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thephantomessoftheopera · 3 years

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Notes on Gaston Leroux‘s „The Phantom of the Opera“ - Epilogue

<< Previous chapter “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known”

-Charles Dickens, “A Tale of Two Cities”

As we are coming to the end of the story, Leroux ties up a few more loose ends in the epilogue.

As for Raoul and Christine, their possible happy ending is only implied by what Erik told the Persian - that they had “taken a northbound train” and were planning to get married in secret. They have disappeared from the world, and Christine never appeared again on stage anywhere. According to Leroux, they might have finally settled in Norway together with Mama Valerius. At first, I thought Leroux might have been confusing Sweden and Norway, but when I did a little research on the name „Daae“, it turns out that the name is actually most prevalent in Norway, with almost no occurrences in Sweden. It is also implied that even if they took that “northbound” train before, Christine took a train back to Paris a few weeks later to return to Erik, because she had the wedding ring on her when she left, and it was finally found on Erik‘s finger.

As Philippe‘s death was deemed to be the consequence of the fight between the two brothers over Raoul’s supposed engagement to Christine, Raoul was a murder suspect - but as his previous testimony had already made him appear a lunatic in the eyes of the Commissary, Philippe‘s death was ultimately pronounced accidental. However, as Parisian society had taken less than kindly to the news of the engagement, I think that the couple would have had a very difficult standing if they had officially married and assumed the now vacant titles of the Count and Countess de Chagny. It is therefore likely that Raoul, having officially disappeared, never claimed his titles and inheritance, and chose the more simple lifestyle that Christine was accustomed to. Leroux concludes the story of Raoul and Christine with the statement that one day, he too might „hear the solitary echoes of the Northland repeat the singing of the woman who knew the Angel of Music''. In the epilogue, the boundaries between the „false“ and the „real“ Angel of Music become blurred, as Leroux repeatedly speaks of Erik as the “Angel of Music” - indicating that maybe, just maybe, Erik truly was the Angel of Music.

After following up on Raoul and Christine, Leroux relates how he obtained proof of Erik‘s existence from the Persian, mostly through the letters written by Christine that Erik had sent to him, but also through the testimonies of Meg Giry and La Sorelli. He supposedly placed all the proof he had gathered in the archives of the Paris Opera.

He also obtained the testimony of M. Poligny, the previous manager of the Opera. The „Opera Ghost“ affair was the final straw that made him resign his post, which again indicates that Erik‘s reign as „O.G.“ was rather short and caused by Erik falling in love (since he had been living in the Opera House presumably since the early 1870s). He also quotes from the fictional „Memoirs of a Manager“ by Armand Moncharmin, where Moncharmin relates that a few days after Christine‘s abduction, Erik returned all of the forty thousand francs he had extracted to the managers, no longer having any need for the money as he had given up his plan to marry Christine. The mystery of the safety-pin is also finally resolved, as Leroux was supposedly able to locate a small trapdoor in the floor of the managers’ office, through which a dexterous magician like Erik could easily have reached up and retrieved the envelope from Richard‘s coattail pocket as it was hanging down from his chair.

Leroux also notes that the marble pillar next to Box 5 sounds hollow and would offer ample space for Erik to hide inside it. According to Gérard Fontaine’s research, the pillars being hollow applies to all the pillars in the auditorium of the Palais Garnier. Whether that proves or disproves anything is up to you... Leroux’s plan of having the lake drained in order to obtain the ultimate proof of Erik‘s existence - finding the entrance to the house by the lake - did not go through, but Leroux still sustains his hope of one day finding the score of „Don Juan Triumphant“ there (that is, if Christine had not taken it with her when she came to bury him).

Leroux then gives a summary of Erik’s life according to the Persian. Erik was born near Rouen in France and ran away from his parents as a young boy, as they were afraid and horrified by how he looked. After being exhibited as a “living corpse” at fairs, he became a singing sensation and garnered a reputation that reached as far as Persia. The daroga of Mazenderan was sent to bring Erik to Persia as entertainment for the “little sultana”. Erik, who also worked there as an assassin, is described here as amoral, “not knowing the difference between right and wrong”. Even though he does not have an evil heart, his life up until this point has left him completely without a moral compass of any kind.

After building an ingenious palace for the shah, Erik’s execution was ordered so that he could not divulge its secrets to anyone. The daroga was supposed to carry it out, but as he owed Erik favours (and was the one who brough Erik to Persia in the first place), he helped him escape instead. He was punished for this and went into exile to Paris. Erik took a detour to Asia Minor and Constantinople before he ended up in Paris as well. It is also mentioned that Erik could make lifelike automata, which is reflected in the musical in the form of the monkey music box and also the “mirror bride”, a physical representation of Erik’s dream of a loving wife.

Once in Paris, Erik decided that he finally wanted to live a normal life, and placed a successful bid to work as a contractor on the Opera House. Wishing to hide his face from the world forever, he built his comfortable home into the foundations of the Opera. Erik’s plan to live out the rest of his life in peaceful tranquillity went well - until he crossed paths with Christine Daae and lost his heart to her completely. And the rest is history…

Leroux here gives his own view of Erik: “He had a heart great enough to hold the empire of the world, and in the end he had to be content with a cellar.” With a normal face, Erik, with his brilliant mind and extraordinary talents, could have had the world at his feet. And even though no one had ever loved him, he still had a heart capable of feeling deep, pure love, which is pretty remarkable. His beautiful voice is a reflection of the beauty he carries inside his soul - which was sadly eclipsed by his ugliness, which did not allow him to live “like everyone else”. The great tragedy of his life was his face, which kept others from treating him as a human being and recognizing his full potential. He is therefore clearly worthy of pity, instead of being cursed and condemned as evil.

Leroux had already mentioned in the Prologue that he believed the skeleton found in the cellars of the Opera was Erik’s. Now he finally reveals why he was so certain of that: because Erik’s skeleton wore the gold wedding ring on his finger, which Leroux believes Christine had placed there. Even though Erik had set her free and given her the ring, she later came back to him, and this time it was certainly not out of terror. With Erik dead, none of his threats would hold any more sway over her - and yet, she still returned to him to keep her promise. She not only buried him with the wedding ring, but she slipped it onto his finger, ultimately fulfilling her promise to accept him as her husband. In a sense, she buried him with her love, and that is truly a bittersweet and beautiful ending. After everything he had to endure, Erik’s life ends with a kiss and a ring on his finger, put there by the woman he loved more than his own life, and with Leroux praying for his salvation. That may not be a traditional happy ending, but it‘s very powerful. And it’s definitely not a villain’s ending.

As „Faust“ is the most strongly referenced work in „Phantom“, it is also worth comparing how the endings are different. In the final act of Gounod‘s opera, Faust and Marguerite first swear their love to each other, but when Marguerite sees Mephistopheles and realizes who Faust really is, she turns away from him and chooses death instead, while Faust is dragged into the fires of hell. Her famous last words to him are „You horrify me!“ In „Phantom“, the progression is almost the other way round - Christine is horrified at first, but then accepts Erik and chooses life instead of death.

