Your Voice

Chapter 21

Sorry this chapter might be a bit short, but I promise my next one will be more exciting. Love ya guys!!

Christine

"Here, Gustave," taking his hand, I slowly guide him down the stairs from his room to the dining room.

"Thank you, mother," he says as I tuck in his chair and place a plate of toast in front of him. I plant a kiss on his forehead. "Do you have rehearsal today, mother?"

"I don't."

We'll spend some time, just us two

Won't that be fun?

"I'm sorry I won't be much fun, now that I'm blind." He sighs lethargically.

"No, no, Gustave." I place my hand gently on his immensely scarred face. "You'll be amazing even if you can't see. Remember the lullaby?"

"Yes, mother. Look with my heart. I will."

***

I walk down the steps into the lair, where Erik - who is mask-less and ruggedly dressed - sits at the organ, his ink stained hands writing on numerous pieces of manuscript paper, his eyes so concentrated it's a wonder how they haven't burnt through the sheets. I guess he is in his do-not-disturb composing state because I have to clear my throat twice before he looks up.

"Ah, Christine! Er-" he rapidly clears the papers away like a murderer rushing to hide a body when he hears the police approaching.

"Whatcha got there?" I inquire, curious.

"Eh? Nothing, just... making a few changes to Don Juan." He lies terribly, but I don't press any further. He coughs. "You are here for your singing lesson, right..." he says, distracted, leaning down to get some sheet music from the pile that's scattered all over the floor.

"Erik, Gustave misses you." I tell him. Ever since Gustave was admitted to the hospital, I've noticed that Erik's been avoiding Gustave as much as possible. A part of me is angry with him for leaving me all alone to care for our boy, and yet I empathize with him; it's difficult to look at Gustave without reminding yourself that you could have prevented the scars on his face, and yet you didn't.

"I miss him too," Erik mutters finally, his frowning, glistening eyes glued to the ground. Slowly, I walk over to him, a dull ache in me as well. Gently, I place an arm on his back.

"I know how you feel, Angel, but he's alive, that's all that matters." My comfort only makes him bury his face in his hands.

"That's all that matters? I could have saved his sight, his childhood, I wasn't there-" he aggressively slams down on the organ with tightly clenched fists, creating a cacophony of notes. "I wasn't there! I didn't save him, I couldn't save him, I am pathetic, I am worthless!" Sobbing madly, he growls "I don't deserve to be his father... no wonder you chose Raoul-"

"No! Darling, no. No, no..." my words are carried away by my tears - it hurts to see him blame himself for something that wasn't his fault. He continues punishing the organ in an angry fit as I try to calm him down. "Erik, listen to me." I forcefully bring his arms down to his side, the only way to stop his raging fit. My eyes search his - instead of the insane Opera Ghost everyone thinks he is, I see a little boy, curled up and crying because he's broken. Pain flickers through my heart like a paper cut as I bring my hand up to his tear-stained face and lightly caress it. "You did what you could. You make a better father than Raoul ever did, and for that I am grateful, and so are our two gorgeous children." Not knowing how else to staunch the flow of tears, I press my lips against his soft ones, allowing the surging energy to fill a void in me once more. The kiss tastes like tears, but I hope it told him all I cannot express through words. When we break apart, neither of us are wailing, pacified by the the sweet ecstasy.