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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Disclaimer: See Chapter One!

Chapter Eight

It was over, over before it had really begun. I wanted my thoughts to stop, but they kept invading my head. Erik hadn’t meant it to happen. Of course… I had just been there, and he had taken me because he’d never get the chance to experience physical affection with anyone else, man or woman. What did he care about my feelings or about the fact that my whole life had started to change because of him?

It probably hadn’t meant anything to him. But why had it felt so good then? Shouldn’t I have noticed something in his behaviour? My brother had told me more than once that sleeping with a prostitute felt like sleeping with any other girl, but I had never believed him, seeing it as what it had actually been: an attempt to make me join him on one of his nightly visits in a brothel. Yet maybe it was true after all. Or maybe I was just stupid, imagining emotions that weren’t really there. It was not as if I had expected him to love me or anything that absurd, of course I hadn’t. Still… I had thought he at least liked me a little.

I wanted to shout or cry or destroy something, just to make that hollow feeling in my chest go away. The hole Christine’s death had torn into my body was back, and now that it hadn’t been this obvious for a while, it was worse than ever. I wondered if I would ever be free from it again.

My hands were shaking so badly that the manuscript slipped to the floor. I glanced down at it, making no move to pick it up. I had been so proud of my new knowledge, and now I’d never need it. It was hard to accept that I had prepared myself for pleasuring a man who had only used me. And here I was, hoping he’d have understood me.

At least he didn’t seem to have heard the sound of the falling sheets of paper. I didn’t want him to notice me, to turn around and make a scornful remark about me being there. Yet most of all I didn’t want him to send me away. For some reason I quite liked standing here and watching him on the floor, all weak and vulnerable. Perhaps a small part of me was also hoping he’d take his words back.

I soon noticed the reason why he hadn’t heard me was that he was sobbing too hard. Only after one or two minutes he continued talking.

“I… I know I told you I’d love you forever, and I do… please don’t think that I do not!” he whispered in such a low voice that I had to take a step forwards in order to continue listening, inwardly thanking whoever was responsible for it at the opera that the floor wasn’t creaking. I smiled slightly. Those words didn’t hurt me. Naturally he loved Christine. So did I.

“But you don’t know what it was like when you died!” This time it was half cry, half sob. “I felt so empty… And then Raoul came along… I’m using his first name now, did you hear that? You’d have liked it…” I couldn’t keep my heart from swelling with emotion. Even thought he doubtlessly was about to say how much he regretted everything, I enjoyed being called ´Raoul´ by him. That name alone was like a caress.

In the lantern’s soft light I saw him pull out a handkerchief. A moment later he blew his nose. Yet even that sound didn’t break the spell I was under. Mesmerized I waited for him to go on.

“I have no idea why all that happened between us. He was just… there…” I held my breath. The unpleasant part was about to begin. “But it felt good, and I wanted it to happen again. And when he met after… well, after your funeral… He touched my face, just like that! It was something you’d have done as well…”

I swallowed hard, fighting back the emotions rising from my chest. Why did he have to say things in that gentle voice, as if he cared for me? Couldn’t he simply crush my heart with his foot and get over with it? Apparently he couldn’t.

“I really wanted to do something good for him as well. That was why I… did what I did. I even enjoyed it… and I’d like to do it again some day.” The last part had been so soft that I was almost certain I had only imagined it.

Yet there was no mistaking the next words, for they were loud again.

“And now I have all those feelings for him inside me, feelings I don’t even have a name for… and I’m so sorry because I’ve sworn myself that there’d never be someone else. I also feel stupid because I have those feelings for him. All he wanted from me was comfort, for whatever reason, and I had to interpret something else into it.”

He gave a bitter laugh.

“When he woke up this morning, he was surely glad that I was gone and spared him the sight of my ugly face… and then he spent an hour washing himself to make the feeling of my fingers and my mouth go away!”

