Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer: See Chapter One!

Chapter Five

Even still partly asleep I noticed something was wrong: Erik’s arms were no longer wrapped around my body. He had probably turned around sometime at night. Well, given the fact that it was quite warm such a behaviour was perfectly understandable. Yet as I groped around blindly, my hand encountered nothing but emptiness. At once my eyes snapped open. They confirmed what I had suspected: Erik was gone.

Sitting up I looked around in the room, hoping against hope that he had just gone to the bathroom. A neat little pile of clothes on the chair made my heartbeat speed up. He couldn’t have left without them, could he? Yet as I threw them a second glance I realised that neither his cloak nor his fedora were there. Quickly I turned my head, only to find out that his mask was missing as well.

Something was strangely familiar about those clothes. All tiredness vanished from my body as I jumped out of the bed and walked over to the chair. Picking up the shirt I realised that it wasn’t his clothing, but my own. To my surprise it was not only the part I had taken off in this room, but all of it. He must have fetched it for me while I had still been sleeping. Since I hadn’t even thought about locking my room before visiting him the previous night, that hadn’t been a difficult task.

But then, he’d have doubtlessly also been able to do it if the door had been locked. He was a man with many talents. Yet for some reason the only other one I could remember at the moment was how immensely talented his tongue and lips had been when he had… A stirring in my loins drew my attention to the fact that I wasn’t wearing anything. Hastily I grabbed my underwear and put it on. I felt better afterwards, even though no one was there to see me, naked or not.

That was just the point. The realisation sank in slowly, but steadily. Erik had left without as much as saying goodbye. It was as if a leaden weight had dropped into my stomach. Would it have been asked too much to wake me up? I knew we couldn’t have returned to Paris together because we had two coaches, but we could at least have got up together… eaten breakfast… kissed…

Frustration made me give the chair a powerful kick, which I instantly regretted as a searing pain shot through my bare foot. The next time I’d do something like that I should better wear shoes. Yet when I was about to turn around I spotted the corner of a piece of paper hanging out between my shirt and my trousers. Snatching it out I hopped to the bed, where I could both read the message and massage my aching toes.

Dear Raoul,

I had to leave early. It is safer for me to travel when there aren’t many people on the roads yet. Since I don’t think you want to expose your enthralling body to everyone, I’ve already fetched your clothes. Both rooms are paid. Have a pleasant journey home.

Erik

P.S.: If you want to see me, you know where to find me.

What a message! Even after the initial relief that he had not left without a single word – at least not in writing – had worn off, it took me a while to interpret everything. Still a few aspects remained unclear. What did he want to say with the sentence about my body, for example? He had called me beautiful before, but enthralling was not the same. Wasn’t it more ironic than serious?

And what about the part about the paid rooms? On the first sight I had thought it a nice gesture, just like the delivery of my clothes. Yet the longer I sat there, staring at the sheet of paper in my hand, the more offensive it became. Maybe Erik had recalled the small obituary and assumed I couldn’t pay for the room myself. I didn’t like that kind of mothering at all.

Naturally it was the postscript I thought about longest. ´If you want to see me´- of course I wanted to see him. Why had he put it like that instead of telling me a date when we could meet? Perhaps he wasn’t sure whether he’d like to meet me at all and hoped I wouldn’t dare contact him. Considering the fact that I hadn’t done it before the funeral either that wasn’t too far-fetched.

“Idiot!” I scolded myself. Hadn’t the events of yesterday taught me anything? I had interpreted each of Erik’s actions negatively, and each of them had truly had a positive reason. Now I had done just the same. I had to stop thinking of him in the worst way possible, or I’d only end up hurting both of us. I was aware that it wouldn’t be easy. After all, I had thought about him like that for a long time.

Leaning my back against the pillow I read the message another time, determined to see it in a good way. And it worked. Of course he hadn’t meant to offend me by paying for the rooms. It had probably just been the most sensible thing to do. The term ´enthralling´ was a compliment and nothing else. And of course he wanted to see me again. He had just not been sure which date to suggest because he didn’t know which appointments I had.