It should also be noted that the ending in the novel is so vague that it also allows a lot of room for the reader’s imagination. Was Erik really dead when Christine returned? He himself was announcing his death, so it would not even be so very unlikely. But as this is Leroux’s story, the official reading would of course be how he himself imagined the ending: Erik dying and Christine coming back to bury him. This might be my favourite line from the novel:

“The skeleton lay near the little fountain, where the Angel of Music first held the unconscious Christine Daae in his trembling arms after taking her into the cellars of the Opera.”

As if the return of the ring was not enough poetic closure, he also asked to be buried in the very spot where he held the love of his life for the first time...

Symbolism and Metaphors

Now that we have concluded the epilogue, I would like to add a few more notes on the general themes which are present throughout the novel and still influence how we feel about it today.

To understand the extent of symbolism employed in „The Phantom of the Opera“, it is necessary to understand the cultural mindset and environment in which it was written. At the turn of the century, the arts (and sciences, as evidenced by the slowly emerging works of Sigmund Freud) were rather obsessed with the fateful connection between Eros and Thanatos - love as the life-bringing force, and death as the destructive force. Both were often seen as intertwined and mirrored in the other.

Erik is the personification of Eros and Thanatos. He unites both forces in him to a degree unparalleled by any other character in the story. The death symbolism that is also clearly reflected in how he is described, would be both perceived as horrifying - and yet not without a strangely seductive fascination inherent in it. Death is intricately tied to darker feelings of passion and desire.The “Eros” and the “Thanatos” part of his character are intertwined, but his character also oscillates between the two sides in the course of the story.

Music in „Phantom“ also serves as a metaphor for romantic love, not only in the spiritual but also in the physical sense, as it is connotated with “passion”, “fire”, “ecstasy” and “rapture” throughout the story. Erik’s teaching awakens “an ardent, voracious and sublime life” in Christine, symbolizing the burgeoning romantic feelings in the young woman. She is terrified with the changes going on in her, which is also in line with how „Eros“ was originally viewed: as a frightening loss of control. Erik says in “Apollo’s Lyre” that “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”, and Christine states that “Music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. In both sentences, the word “music” can easily be replaced with “love” - especially in Christine’s example, it would be the musical equivalent of “love is blind”.

Like in other (gothic) romances - “Wuthering Heights” being perhaps the prime example - the two rivals in the principal love triangle represent two very different types of love: one is intense and passionate, but also consuming, terrifying and potentially destructive, and the other is safer, but also somewhat chaste and lifeless. Erik and Raoul each represent one of the two extremes. This contrast is exemplified in the scene at the Masked Ball: Raoul wears white, the colour of innocence, while Erik wears red, the colour of passion, but also of danger and blood.

It is suggested in the novel that Erik and Christine were chained together by fate (“La destinée m’enchaîne à toi sans retour”), and I believe they were destined to save each other. Erik saved Christine from her grief in the wake of her father’s death and brought her back to life, and Christine saved his soul by being the first person in his life to accept him and grant him true happiness. „Phantom“ may be a tragic love story, but it is also a hopeful one, as love proves stronger than death. Christine’s choice, Erik‘s sacrifice and the skeleton’s wedding ring are all symbols of love triumphing over death.

#phantom of the opera #lerouxreadingguide #leroux phantom #gaston leroux #leroux erik #christine daae #erik x christine #le fantôme de l'opéra #the phantom of the opera #erik the phantom #raoul de chagny #opera ghost #classic literature #gothic romance

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textsfromthefifthbasement · 3 years

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I finally finished MAZM: Phantom of the Opera! I’m leaving the review under the cut because it’s long and also spoilers for some elements of the game that aren’t in other Phantom adaptations.

General

First off, I loved the art style of the game. The character designs were quite adorable, and it definitely seemed like they made an effort to follow the original Leroux character designs. They had a blonde Christine and an olive-skinned, dark-haired Meg. I also thought they did a great job with Erik’s character design (though there was too much hair). The sets were beautiful. The majority of the main plot of the game does follow the Leroux book, which I really appreciated. There were some favorite moments in the book that I wish had been incorporated, such as Raoul waking up to find Erik watching him sleep (don’t judge I just find it freaking hilarious), but they incorporated so many other small scenes from the book, such as the managers trying to prevent Erik from taking his salary by using the safety pin. As a history nerd, I also really appreciated the collectible notes giving historical context to some of the discussions, including about three notes on the Paris Commune/Bloody Week. I wished the characters would have had different outfits rather than wear the same outfit the entire story. At the very least, I wished they had made a Red Death outfit for Erik during the masquerade.

I also want to point out and give a warning to anyone who has suicide ideation before they try this game. Pretty early on in the story, you play an episode in which you control Joseph Buquet after he’s dropped into Erik’s torture chamber, and eventually, you have to walk to the noose and pick it. The scene cuts right before he hangs himself. About partway through the story, when you control Christine, there’s a scene in which she has to talk Erik out of killing himself with a shard from a broken vase. At the end, when Christine and Raoul go down to Erik’s house to bury him, they found that he had committed suicide.

In all, I spent about 23 hours on the game from start to finish. I still need to go back and replay a few episodes to complete the achievements. I missed quite a few of the historical notes, and there are parts where you can make different decisions to influence what happens.

In this game, the studio added a lot of subplots that didn’t exist in the book and expanded on some canonical subplots as well. I did enjoy quite a few of these.

The Dancers

Meg, Jammes, and Sorelli are all major characters in the game, and I loved seeing them have more characterization and actual character arcs. Jammes, as a character, doesn’t change as much as the others, but she is only a child. As in the book, she is pretty frightened of ghost stories, strangers, and the Phantom, but in the game, she also loves and takes care of the stray cats living around the opera house and does turn into a bit of a spitfire when her friends are threatened by the various happenings at the opera. Sorelli has a knife and is not afraid to use it, and she comes to realize that her fear of being alone led her to stay with Philippe de Chagny in spite of the fact that he would never officially acknowledge her. Meg, in the beginning, seems afraid of her own shadow, but throughout the game, definitely comes into her own and also develops a much healthier relationship with her mother.

Union

This had to be hands-down my favorite subplot of the game. In the beginning, when Moncharmin and Richard first become the managers of the Palais Garnier, they mistreat Christine and mass fire anyone who mentions the Phantom of the Opera. When Christine goes missing for several weeks, Meg, Sorelli, and Jammes finally decide they have had enough and basically unionize the ballet dancers. There’s an entire protest, a performance in which the ballerinas refuse to perform, and they end up getting a promise from the managers to stop indiscriminately firing and mistreating people.

Christine’s Ending

GUYS. When I joked about Christine just traveling the world and performing instead I had no idea that was an actual choice you can make for her. It’s such a bittersweet ending, but I personally hope that one day she would have emotionally healed enough from her ordeal to come back to Paris and reunite with her old friends.

