Author's notes: Uhhh... yeah, sorry about the HUGE delay. I can't promise that the next chapter will come out any quicker, but good news! There should only be three more chapters left, so WE'RE REACHING THE FINALE, FOLKS!
Surprisingly, the violin scene isn't just me being faithful to the MM characters-it has some basis in the original "Phantom of the Opera" novel, where the Phantom plays the violin to Christine. Most adaptions omit this aspect, but it finally got a rendition in the 1989 film version (AKA, the one starring Freddy Kruger), and it is absolutely BEAUTIFUL. Hell, I'll even link it because I love it so much!
watch?v=t7CpB71YTmM
Luckily for Jumin and Zen, this is the only similarity this fic will share with the 1989 version.

Wandering child

so lost, so helpless,

yearning for my guidance…

V arrived at the cemetery at exactly eight o'clock.

By that time, the creeping shadow of night had taken over the French skies, swathing the country with a thick, black velvet blanket, dark clouds hiding the stars from view. There was no one milling about the streets (or at least, no one among the living, anyway): there was no laughter from children playing, nor the chattering that came from joyous socialites or dapper gentlemen, only the echoing silence that eternally accompanied the cold night.

Silently, V walked through the arched gates and began his trek through the graveyard, bone-dry grass crunching underneath his feet. Beside him, old, wizened trees groaned in protest, weary of standing still day in and day out, their naked branches creaking as they rustled in the wind. Tilting his head back ever-so-slightly, V caught sight of the moon hanging in the sky like a silvery pearl, its moonlight casting a glimmering glow on the tombstones before him.

V stared upward for a few seconds before finally turning away. The ends of his black cloak fluttered as he passed by the headstones with the shy, gliding tread of a ghost.

The further he walked into the graveyard, the more elaborate the monuments became, slabs of stones giving way to marble statues of angels and crosses. This was, he knew, the final resting place of those who were wealthy in life, most—but not all—of them individuals who'd been rich in finances but not necessarily in spirit, their souls doomed to aimlessly wander the afterlife, shackled and unfulfilled. In his melancholy state, it was easy for V to imagine their spirits perched on the tombstones or the trees, judging him and any other fool unfortunate enough to walk among the living, sneering ghoulishly at one another as they leered at V's departing form.

Finally, V stopped at the bottom of a hill; atop the mound, surrounded by browning grass, knelt a large, marble statue of a veiled woman, her hands clasped over her eyes in sorrow as she loomed behind an ornate tombstone.

Suddenly, standing became too great a task for V. With a small, barely audible sob, he crumbled to his knees and, burying his face in his hands, he wallowed in his worthless shame and self-pity, loathing that he was so egotistical at a time while there were so many other, better people suffering.

After a moment, he took a deep breath and lifted his head. He said nothing for a good few seconds as he merely stared at the headstone, the moon providing just enough light to read the name inscribed.

Dae Kim.

"Oi, rich kid!"

Jumin's eye twitched at the familiar, yet unwelcome, voice of a certain opera star. Looking up from the ledger he'd been reading, he saw Zen briskly walking over to where Jumin stood, a scowl on his pretty face.

"Yes, Zen?" Jumin asked drily. "Are you here to throw more wild accusations at me?"

Zen's nostrils flared. "Ugh, give me a break! Look, I got that letter the day after you first attended the opera, so it made perfect sense to me at the time! Besides, it's not like your sunny personality convinced me otherwise!"

"For your information, I've been told I have a delightful personality." Jumin didn't mention that Jihyun was the sole person who made such a claim. "So, I take it you're aware that I'm not responsible for those letters? After all, it's much more logical that they came from a ghost haunting this theater, correct?"

Zen ground his teeth together and took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm not falling for that bait. Just…look, I think you're a total jackass and V can do so much better than you, but he seems to trust you for some ungodly reason, so—"

At the mention of Jihyun, Jumin's entire body tensed up. "Stop wasting my time and get to the point." He said coldly.

Zen paused. "... He told me to tell you that… he was going to the cemetery a few blocks down. He didn't say why though, but he said that you'd-"

Jumin's blood turned to ice. Abruptly, he shoved past Zen and hurried down the hallway, ignoring the profanity Zen hurled his way.

Footsteps chased after him, the sound light and frantic.

"Monsieur Han! Monsieur Han!"

Jumin swerved to avoid the blond boy that darted out from the shadows, barely acknowledging the boy as he strode forward.

He didn't have time to deal with some self-centered opera star, nor some boy he didn't even know. Jihyun was an infinitely more important priority.

