The Fifth Cellar (Phantom of the Opera)

Chapter 18 - Footstool

 Evangeline's POV:

The moment I said that Erik shot up from his seat and I could see his eyes were flaming. I didn't fear him anymore but I knew that Christine and Raoul should become worried. He stalked toward me and I saw his hands clinching and unclinching. Defiantly not a good sign.

“What did you say?” If I hadn't know him better I would have been terrified. He said it in a low dangerous voice that could scare anyone. I took a deep breath and said it again.

“Erik, Christine and Raoul are playing like they are engaged.” Erik growled and reached for his cape. I knew where he was going and I jumped in front of him.

“Erik, you are not going anywhere. Let them have their fun for a while. Raoul will be leaving in a month.” He set the cloak down and towered over me.

“Ballet Rat, engaged means planning to marry. I won't stand for it.” I smiled.

“In most cases, you're right. But not in this case.” Erik tilted his head. He was confused. I pointed to his seat and I returned to mine. He crossed his arms and said,

“I am giving you five minutes to explain and change my mind about dealing with the fop. You know how much I like my Punjab lasso.” I took a deep breath and started to tell the whole story. When I was finished Erik wasn't happy but he didn't look like he was going to kill Raoul. He was thinking about it but he wasn't planning it.

“Well, I guess that I won't kill him. I would like too but I guess she deserves a little bit of happiness.” I looked at Erik. His shoulders were slumped and his whole form showed defeat. I think he was beginning to realize that Christine might not ever love him. I walked over to him and laid my hand on his shoulder. The bench was big enough for two so I joined him, hugging him gently.

“It will turn out alright, Erik. I will. Trust me.” He looked over at me and whispered,

“No one has ever wished that Erik's life would turn out alright. No one has ever cared.” I kept him close and said,

“That wish you made on that shooting star will come true. It won't always be hell for you, Erik. I know it won't.” We sat there was quite some time. Suddenly Erik said,

“They are putting on a performance tonight. Shall we go to my box and enjoy it?” He stood up and offered his hand. I took in and said,

“As long as there aren't any falling chandeliers. I would love to come with you.” Erik seemed to be smiling but I couldn't tell because of the mask. He took his cloak and swung it on then held out his hand again. It was then that I noticed something. Every time that he held out his hand to me, it shook. I took it gently and said,

“Erik, why does you hand shake when I hold it?” He lowered his head and said,

“No one ever wants to hold Erik’s hand. Not even Christine. She ran from it. Erik is still waiting for you to snatch your hand back in terror.” My heart broke at the pain in his voice. I took that hand and raised it to my lips. I brushed it gently and he gasped. I was suddenly afraid I might have offended him. When he pulled his hand away gently I took a step back.

“Erik, don't hate me for it.” He took a step toward me. Ever so gently he placed a finger under my chin and looked me in the eyes.

“I don't mind. No one has ever kissed me before. I didn't know what to do. Can I still hold your hand?” He held his out gently and I gratefully took it. He gave it a tender squeeze, and I wondered what it would be like to see love in those golden eyes and to hear him say that he loved me. That was my dream. That was all I ever wanted was to hear him say it. But he never would. He loved Christine and they deserved to be together.

Erik quickly led me into Box 5 and we took our seats. I gripped his hand like there was no tomorrow. The play started and I shifted uncomfortably. He looked over at me and whispered,

“Is something wrong?” I sighed. It was a stupid request but I would feel much better if I had a footstool. I told him so. I think he might have winked at me. He was a gone for a moment then returned with a footstool. I gave him a puzzled look and he whispered,

“Madam Giry is a very obliging box keeper. I will give her some sweets for that.” I stared at him in shock.

“You pay her?” He nodded.

“I do. A few Frances here and there keeps her happy. She is very faithful. I sometimes leave her sweets that she particularly likes or a rose.” I smiled at him and said,

“I believe you can be romantic when you want too.” I snuggled close to him and, placing my feet on the footstool, continued to watch the play. Suddenly I asked,

“Who did you tell her the footstool was for?” He chuckled.

“For my lady.”

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Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

Hey, @bewailed_his_fate gave me the idea for the footstool.......... so she is the genius that saved this chapter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE read her book "I Gave You My Soul" IT IS THE WORK OF A GENIUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sarahlet2999