Christine let out a yell when the dainty tall girl suddenly pulled her down beside her by hugging her arm. She tries not to think about the scent of cherries or how her fur feels like velvet. Or the soft lips that now caress her cheek.
His wonderful, beautiful Christine was now just a corpse. He could barely look at the limp form of his muse, as the blood from the shot flowered across the white linen of her dress. Ironically it had bled into the shape of a rose, the same colour as the ones he had given to her all those years ago when she was alive and triumphant.
He lay her body down gently on the cold, damp wood of the jetty, supporting her head so that it did not knock harshly against the surface. As he crossed her arms over her chest, barely suppressing the tears that pressed against his eyes, he heard footsteps and looked up into the gloom.
It was Meg. She looked distraught and wild, her hands still shaking from what she had done.
“No….No!”Brushing past him, she sat by Christine’s head and cradled it in her lap, pushing away the strands of hair. “No… Christine… What have I done?” She sobbed, allowing her tears to flow freely. Erik stared at her, numb. Reaching up to the clasp around his throat, he undid it and handed Meg his cloak, getting up from his knees.
“Here.” He said, voice rough and thick. Meg accepted it with a trembling hand, laying it over the body she held as if she were tucking up her babe.
“I am so sorry.” She sobbed, brushing her thumb against Christine’s still warm cheek. Erik did not respond. He didn’t know who she was talking to. Instead, he walked further away, sick to the stomach, his mask pressing uncomfortably against his face. He didn’t even see Gustave, who was tentatively making his way back until he was only a few feet away. Erik stopped where he stood, cocking his head as Gustave got closer and peered up at him through eyes glazed with tears.
“Is she…?” Again Erik, did not speak, merely shifted his body so that he could see Meg cradling his mother as she lay unresponsive and limp. But Gustave had already known from the moment he saw the blood bloom on her shirt what the outcome would be. He choked down a sob, brushing his tears harshly away as he looked at this man… his father… who stared back at him blankly. It was like there was no one there. He didn’t know what to say so instead he reached for his fathers hand and grasped it. That seemed to jolt him out of his state as he looked down in wonderment at their entwined hands, then at the boy. He took in a shuddering breath and sat down on the edge of the jetty, bidding Gustave to do the same. They looked across the eerily calm ocean and at the moon who cast her perfect, shimmering form across the surface.
“I’m sorry that… that you found out like this. That I am your father.” Still holding hands, Gustave peered up and was met by a cold, white mask that was completely emotionless and hard for him to look at. He no longer wanted to see this… thing… that hid his father. His mother had taught him a wise lesson. Look with the heart and not with the eyes. It was time for him to do so. Reaching up with his free hand, he rested his hand against the mask and curled his fingers under the seamless lip that almost seemed to melt in with his fathers face. Erik jerked away and glared at him warningly, softening when he saw the quiet determination in his eyes that reminded him of Christine.
“Gustave… Is this truly what you want?” The innocent boy nodded, withdrawing his hand as his father reached up and pulled away his mask and wig slowly, turning away almost immediately to place them on the ground next to him. He was stalling. Gustave touched his arm, felt the hard, sinewy muscle underneath and beseeched him to look his way as he tugged gently. Erik let out another quivering sigh and turned haltingly until the ravaged side of his face was in full view, not even daring to watch his sons reaction. Instead he stared and stared at the moon, now allowing the tears to run freely down his cheeks. He had had enough of holding them in.
Erik gasped when he felt a little hand brush his ravaged cheek, then cupped it, before it explored the rest of his deformity. He looked then, curious to know his reaction and was surprised to see acceptance as the hand crawled up further and brushed his non existent eyebrow. What he didn’t expect was for the boy to suddenly crawl into his lap, wrapping his arms tight around his torso and resting his head against his chest. Stunned, Erik sat with his arms rigid at the side, knowing the boy could hear the erratic thumping of his heart before he came to his senses and hesitantly wrapped his arms back around him. When he felt the boys tears wet his shirt, he rocked his son ever so gently side to side and rubbed his back soothingly. It felt good, albeit a little strange for him. They sat in silence like this for a while, until Gustave pulled back a little and inspected him again.
“I’m… I’m glad that I found out by the way. I’ve always felt a little different, a little odd and I never knew why.” He laughed softly, “I guess it all makes sense now.”
Erik dared to brush the hair out his sons eyes and cocked his head in curiosity.
“What do you mean?” He watched as his son reached up to his hairline and pushed back his fringe, revealing a small puckered bit of skin that zigzagged back through his hair. Proof that Erik lived in him. A blemish of his own.
