Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Andrew Lloyd Webber's story and characters from "The Phantom of the Opera" still do not belong to me...
Author's Note: Hello my dearest readers and forgive my long absence! I've been working on this particular one-shot for amonth and have poured my heart and soul in this story. It is based upon and inspired by my first ever viewing of the musical of which I saw last month and which was simply the most wonderful thing I have ever seen unfurl before my eyes. It is set the night after the musical and I find it gives it a bit more of the closure I would have liked. I hope you enjoy and I hope you could find the time to review and share your thoughts with me. Thank you:)
One Final Farewell
Standing uncertainly upon the threshold of the fifth box in the Opera House, I warily watched the unmistakable figure bearing that half of a face of white porcelain sitting unconventionally upon a chair or burgundy velvet, overlooking the empty seats of the theater.
I'd finally found him.
There he was. Alone and unaware of another presence. His frail and slight form hunched over in a reserved, almost protective way, he seemed completely lost to countless thoughts or perhaps was lost in nothingness. Either way, his amber eyes glowed dully in the partial darkness, an emptiness and dead hope glazing them over with a bitter acceptance as they blankly seemed to look over the deserted stage. He lazily hugged his knees to his chest; a metaphorical shield from the world and his head leaned defeatedly onto the wall behind him, his face tilted away from me.
I hung back, afraid. What was he to say? Not say? Do? As always, I found myself trying to solve a puzzle too complex for my understanding. He was much too unpredictable to anticipate. And yet, I still foolishly tried to comprehend him... or perhaps I didn't try hard enough... Part of me wanted to know everything that passed through his mind and heart so that the unknown side of him wouldn't frighten me anymore. But there was also another part of me, that was also frightened of knowing everything about him. Perhaps I was plain and simply frightened. Not only of him, but of him around me and my heart. Not only did I not understand what was inside his heart, but I didn't understand what was in mine concerning him. A large part of me was afraid, but another part, larger, I just didn't comprehend.
While accumulating the courage to go to him, I watched him with curious fascination. What was it with this man that intrigued and frightened me so? Being something that I don't completely understand? I watched him in the shadows. He shifted slightly and I watched his thin, nimble hands move with an odd sort of unknown grace. I heard him sigh softly, almost inaudibly, the saddened, brief passing of a breath between his lips just reaching my ears before vanishing into the darkness. He would move, and would seem so grand and unreachable. He would move, but at the same time, seem so common and inconspicuous. How can those two polarities be even fused together? He seemed to embody the meshing of opposites.
My heart calming slowly, my tense muscles loosening slightly; though my courage not built up enough to walk, I spoke instead.
"Erik?" I managed, his name feeling unfamiliar on my tongue. It was barely above a whisper and it caught in my throat due to nervousness.
He moved too quickly for my taste, unsettling my once easing heart into a beating frenzy. His head immediately whipped in my direction in one fluid motion. His face and features not reacting by even a twitch, he kept his cool demeanor of before, but, even though I couldn't see it, I could feel him tense and grow more distant. His golden eyes did nothing but harden. I saw his back straighten and his limbs freeze. He said nothing in return.
I took a step forward and silently congratulated myself. Willing my lips into a smile, I believe that I managed a small, truthful looking grin. My hands were clasped in front of me, my perspiration soaked palms pressed tighly together in an attempt to calm the tremors that were running though them. Now feeling a little better for his lack of hateful words that I'd been dreading, I took a few more quiet steps that brought me over the threshold and within a couple of feet from his side.
Still looking down at him, he continued to glance up at me, completely devoid of expression. Seeing as he was making no attempt to stand to accomodate me, I decided to sit. If I could go through all of this without flaring his temper, then I would be extremely grateful. I'd learned that even the most silly or insignificant thing could matter to him or upset his easily triggered, many moods.
I selected the only remaining chair in the box and sat comfortably upon the surprisingly soft cushion. I'd never sat as one of the audience. I gently shuffled my chair a little closer to his in order to be able to properly converse with him, but he merely slid his legs down from his previous position, sat tall and stern upon his chair, and shifted slightly away, regarding me coldly. Feeling uncomfortable and praying that I'd made the right decision in coming here, I posed my hands on my lap and held them tightly together.