Suddenly I was perfectly cheerful again. I whistled as I placed the letter on the table and went to the bathroom to wash myself. Not even the cold water could put a damper on my excellent mood. Returning to the room I put on my clothes and walked to the window, pulling back the curtains. It was a wonderful day, sunny and warm. Why hadn’t I noticed before how nicely the birds were singing?

I pocketed the note carefully and left the room. With a spring in my step I walked down the stairs.

“Good morning, Monsieur!” the man at the desk called. “Would you care to have some breakfast?”

“No,” I replied. There was no place in my head for things as trivial as food now. “But thank you for the offer. My stay here was very pleasant. Goodbye!” With these words I opened the door and walked out into the sunshine.

A quarter of an hour later I was sitting in my coach, leaving Perros behind quickly. I had briefly considered visiting Christine’s grave a second time, but decided against it. I had always had a strong dislike towards graveyards. Besides, her soul was no longer there anyway. I could as well think about her at home… or with Erik. I particularly liked the latter idea. Maybe we could sit together and talk about her soon. That would be very nice for both of us.

Unfortunately my positive feelings didn’t last the entire journey. The closer I came to Paris, the more I dreaded arriving there and facing my brother. I had the vague hope that he could have gone out, but I knew it was not very likely. Philippe wasn’t exactly a morning person, and he rarely left the house before noon. Moreover, I’d have to meet him sooner or later anyway. So I could as well get over with it quickly.

By the time I came to Paris, the morning was almost over. The streets were full of people shouting, laughing or crying. It wasn’t easy to find my way through the crowd, and I was glad when I arrived at the large estate of the de Chagny family. A stable boy was already waiting at the gate; he seemed to have seen me coming and decided to help me at once. Either that, or my brother had sent him. I strongly suspected the latter.

I handed him the reins of my horse with a few friendly words and walked to the house, feeling my heart pound in my chest anxiously. I was angry at myself for being such a coward. After all, I wasn’t a little boy about to be scolded for having done something wrong. I was a grown-up man who had stayed away from home longer than expected. It was hardly a crime that justified punishment.

Yet apparently my brother didn’t share my opinion. The moment I reached for the door handle it was pulled out of my hand as the door opened, revealing Philippe standing behind it.

“Raoul!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been all night? I was so worried about you that I could hardly sleep!” Before I could utter a word of surprise, he pulled me into a bone-crushing embrace.

Letting go of me he gently ushered me into the sitting room. While my feet carried me there automatically, my mind was busy wondering what on earth was wrong with Philippe. He was never worried about me. He hadn’t even been truly worried about me on the day he had followed me down to Erik’s lair as I had tried to rescue Christine. Personally, I thought it very likely that he had only done so because people had expected him to. Moreover, he never embraced me. I could even remember him giving me a telling-off for embracing my sisters. To him embraces, just like kisses, were a waste of time and energy, unless they helped him getting a girl down onto her knees more quickly.

It was not until we entered the sitting room and I turned around that I found the explanation for his uncharacteristically affectionate behaviour. I spotted the petite girl walking behind Philippe, and everything fell into place. The girl’s name was Viviana, and she was our youngest kitchen help. My brother was obsessed with her beauty and innocence and didn’t miss a chance to demonstrate what a fantastic man he was. It irritated him to no end that she hadn’t given in to his courting yet, but it also made him try harder and harder to impress her. Playing the loving brother had been just the right method for that purpose.

I sat down in the armchair closest to the door, and Philippe took the one next to it.

“Would you like to have cup of tea now, Messieurs?” Viviana wanted to know.

“No, thank you,” he declined the offer without even asking me. It seemed that he couldn’t maintain the façade of friendliness too long. “You may return to the kitchen and help prepare lunch.” The girl curtseyed and left the room.

“Is she still locking her door at night?” I asked conversationally. “A clever young woman. She won’t fall for you.”