“I was born with this. My father… Well, my other father… he was really angry apparently. I know because I overheard him when I was a little bit older talking about it, throwing accusations against mother. She always held steadfast that I was his son. But I knew… I knew something wasn’t right. The way I looked, my eyes…” Again he studied his father’s face and grinned, “I have your eyes. Then it was the love of music. Father accepted that because of mother but the other things… The love for weird, unnatural things… He didn’t accept that one bit. I guess he always knew.” Erik brushed back his hairline again, touching the blemish gently.
“I’m sorry that… That I wasn’t there for you. It must’ve been very confusing growing up. Especially with a little bit of me in you.” He joked, though it sounded hollow.
“A lot of you. I realise now how similar I am to you.” Gustave rested his head back on his father’s chest. “But… I’m happy I finally understand everything now. Yet… What happens now?”
“Well… You’ll probably have to go back to Paris with your father. As for your mother I don’t know-” His voice broke and he bit the inside of his lip as he stared out across the ocean, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“You loved her, didn’t you?” Erik nodded and sighed.
“More than anything.”
“I think… I think she loved you to. This will sound odd but she always told me about this character called ‘The Angel of Music’ and how he saved her life when she was at the opera house. Was… Was that you?”
“I… Well it’s a long story but yes, it was.” Erik murmured, stunned that Christine had disguised their time at the opera house as childhood stories for their son. He felt Gustave nod against his chest and when he spoke again, it truly shocked him.
“Do you think I could stay here with you? I don’t want to go back to Paris.”
“I… You’d really want that? To stay with me? Gustave… I’d love nothing more. I’ve already missed ten years of your life and I don’t want to miss any more. But you must understand, I don’t really have any say in this. It’s down to your other father and I know he will be very against the idea.”
“But if I beg him?”
“We will see what we can do. For now… Let’s just savour the moments we can have together.”
They remained sitting there, on the edge of the jetty, son in his fathers lap as they gazed across the ocean. Both of them were hurting, their hearts raw but it was relief to both that they had each other and they clung to each other like lifelines. It seemed that Gustave did not want to let go and Erik was fine with this, for the shock he still felt after Christine’s death still rocked him to the core. In fact, he was still half convinced that she still lived but the other, more stern half berated him and told him that she was dead. Still, at least he hand tangible proof that something of her, something of them,was here and he knew that he would never let go of this blessing again.
really thinking about re writing the whole love never dies story because honestly it’s a trash fire of a story and ALW could’ve done soooooo much better.
Would anyone be interested if I posted little short stories of E&C now and then? Happy for you guys to send prompts but was just wondering if this was something you’d like?
Erik didn’t want to have kids. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them or he couldn’t, it was something that he did not want in his life to worry about. Especially if it was born with his face.
And then, the child was born, on a stormy October night with the wind howling through the nooks and crannies of the house. It battered the shutters, guttered the candles that he had lit on any flat surface he could find as Christine writhed in agony. It was painful to watch, painful to sit next to her helpless.
It was a difficult birth and when it was over, it was as if the world had gone still. The midwife cleaned up, was payed for her silence, wrapped the baby in swathes of blankets and thrust it into the stiff arms of Erik before she left. It was as if she took any normality left of their life with her. Erik felt the warmth squirm in his arms, wriggle this way and that but he didn’t dare look at it. His eyes remained trained on Christine who lay in a languid stupor, looking at him blearily.
“Well, Erik… What is it?” She asked, overwhelmed by the whole affair.
“I…. I don’t know.” Christine reached out her arms and he all too gladly handed it over, his eyes never resting on it’s face. Manoeuvring the baby in her arms, she peeked under the blankets and smiled, looking at Erik only to met by a blank emotion his eyes. She knew all to well what he was avoiding and gently pushed the blankets out of its face.
“Oh…” Was all she could say, as she stared down at it. Erik felt his hot tears trail down his cheek, crestfallen by her voice.
“Is it… Ugly? Is it like me?” She looked up at him, smiling sweetly.
“If it was?”
“Then I’ve damned you both.” He murmured, resting his head in his hands, letting the tears flow freely.
“Take off your mask, Erik.” She commanded gently, and he obliged, too full of anguish to object. “Look at me.” Slowly, he looked up, and choked at the love that swam in her eyes. “He has your eyes.” He dared to peek down, but quickly averted his gaze until Christine reached for his hand and brought it down to rest on the babies chest. “Look at our son, Erik.”
