty space around us. At least a dozen more people could have stood there, bidding farewell to Christine. Yet neither the managers nor any of her fellow singers at the opera had shown the faintest bit of interest in coming here. The long journey had been the standard excuse, but I knew that they simply hadn’t wanted to attend her funeral. It would have reminded them of her tragic fate, having died of a terrible disease after just a few months of being the most wonderful soprano Paris had ever had. No one liked thinking of how quickly one’s life could end.

Of course no member of my family was here either. Clarille, my youngest sister, had actually considered accompanying me, yet after a short conversation behind closed doors with my brother she had remembered an urgent appointment she had. It had been just the same with the coachmen: Of course they needed all of them today. It was good that I possessed an own coach and knew how to drive; otherwise they’d have let me walk to Perros. The point Philippe wanted to make was clear: If I was stupid enough to mourn over a girl like Christine, I shouldn’t expect any support from my family.

There was someone else whose support I’d have expected, though. But as much as I craned my neck, I couldn’t spot Erik anywhere. I had told him the date of the funeral when he had guided me out of his world. We hadn’t met since that time, and I had been looking forward to seeing him again. I had often thought about writing him a letter of even visiting him, but in the end my cowardice had won. There were those strange feelings inside me, and although I longed for someone to explain them to me, I was also frightened.

“Aren’t you feeling well, Son?” Father Barand’s soft voice made me jump slightly. In shock I realised that the ceremony was over. The Girys had left their place and were walking into the direction of the gate, and the priest seemed to be ready to leave as well. “No, no, I’m… fine,” I assured him hastily. “It was a very good sermon, Father. Thank you for having come all the way from Paris.”

He shook his head gently. “I would have done the same for every other member of my parish,” he said. “We’ll all miss Christine and her wonderful voice in the service.” I glanced to the ground, feeling my cheeks flush. My fiancée had gone to church very often, but I had rarely accompanied her. And now I hadn’t even listened to the last minutes of the sermon.

We both remained silent for a few moments, then Father Barand muttered: “All this is very hard to get over for a man as young as yourself. Do you have anyone who’s there for you?”. Looking up I glanced at the spot around Christine’s grave once more. It was completely deserted now. I shook my head wordlessly. He gave a sympathetic little sigh. “If you need to talk, you know where to find me,” he reminded me, patting my shoulder lightly. Then he walked away, leaving me behind all alone.

But was I truly alone? Stepping forwards I stared down at the light brown wood of the coffin. A few flowers lay on top of it. Vaguely I recalled that I had seen them in Mme.Giry’s hand. I hadn’t even noticed she had thrown them into the pit before leaving the graveyard. Maybe I had even missed her talking to me because I had been too busy thinking about who wasn’t there.

Suddenly I remembered the bouquet of white lilies I held in my cold hands. I knew I should have thrown them onto the coffin, too, but I couldn’t bring myself to doing it. What was the point of this tradition? The flowers would only be covered with earth and die, just like Christine. I leaned forwards a little more. Why hadn’t I realised before how deep the pit was? It was so deep… so deep…

“Careful, boy!” A hand seized my shoulder roughly and pulled me away from the grave. “You don’t want to fall in there, do you?” I spun around, ready to yell something very unfriendly at whoever dared disturb me and treat me like a child. Yet the moment I set eyes upon the mask shining in the light of this late afternoon, my face split into a smile. It was Erik. “I’m so glad you’re here at last.” I muttered. For a moment I considered embracing him, but decided against it. I wasn’t sure whether he’d like such a display of affection.

He didn’t make a move to touch me either, so we stood in front of each other awkwardly for at least a minute before he said: “I’ve been here all the time. But I preferred being alone. So I hid behind that groups of trees over there.”. Gesturing at a few trees at the other side of the graveyard he added: “It’s good that I have an excellent hearing. Or maybe not quite as good – that priest held the most boring sermon I’ve ever had the misfortune of being exposed to. I thought he’d never stop.”.

“To your information: Christine liked Father Barand and his sermons,” I told him shortly. “If listening bothered you so much, you could have simply left.” I didn’t understand why I was so unfriendly all of a sudden. But I also didn’t understand him. If he was pleased to see me, he had a very weird way of showing it. “I wanted to have a moment alone at her grave,” he explained. “Besides… I wanted to see how you were doing.” He underlined the last words by placing a hand on my shoulder.

The gesture was almost the same as the priest’s, and still it was very different. The few square inches where he touched me grew hot at once, igniting a fire in my belly. I gasped for breath. Images of the time we had spent together were racing through my head, making my whole body tingle. How I had missed him! It felt so good… so deliciously good… but it was all wrong.

With a start I remembered where I was: on a graveyard. I might not have been the most avid church-goer, still I knew it wasn’t allowed to get an erection at such a place. Quickly I took a step backwards, breaking the contact. Luckily I had my hat in the hand that wasn’t holding the flowers. As discreetly as possible I moved it in front of the region of my body that had shown this unmistakable reaction.