That being said, there were also a lot of additions/changes that I…really wasn’t a fan of.

Melek

So, for context. During Christine’s first stay at Erik’s house, she decides to do some exploring while he’s gone. While in his room, she hears a woman’s voice behind a wall and goes to investigate. She discovers a hidden door, and behind that hidden door is Melek. We find that Melek is a blind Turkish woman who had been one of Erik’s servants during his time in Constantinople. She had refused to marry him, and so he had kidnapped her and had kept her locked in that room for ten years.

Yes, I have a lot of problems with this.

I think the first thing is that when Melek was introduced is when I really realized that the game was never going to go in the direction of presenting Erik as a character who was sympathetic at times and not so much at others. The game had already painted him as a very unsympathetic character up until then through showing how he had gaslit Christine as the Angel of Music. Introducing Melek really drove that point home, which was kind of disappointing seeing as how the literal point of Leroux’s Le Fantome de l’Opera was that we should pity Erik for how he was treated because of his face.

Additionally, Melek’s character just…didn’t do anything. The more she was around, the more I wondered what the point of her character was. She does offer Christine support half of the time, and then the other half of the time is her being upset because Christine wants to change Erik rather than murder him. Ultimately, it’s my point of view that her character was not a great addition to the game and would have preferred a closer adherence to the book in that regard.

Hatim and PTSD

*sigh* This part seriously pissed me off. While Raoul and Hatim (the Daroga) are in the torture chamber, Hatim tells Raoul the story between him and Erik. We end up playing through a flashback of when Hatim discovers Erik living at the opera house ten years ago. As they discuss their past, we and Hatim quickly realize that Erik has PTSD, and mentioning the Shah of Persia is a serious trigger for him. Which, alright. That does make some sense story-wise.

And then through other flashbacks, Hatim proceeds to use this against Erik. Like he literally would trigger him purposefully as a punishment. And say that he was doing it for his own good.

Like, excuse me, but. What the fuck. What. The actual. Fuck. No. Don’t ever do that, that’s shitty.

Anyways by the end I was legitimately rooting for Erik to punt him.

Erik’s Ending

In the original Leroux novel, Erik presents Christine with a choice: turn the scorpion, and she will marry him, or turn the grasshopper, and the entire opera house will blow up. Christine chooses the scorpion, kisses him on the forehead, and he is so overwhelmed by the action that he saves Raoul’s life and lets them go together. The only promise he extracts from Christine is that she will come back and bury him when he dies, which he believes will be soon. Two weeks later, an ad runs in the newspaper that reads simply, “Erik is dead.”

Yeah. The game really went off the rails here in respect to following the Leroux book. After Christine turns the scorpion, Erik pulls Raoul into the lake and leaves him there, thinking he’ll drown or freeze to death, and then returns to force the marriage. He does eventually let Christine and Melek go, as Christine tells him that she will never love him and that she believes he is a monster, all while he is on his knees begging her just to love him a little. There is no forehead kiss. To the end, Erik writes and tells Hatim that Christine is the devil, and that she abandoned him in hell and wants her to suffer for the rest of her life knowing what she did to him. Yeah, I wish I was making that up.

There is one point where Christine tells Erik it’s not her job to save him. Which I agree with. I feel like whoever wrote the story had a misunderstanding of the ending of the book, or else thought the idea wasn’t explicitly stated enough. The forehead kiss does, in some respect, save Erik. It makes him realize how badly he’s treated everyone and yet Christine is still willing to extend kindness towards him. But it’s not Christine saving him, it’s him coming to that realization on his own. Ultimately, the game traded that idea for a way more heavy-handed “I am not here to save you, I am going to make my own decisions from here on.”

And then, in the face of all that, we’re also missing Erik changing and redeeming himself despite the fact that he’s close to death. Instead, he dies while leaving basically a suicide note to Hatim saying that Christine is the devil and he made her promise to return to bury him to hurt her. Which is so out of character if we look at the book characterization.

Like I knew I was signing up to get my heart ripped out, I just figured it was going to maybe be the brand of Christine having to choose whether or not to stay while Erik dies. And damnit, I just wanted a single forehead kiss.

Anyways, I really enjoyed the game up until the ending. I just seriously disliked the ending for the most part. If you’re more of a fan of the idea of Christine being on her own and finding her own path, that is an enjoyable option to go with. I still need to play through that episode with the marry Raoul choice and see what happens with that option though.

#mazm phantom of the opera #mention of suicide #the phantom of the opera #poto #review

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your-angle-of-music · 4 years

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So the MazM Phantom of the Opera mobile game sure takes some liberties

Here be spoilers. In summary: they are deeply iconic.

The Good

The de Chagny brothers have pink hair.

Little Jammes the ballerina is actually a canonical catgirl who unionizes the dancers and leads the first ever opera house strike.

She eventually grows up to be a women’s rights activist and early suffragette.

The Persian is the one who gave Erik his name. In general, their relationship is approached in a heartwarming, heartwrenching, interesting way.

The game (and Raoul) criticize Philippe more actively, calling out his obsession with maintaining a family image compatible with class and gender norms, his infantilizing treatment of Raoul which is bad as well as tender, and his relationship with Sorelli compared with Raoul’s relationship with Christine.

The Persian tells off Raoul for judging the Persian government, pointing out his role as a colonizer.

Interestingly enough, Christine’s relationship with her father wasn’t perfect either — he used to get drunk and depressed and borderline abusive, and it helps to explain why she might be particularly vulnerable to Erik’s manipulation.

There’s a mini-arc where Christine rescues Meg Giry from being trapped in Box 5 by the managers and drugged by Erik.

Meg leads a troop of opera workers to look for Christine after the final kidnapping by Erik, separately from Raoul and the Persian. They’re the ones who end up finding Raoul after he almost drowns and taking him back to the opera house.

There’s basically high-key Megstine vibes overall.

Holy SHIT the ending...it’s no longer about Christine (who has been trying to save everyone but herself all along) showing yet more compassion to the Phantom or thinking she can change him. Instead, Christine tells him that he can’t control her anymore and that he’s nothing without bullying other people and that she doesn’t think he’s a monster for his face, but for his actions. He begs her to love him, if he changes, and she says that even if he does change, she still won’t owe him her love. She leaves with Melek without kissing him or taking his ring (although she still does promise to bury him after he dies).

When Erik says his final goodbye to the Persian, he calls him his name (Hatim in this game) instead of Daroga for the first and last time and they forgive each other but only when the other is out of earshot and I never thought a mobile game could make me cry but here I am.

There are two possible endings for Christine: either she goes off with Raoul to the beach where they spent their childhood summer together and get to know each other again and Raoul has learned not to pressure her to marry him and they take their time to reconnect, or she goes off alone and travels the world and sings for herself and never marries and ends up visiting her mother’s grave in Sweden.