It took Erik every ounce of his courage to dare look at his son and when he did, he let out a choked sob. There was not a blemish on his face and sure enough it was his eyes, staring back at him curiously, those amber orbs so full of wonder already.
“H-Hello.” He whispered, stroking the babies fat little cheek. A chubby hand poked out and grasped at the finger, a vice like grip that refused to let go. The eyes never left Erik’s face but for once in his life, he found himself unable to care. Let his son look upon his face. Let him see the kind of father he had.
“I think he likes you.” Christine laughed, watching how their son stared at his father in curiosity.
“He has your face.” Said Erik and she laughed again, patting the empty space next to her. It was long until she was resting against his shoulder, the both of them looking down at their son. “What would you like to call him, my love?”
“What we agreed on. James Gustave Destler.” Christine announced, before looking at him for approval. Erik smiled and stroked his cheek.
“My little James” He bent down to whisper in his ear, “I will make sure that no one ever hurts you. I will make sure that you live a life of a wonder. I will make sure that your future is bright. You are me and more, James. Me and more.”
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It strange for Nadir to see his ‘friend’, if you could him such after the harassment he had received this week past from him, look sick to the stomach and jittery with nerves. Whilst Nadir condoned the whole affair and made sure Erik knew this, he still tried to help him in anyway possible. If it would make Christine’s life easier, then he would try for her sake.
It had been almost funny to see how Erik and Christine’s roles had reversed, as if she had adjusted to new future without any hindrance. If anything, she walked around with a pinched forehead as she was constantly in thought, ignoring Raoul and confiding in her surrogate mother, Madame Giry. Erik on the other hand, did not know what to do with himself. He had been well adjusted to a life of solitude. He had not thought Christine would take his proposal so seriously, and whilst annoyed that she was doing it out for love for Raoul, he would take whatever chance he could take. It was only when Nadir was scrutinising the set of rings in his wide palm did he really panic.
“Oh my lord, what have I done?” Nadir jerked his head up at the panic in Erik’s voice, staring at him in surprise.
“What do you mean?” He watched, agitated, as Erik paced manically in front of him, the tails of his jacket fluttering behind him. A top hat rested on the table beside him, a stemless red rose sitting on the rim and Erik grabbed it, pinching the rim as he got lost in thought. “Erik, what do you mean?” Nadir repeated, placing the rings back in their velveteen box. He was glad to put them away. They had felt like cold, dead weights in his hand as if their story was a tragic one.
“Why am I such a monster? To put her through this… with me?” He said, almost whispering.
“I must say, this is a change of heart.”
“Mother said I’d die alone. She was right. I cannot do this to Christine but every time I look at her… Oh I just want her so desperately.” He moaned, as if in pain, and sank into the nearest seat available. “What have I done?” Despite the anguish, Nadir smiled and wondered over, placing a hand on Erik’s bony shoulder.
“I am glad to see the Erik I know back with us. I was afraid you’d be stuck in that manic mood forever. You can tell her when she arrives that she no longer has to go through with this.”
“But… I love her.” Erik muttered, eyeing the ring box that Nadir still held in his hand.
“I know but… Sometimes we have to let the ones that we love go. Christine does not love you. It wouldn’t be fair on her.” Nadir said gently, feeling very much like an old, wise man.
“Erik never gets what he wants.” Erik murmured sulkily and Nadir tutted at the statement.
“Please don’t start talking in third person again, you know it sets me on edge.” Erik rolled his eyes but before he could say anything, a stern cough interrupted him and both men looked to see Christine in the gown Erik had made with a very concerned Madame Giry at her side.
“Gentlemen.” She said snidely, Christine’s hand gripping the crook of her arm.
Odd,he thought, as he walked out of his music room and into the hallway. A littering of roses, lying haphazardly in his path as they led to another room further up the corridor. Red the colour of dark crimson blood, but not only that, white, as soft as the snow Erik saw in the cemetery only days before. Amused, he decided to follow the roses, picking his steps carefully so that he wouldn’t crush any of the soft petals underfoot. They led to the door of the dining room.
Softly opening the door, Erik peeked in and any breath that he had in him at that moment quickly escaped from his mouth. The table, which normally remained bare bar from the silver candelabra dripping with wax, had been laid. A crisp, white table cloth had been adorned and in the centre in a crystal vase sat more roses. The yellowed candles were alight, and there by the head of the table, was Christine, fussing around with the placement of some cutlery.