“Is anything wrong?” Erik asked, the smirk on his face a clear sign that he knew what had happened to me. “No, I’m fine,” I replied, giving the same answer as to the priest. It had been a lie then and it was a lie now. “Would you like to be alone here? I could go,” I then offered half-heartedly. I didn’t want to leave already; we had hardly had the chance to exchange two sentences. But then, he deserved the opportunity to talk to Christine in private. Besides, I needed a little time to get my unruly body under control again. He nodded slightly, muttering “Thank you.”. Silently I placed the bouquet next to the tombstone. It looked very pretty.

Walking away I was almost as sad as during the funeral. Somehow my feelings about the loss of my fiancée were tangible and easy to understand. She had died, and that was something terrible. But my meeting with Erik, as short as it had been, had filled me with emotions so strange that I couldn’t possibly comprehend them. How could I long for this man and be angry at him at the same time? Settling down on a bench next to the gate I decided to wait for him. He’d eventually have to pass this spot.

It took him a while to finish whatever he was doing. I used the time to try and forget I was on a graveyard. I failed miserably. As much as I concentrated on the trees and flowers, crosses and tombstones kept getting in my range of vision, reminding me that this was a place belonging to the dead. In the background, the mausoleums were looming like gigantic beasts. I was glad that Christine hadn’t wanted to end up in one of them. It had been her wish that her body would become a part of nature again, while her soul would go to Heaven.

By the time Erik turned around and approached the gate the sun had already started to descend, which made the place even less inviting. Fortunately I’d get away from here soon. I stood up when he was just a few steps away from me, suddenly very keen on pretending I hadn’t waited for him. Of course it didn’t work. For what other reason should I have stayed?

“You’re still here?” he asked, his lips twitching into an amused half-smile. If being at Christine’s grave had affected him in any way, he didn’t show it. “Yes, well… erm, I thought maybe… I could take you home…” I stammered, silently cursing myself for not making up a better excuse. He raised an eyebrow. “And how do you assume I’ve come here? On foot?” he wanted to know pleasantly. He seemed to think this conversation highly funny. “No… erm… well…” I muttered. “You should consult a doctor about that stutter,” he suggested. “It’s not normal, even for a boy of your tender age.”

That remark was the final straw. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to your insults!” I hissed, walking to the gate and pulling it open with far more energy than necessary. Who did this man think he was? No one would treat me like that! My anger lasted until the moment I reached the coach and went to untie my horse’s reins from a tree nearby. By then Erik’s comments had been replaced by images of what I’d do if I drove back to Paris now. It was a more than gloomy prospect.

Would it look very stupid if I walked back to him? I’d probably earn yet another snide remark. But then, the last time we had met he had become nicer after a while. Perhaps I could invite him for a drink. I turned around… and jumped as I found myself face to face with him. Apparently he had followed me without making a sound. It had to be one of his talents as Opera Ghost.

My heart skipped a beat. So I wasn’t the only one interested in prolonging our meeting. This would have been my chance to make a sarcastic comment, but I didn’t seize it. I was far too glad to see that he cared for me after all. “I don’t want to go home,” I confessed softly. “My brother has invited my sisters and their husbands for dinner. They’ll laugh and chat and act as if Christine had never existed. And the worst part is that there’ll also be a ´lovely´ girl from our neighbourhood, who’ll show up ´by chance´. I overheard Philippe talk to her about his little brother, who needs to be cheered up.” I rolled my eyes to indicate what I thought about it.

Having consulted his pocket watch Erik said: “It’s half past seven – rather late for dinner, considering how long the journey will take.”. I shook my head dismissively. “I tried coming late a few times,” I told him. “They’ll wait for me, even if I won’t arrive until midnight. But thank you anyway…” I appreciated it that he had thought about my problem at all. He could have also called it ridiculous and walked away.

Looking at me seriously he muttered: “You do seem a bit pale, though. Maybe you shouldn’t drive all the way back. It could be dangerous… I’ve seen they’re renting rooms at the inn in the village…”. At last I understood what he had in mind. Smiling I said: “I’m sure Philippe won’t be angry if I return in the morning. After all, he wouldn’t want me to risk an accident.” A little nervously I added: “You should stay here as well… erm… for… safety reasons…”. This time he didn’t comment on my stammer, but merely nodded. Without exchanging another word we went to our coaches and prepared them for the short journey through the village. Of course we could have walked, but the horses needed a good place to stay for the night.

Twenty minutes later they were eating hay in the stable belonging to the inn, while we stood in the small entrance hall. I could only hope that the horses weren’t the only ones who had found a place to sleep. The man at the desk looked up and greeted us, but I didn’t get out a word in return. What if he’d ask unpleasant questions about why we only wanted one room? I was relieved when Erik stepped forwards to talk to him. Surely he’d do it better than me.