A seemingly interminable silence weighed down on us and I was forced to break my gaze away from his piercing, harsh one and study the floor. I waited; he waited; we both were waiting for one to break the silence but neither of us did. Him, too stubborn; me, too afraid. This was not going as I'd planned...
Foolish me. I'd thought he'd welcome me back with open arms. Be overjoyed to see me and accept me and anything I had to say. How could I have thought that? How could I have thought that my actions wouldn't have repercussions? How could I have thought that after rejecting him, he would forgive me almost immediately? How could I keep thinking like that? He had offered his heart to me and I had crushed it in my hands. He had opened his soul to me and I had discarded it carelessly. But worst of all, he'd given love and I had not in return.
He had all the right in the world to hate me... The only thing was, I didn't want him to.
Frustrated with myself and partly with him, I raised my head quickly, my mouth formulating words that never were brought to life by sound and I finally was able to look at him again in the eyes. But I found that his eyes were no longer looking at me. He was looking straight ahead; somewhere where I was not in his sight. Feeling partly insulted and hurt, my eyebrows furrowed slightly and somewhere, that must have triggered my voice. "Erik, I'm sorry," I said a little too abruptly. Shutting my mouth immediately, I waited anxiously for his reply.
I waited, but his reply never came.
He didn't even look at me.
I persisted. "Erik? Erik, I'm so, so sorry," I stated earnestly, meaning everything with every fiber of my being. I felt awful for what I'd done to him. For what I'd seen on his face last night. For everything I knew that I'd caused. Pain. Rejection. Heartbreak. I'd never seen him like that... so... devastated. So broken. His face had haunted me for the entirety of the night and of today. His eyes, his voice, him. I couldn't stop thinking of what I'd done. What I'd done to him. "Erik, you have no idea how sorry I am. I truly, truly am... sorry, that is," I tried again, having difficulty formulating an appology worthy of what I'd done. How does one heal a broken heart? Or at least, appologive for it?
I desperately waited for a response, some sort of acknowledgement, or show that he heard me... Nothing. He didn't even move. His eyes didn't even shine or blink. He was a statue. Cold, dead, and unreachable.
I leaned forward trying to get closer as if he would hear me better, searching his face for some sort of breach in emotion.
"Erik, please look at me; I'm sorry," I repeated again, feeling a persistent need for him to know and understand. I couldn't leave until he did. I just couldn't leave him like this. "Please," I pleaded.
He wouldn't look, he wouldn't speak. All he did was breathe slowly. Quietly, he inhaled deeply, and kept the air inside, then, it was released in an ominous sort of wind. That's all he did. Breathe. The only thing keeping him alive; for his heart and soul were both broken... And it was entirely all of my doing.
Trying to brush away those thoughts, I gathered any remaining strength and tried again, my voice wavering dangerously, "Erik," I stated as firmly as I could, "Please look at me."
He wouldn't look.
"Erik," I said again, "you must at least look at me. Please. I can't stand this, please!" my tone growing slightly more frantic. I needed him to understand! I needed to try and heal him! I needed to be able to forget about him. Why couldn't he stay out of my head? My thoughts?
My heart? Soul?
He still wouldn't respond.
Despair was gradually settling over me, it gripped me with the unexpected force that it always uses and I was then plunged into a senseless state of mind where nothing mattered but his eyes looking at me. "Erik? Erik, why won't you look at me?" I choked, "Please," I whispered, "I'm sorry. I said I'm sorry!" I said loudly, my voice reverberating briefly around the enclosed box of mahogony paneling and vanishing soon into nothingness.
He still kept that stubborn, straight face. Impassive, unmoved, he continued to look away, mute. Never moving. Never betraying any emotion.
