Small Anomalies (Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction)

Chapter 14: Someone Who's Different

Raeann's POV

I wake up the next morning determined to sort things out. I stumble out of bed, still groggy, and pull on a pair of jeans and an emerald green shirt. I quickly brush my hair and teeth before sitting on my bed expectantly.

Minutes later, the door is unlocked and Erik comes in with a tray of food. I notice that his eyes are bloodshot. He stays up for nights at a time without it showing. Why is it now? I realize that Erik is most likely as worn out as I am about our situation.

"Good morning, Erik," I greet, trying to sound somewhat insincere. He sets the tray at the end of my bed and looks at me in surprise.

"Good morning," he replies hesitantly before turning to leave, but I stop him.

"Sit down," I tell him a bit too confidently. When he gives me a strange look, I realize I must sound crazy.

"What's the point of keeping me here if you're just going to lock me in this room?" This time, I sound sarcastic. I mentally smack myself. This is already a disaster.

As Erik sits down, I try to think of how to say my feelings. I know my intent: to make Erik realize that what he did was wrong, yet to stay here with him. I've made up my mind that if he offers me my freedom, I'll be happy but I won't accept it. I belong with him.

My thoughts scramble as I search for words. I know that before I start with helping him decipher right from wrong, I'll need to know about his past. I just don't know how to ask him about that subject, one that I know isn't comfortable for him.

"What happened?" I decide to be straightforward. I've learned that's sometimes the best way to go with him. "At the opera house. What happened? You're out here in the woods while you could be haunting the Benedum."

I watch carefully as Erik clearly experiences a mixture of emotions. He seems as though he's debating with himself about how much he should--and can--tell me.

"You were in love," I start for him, eager for the rest of the story. "With Christine Daae."

Erik slowly nods and lets out a soft sigh--not of frustration, but of pain. I want to comfort him, but I can't expose my true feelings.

"I was in love and she left me," he softly whispers while looking at the floor, a habit that I'm beginning to find attractive. I blush a little, but try to make myself stop.

"How long were you at the opera house?" I tilt my head curiously, feeling like a therapist.

"Since I was a child. Around eleven," he answers faintly. I have to scoot to the edge of the bed to hear him.

"That's when you started composing," I note, more to myself.

"How did you remember that?" I blush madly, but luckily, Erik's head is still facing down. How is this man intimidating? He's the complete opposite!

"Oh... um..." I trail off. "How did you remember that I liked chocolate chip pancakes?" I watch Erik's left cheek glow red and I can barely contain a sigh of relief that I'm not the only one here who's blushing.

"What happened with Christine?" Erik's expression grows grim and he folds his hands tightly in his lap.

"It didn't work out," by the pained tone in his voice, I can tell it's an understatement.

"I'm sorry," I lean forward in my bed to see that tears are forming in his eyes, much like last night. Well, we're getting somewhere.

For a moment, our eyes meet. I feel a surge of emotions; his emotions. I feel his pain, frustration, sorrow, and self-hatred so intensely that tears spring up in my eyes. How can anybody live like this, with nobody who cares?

"What about the opera house?" I choke out. "Tell me everything you did there." Erik opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, as he's struggling to hold back tears.

"I... I was taken in by the ballet instructor, Madame Giry," he starts almost cautiously. "I lived under the opera house for years... I lost count. One day, I heard crying, so I followed it. There was a small girl mourning her father." I nod for him to continue.

"I asked her why she was crying. I couldn't bear to see such a beautiful creature cry like that. She asked if I was the Angel of music. I told her I was, though I didn't have a clue what she was talking about at the time. She told me her name was Christine Daae."

Erik abruptly stops and twiddles with his fingers, almost nervously. He must not be comfortable sharing his past.

"Go on," I urge when my curiosity gets the best of me.

"I started to give her voice lessons. She improved greatly and began to sing like an angel. But there was somebody in the way of her success. Carlotta, the leading soprano.  I attempted to rid of her, but I only managed to frighten her away when I dropped a backdrop on her.

"Christine ended up taking over her roll, to my pleasure. I would have forced the managers to give her the part, but that happened on its own. The performance went marvelously for her, though the dancers were a lamentable mess... As usual." I can't help but giggle at the comment. It seems so unlike the Erik I know. Perhaps he's just a different person around me.

"But then..." Erik chokes on his words and I gather that this part is hard for him to even think of. "I decided to meet her... In person. I couldn't resist it any longer, all those years seeing her behind a mirror. I took her to my home. I sang to her. I wanted her to be happy with me. I was so happy with her, almost the happiest I've ever been."

"Almost?" I raise an eyebrow. I recall him saying that he hadn't had many happy days in his life, and wouldn't he be the happiest with the woman he loved?

"Oh... uh..." Erik blushes again and I find it very handsome when he does that.

"Please, go on," I say politely. Erik's face drops at my remark, and I can tell he's getting to an especially awful part.

"She was asleep and I put her in bed. I began composing to pass the time, but she crept up behind me and..." A tear glides down the porcelain surface of his mask. His hand reaches up and he lightly run his fingers across it.

"She took it off. And I shall never forget the terror on her face. The horror. The disgust. The fear. I..." He breaks down into hysterics before he finishes the sentence.

"Erik," I shake my head and hold back tears of my own. "She left you after that?" He nodded faintly but continued silently sobbing with his face burried in his hands.

"Maybe she wasn't worth loving if she would leave you over something like that."

He lifts his head and I see flames of anger in his puffy red eyes. His irises are as black as death itself, and his cold stare makes me shutter.

"Christine is worth loving," he hisses. "Anybody would leave me if they saw my face."

I shook my head again. "I bet that's not true."

"It is true," Erik demanded. "Everybody has."

"Maybe there's someone out there who's different," I say, secretly referring to myself. Nothing can make me stop loving Erik. Plus his face is part of him, so I love it too.

"I highly doubt it," Erik states darkly and before I know it, he's gone.

I sink back in my bed and look up at the cieling again. His words didn't discourage me. If anything, they made me more determined to prove him wrong.

"I'll be different, Erik," I whisper. "I'll prove to you that there is good in the world if it's the last thing I do."

Sorry for the really short chapter... I did this during lunch and one of my classes got cancelled and I had a study hall. I think I'll start posting chapters that are a bit shorter than usual, because I'm completely running out of ideas. Gotta love writer's block...

Sadly, there will only be about seven or eight chapters left... I'm honestly more excited for writing the sequel than I am for finishing this one. I'll have the next part of So Lost, So Helpless posted soon!