The Bad

Instead of Christine losing Erik’s ring when she kisses Raoul like in the book, Raoul makes her give it to him and he chucks it off the roof of the opera house even though she told him quite clearly that taking it off would put her in danger.

Erik as the Angel of Music is so obviously creepy, controlling, and just kinda...mean from the beginning that I don’t really buy Christine’s initial loyalty towards him, or that she would believe he was the Angel.

Like, he really does genuinely seem to hate Christine and isn’t weirdly nice to her during the two weeks after the first kidnapping like he is in the book. He doesn’t like it when she expresses any emotions, talks about herself, or reads books.

As awesome as MazM Meg is, she is aged up and much more serious and caring, so we do lose Leroux’s sassy feral preteen Meg whom I love so dearly.

Everyone is so, SO mean to the Persian, and both Raoul and Erik and even you in the future (it’s a bit hard to explain) assign him way too much of the blame for how Erik turned out because when he was spending time with him in Persia he focused on making his life slightly less miserable instead of taking it upon himself to teach him right and wrong??

And then yeah the Persian is directly responsible for the Shah trying to have him murdered because he made up a rumor about him intending to get him exiled so he could leave the toxic environment of the Persian court but then the Shah decided to have the Persian execute him instead. But he still did end up saving his life at immense personal risk. And even fragile Erik recognized that. Plus he protected Raoul and Christine just because he thought it was the right thing to do. Why does the narrative keep trying to uncritically frame the Persian as selfish when he’s very much not??

The Baffling

The managers are legitimately evil now and try to frame Christine for the murder of Joseph Buquet for...reasons.

So Christine wasn’t Erik’s first “love.” Oh no. You see, he has a blind Turkish woman named Melek locked up in his basement after she refused to marry him. She used to be his interpreter and servant, and she was nice enough to him, and he thought she might love him because she was blind, but because she knew about the torture devices he built for the sultan, she spurned his advances. So he has imprisoned her for ten years now. Throughout the game, Christine tries to help her escape.

I don’t think the game designers realized that Jammes and Sorelli are last names (Jammes’ first name is actually Cécile in the book), and so they renamed them Jammes Petit and Sorelli Dupont.

Yeah Erik really didn’t convincingly change and while what Christine said to him was really important to her arc, I’m not sure if it made him act too differently. For example, he never chose to save Raoul for her sake — he never found out that he survived the torture chamber flooding and told Christine that he died.

The game even makes a point of having Erik call Christine “the cruel devil” several times after she makes him set her free (quite the opposite of book Erik calling her an “angel” later). On one hand it’s really good for Christine but on the other hand his reasons for giving up the Phantom and the money seem less clear.

This is the character design for the detective/narrator:

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darealbellabelleoftheball · 5 years

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Phantom Rambles

Chapter Twenty One - Interesting and Instructive Vicissitudes of a Persian in the Cellars of the Opera

(Vicissitudes Definition - a change of circumstances or fortune, typically one that is unwelcome or unpleasant.)

(This is the room in which Raoul and the Persian found themselves.Art by the amazing TalviEnkeli on deviantart.)

The Persian's narrative. (Heck i’mma just dump the whole chapter in here and comment where I will!)

It was the first time that I entered the house on the lake. I had often begged the “trap-door lover,” as we used to call Erik in my country, to open its mysterious doors to me. He always refused. I made very many attempts, but in vain, to obtain admittance. Watch him as I might, after I first learned that he had taken up his permanent abode at the Opera, the darkness was always too thick to enable me to see how he worked the door in the wall on the lake. One day, when I thought myself alone, I stepped into the boat and rowed toward that part of the wall through which I had seen Erik disappear. It was then that I came into contact with the siren who guarded the approach and whose charm was very nearly fatal to me.

I had no sooner put off from the bank than the silence amid which I floated on the water was disturbed by a sort of whispered singing that hovered all around me. It was half breath, half music; it rose softly from the waters of the lake; and I was surrounded by it through I knew not what artifice. It followed me, moved with me and was so soft that it did not alarm me. On the contrary, in my longing to approach the source of that sweet and enticing harmony, I leaned out of my little boat over the water, for there was no doubt in my mind that the singing came from the water itself. By this time, I was alone in the boat in the middle of the lake; the voice — for it was now distinctly a voice — was beside me, on the water. I leaned over, leaned still farther. The lake was perfectly calm, and a moonbeam that passed through the air hole in the Rue Scribe showed me absolutely nothing on its surface, which was smooth and black as ink. I shook my ears to get rid of a possible humming; but I soon had to accept the fact that there was no humming in the ears so harmonious as the singing whisper that followed and now attracted me.

Had I been inclined to superstition, I should have certainly thought that I had to do with some siren whose business it was to confound the traveler who should venture on the waters of the house on the lake. Fortunately, I come from a country where we are too fond of fantastic things not to know them through and through; and I had no doubt but that I was face to face with some new invention of Erik’s. But this invention was so perfect that, as I leaned out of the boat, I was impelled less by a desire to discover its trick than to enjoy its charm; and I leaned out, leaned out until I almost overturned the boat.

Suddenly, two monstrous arms issued from the bosom of the waters and seized me by the neck, dragging me down to the depths with irresistible force. I should certainly have been lost, if I had not had time to give a cry by which Erik knew me. For it was he; and, instead of drowning me, as was certainly his first intention, he swam with me and laid me gently on the bank:

“How imprudent you are!” he said, as he stood before me, dripping with water. “Why try to enter my house? I never invited you! I don’t want you there,(LOL) nor anybody!(What a mood Erik) Did you save my life only to make it unbearable to me? However great the service you rendered him, Erik may end by forgetting it; and you know that nothing can restrain Erik, not even Erik himself.” (I adore how Erik talks in third person.)

He spoke, but I had now no other wish than to know what I already called the trick of the siren. He satisfied my curiosity, for Erik, who is a real monster( Bit RUDE) — I have seen him at work in Persia, alas — is also, in certain respects, a regular child, vain and self-conceited, and there is nothing he loves so much, after astonishing people, as to prove all the really miraculous ingenuity of his mind.(SEE EVEN THE DAROGA AGREES WITH ME PEOPLE!!!)

He laughed and showed me a long reed.

“It’s the silliest trick you ever saw,” he said, “but it’s very useful for breathing and singing in the water. I learned it from the Tonkin pirates, who are able to remain hidden for hours in the beds of the rivers.”

I spoke to him severely.

“It’s a trick that nearly killed me!” I said. “And it may have been fatal to others! You know what you promised me, Erik? No more murders!”

“Have I really committed murders?” he asked, putting on his most amiable air.

“Wretched man!” I cried. “Have you forgotten the ‘rosy hours of Mazenderan’?”

“Yes,” he replied, in a sadder tone, “I prefer to forget them. I used to make the little sultana laugh, though!” (OH BABY NO JUST NO)

“All that belongs to the past,” I declared; “but there is the present . . . and you are responsible to me for the present, because, if I had wished, there would have been none at all for you. Remember that, Erik: I saved your life!” (I’M YOUR FATHER AND YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME DAMN IT!!!)