"Erik?" I managed, bitter and defeated tears mounting to my eyes and clogging my vocal cords with unspoken sobs. I willed them back but they grew in numbers at the base of my iris' and everything began to sparkle and blur in my vision. I could barely see and I blinked slowly to chase them away. Warm tears of frustration slipped down my flushed cheeks and I continued to stare desperately at him. If only he would look. If only he could see. "Can't you hear me? Why won't you hear me?" I asked softly, my lower lip trembling dangerously. I couldn't stop it, I was going to cry. I was going to break. He always broke me.
"Will you listen to me? Please..." I tried to say before a high pitched sob escaped my throat and merged with my words, breaking me off in mid-sentence. I flung the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to stiffle the sobs that were to come and to hide my shame. I had come to be strong and appologize. Why couldn't I be strong? Why couldn't I ever control my emotions? Why did he control them instead? After all this, why couldn't I hate him?
I sniffed and tried to swallow my sobs, "I came to appologize," I stated, gesturing unecessarily with my hands as I always have. "I felt terrible, Erik. I just had to tell you how much I..." I what? I let that sentence trail, not knowing exactly what I had meant to say there. "I know that I hurt you, I know that I broke your heart," I said cautiously and gently, tilting my head unconsciously in a gesture of remorse, "and I am so, so sorry. Really, Erik, I'm sorry." I put as much emphasis and feeling on the word 'sorry' as I possibly could. There was nothing else I could say. It's all that I had and I needed him to hear.
He still didn't look, but I no longer cared. I knew that he was listening.
I took a deep breath, steadying my trembling voice, and continued on. "I came here today, to appologize," I told him, my voice remaining strong for that sentence. I saw his face tilt slightly toward me, his eyes still fixed ahead and away, but in those iris' of gold, I saw a frustration emerge and an unspoken hope die. Trying to ignore the swell of emotion in my heart from the pain clearly shining in his eyes, I continued on, "I came here to thank you, also."
He stiffened. I heard him take a large intake of breath and not release it for a long time. He was beginning to react to my words... I was sure that I saw a glint of something in his eyes but the minute it caught my attention, it vanished; leaving me wondering if it had ever been there at all. But I could have sworn that his features, the ones I could see, softened... even if I wasn't entirely sure of it...
"Thank you, Erik," I began reluctantly, calming down, seeing as I could tell that he was now listening to what I had to say, my tears running delicately down my cheeks, the feeling no longer warm and full of frustration but a cooler, deattached caress. They went ignored and I pursued my sentence, "for everything that you've given me."
I saw his eyebrows furrow quickly, his eyes still directed away; the confusion from my statement apparent in his ever expressive traits. He seemed to be gradually sinking out of his wall of ice, his cold shell of anger thawing slightly. Seeing him ease, even the tiniest of bits, made me feel a bit better and gave me the strength to say what I'd been feeling all of this time.
"Erik... sometimes I marvel..." I shifted my gaze to the floor, my nerves and voice failing me. I stifled a stray sob; why was this so hard to say? Was it so hard to tell this poor man what I thought of him? Why was it so hard to give him; deprived of love, a compliment? I swallowed, the knot in my throat aching dully, ready to continue, "I sometimes marvel... at... how you..." I looked up and gestured kindly to him, "who has been shown nothing but cruelty in this awful world... This awful world who wronged you, Erik, who had no right to treat you in such a way... You, who had been treated with nothing but hate... could still show kindness and give me... love." I addressed him a fond smile, my eyesight blurring again, my heart overflowing with emotion and my hands trembling. "That is incredible and I thank you so much for it," I whispered, leaning forward and advancing a hesitant, cold, shaking hand toward him.
In a way, I both willed my hand forward but could do nothing to stop it. I both was compelled and wanted to touch him; let him know that I still cared. It was painstakingly slow, my hand's movement. I shivered constantly, both from the cold and from fear of his reaction, and, as more tears ran fluidly down my face, I laid a tentative hand upon him cloaked, slight shoulder; giving it a gentle, almost undiscernable squeeze as if to let him know it was really there.