“My love?” Erik said, making Christine jump at his sudden voice. She looked up and smiled, drifting over to wrap her arms around him. He returned the embrace before pulling away and gestured to the table. “What on earth is this?” Christine looked over her shoulder, still smiling.
“Well… Today is the day that we were married three years ago… And you’ve already treated me today so this is my gift to you. I made us dinner!” She laughed then, a delicate little thing, and squeezed his arms, “I hope you like it. I almost burnt the biscuits earlier when you… distractedme.” Erik had the decency to blush at the last comment which only made her laugh more.
“I had no idea…” Christine led him to his seat and bade him to sit down.
“You know, for someone who is so very clever, you can be quite obtuse.” Erik shrugged, fingering the silver cutlery that gleamed like phosphorescent pearls in the light.
“It’s wonderful.” He murmured, his throat thick as he still got a little choked from gifts of love such as this. Christine, knowing her husband well, knew what was going through his mind and kissed him on his forehead. The mask was never worn in her presence and remained in a box in their bedroom for safekeeping.
“I would give you the whole world on a plate if I could, but I’m afraid dinner will have to suffice.”
“You already have.” Erik smiled, placing a hand on his wife’s stomach, marvelling that soon a creation of them both would soon be in this world. Christine smiled sweetly at that and laid her hand atop of his.
“To many more years of us against the world. You, me and… The baby.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
Christine shrieked in fear. She shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have invaded his privacy like that and removed the stone cold mask that obscured most of his face. Erik was seething, black, misty power emanating from every pore of his body, tendrils curling around his feet as they ghosted the floor. His golden eyes were hard like flint and full of rage as he stared at her in fury, the deformity that had scarred his face for a millennia now standing out starkly. It was a humiliation to him, a brand from another Lord of the Night in a duel that had gone horribly wrong and now, Christine had unwittingly exposed herself to it’s ugliness. He was furious at himself for letting down his guard, for letting her soft hands trail up his body and warming his broken soul after so many years of solitude. Erik had hissed in anger like a feral cat when he felt the mask be removed from his face, the beast that lurked within him itching to get out and it took all his resolve to keep it maintained. Instead, he paced forward to where she was, curled up in a ball shaking from fear and stared down at her.
“Give it back.” He seethed, the mask clutched between her breast and now crossed arms as she curled further into itself. “I said, give it back.” But Christine, whether she was too overwrought with fear merely ignored him, making him curse under his breath. “Why, why,did you do it, Christine? After I specifically warned you notto remove my mask, why did you then go and remove it?” She peeked up at this, her azure coloured eyes misty with tears and wide as she stared at the hideous deformity that marred his face. Her lovers face. Not that he knew that, of course. He had only ever dreamed that such a thing would ever happen to him.
“I… I don’t know… I-” She breathed, cowering when the darkness edged it’s way over to where she lay. It was the only thing she was aware of, his pure rage, and knew now just how powerful he really was. Noticing how truly terrified she was, he reigned his power in but did not hide the fact that he was still utterly furious. “I was… Curious.” Erik let out a sharp bark of laughter, squatting down so he could be at her level.
“Well you know what they say, Christine, curiosity killed the cat.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out so sharply, but it had and Christine inched further away from him, sliding his mask along the marbled floor. Despite the love that thrummed for him in her chest, she could not help but feel doubt in her bones as to whether this love was justified. He was terrifying, cold with rage and incredibly dangerous.It wouldn’t take him much energy at all to snuff out her life like a candle in the wind. But, he didn’t, and instead he picked up the emotionless mask, caressing it with his fingertips before slipping it back on.
“I’m sorry Erik,” she found herself bleating as his cold gaze settled on her again. The trust and adoration that had been in eyes earlier on was now replaced by anger and wariness and he merely shrugged at her apologies. It would take a lot for him to be able to trust her that easily again.
“See to it that you never do it again.” He said coldly, before stalking off somewhere in his palace of night, with turrets of alabaster white stone and roofs of black slate. A palace of mazes and tunnels, of rooms empty and full. Of skylights that allowed the inky night sky to bleed through, for the shafts of creamy moonlight that brushed across the dark ebony floors. No doubt he had stalked off to his music room, in a different wing of the building and covered with talismans so powerful that nobody but him could get in unless he gave permission. It was his one place of sanctuary and Christine had only been allowed in once. She realised, as she sagged on the floor of one of the countless parlour rooms of this never-ending palace of night, that it would probably take her a long time to get that permission again. All because of that wretched mask. She collapsed again the floor, taking in ragged breaths, swearing to herself that never would she evoke such rage from Erik again. She wanted to live, after all.
