Too Dark to Even Try (Beneath a Moonless Sky fanfic)

Try To Forget

    Disclaimer: I do not own POTO.

Room 407 was getting extremely boring.

Staring out with window for hours on end did nothing for Erik, except put him in a sour mood.

Madame Giry and her daughter were gone more often now, leaving early and coming back at dark.

Over the few weeks Erik had spent with young miss Giry, he'd found he enjoyed light conversation. With them working all the time, he had no one to talk to except himself.

Erik found that his self was very boring company, indeed.

When he was alone, his mind often wondered to Christine...which always brought a sharp pain to his chest.

On one particularly hellish day, Erik decided to look around the inn. He slipped the key to room 407, which Madame Giry had given him several days prior, in his pocket.

He stepped out into the hallway, and the change in scenery was enough to bring a small smile to Erik's lips.

He knew for a fact that no one else had a room on the third floor, so he paced the length of the hallway several times, stretching his legs.

Erik leaned against one of the doors, and shut his eyes, relaxing.

" 'ello," a females voice said. Erik's eyes snapped open and he stood up straight.

He heard a laugh and turned his head to see a woman standing there staring at him, a smug smile on her lips.

"Didn't know Jean had more stowed away," she said, walking towards him. "Thought it was just the old woman and the girl."

Erik thought it funny the woman refuted to Meg as the girl for she looked about Meg's age.

She wore a brown skirt with blue trim. Her bodice was a deep red and the strings were blue, matching the trim. Her sleeves were white, and kept falling off her shoulders. Her frizzy, red hair was done up in all sorts of clips and ribbons, none of them matching.

"Who are you?" Erik asked her coldly. Her painted lips curled up in a smirk.

"I could ask you the same question, monsieur. But," she fanned a sigh. "Since I am awful nice, they call me Camille."

Camille winked at him.

"Now, you. What's your name, Monsieur?"

Erik stiffened. He didn't have to tell this girl anything. He owed her nothing. He--

"Erik," Erik said.

Camille's eyebrows raised.

"Erik? Hmm," she tapped her lip with a dirty finger nail. "I'll call you Ik."

Erik clenched his jaw.

"You will do nothing of the sort," he said, keeping his voice even.

Camille laughed.

She laughed.

"How come Jean is hiding you?" She asked him, leaning against the wall.

"I am not hiding," Erik glared.

"Right. And I am the queen of God forsaken France."

Erik shrugged. "Maybe you are."

"The queen of God forsaken France?"

"Yes. You are merely in hiding."

"Hmm. No, just Camille."

Erik clicked his tongue. "You disappoint me, Mademoiselle. I was desperately hoping to meet a royal."