And I took advantage of the turn of conversation to speak to him of something that had long been on my mind:

“Erik,” I asked, “Erik, swear that . . . ”

“What?” he retorted. “You know I never keep my oaths. Oaths are made to catch gulls with.”

“Tell me . . . you can tell me, at any rate . . . ”

“Well?”

“Well, the chandelier . . . the chandelier, Erik? . . . ”

“What about the chandelier?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh,” he sniggered, “I don’t mind telling you about the chandelier! . . . IT WASN’T I! . . . The chandelier was very old and worn.”

When Erik laughed, he was more terrible than ever. He jumped into the boat, chuckling so horribly that I could not help trembling.

“Very old and worn, my dear daroga! Very old and worn, the chandelier! . . . It fell of itself! . . . It came down with a smash! . . . And now, daroga, take my advice and go and dry yourself, or you’ll catch a cold in the head! . . . And never get into my boat again . . . And, whatever you do, don’t try to enter my house: I’m not always there . . . daroga! And I should be sorry to have to dedicate my Requiem Mass to you!”

So saying, swinging to and fro, like a monkey, and still chuckling, he pushed off and soon disappeared in the darkness of the lake. (hOW CAN YOU NOT LOVE THIS FLAMING DUMPSTER CHILD?!)

From that day, I gave up all thought of penetrating into his house by the lake. That entrance was obviously too well guarded, especially since he had learned that I knew about it. But I felt that there must be another entrance, for I had often seen Erik disappear in the third cellar, when I was watching him, though I could not imagine how.

Ever since I had discovered Erik installed in the Opera, I lived in a perpetual terror of his horrible fancies, not in so far as I was concerned, but I dreaded everything for others.

And whenever some accident, some fatal event happened, I always thought to myself, “I should not be surprised if that were Erik,” even as others used to say, “It’s the ghost!” How often have I not heard people utter that phrase with a smile! Poor devils! If they had known that the ghost existed in the flesh, I swear they would not have laughed!

Although Erik announced to me very solemnly that he had changed and that he had become the most virtuous of men SINCE HE WAS LOVED FOR HIMSELF— a sentence that, at first, perplexed me most terribly — I could not help shuddering when I thought of the monster. His horrible, unparalleled and repulsive ugliness put him without the pale of humanity; and it often seemed to me that, for this reason, he no longer believed that he had any duty toward the human race. The way in which he spoke of his love affairs only increased my alarm, for I foresaw the cause of fresh and more hideous tragedies in this event to which he alluded so boastfully. (Yeah how do you tell your psychotic friend that he may not be loved in return???)

On the other hand, I soon discovered the curious moral traffic established between the monster and Christine Daae. Hiding in the lumber-room next to the young prima donna’s dressing-room, I listened to wonderful musical displays that evidently flung Christine into marvelous ecstasy; but, all the same, I would never have thought that Erik’s voice — which was loud as thunder or soft as angels’ voices, at will — could have made her forget his ugliness. I understood all when I learned that Christine had not yet seen him! I had occasion to go to the dressing-room and, remembering the lessons he had once given me, I had no difficulty in discovering the trick that made the wall with the mirror swing round and I ascertained the means of hollow bricks and so on — by which he made his voice carry to Christine as though she heard it close beside her. In this way also I discovered the road that led to the well and the dungeon — the Communists’ dungeon — and also the trap-door that enabled Erik to go straight to the cellars below the stage. (The Daroga is a smarticle particle)

A few days later, what was not my amazement to learn by my own eyes and ears that Erik and Christine Daae saw each other and to catch the monster stooping over the little well, in the Communists’ road and sprinkling the forehead of Christine Daae, who had fainted. A white horse, the horse out of the PROFETA, which had disappeared from the stables under the Opera, was standing quietly beside them. I showed myself. It was terrible. I saw sparks fly from those yellow eyes and, before I had time to say a word, I received a blow on the head that stunned me. (Rude ERik!)

When I came to myself, Erik, Christine and the white horse had disappeared. I felt sure that the poor girl was a prisoner in the house on the lake. Without hesitation, I resolved to return to the bank, notwithstanding the attendant danger. For twenty-four hours, I lay in wait for the monster to appear; for I felt that he must go out, driven by the need of obtaining provisions. And, in this connection, I may say, that, when he went out in the streets or ventured to show himself in public, he wore a pasteboard nose, with a mustache attached to it,

(This is always what I picture ^)

instead of his own horrible hole of a nose. This did not quite take away his corpse-like air, but it made him almost, I say almost, endurable to look at.

I therefore watched on the bank of the lake and, weary of long waiting, was beginning to think that he had gone through the other door, the door in the third cellar, when I heard a slight splashing in the dark, I saw the two yellow eyes shining like candles and soon the boat touched shore. Erik jumped out and walked up to me:

“You’ve been here for twenty-four hours,” he said, “and you’re annoying me. I tell you, all this will end very badly. And you will have brought it upon yourself; for I have been extraordinarily patient with you. You think you are following me, you great booby, (*Snorts*)whereas it’s I who am following you; and I know all that you know about me, here. I spared you yesterday, in MY COMMUNISTS’ ROAD; but I warn you, seriously, don’t let me catch you there again! Upon my word, you don’t seem able to take a hint!” (SAYS THE DUDE WHO IS KEEPING A GIRL IN HIS HOUSE UNWILLINGLY!!!)

He was so furious that I did not think, for the moment, of interrupting him. After puffing and blowing like a walrus, he put his horrible thought into words:

“Yes, you must learn, once and for all — once and for all, I say — to take a hint! I tell you that, with your recklessness — for you have already been twice arrested by the shade in the felt hat, who did not know what you were doing in the cellars and took you to the managers, who looked upon you as an eccentric Persian interested in stage mechanism and life behind the scenes: I know all about it, I was there, in the office; you know I am everywhere — well, I tell you that, with your recklessness, they will end by wondering what you are after here . . . and they will end by knowing that you are after Erik . . . and then they will be after Erik themselves and they will discover the house on the lake . . . If they do, it will be a bad lookout for you, old chap, a bad lookout! . . . I won’t answer for anything.”

Again he puffed and blew like a walrus.

“I won’t answer for anything! . . . If Erik’s secrets cease to be Erik’s secrets, IT WILL BE A BAD LOOKOUT FOR A GOODLY NUMBER OF THE HUMAN RACE! That’s all I have to tell you, and unless you are a great booby, it ought to be enough for you . . . except that you don’t know how to take a hint.” (Erik you c h i l d)

He had sat down on the stern of his boat and was kicking his heels against the planks, waiting to hear what I had to answer. I simply said:

“It’s not Erik that I’m after here!”

“Who then?”

“You know as well as I do: it’s Christine Daae,” I answered.