For a moment, not one of us moved. We both were frozen, both waiting for the other's reaction. Each waiting for the same thing; rejection. I stared at his profile, transfixed, desperately trying to decipher some meaning in his unmovable traits, waiting for him to do, say anything. I saw him completely freeze, I felt his muscles tense and never budge, unwavering. In his face, I saw his mouth slightly gape and a shallow breath pass through his lips. I thought I saw a glimmer catch in his pools of amber but he then fluttered his eyes shut and remained like that, a statue. He seemed to melt into my touch, my dainty hand breaking his fortress of emotion. A spark of faint joy warmed me slightly and I gazed at him fondly, seeing him let go of his pride, anger, and reserve and being himself. Not a ghost, not an angel, but simply a man. Erik. Him.
I leaned forward, a happy smile half formed upon my lips, and I managed a choked, "Erik..."
Suddenly, he wrenched himself away from my hand, my touch, me. It was so brutally abrupt that one moment his shoulder rested in my palm and the next I held nothing. He had shrunk completely away and he was erect upon his chair, his face once more blank and cold, and, worst of all, his eyes were dead. I'd lost him again. He took a deep, shuddering breath, one of which I could detect anger and he then remained silent. Not a single word had passed from his lips yet.
I remained with my hand still suspended in midair, now without a purpose, staring at him dumbly for a moment then, his action completely set in and I was hit with pain. My heart rammed into my chest, swelling with dissapointment and ire. I dropped my hand swiftly and I stuck out my lower lip, pouting and deeply hurt. My eyes were blinded by angry tears once again and they stung with the memories that they bore of his action. I was both seething and wounded. I threw my head back and released a cry of frustration that mingled viciously with sobs that tore from my raw throat and I closed my eyes briefly and tightly letting those aqueous orbs trickle away. Why did he keep toying with me?
I jerked my head back and stared furiously at him. I'd come here despite my fears and misgivings and slight resentment of him to appologize for the decision that he had made for me and he treated me so abominably? Slamming a tired, small fist upon the arm of the chair, my hand too dull from all my emotions to feel the sting, I let out an indignant cry clouded by crying and I reached out rapidly and grabbed his upper arm swathed in black unceremoniously and pulled it furiously to make him face me. I bored my sparkling, swollen gaze into his intense one of aureate and I merely looked at him face on and he looked at me too. I inhaled deeply, again and again, my chest heaving convulsively as I glared at him, impassive. My mind going blank as I concentrated on him.
His expression hadn't changed... except, I could have attested that he had winced slightly from my display of brutality, hurt. I could have simply have imagined it also...
"Why won't you answer?" I asked breathily, my angriness not yet completely passed. "Why won't you listen?" I demanded, not expecting an answer...
I didn't get one anyhow from him.
I sighed, closing my eyes and feeling a sense of dissapointment in myself and in him and of defeat. I'd come here to make him feel better and I'd failed miserably. I'd only suceeded in making him and myself angry and probably driving him away even further.
I swiped my hand away briskly from his arm and whipped my head to the side also, avoiding his gaze now, too tired emotionally to be continually intterogated by those piercing iris' of his. I sighed heavily and stifled a sniffle, beads of water trickling down my flushed cheeks, tracing my jaw, snaking between my lips, and catching in my eyelashes; I'd come here for nothing.
"I'm sorry..." I murmured, shaking my head slowly and bowing it so that I faced only floor. "I'm sorry for everything I've done to you..." I stated quietly, my voice quaking with feeling, "I'm so sorry..." I sobbed, my shoulders shaking, every strong facade I'd built; abandonned. I doubled over, sobbed loud and hard into my hands and I caught every tear I shed, weeping in remorse for his pain. My breaths caught savagely in my throat and my vocal cords felt heavy and clogged; I winced against the sobs that shook my entire body and couldn't stop. "I'm sorry, Erik," I cried, my voice high pitched and soft, the words muffled and drenched in sorrow yet heartfelt.
I heard no reply from him nor any movement, and I sobbed with double my previous ardour. Did he not care any more? I've ruined everything for him...