If only I could have told him how wrong he was! But I found myself unable to speak. First I wanted to hear all he had to say. I’d never get such an insight into his mind again.

“Do you know what the worst thing about it is, Christine?” he asked. “The worst thing is that I still hope he’ll come to me and tell me that he also has those feelings – whatever they are! But then, I was also hoping you’d come back to me. Someone like me should have really given up hope by now.”

Sensing the finality of his statement, I chose this moment to approach him. A hundred more or less intelligent remarks were on my mind, yet in the end I decided not to say anything, mainly because I didn’t trust my voice not to give away the state I was in. He had feelings for me! I could scarcely believe it. And he was afraid I might not feel the same, just like me!

I tapped his shoulder lightly… only to regret it a moment later. His reflexes were excellent in every situation. In one second he was sitting on the floor, and I was leaning down to him, and in the next one he had pinned me to the floor, lying on top of me. His hand had closed around my throat before I could do anything about it. At another time I would have marvelled at his speed. Today I was too busy trying to save my life. I gave a strange gurgling sound, my hands desperately clawing at his arms as the lack of air became worse.

It only lasted for a few moments. Then he seemed to have recognised me even through the thin film of tears in his eyes. Yet if I had hoped for a friendly welcome – I wasn’t foolish enough to expect an apology – I’d have been disappointed.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, loosening the grip around my throat just enough to allow me to breathe properly, which was the first thing I did. “What do you want?”

It was difficult to find an answer. I was dizzy, and it did not only come from the momentary lack of air. His body felt so good on top of mine, and I couldn’t help wishing we weren’t wearing all those clothes, wishing he ran his hands all over me, wishing he kissed my throat instead of –

“What do you want?” Erik repeated impatiently.

At last I managed to pull myself together.

“I… erm, wanted to visit you,” I replied, focusing on the shadows on the ceiling. Anything was better than thinking about how good - ´Stop!´ I scolded myself. I needed my mind here with me now, not somewhere in the depths of my imagination.

“Visit me?” he snarled. “You mean taunt me! How long have you been standing there?”

“A few minutes, maybe,” I answered in a small voice. His face was hovering over mine, so that I couldn’t see the ceiling anymore. Now nothing could distract me from the warmth coming from his body. How could I have ever thought it would be cold? The only cold part of him were his eyes. Automatically I started apologising. “I know I should have knocked, but I was sure the room would be empty. I didn’t mean to… eavesdrop on you.”

“Then why did you do it?” he asked. “This was a private conversation, and you just came in to laugh at me.” He shifted his weight slightly, making me only too aware of the fact that he had pushed one of his legs between mine to steady himself. If it had been a few inches higher… I bit back a moan of longing.

“I’d never laugh at you,” I pointed out, admiring my ability to sound sensible even under such difficult circumstances. “Nobody would do that – unless they were tired of living.”

Erik nodded briefly, reluctant to admit I was right.

“How much have you heard?” he wanted to know, his voice growing a little softer. He even removed his hand from my throat. At least I was in no immediate danger of being killed anymore, which definitely was an advantage. Still I had to be careful with what I was saying.

“You were talking to Christine, telling her that something happened between you and me and that you regretted it,” I answered, only to be interrupted by him.

“I never said I regretted it,” he corrected me. “I said I didn’t mean for it to happen, in the sense that I hadn’t expected or planned it. You surely didn’t mean for it to happen either, and does that automatically mean you regret it?”

“Of course not!” I exclaimed, surprising myself just as much as him.

The corners of his mouth twitched as he straightened up and pulled me into a sitting position as well. But then he did something that puzzled me: He guided me to sit with my back leaning against his.

“People tend to speak more freely when they don’t see the other person,” he explained, and I couldn’t help thinking that in his case that was true. If he had seen me – well, if he had known I were there – he’d have never said all those things. “And now tell me what else you heard!”