As a child, V's father hadn't paid much attention to him, disappointed in his son's more artistic nature (and even now, they weren't on speaking terms); as a consequence, V's mother acted as his main parental figure up until the accident that led to her loss of hearing. Sharing her son's love for the arts, his mother encouraged his creativity in whatever form she could think of, and V could still remember how they spent many messy afternoons giggling in front of an easel, their paint brushes leaving behind trails of bright colors as they created art in the way only a mother and son could do. Instead of a bottle, his mother nurtured him with songs from her violin; instead of arithmetic, she taught him stories about an angel of music, a spirit who gave aid to artists such as themselves. Those tales were always V's favorites, and he would always badger his mother for more—more stories, more music, more, more, more.

But then the accident happened, and all of a sudden, the music and the art stopped. Grieving her missing hearing, his mother couldn't bring herself to do what she loved, too saddened by what she'd lost; she couldn't even hear her son ask for his favorite stories, let alone play her violin. V tried to understand, he really did, but he was still just a child who was blind to his mother's suffering—he didn't understand why his mother locked herself in her room all day, nor why she lost all interest in painting with him. After a few joyless years devoid of the light from his mother's love, thoughts of "why should I love her if she doesn't love me back?" poisoned his mind, replacing his sweet disposition with one so thorny that his mother, even once she sought to improve their relationship, only pricked herself in her attempts to reach out towards him.

He only found out how much his mother still loved him when their house was wreathed with flames, and by then it was too late.

A sob racked his body, much louder than the first, and he wrapped his arms around himself in a pathetic imitation of a hug.

"Mother… oh, mother… d-did you actually send… my angel?"

V knew that his mother's promise to send him the angel of music was just that—a promise made by a gentle mother to placate her eager son. Yet, when he heard the angel's voice that fateful day two years ago, he had latched onto it like a parasite, foolishly believing that she could soothe the ache in his soul. It'd been horribly selfish of him, perhaps, especially because he had so many wonderful friends that'd be willing to help him, but he couldn't burden them with his problems; the angel, however, provided the perfect balm for his pain, and he'd been so, so grateful towards her.

He had trusted her blindly, and all of his loved ones were suffering because of it.

Why did the angel… no, the Phantom… choose him, of all people, to obsess over? V wasn't anybody special, far from it… so what did the Phantom see in V? Why did she choose to tutor him, a man who wasn't even interested in becoming an opera singer?

Because she loves you, idiot. A voice in his head responded. Just like you love Jumin.

But that still didn't make any sense. V knew Jumin. He knew everything about the heir, from his love of cats, to how he fidgeted when he felt nervous, to how he liked his wine rich and crimson. What did he know about the Phantom? She was beautiful, yes, and she possessed a bewitching voice… but he knew nothing else about her, not even her real name! How did she fall in love with a man who knew nothing about her?

Yet, he knew it was futile to question love. He, of all people, knew that one couldn't choose who they fell in love with…

A sharp wind blew over V, strands of his hair falling across the eye not covered by his bangs. Shuddering, he wrapped his cloak around himself tightly.

As he did so, he thought he heard a voice whispering his name.

"Jihyun…"

V's eyes widened as he lifted his head, his gaze darting about before landing on the headstone on the hill. Was that…?

"Jihyun… please… don't forget me…"

"Mother?" He whispered. A lump formed in his throat.

Silence greeted his question, and for a brief moment, V wondered if it had just been his imagination playing tricks on him.

But then there came another sound—the airy, light strings of a violin awakening from slumber. Gasping, V fell back on his heels, the melody punching the air out of his lungs.

Mother's violin…!

For, indeed, it was her playing; of that, V had no doubt. Even his grief-stricken brain couldn't conjure up a delusion that sounded so real, so clear and sweet to his ears.

V listened in dazed silence, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. He couldn't move; he could barely breathe. The delicate notes wrapped around his wrists and ankles like silk ribbons, binding him to the spot as the violin sang its mournful symphony of sorrow and heartbreak.

And oh, what a masterful symphony it was! Every note was divine perfection, imbued with a purity and clarity only found in church music. The crescendos swooped towards the sky in a golden chariot, ascending higher and higher; then, the notes dipped to a decrescendo, sinking low until it was time to fly to the heavens again, creating a hypnotizing cycle of salvation and damnation. Occasionally, the music was accompanied by a soft voice whispering in their captive's ear, sweet as poisoned honey and flowing from seemingly every direction, and he could do nothing but listen.

"Jihyun… please, don't shun me…"

"Please, don't wander off the path your angel paved… go back to her…"

"Never leave me, Jihyun… never leave your angel again…"

And slowly, ever so slowly, he fell under the violin's spell.

"Never, mother…" V whispered. "Never!"

In his stupor, V didn't—or couldn't—hear a deep voice shouting "JIHYUN!" over and over again behind him, nor the mad flurry of footsteps steadily closing the distance between them.

"I am your angel of music… Come to me, angel of music…"

Like a sleepwalker, V stumbled to his feet. He took a few steps towards the voice that sounded so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time, lurching as slowly as a man wading through swampy water.