I heaved in a breath to control myself and it lodged itself in my pharynx, silencing me momentarily as tears flowed freely, dampening my hands still held tightly to my face, ashamed. I then wiped my eyes roughly, trying to erase any more tears upon my face yet I sniffled many times, not really being able to stop them. I held myself tightly, turning away from him in my seat and still only being able to be in eye contact with the ground. "You were everything to me, Erik," I breathed, the ghost of a fond smile flickering across my lips, a warrant sob passing through them. "You were an Angel, a father, and someone who loved me... You were my Angel when I was all alone, you were my father when I had no family... You loved me when I had no-one at all... You were always there... Always there... whenever I needed you or didn't need you, you'd come. You always came. Even through your voice, you were there... And you loved me..." I adressed a full fledged smile to the wall, tears caressing my lips, "You loved me... and I..." my smile faltered, "I couldn't have asked for anything more," I finished, my voice that had been gaining strength, shrinking back into no more than whispers.
"Don't ever think for a moment that you let me down... Don't think that because you're not an Angel or some divine, perfect being that I... I don't want you anymore. Angel or not, perfect or not, you're still the one who was there for me. You're the one who gave me music again and breathed love into it also..." I stopped, pondering my words that were seemingly flowing out of me without a thought, "And even though," I whispered, "I-I don't... or haven't completely forgiven you... that doesn't mean... that I could ever... hate you." I confessed quitely, "I don't hate you. I can't. How could I when you've given me so much? How could I when I... care for you far too much?" I breathed in shakily, my eyes widening and my entire being going rigid. Had I... really said that? More... did I mean it?
Turning slowly, heasitantly around to face him, my mouth agape, I shyly, tentatively, sought his gaze. Completely facing him, I found his gaze entirely upon me.
His golden eyes were completely focused upon me and I saw a single, beautiful, tear gliding down his unmasked cheek, glittering faintly; finally, a show of emotion. His lips were sealed, and all else was unmoved, but that tear meant everything in the world to me at the moment.
"I care about you, Erik," I whispered, meeting his gaze, "I do. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here right now," I stated, a small grin creeping across my lips, "Erik, more than anything, I don't want you ever to blame yourself for the decision I made..." I said, my eyes shying away, "Please, please, don't blame yourself. I... I just..." I struggled, "I-" I sighed, "Thank you, Erik," I began instead, "for everything."
"I won't ever forget you..." I muttered, the tears mounting to my eyes once again, "I couldn't ever forget you and I won't. I won't want to... I'm going to miss you so much..." I sobbed, my heart getting the best of me once more. It was going to be so different without him... Could we have been friends? Could I have spent more time with him? I suppose I'll never know... "I'm leaving Paris in the next week," I confessed, warm tears sliding down my flesh, "I don't know when I'm coming back..." I pressed my lips together in an attempt to keep the sobs at bay. Was I never going to see him again? I'd never really gotten the chance to even know him... "I'm going to miss you terribly and I hope that you'll be able to forgive me enough to miss me... even a little bit... too," I told him tearfully, weeping softly.
I looked up again to see his reaction and I found that that tear had evaporated and all I could rely on were those eyes that shone with fresh pain. Why did he always look at like that?
"So, Erik... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry and I suppose that this is goodbye too..." I breathed, looking into his eyes, "I'll always remember you... I won't ever forget. I'll never forget all you gave me; my voice, a song, a piece of my soul, and... love. You gave me love, Erik, and I'm so sorry that I... couldn't return it..." I admitted, a loud sob tearing from my throat, "I want you to be happy. Please, there's nothing I'd love more than for you to be happy. Be happy for me... I want you to be so, so happy. You deserve it. More than anyone I know..." I babbled frantically, my crying clogging my speech and blurring my sight. I reached out gently and took his cold hand firmly in both of mine, "Please forgive me," I pleaded, forcing the most sincere smile that I could, "I care for you immensely, Erik, and I need to know that you'll be alright. I need for you to be alright. Please?" I begged, searching his eyes and prodding him for an answer. One simple reply. One last snippet of his voice to carry me on in the years to come. Come on, Erik. Speak. Talk to me. Tell me something before I go!
He said not a word.