He retorted: “I have every right to see her in my own house. I am loved for my own sake.” (Uh huh sure you are bb)

“That’s not true,” I said. “You have carried her off and are keeping her locked up.”

“Listen,” he said. “Will you promise never to meddle with my affairs again, if I prove to you that I am loved for my own sake?”

“Yes, I promise you,” I replied, without hesitation, for I felt convinced that for such a monster the proof was impossible.

“Well, then, it’s quite simple . . . Christine Daae shall leave this as she pleases and come back again! . . . Yes, come back again, because she wishes . . . come back of herself, because she loves me for myself! . . . ”

“Oh, I doubt if she will come back! . . . But it is your duty to let her go.” “My duty, you great booby! . . . It is my wish . . . my wish to let her go; and she will come back again . . . for she loves me! . . . All this will end in a marriage . . . a marriage at the Madeleine, you great booby! Do you believe me now? When I tell you that my nuptial mass is written . . . wait till you hear the KYRIE . . . ”

He beat time with his heels on the planks of the boat and sang:

“KYRIE! . . . KYRIE! . . . KYRIE ELEISON! . . . Wait till you hear, wait till you hear that mass.” (awe he wrote a wedding song for her *Screeches*)

“Look here,” I said. “I shall believe you if I see Christine Daae come out of the house on the lake and go back to it of her own accord.”

“And you won’t meddle any more in my affairs?”

“No.”

“Very well, you shall see that to-night. Come to the masked ball. Christine and I will go and have a look round. Then you can hide in the lumber-room and you shall see Christine, who will have gone to her dressing-room, delighted to come back by the Communists’ road . . . And, now, be off, for I must go and do some shopping!” (LOL)

To my intense astonishment, things happened as he had announced. Christine Daae left the house on the lake and returned to it several times, without, apparently, being forced to do so. It was very difficult for me to clear my mind of Erik. However, I resolved to be extremely prudent, and did not make the mistake of returning to the shore of the lake, or of going by the Communists’ road. But the idea of the secret entrance in the third cellar haunted me, and I repeatedly went and waited for hours behind a scene from the Roi de Lahore, which had been left there for some reason or other. At last my patience was rewarded. One day, I saw the monster come toward me, on his knees. I was certain that he could not see me. He passed between the scene behind which I stood and a set piece, went to the wall and pressed on a spring that moved a stone and afforded him an ingress. He passed through this, and the stone closed behind him.

(Ah Daroga you sneaky sneak!)

I waited for at least thirty minutes and then pressed the spring in my turn. Everything happened as with Erik. But I was careful not to go through the hole myself, for I knew that Erik was inside. On the other hand, the idea that I might be caught by Erik suddenly made me think of the death of Joseph Buquet. I did not wish to jeopardize the advantages of so great a discovery which might be useful to many people, “to a goodly number of the human race,” in Erik’s words; and I left the cellars of the Opera after carefully replacing the stone. (He just noped out of there)

I continued to be greatly interested in the relations between Erik and Christine Daae, not from any morbid curiosity, but because of the terrible thought which obsessed my mind that Erik was capable of anything, if he once discovered that he was not loved for his own sake, as he imagined. I continued to wander, very cautiously, about the Opera and soon learned the truth about the monster’s dreary love-affair.

He filled Christine’s mind, through the terror with which he inspired her, but the dear child’s heart belonged wholly to the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. While they played about, like an innocent engaged couple, on the upper floors of the Opera, to avoid the monster, they little suspected that some one was watching over them. I was prepared to do anything: to kill the monster, if necessary, and explain to the police afterward. But Erik did not show himself; and I felt none the more comfortable for that.

I must explain my whole plan. I thought that the monster, being driven from his house by jealousy, would thus enable me to enter it, without danger, through the passage in the third cellar. It was important, for everybody’s sake, that I should know exactly what was inside. One day, tired of waiting for an opportunity, I moved the stone and at once heard an astounding music: the monster was working at his Don Juan Triumphant, with every door in his house wide open. I knew that this was the work of his life. I was careful not to stir and remained prudently in my dark hole.

He stopped playing, for a moment, and began walking about his place, like a madman. And he said aloud, at the top of his voice:

“It must be finished FIRST! Quite finished!” (The life of a writer)

This speech was not calculated to reassure me and, when the music recommenced, I closed the stone very softly.

On the day of the abduction of Christine Daae, I did not come to the theater until rather late in the evening, trembling lest I should hear bad news. I had spent a horrible day, for, after reading in a morning paper the announcement of a forthcoming marriage between Christine and the Vicomte de Chagny, I wondered whether, after all, I should not do better to denounce the monster. But reason returned to me, and I was persuaded that this action could only precipitate a possible catastrophe.

When, my cab set me down before the Opera, I was really almost astonished to see it still standing! But I am something of a fatalist, like all good Orientals, and I entered ready, for anything. (LOL I love you Daroga)

Christine Daae’s abduction in the Prison Act, which naturally surprised everybody, found me prepared. I was quite certain that she had been juggled away by Erik, that prince of conjurers. And I thought positively that this was the end of Christine and perhaps of everybody, so much so that I thought of advising all these people who were staying on at the theater to make good their escape. I felt, however, that they would be sure to look upon me as mad and I refrained. (Good call)

On the other hand, I resolved to act without further delay, as far as I was concerned. The chances were in my favor that Erik, at that moment, was thinking only of his captive. This was the moment to enter his house through the third cellar; and I resolved to take with me that poor little desperate viscount, who, at the first suggestion, accepted, with an amount of confidence in myself that touched me profoundly. I had sent my servant for my pistols. I gave one to the viscount and advised him to hold himself ready to fire, for, after all, Erik might be waiting for us behind the wall. We were to go by the Communists’ road and through the trap-door.

Seeing my pistols, the little viscount asked me if we were going to fight a duel. I said:

“Yes; and what a duel!” But, of course, I had no time to explain anything to him. The little viscount is a brave fellow, but he knew hardly anything about his adversary; and it was so much the better. My great fear was that he was already somewhere near us, preparing the Punjab lasso. No one knows better than he how to throw the Punjab lasso, for he is the king of stranglers even as he is the prince of conjurors. When he had finished making the little sultana laugh, at the time of the “rosy hours of Mazenderan,” she herself used to ask him to amuse her by giving her a thrill. It was then that he introduced the sport of the Punjab lasso. (Smarty)