He made a dismissive gesture.

“They all do sooner or later,” he replied. “And that one is rather close to giving in. You should have seen her last night when poor lonely Philippe was crying his eyes out about his brother’s absence. I almost had her convinced to stay and comfort me when her mother called and she had to leave.” He shrugged, indicating how little he cared, whereas I inwardly congratulated the girl’s mother, who was working as our cook, for her good timing.

Philippe seemed to have guessed my opinion on the subject, for he said:

“I always get what I want. And I want Viviana. She’s such a pretty little thing. Besides…”. He leaned a little closer to add in a loud whisper: “…she’s a virgin.”. I rolled my eyes. Apart from a few exceptions, my brother was as easy to see through as a clean windowpane. His fondness of virgins was well-known and a constant subject of argument between us. Sensing my annoyance he went on: “Well, you know that I like leaving an impression.”.

“The only impression you leave in those girls is the strong belief that all men are selfish bastards, combined with the urgent wish to go into a convent,” I retorted.

He merely laughed.

“A convent doesn’t sound too bad,” he remarked. “Have you never considered taking the veil, little brother? You already fulfil one condition perfectly.”

My cheeks grew bright red. Although I had plenty of practice in dealing with his stupid comments, I could never think of a witty reply when he attacked me personally. If it had been for me, Philippe would have never known I was still a virgin. It had slipped out during a conversation with my oldest sister Sophie, and he had overheard it. Since that day he had devoted a much too big part of his time to curing me from the dreadful fate of virginity.

Today was no exception. When he realised I wouldn’t say something, he asked me:

“So where have you been last night? It would have been such a good chance for you, with Cecile coming for dinner. She was quite annoyed when you didn’t show up.”.

“I’m sure you comforted her very well,” I interjected.

“Well, of course I did,” he said matter-of-factly. “Viviana had already left, so there was a lot of time. But that’s not the point. Cecile could have been yours, and she’s the perfect girl for you: experienced enough to take the lead if it’s necessary, but not too much. After all, I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself.”

“Thank you for being that thoughtful,” I snapped. “To your information: The sermon took longer than expected, so that I didn’t drive home, but stayed in a room in an inn. Are you content now?”

“No,” he replied simply. “Honestly, Raoul, you have to learn to establish priorities. A dinner with a girl is definitely more important than something as boring as a funeral. Besides…” He gave me a smirk. “… how long can it have taken to throw a bit of dirt on top of a cheap little opera who-?”

He never finished his sentence, for in this moment my fist collided with his jaw. I hadn’t even realised that I had jumped up from the armchair.

“Don’t you dare call her that!” I yelled, beside myself with rage. My breathing was laboured as I stood next to his chair, waiting for him to make the next move. If he wanted a fight, I’d be lost. He was much stronger than me. Yet at the moment I couldn’t have cared less. Protecting Christine’s reputation was worth it.

But to my surprise he didn’t show any signs of wanting to hit me. On the contrary: After a moment’s consideration he smiled at me, holding his jaw with one hand.

“All right, all right,” he mumbled. “I’ve gone too far. That funeral thing seems to have made you a little sensitive.”

I returned the smile tentatively, secretly massaging my aching hand and wondering how many more parts of my body I’d have hurt at the end of the day. Yet when he continued, my smile vanished.

“But sooner or later you’ll see things from my point of view. That girl is dead, and you live. You’re a man; men have needs, so it’s only natural that you look for someone to satisfy them. And who could be a better help in that search than your dear brother?”

This was so like Philippe, twisting around every situation till it served his purpose. Tired of his complacency I said:

“I’ll go to my room now. I have a letter to write.”.

He nodded.

“But think about my words!” he advised me. “You’ll realise I’m right. Oh, and could you ask Viviana to bring me something cold for my jaw? Poor Philippe, patiently enduring his younger brother’s outbursts… she’ll love it.”

Leaving the room I could only shake my head. Sometimes the mere presence of my brother made me feel sick.
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Emptiness