Dissapointment flooded me, but I heaved a light sigh and complemented it with a sad smile. Stubborn until the end. I hadn't really expected more... had I? I softly squeezed his hand. memorized it's sensation in mine, and relished the feel of his cool, soft skin. "I'm really going to miss you," I said gently, "Goodbye, Erik," I murmured, "this is goodbye." I caressed his hand delicately for seconds... then let go.
The hardest thing I'd ever had to do.
Letting go of his hand meant letting go of him. Letting go of that pale, slim, musician's hand meant letting go of my mentor and the man who'd loved me for a great portion of my life. Letting go of his hand meant letting go of everything that we'd shared, letting go of all of those times filled with love, comfort, and song. Letting go of his hand meant letting go of everything he'd built for me and everything he'd offered. Letting go meant discarding eveything he'd done for me and uncaringly tossing it aside. Letting go of his hand meant letting go of Erik. I was letting go of my Angel of Music. I was leaving him. I was leaving my Angel... No. I was leaving Erik. I wasn't leaving the ethereal being who'd tutored me, I was leaving the man who'd loved me. I was leaving him. I was letting go.
The thought hit me at full force; I was never to see him again. This was the end.
I desperately searched his gaze, frantically looking for some sort of acknowledgement, a goodbye, anything. Tears spilt from my eyes and all the while my heart was silently breaking. I had to go. I had to end this. I stared down at my empty hand no longer in possession of his own and I released a sob, then other, and another, and I suddenly plucked up the courage to stand up.
It was a quick and unexpected move, one I hadn't even anticipated. My legs had seemed to straighten themselves of their own accord as if they too were burning with the desire to run as far away as I could from him and my heart. The chair that I had been sitting in slid back noiselessly, the sound it would have provoked muffled by the lush carpet. Still, I stared down at him, silently begging him to say something. He too gazed back up at me with that awful stubborn glint in his eyes refusing to betray any emotion whatsoever that he was feeling; expressionless and cold. He wouldn't forgive me, I realized dully, I had permanently broken his heart.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words laced with the remnants of sobs and I turned from him and began to walk towards the door. Tears continued to flow, shoulders shook, and steps were half-hearted and weak; I was breaking. I had to get out. I couldn't stay much longer. My feet began to speed up, my walk stilted but faster, I tried to run. He always forced me to run...
Suddenly, I felt my right hand be grasped roughly by those fingers I knew only too well and, before I had any time to react, I was spun around abruptly and any words I could have prepared in that short time were lost due to the fact that his lips crashed into mine.
I froze underneath the surprise of those lips upon mine once again. He'd roughly captured my mouth with his but his kiss softened and the touch of his lips lingered there sweetly. His boldness of the kiss must have completely sunk in with him for he too froze, his lips still upon my own, unwilling to sever the contact. Tentatively, his lips moved upon mine; it was a loving kiss, not one of animalistic desire but one of meaningful love. Still, his hand gripped mine in a desperate grip as if begging for me not to flee from his kiss but, it seemed that I wanted nothing less than to leave when his lips were upon my own.
He curled an arm around me, gently placing a cold, strong hand upon my back and lightly exercing pressure upon it, wanting me closer and still his lips were administering slow, blissful kisses upon my mouth and I began to return them. Complying to his silent request that I be closer, I closed the gap between us and leaned my body into his, laying a hand upon his chest and gently gripping the fabric.
Our breathing became heavy and we stole bits of air between kisses as we now were gradually building in passion. The kisses still slow, he slid his hand up along my back, sent shivers coursing down my spine, and rested his hand on the back of my neck tilting my face upwards and more towards him, completely at his mercy. The kiss deepened and I inched my hand from it's resting place upon his chest up to the back of his head, pulling his head down and his lips even closer and harder to mine, the mask digging slightly into my left cheek but going unnoticed.