He had lived in India and acquired an incredible skill in the art of strangulation. He would make them lock him into a courtyard to which they brought a warrior — usually, a man condemned to death — armed with a long pike and broadsword. Erik had only his lasso; and it was always just when the warrior thought that he was going to fell Erik with a tremendous blow that we heard the lasso whistle through the air. With a turn of the wrist, Erik tightened the noose round his adversary’s neck and, in this fashion, dragged him before the little sultana and her women, who sat looking from a window and applauding. The little sultana herself learned to wield the Punjab lasso and killed several of her women and even of the friends who visited her. But I prefer to drop this terrible subject of the rosy hours of Mazenderan. I have mentioned it only to explain why, on arriving with the Vicomte de Chagny in the cellars of the Opera, I was bound to protect my companion against the ever-threatening danger of death by strangling. My pistols could serve no purpose, for Erik was not likely to show himself; but Erik could always strangle us. I had no time to explain all this to the viscount; besides, there was nothing to be gained by complicating the position. I simply told M. de Chagny to keep his hand at the level of his eyes, with the arm bent, as though waiting for the command to fire. With his victim in this attitude, it is impossible even for the most expert strangler to throw the lasso with advantage. It catches you not only round the neck, but also round the arm or hand. This enables you easily to unloose the lasso, which then becomes harmless. (He’s so smart)

After avoiding the commissary of police, a number of door-shutters and the firemen, after meeting the rat-catcher and passing the man in the felt hat unperceived, the viscount and I arrived without obstacle in the third cellar, between the set piece and the scene from the Roi de Lahore. I worked the stone, and we jumped into the house which Erik had built himself in the double case of the foundation-walls of the Opera. And this was the easiest thing in the world for him to do, because Erik was one of the chief contractors under Philippe Garnier, the architect of the Opera, and continued to work by himself when the works were officially suspended, during the war, the siege of Paris and the Commune.

I knew my Erik too well to feel at all comfortable on jumping into his house. I knew what he had made of a certain palace at Mazenderan. From being the most honest building conceivable, he soon turned it into a house of the very devil, where you could not utter a word but it was overheard or repeated by an echo. With his trap-doors the monster was responsible for endless tragedies of all kinds. He hit upon astonishing inventions. Of these, the most curious, horrible and dangerous was the so-called torture-chamber. Except in special cases, when the little sultana amused herself by inflicting suffering upon some unoffending citizen, no one was let into it but wretches condemned to death. And, even then, when these had “had enough,” they were always at liberty to put an end to themselves with a Punjab lasso or bowstring, left for their use at the foot of an iron tree.

My alarm, therefore, was great when I saw that the room into which M. le Vicomte de Chagny and I had dropped was an exact copy of the torture-chamber of the rosy hours of Mazenderan. At our feet, I found the Punjab lasso which I had been dreading all the evening. I was convinced that this rope had already done duty for Joseph Buquet, who, like myself, must have caught Erik one evening working the stone in the third cellar. He probably tried it in his turn, fell into the torture-chamber and only left it hanged. I can well imagine Erik dragging the body, in order to get rid of it, to the scene from the Roi de Lahore, and hanging it there as an example, or to increase the superstitious terror that was to help him in guarding the approaches to his lair! Then, upon reflection, Erik went back to fetch the Punjab lasso, which is very curiously made out of catgut, and which might have set an examining magistrate thinking. This explains the disappearance of the rope.

And now I discovered the lasso, at our feet, in the torture-chamber! . . . I am no coward, but a cold sweat covered my forehead as I moved the little red disk of my lantern over the walls.

M. de Chagny noticed it and asked:

“What is the matter, sir?”

I made him a violent sign to be silent.

sorry this one was so long but since the chapter was heavily dialogued...Is that even a word???

Since the WHOLE chapter was the Daroga talking it just seemed right to include it. I may continue this format??? Ok bye.

tag

@angelofmusicsuggestions

@the-angel-of-musicals

@potoincorrectquotes

@maladypond

@summerb4jc

@masksonmasks

@wheel-of-fish

@epwhales

@phantomgraphicnovel

@phantom-of-the-keurig

@phantomofthetrashcan

@phantom-of-the-uhhhpera

@shernoel

@madamedaae

@quill-of-doom

#Phantom Rambles #POTO #Booklr

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convenientalias · 6 years

Note

(Why am I doing this to myself?) 38, Daraoulga

Yay angsty Daraoulga!

I posted this fic on AO3 here but I think it’s short enough to post in its entirety, so let’s go.

Hamid’s been going with the young Vicomte for more than two months when Erik decides he has a problem with it. Why it takes him that long to notice, Hamid doesn’t know. He just knows when Erik’s ire does fall upon him, because it’s not exactly subtle. It’s Erik waylaying him in a hallway and dragging him off into the tunnels for “a talk.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me coming down here anymore.”

Erik doesn’t even bother giving him a look.

“You’re inconsistent.” Hamid folds his arms and leans against a wall. There’s still a fucking noose around his neck—Erik wasn’t exactly gentle about getting him down here—but for some reason he feels like if he acknowledges the rope’s existence he’ll legitimize it, so he’s not removing it. He also isn’t sure what will set Erik off. Heck, he isn’t sure what’s set Erik off enough to attack him tonight to begin with.

“I am giving you a warning,” Erik says after a moment.

“You could have warned me before—”

“Don’t pretend to be offended, daroga. If you weren’t used to the way I work, you would long ago be dead.”

And you’d be dead too, if I didn’t care enough to save your sorry ass, Hamid doesn’t say. “Actually I am…”

“I am warning you to stay away from the Vicomte de Chagny,” Erik says.

Hamid blinks.

“I know you two have been getting close,” Erik continues. “Sharing boxes in the opera, stealing kisses when no one is looking…really it’s childish but I suppose you enjoy yourself as you wish. However, it is no longer wise. You may find yourself another lover.”

“Oh—” Hamid’s temper flares. “—may I?”

Erik now does give him a look, short and contemptuous.

“You can’t be jealous. You’ve never given the vicomte a second look, don’t pretend you have, and we’re… Anyhow it’s a bit late to try and intervene, isn’t it? I’ve been courting the vicomte for…”

“Courting?” Erik snorts. “Oh, come on… And I didn’t think I’d have to intervene, because I thought you would have ended it long ago. We know you aren’t exactly one for monogamy.”

“I am perfectly capable of it.”

“Well, I know that now. But be monogamous with someone else. The Vicomte de Chagny is not a wise choice, and from now on you are to stay far away. Do you understand?”

“I don’t take orders from you, Erik.”

“I am not ordering you to do anything,” Erik says. “I am just warning you. You’re the one who prefers me not to commit murder.” He turns away. “Do as you wish.”

Hamid breaks his date with Raoul that night.

It’s not, he tells himself, that he’s afraid of Erik or what Erik says. But his fight with Erik has left him with a couple scratches, and his coat is a mess. He’s not in a fit state to sit through an opera with Raoul, surrounded by the denizens of high society. Raoul can do without him for a night. He goes home to his apartment where Darius patches up the scratches and he sends the coat off to a tailor for repairs. He sends Raoul a note of apology.

He doesn’t mention the encounter with Erik. It’s not…He doesn’t ever mention Erik to Raoul, Raoul doesn’t even know that they talk to each other. Erik sees his interactions with Hamid as privileged, private, and Hamid has always treated them as such. Even if this one is a bit beyond the pale, it’s still…

It feels wrong to tell Raoul about it, so he doesn’t.