"I am your angel of music… Come to me, angel of music…"

"I'm coming, mother…" V whispered eagerly. "I'm coming…!"

"I am your angel of music… Come to me, angel of music…"

Suddenly, a hand seized V's elbow and yanked him backwards. In his sluggish state, V had no chance to protest before his face was buried in someone's neck, a pair of arms cradling him protectively.

"Cease this torment!" The stranger thundered, his vocal cords vibrating with the intensity of his tone. "Your words are wasted on him!"

What…?

V blinked, a surge of anger shooting through his body. How dare this… this creature stand between him and his mother!

With newfound energy, he thrashed against the arms keeping him prisoner. Shocked by his resistance, the grip slackened slightly, but not enough to free V.

"NO!" V howled, flailing his long limbs like a madman. "NO! Mother! Mother!"

"Jihyun!" The stranger's voice snapped. "Jihyun, for God's sake, listen to me!"

For whatever reason, V felt the urge to pause. He didn't know why. Perhaps it stemmed from how… familiar the voice sounded? How the tone was urgent and firm, but laced ever so slightly with panic? Or perhaps it was because it drowned out his mother's voice, allowing V to concentrate on the stranger alone?

V couldn't explain, but perhaps he didn't have to. He just knew he had stopped struggling, allowing a pair of warm hands to cup his face.

"Jihyun! Listen to me!" The stranger repeated. "Your mother isn't here! This… this woman can't be her! You know she isn't your mother, Jihyun!"

Something soft and warm rubbed against V's cheek; it took a moment for him to recognize it as the stranger's thumb, the digit trembling as frantically as a petal caught in a billowing gale.

"Jihyun… Jihyun, my darling, come to your senses! JIHYUN!"

Slowly, V's vision started to clear. He was greeted by a pair of grey eyes staring down at him, their usual steely gaze replaced with a fearful one.

That stare alone slammed V back to reality. He was in a graveyard. Jumin was holding him. That wasn't his mother. That wasn't his mother. Jumin was looking at him. Jumin, Jumin, Jumin…

"... Jumin?" V's voice sounded groggy to his own ears. Lifting his hand, he hesitantly brushed his ice-cold fingertips against his beau's face, his disbelief fading as he felt the solid warmth that was so familiar, so uniquely Jumin that he almost cried from relief.

A bark of laughter that was too feminine to belong to Jumin greeted his question.

"Bravo, Monsieur! Such spirited words from a man like you!" The Phantom's mocking voice rang out. Her words, bitter and cruel, reverberated through the area, the woman herself invisible to the pair of lovers; yet, there was no denying that she had to be there, her overpowering presence enough to chase away the ghosts and ghouls back into their graves.

An enraged scowl crossed Jumin's features as he once again pulled V close, his arms wrapping around his lover's waist in an attempt to shield him. Alarmed, V clutched at Jumin's chest, his fists balling in the expensive fabric of Jumin's shirt.

"More tricks, Madame Phantom?" Jumin called. "Is that how you plan on winning this war-through deceit?"

"Tricks, monsieur?" The unseen Phantom let out another sardonic cackle before her voice quickly turned incensed. "After seducing my angel away from my side, you dare accuse me of tricks!?"

V's grip on Jumin tightened. He knew that tone—he'd heard it that fateful day in the Phantom's lair, and again last night, both times signaling a tempestuous storm of fury and violence. Before, he'd been the sole recipient of that anger, but tonight…

There were no promises that Jumin would be protected from the fallout.

"Jumin—Jumin, let's just go—"

V's pleas went unheard; for whatever reason, the Phantom's jeers seemed to have struck a chord within Jumin, compelling the usually cool-headed heir to defend himself from the invisible woman.

"Are you really so blind, Madame? You've done nothing but torture Jihyun all this time! What do you gain from it? His heart? His soul? His love?"

"You know nothing about me, Monsieur! Don't presume you know of the devil inside me!"

"Jumin!" Frantically, V yanked at Jumin's vest, futilely trying to capture his attention. Jumin only responded by hugging V closer, their bodies pressed firmly together as he continued to exchange barbs with the echoing voice.

"Your devil has nothing to do with Jihyun! He's not a toy at your disposal! You'll never win his love by making him a prisoner!"

"Jumin! Stop this—!"

"Prisoner, monsieur? Are you certain that my angel is the one imprisoned?"

"Jumin—!"

"This foolishness has gone on for long enough, Madame—!"

"JUMIN, STOP!"

V's anguished scream was enough to make Jumin pause, his fiery words trailing into dying embers. Spying an opportunity, V grabbed Jumin around his waist and pulled him backwards, the two of them clumsily stumbling over their feet.

Once they felt steady enough to move, Jumin allowed himself to be dragged away by V. They fled the cemetery hand-in-hand, the Phantom's wild shrieks of "DON'T GO!" chasing after them like an army of the damned.