The climax of the kiss began to fade and his lips became gentle and soft upon mine once more. He slid a hand into my hair and I felt his long, thin fingers intertwine in my curls, delicately running his fingers through them; his touch alone sending waves of dulled fire through my veins and warmed me all over. It was bliss and a certain reckless passion that sparked that fire and suddenly, the greatness and power of those things frightened me and made my heart skip a beat; a something that happened all too often whilst in his presence. It was he that always inspired my happiness but spoiled it also. And yet, all I knew is that I wanted nothing more than for this moment to never, ever end. If I could have stayed like this; his lips wanting mine, his hands around me and holding me close, and everything in my mind going completely blank with happiness and passion, not thinking about anything; not using any sense, but only my heart... if I could have stayed like that, never thinking but only feeling, with him... if I could have stayed like that until the end, my life would be so much easier...
The hand that had at first caught my own hand was now curled around my waist and holding me to him and my hand that had been caught was now upon his right shoulder. Our lips slowly seperated but the closeness between us was never broken; our faces still stayed millimetres apart and I could feel the faint warmth of his flesh radiate upon my visage. My eyelids fluttering open but merely raising themselves about halfway, I gazed at him seriously and somewhat stunned, my lips agape and drawing in deep breaths, still tingling and sending wonderful radiations of paradise throughout my body. I studied him without a purpose, then found his eyes to be open also and I stared deeply into those pools of amber and basked in them, my heart hammering against the confines of my chest at the intensity of his gaze.
We stayed like thar for a very long time; gazing at eachother, wordless; for nothing spoken would be worthy of these moments. Nothing we could have said would have elevated these moments even further above this peace and understanding we were experiencing in the other's presence. Intoxicated by both his presence and his kisses still clinging to my lips, I was completely entranced and unwilling to move or leave.
Our matching embraces never loossened nor did our faces ever grow further apart; I absorbed his every detail and his eyes never left mine. His face didn't smile, nor was it sad, nor angry; it was placid and unmoving, an intensity and power still radiating from his calm traits. Those eyes, half closed, stared down at me and burned with love. There was no other way to describe them than with love. It was a hard something to describe but that's what I saw in those iris'. His lips, agape like mine, drew in air slowly but heavily, a certain knowledge weighing them down and making them hang in a neutral expression. He seemed in a sort of paralyzed shock and wonder from the kiss.
More time passed and still we did not move. Perhaps it was five minutes we had been like that, perhaps it had been half of an hour or perhaps more... but, it was all the same to us. I trailed a hesitant hand down his exposed cheeks, catching his warm tears as they fell, my fingertips brushing them away softly. My tears continued to fall and he did nothing but watch their descent, seemingly enraptured. At times I would contemplate the possibility of removing his shield of white porcelain, but I would squash the idea each time. I wouldn't strip his of his dignity and of his strength on our last meeting. It was his only source of confidence, no matter how little it may be, and I was determined to let him keep that. We still stayed like that, breathless and hearts in disbelief. Was this sort of perfection possible when this relashionship had been plagued by nothing with imperfections and fears? How were we able to create these ethereal moments in a sea of impending awful circumstances and unpleasant memories? Everything around us could be falling apart but somehow, we alone could create a heaven for ourselves and steal a glimpse at happiness... But eventually, it all crumbled apart when we resurfaced from that heaven we created and we began to think again.
And it was at this particular moment, that our heaven was shattered around us by my thoughts regaining control over my heart.
I couldn't stay. I had to go. This had to remain a goodbye.
My eyes opened fully and I jerked away the veil my heart had thrown over my mind. I couldn't stay here. I had come to say goodbye. I couldn't keep changing my damned mind! Why did he keep trying to change my mind? Did he even try or was it merely a subconscious something? He always had that power over me to make me question my thoughts or reasonning... And yet... there were times with him where I felt so alive. Alive and loved. Did I truly want to give that up? Was leaving what I truly wanted?
I stared into his eyes for a moment, opened my mouth, my hand still resting upon his cheek, and forced out these following words: "Erik... I have to go."