“Well, you were talking about the feelings you have for me,” I muttered hesitantly. It wasn’t easy to speak of such things. Yet in a way he was right: Looking at him would have been even harder.

“Yes, those feelings,” he echoed in a voice so sad that it almost made me cry. “You should have never heard that. I’m sorry. I know you’re just looking for consolation and a chance to enjoy yourself, and for some reason you’ve chosen me…”

This time I interrupted him.

“How can you know what I’m looking for?” I asked him. “You have many talents, but mind-reading is not one of them. The consolation part is true, but if I just wanted to enjoy myself, I could have found someone more… approachable than you, if you know what I mean.”

“What is it you want then?” he asked. “What are… what are your feelings for me?” The nervous shifting of his body told me how hard it was for him to ask such a question. I doubted I’d have done it myself.

Blindly I groped at our side till my hand met his. He wasn’t wearing gloves today, so that I could trace all the little lines on the back of his hand while I was talking. It was very soothing.

“I’m not sure,” I said, which was a reply both honest and stupid. “I mean, I’m not sure what to call them. When I think of you, it makes me feel… good.” That was a little better, but not much. I had to explain it in more detail. “It makes me feel all warm inside, and it keeps me from thinking of Christine.”

The muscles on his back grew tense.

“And that’s a good thing?” he wanted to know. There was just a little harshness in his voice, almost as if he were holding himself back for the sake of keeping the conversation civil. It occurred to me that it meant just as much to him as it meant to me.

“In the way I’m referring to it is a good thing,” I replied calmly, pressing my back against his. “I do still think of her, but I’m not that desperate anymore. I no longer feel as if I had died with her, and I believe that’s because of you.”

At last I managed to stop myself, feeling as if I had spoken the biggest nonsense – and in front of him of all people.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “That was probably more than you ever wanted to know. I shouldn’t have said any of it. It’s wrong to talk that much about feelings anyway,” I added defiantly. “Men don’t do that.”

Erik gave a groan.

“Is that another word of wisdom from your brother?” he asked. “Just because he has no one to talk to about his feelings – if he has any, I wouldn’t be too sure about that – it doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to do it either. Did you never tell Christine what you were feeling for her?” Now his voice sounded genuinely worried, as if he were afraid I had missed a chance.

Yet I could assure him it was not like that.

“Yes, I did,” I replied. “But that was different. Women… they like those things.”

“Oh, and you hate them?” By now I didn’t even have to see his face to know that he was smirking. “First you listened to me reveal my feelings, then we talked about them. If you had been so bored by it, you could have left and watched the performance instead. The people who talk about their feelings there at least do so in Italian.”

“I wasn’t bored,” I told him gently, my fingers still stroking his hand. “I enjoyed it, especially because your feelings are so much like mine. I’m sorry that I annoy you with the things I’ve learned from my brother, but that’s simply the way I’ve been brought up. I’m also sorry that I apologise so often, but – “ For once I was glad about Erik’s reflexes. He managed to cut off my stupid sentence with a kiss before I had even noticed he had turned around. His lips were soft and warm and wonderfully familiar.

“Could you do that every time I start talking nonsense?” I asked, still a little breathlessly, as the kiss ended.

“Only when I’m around,” he answered meaningfully, his golden eyes boring into mine. His fingers began to wander over my face, caressing the flawless skin, but to me it was as if he were touching my very heart. It was a strange sensation, strange and wonderful. I swallowed hard. My next question required a lot of courage.

“Would you like to do that… I mean, would you like to be around me more often? Meet me more often, maybe… do things together?”

Silently I pleaded that he’d say yes. If he said no… well, I wasn’t sure what exactly I’d do, but crying would definitely be included.

“I’d like that,” he whispered. “Very much…”

This time it was I who started the kiss. It was longer than the first one, but not less gentle, lacking the passion of those that had led to us taking off our clothes rather quickly in the past. It was… the kiss of a lover.
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Emptiness