But that doesn’t mean he’s listening to Erik. It doesn’t. He’s not afraid of Erik. He even goes and meets Raoul two days later, at the park. They go for a walk, and they talk, and they kiss behind trees, and it’s all very fun. They chat about opera gossip and the one to bring the opera ghost up is Raoul.

“They say he knocked over a set piece yesterday. The ballerinas were in hysterics. Did you hear about that?”

“I don’t hear about absolutely everything, Raoul.”

“Sorry. You seemed very omniscient when I first met you. Actually it makes me feel a bit smug when I can tell you things,” Raoul says. “But in any case, Christine says it may well have been the opera ghost. She seems a little nervous lately.” He sighs. “She’s so superstitious.”

Raoul has all the carelessness of a boy who’s old enough to know that nothing lurks beneath his bed but not yet old enough to be careful of dark alleys. Usually Hamid finds that certainty endearing, but today he finds it more than a little troubling.

“Hamid? Is something wrong?”

“The opera ghost is more than a superstition,” Hamid says. “You really should be careful in the opera house, Raoul.”

“You too, Hamid? Well, I never…”

Hamid doesn’t mean to let Erik’s warnings, or his threats, rather, sway him. He’s not afraid. Erik has hurt him before, and he can never hurt him too badly, not with their history. But. But Erik sometimes does hurt other people, people who get too close.

“Sometimes” might be an understatement.

Maybe, Hamid thinks, it’s better if he does back off. Just a little. Just for now. Just until he figures out what’s going on with Erik and fixes it, and then he and Raoul can go back to normal, and everything will be fine. But. Maybe, just for a little.

He doesn’t go to the opera that weekend for their usual date. And the next week, when Raoul sends him invitations first to accompany him to a dinner party and then just for a walk along the Seine, he declines, saying he’s ill.

It’s the same excuse as last week, but it’s a classic, and it’s polite. And Raoul isn’t too pushy. He’ll take the hint.

He can’t figure out what is eating Erik just by hearsay, so he goes to the opera house, into the tunnels. He can’t find Erik lurking, though, and he’s too cautious of the lake to swim out to Erik’s house anymore. And when he leaves the tunnels and makes his exit from the opera house, he runs straight into Raoul.

They always used to run into each other by accident here, back before they really knew each other. Serendipity, Hamid would call it. Today, though, it is genuine bad luck.

“Hamid! Then you’re better,” Raoul says. He pulls Hamid into a hug, tighter than usual. He smells of something flowery, maybe lavender—a scent that Hamid has missed, even though it’s only been a week. “I’m so glad—my friend,” he adds quickly. Philippe is walking with them and is already giving them a Look. “We’re here for the night show. You might join us in our box, if you like…”

Usually Hamid and Raoul share Hamid’s box, but usually Raoul doesn’t have a brother in tow, because usually they arrange these things ahead of time, because usually Hamid isn’t actively avoiding Raoul and is, instead, trying to spend time with him. The lavender scent is tempting.

Philippe says, “We’d be pleased,” and Hamid is caught.

Of course he can’t pay any attention to the show itself. Probably the singing is excellent. But he’s thinking about Raoul’s eyes on him, and how his expression alternates: Sometimes intent on the action onstage, sometimes undeniably pleased, sometimes a little bit nervous. And when he meets Hamid’s eyes, he smiles, but a little stiffly, and Hamid is worried.

Philippe isn’t watching, so he puts a hand on Raoul’s leg to calm him down. Raoul stiffens in a whole new way and Hamid can’t help but tease him a little bit, squeezing his thigh and inching his hand up just a little further. Not too much, of course, they aren’t alone. And then it’s intermission.

Hamid wants to take Raoul off to a private corner and show him how much he’s been missed. But they’re at the opera house, Erik’s opera house, and he’s risked enough already. So he tells Philippe and Raoul both, “It’s been lovely, but I really must be going.”

“The show is only an hour longer,” Raoul protests.

“Urgent business,” Hamid says. “I had forgotten. Well, I’m sure I will see you two again.” He leaves without looking back. The person he has to see is Erik, and Erik is avoiding him just as he’s avoiding Raoul, and it’s driving him round the bend.

Raoul sends him a letter, a proper letter. Longer than the notes. “I missed you,” it says. And, “What was the urgent business?” And, “Tell me you’re feeling better. You still seemed off last time, a little tense. Maybe that’s just because Philippe was there—I know it made me tense, him sitting there while you were right next to me. You make me feel all kinds of things Philippe shouldn’t know about, and when you touched my leg like that, you knew exactly what you were doing to me. But even if you’d gone further…”

And, of course, just like in the notes, “When can I see you again?”

Hamid doesn’t bother to send an answer this time. He doesn’t have an answer. Raoul will just have to wait.

But Raoul is not a very patient person. And when two weeks pass with no contact, he shows up on Hamid’s doorstep and demands to be let in.

“No, I don’t want tea,” Raoul says brusquely. “I want to talk.”

Hamid sits. Raoul stands, defiantly, but fuck, he’s not going to stand for this conversation. Just the sight of Raoul’s face makes him feel exhausted. “Yes, dear?”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Two weeks. We met at…”

“We both know you didn’t mean to meet me there, and it wasn’t…look, I just…”

“Calm down, Raoul,” Hamid says. “I’ve been busy. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your letters, but I didn’t know when I’d be free. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy with what?”

Hamid doesn’t want to lie to him. “Oh, boring things. You wouldn’t want to know all the details.”

Raoul says, “Hamid. Look me in the eyes.”

Hamid does so. “Yes?”

Raoul is trembling. “Just…tell me the truth.”

“What truth?”

Raoul shrugs, a brief spasm. “I don’t know! That you’ve had enough. That I don’t… That I’m not good enough for you anymore, that you aren’t happy. Just… just tell me, all right? I know you’re kind but I promise you it won’t hurt more than this.”

He still smells like lavender. It’s a smell Hamid wishes would linger in his flat, or on his clothing. He sighs.

Raoul storms closer. “Just tell me,” he says, and his face crumples into something ugly and he collapses on his knees, pushing his head onto Hamid’s lap. Hamid strokes his hair because he isn’t sure what else to do.

“I can’t tell you that,” he says. “It wouldn’t be true. You make me…”

And then he’s crying too.

Old fool, he thinks savagely. It was the perfect chance to cut things off with Raoul and keep him safe from Erik, and maybe that would be wise. But he can’t do it. Even if they’ll both be hurt worse later on, he can’t.

“You make me happy,” he sobs. Some part of him is perfectly aware of how ridiculous he sounds, and is detached enough to feel embarrassment. But his lips press against Raoul’s forehead on autopilot, and he pulls himself together enough to lever Raoul up from the floor and kiss his lips instead.

He hasn’t had enough. Not yet. Not yet.

#daraoulga #daroga/raoul #raoul de chagny #the daroga #i wrote a thing #thanks for the ask!

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