His face fell. Not his face, for it had been expressionless to begin with, but his eyes did. In a way, they seemed to sink. Sink and be infused with every ounce of pain that was trapped inside of his slight body. He had known it was coming; I could tell, but, everytime I said goodbye, I just drove the knife of betrayal and heartbreak deeper into his broken heart. I knew I did this, I was conscious of it and yet, I still continued to do it. Blind as I was until these moments. Those eyes bored into mine and were drenched in agony and that agony began to spill into tears that ran swiftly down his only visible cheek in sparkling rivulets.
His mouth oppened and I watched the difficulty of which he had in formulating the words that spilled forth from his lips, stuttered and soft, "Please," he whispered, his beautiful voice breaking, "don't leave..." a pitiful plea uttered with the hesitancy and sadness of a child but the voice and real pain of a man. "I can't-"
"Don't," I cut in, not bearing to hear the rest, my voice now clouded over with sobs and tears running down at a faster rate, "Stop, Erik. Just, please-"
"No, Christine," he interrupted in turn, desperate, pronouncing my name with tenderness and adoration, his eyes now closing, attempting control over himself, "I can't... live without you, I just... cannot. I cannot... I... Please..." he whispered, facing down, dejected.
My heart ripped and ached at his words, I shed tears, and every fiber of my soul was grieving but my mind steeled my body for what needed to be done. I let out a sob, looked away, closed my eyes, and slowly removed my hand from his face and forced my other hand away from his shoulder. I took a step back and created distance between our faces. My heart and soul cried out but I ignored them. I placed each of my hand upon each of his; one resting on my hip, the other upon my neck, and I gently pried his touch away from my body.
I couldn't face him. I couldn't look into those eyes that tortured me. He was completely removed from me. I couldn't feel him close. His warmth was lacking. His touch wasn't there anymore. He wasn't close. I wasn't feeling complete. I stood there in front of his, feeling his anguish radiate in waves, and I could do nothing but look away, eyes still shut, and weep softly. "I'm sorry, Erik," I choked out, "Goodbye."
I then gathered up every single ounce of strength I possessed at the moment, built it up, then used it to turn around toward the door and begin to walk away.
I reached the threshold, posed a hand upon the frame of the open door, and leant against momentarily, regaining lost strength, still sobbing. Could I leave him again? Was this truly closure? Who did I love? Good Lord, could I still not decide? No. I had made my decision and was, for once, going to stay with it. But is a decision necessarily a right one if I didn't feel right about it? Why did it keep hurting if I was doing the right thing? My God, I was going to miss him terribly...
"I love you, Christine."
His pained murmur sliced through my heart and made me sob louder. I gripped the oaken frame tighter and felt my soul being tugged in his direction.
"I love you too, Erik."
The words slipped from my lips still bearing those beautiful whispers of his kiss and I did not regret them or wish them away. I did not feel shock at my words nor did I deny them. For once, I was to tell him the truth and did not feel any sort of guilt. It was true.
I slammed my head against the frame but the pain went unheeded, it was nothing. I loved him. There. I'd confessed. I'd confessed to both him and myself. I loved him. I loved that man. Why was that so wrong? Why was that so hard to accept? He needed to know. He had to know. Let him know that somewhere in this cruel world, someone cared. Someone loved him. I loved him... but there was nothing that I could do about that for there was something even more powerful than love that was moreso present in my mind and in my heart... fear.
My heart belonged to him but that did not matter.
I could feel his amazement and joy excreted from his form behind me. His words were disbelieving and choked, "Then.. stay. Please, stay, Christine... Stay with m-"
"No, Erik."
The brief rays of his happiness dissipated and I felt his cold rejection chill my entire body. "But, I-I don't understand..." his words were laced with the presence of tears, "Please, why-"
"Because," I whispered, eyes shut fiercely, still against the frame, "I'm... I'm still scared, Erik. I'm too scared."
And with those words, I ran; never to look back.
A/N: For those of you who were desperately hoping for a happy ending, I'm terribly sorry. I see their particular love as tragic and I hopes I was able to make it as believable and true as possible. Thank you very much for your time and I hope you could possibly leave a review and tell me what you thought for it is for you that I write and I would like to know your thoughts! Thank you and until the next time!
Yours,
Ethereal Aria