They only dared to stop once they were a safe distance away from the graveyard. After catching their breath, Jumin abandoned his grip on V's hand in favor of grabbing his shoulders, as if he was terrified of V disappearing if he didn't so much have a finger on him.

"Jihyun," Jumin said, his voice coming out in a rush. "Jihyun, are you alright?"

… Was V alright? What was Jumin saying? V hadn't been the one so near death…

"I… I… never mind me. Are you alright?"

Jumin stared at V like how one would look at a madman.

"'Never mind you?' Jihyun, how could you say that after what happened back there?!" The fingers on V's shoulders trembled with fear and anger, emotions so rarely expressed by Jumin.

And to think they were directed at such a wretched, unworthy creature such as V…

V almost sobbed at that thought. At that moment, however, he knew what he had to do.

He couldn't keep endangering Jumin like this. He couldn't. It'd been selfish of him to cling onto Jumin for so long, too cowardly to admit that the heir would be better off without him—what could V offer Jumin, other than a miserable, slow death at the hands of the Phantom?

Nothing.

So, V did the one thing he knew his friend and lover hated the most.

He began to lie.

It's the only way…

"Jumin, I… I can't do this anymore."

"Of course, Jihyun. I understand. It'd be impossible for you to perform under these—"

"That's not what I meant, Jumin."

It's the only way…

With all his strength, V pulled himself out of Jumin's embrace. The heir's hands fell to his sides, useless without his lover to hold them up.

"I can't do this anymore." V gestured at the newfound distance between them. "I can't do us."

Jumin stood there with his mouth slightly opened, baffled by the abrupt declaration.

"Jihyun…?" He breathed.

That wasn't enough—nowhere near enough. If V wanted to protect Jumin, he had to be crueler still, no matter how much it hurt the both of them.

It's the only way…

"Jumin, I'm going into work tomorrow," V said, forcing himself to look into Jumin's wide eyes. "Then I'll go to work the day after that, and then the day after that one. I gave my word to Mademoiselle Chung, and I intend to follow it through."

The next sentence was difficult for him to say, the words tangling together until he shoved them out in the open.

"What we had was a mistake, Jumin. I see now that… you can't give me what I need, what I want."

As V spoke, Jumin's face gradually lost its color, turning ashen as he listened to his lover's traitorous words. The lies V uttered pricked his tongue and filled his mouth with blood, nearly choking him as he prepared the final blow.

"What I want is something you can't give me, Jumin, no matter what you do. You may be the richest man in Paris, but you're nothing but a man and that's all you'll ever be. I… I need the music. You're not the music."

Exhaling shakily, V blinked back the tears threatening to escape his eyes.

"Please don't contact me again."

With that said, he turned his heel to leave, his lips feeling as heavy as iron.

It's the only way…

"Jihyun!"

Jumin surged forward and grabbed V roughly by the elbow, twisting the other man around to look at him. Shocked, V lifted his gaze to see Jumin's nostrils flare in agitation, his former surprise replaced with anger.

"Jihyun, I know you're not being truthful!" Jumin's voice, usually so calm and professional, rose in volume—the closest Jumin ever got to shouting, V noted in the far-off corners of his mind. "After all the terror you've been through, all the nights I held you after you had nightmares about that woman… you think I'd believe that nonsense you just babbled?!"

V didn't say a word to defend himself, his eyes sorrowful. That only seemed to enrage Jumin further as he continued his tirade.

"Do you think I don't know what you're planning?! You're not alone, Jihyun, and I refuse to allow you to act in such a manner! This martyrdom of yours… what do you even hope to accomplish?!"

"Jumin…"

V's voice, soft and full of regret, hushed Jumin instantly, who gazed at V with a startled expression. It was, V, thought, the first time in years Jumin saw V stripped down to the bare essentials; finally, he could see the exhaustion that lined V's face, the same face Jumin praised so highly for its beauty and delicate features, fear and timidity replacing the quiet bravery he'd swore V possessed.

"You don't understand," V said, his stare fixed on the sidewalk. "You don't understand…"

Abruptly, he shook his head as he summoned the last traces of courage he had.

"I… I refuse to allow anyone to be harmed for my sake, Jumin. I won't… I will not have you ending up like my mother…"

The last few words were spoken in a whisper, but they slammed into Jumin's heart as if V had screamed from the rooftops.

"Jihyun…" Jumin gaped at V, once again unable to speak.

Closing his eyes, V turned away from Jumin for the second time that night and took a few steps forward.

"Jihyun… Jihyun, I love you."

Jumin's voice was just as soft as V's had been, hollow with a desperate loneliness. Taking a deep breath, V continued to walk away, swallowing the lump in his throat as his heart ripped in two.

Jumin… I love you, too. I love you so much…more than I can put into words.

But… this is the only way.