“Good evening. My companion and I would like to have two rooms for the night.” I couldn’t believe my ears. Two rooms? The man hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on the mask. Then he pulled himself together. “Of course, Monsieur,” he replied. “Rooms 3 and 6 are vacant. You’ll find them on the first floor. Would you like to pay right now?” I was still so shocked that I didn’t even think of giving Erik the money for my room. I merely looked at the two keys he got, wishing I could turn them into one. “If you need anything else, just ask! Have a nice stay!” the man called after us as we made our way up the stairs. I felt like slapping him.

Arriving on the first floor we walked down the corridor till we reached the door with the number 3. Erik handed me a key, and for a moment our eyes met. I wanted to say something, anything, but I didn’t dare do it. “Are you hungry? We should have asked whether we can get some food here…” he said. I shook my head, feeling as if I’d never eat again. “Well… goodnight then,” he muttered and made his way to his room.

Sighing I unlocked the door and went inside. It was a small room with rather tasteless furniture. There was a bed, a table, a chair and a wardrobe, all looking as if they had once belonged to different households. Yet at the moment I couldn’t have cared less. Automatically I undressed; instead of my usual nightshirt I simply kept on my shirt. Although it was much too early, I then went to bed. There was nothing else for me to do.

It was warm in the room, and still I shivered as I lay under the thick blanket, closing my eyes firmly. Finally the day’s events started taking their toll. I imagined what lying in a coffin had to feel like. One couldn’t turn around. One couldn’t get up. One couldn’t see. And the only prospect one had was to be eaten by worms. I could almost feel them crawl over my skin, searching for the most tender piece of flesh to bite into, the most inviting orifice to invade my body… My eyes snapped open, and for a moment I did nothing but try to regain control over my racing heart. No, I couldn’t fall asleep with such pictures in my head.

With all my might I focused on happier thoughts. The things that happened inside the coffin had nothing to do with Christine. It was just her body. Her soul had left it long ago. Except for the sad fate of people buried alive, no one would ever experience the things I had imagined. After all, who would want to lie in a coffin? And surely you wouldn’t prefer my coffin, would you? Where did that sentence come from all of a sudden? It took me a few moments to recognise it as something Erik had said… shortly before he had begun to touch my manhood. Oh, that was an extremely pleasant thought! At once my member stirred; it seemed to like the memory as well.

My hand had already started its journey downwards when I stopped myself. I didn’t want to do this now, not after Erik had been so indifferent. He might have been loving and friendly then, but today all he had done was mock me. He hadn’t even wanted to sleep in the same room as me. I gave another deep sigh. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t understand him. Longingly I recalled the way he had bid me farewell three days ago. The spot on my cheek that he had kissed so gently tingled, and my manhood twitched in approval.

By now I had to hold onto my hand to keep it from touching me. If I started pleasuring myself, I’d maybe sleep better afterwards, but I’d never find out what Erik felt for me… or what I felt for him. The chance to ask him would be gone in the morning. Quickly, before I could change my mind again, I got up and left the room. I didn’t even take the time to put on my trousers. It was barely nine o’clock; no one would be on the way to a room yet.

I was lucky; the corridor was indeed deserted. Still I hastened to room 6. Taking a deep breath I knocked at the door. “Who’s there?” a voice called briskly. It didn’t sound sleepy at all, and I dared get my hopes up a little. “It’s me, Raoul,” I replied softly. “There’s something we have to talk about. Can I… come in?” A few moments passed in silence before he said: “All right. But I do hope it’s important.”. Although he couldn’t see it, I nodded eagerly and opened the door.

As far as I could tell in the semi-darkness, the room was almost the same as mine. The bed stood in the corner, and Erik lay in it on his side, his back facing me. “What do you want?” he asked, not even turning around. “Well, it’s… erm…” I tried to pull myself together. If I went on like that, he’d be asleep within a minute. “I just want to know… what it is you feel for me,” I eventually managed to get out. He gave a groan. “Do we have to have this conversation now?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, the bored sound of his voice making me angry. “I can’t understand you! One moment you say you care for me, and the next you mock me. One day you kiss me, and the other you don’t even touch me properly. But I won’t have you treat me like this anymore. Maybe you don’t want to remember what happened between us. Then I’ll make you remember it!”

With these bold words I walked over to the bed and crawled under the blanket, only to discover that it was impossible to remain furious while being this close to him. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt, just his underwear. I fought against my body’s reaction. “Turn around, Erik… please!” I whispered, touching his upper arm softly. “I can’t,” he mumbled, shrugging off my hand. “But why not?” I wanted to know shyly. “I just want to kiss you and… things like that… Wouldn’t you like it?” His reply consisted of a single sentence. “Look at the table!” I did what he told me, and suddenly comprehension dawned on me. On the table, shining in the moonlight coming through the window, lay his mask.
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Emptiness