Twisted Every Way(Phantom Of The Opera Fic)

Chapter 3: To Paris

As Gustave looked around the dock he found it puzzling how he had gotten there. So much had happened in the past few days.

Why it felt like only yesterday he had arrived here with both mother and father.

There had been no secrets, no pain or betrayal.

But there also had been no music. Music so strong and powerful and marvelous. Before he had only heard it. Now he felt it, down into the deepest sensations of his soul.

As he looked at the boat, it dawned on him that now he left with neither mother or father as he knew them those many weeks ago.

His mother was frail, recovering slowly, but her smile was tired and worn.

Yet something still glowed happily in her face. When Erik would look at her, hold her hand, nod at her, her eyes would return to their former glory. It was if this opening bars played again.

Erik was doing his utmost for Gustave, and as he packed and fretted and stressed he was for the most part successful. Occasionally he lost his temper or raised his voice but not once had he hurt the boy beyond the repair of a new song and a hurried apology.

Gustave forgave freely. 

He had seen his mother stir awake in few moments of consciousness, the way she smiled when Erik kissed her and held her.

He hugged his stuffed bear tightly. He was glad to still have the bear named Erik, it reminded him of old times in a good way.

"Two to Paris our tickets are right here," Erik said, hiding his face as a man took his luggage.

Erik pushed Christine's wheelchair gently over every hill and trouble.

"Erik you needn't be so careful." she laughed fixing the blanket on her lap. "I'm much better already."

Erik looked her over skeptically and then gestured for Gustave to take his mothers bag.

They left under nightfall to escape the press and prying eye, trailing in the shadows and speaking with Christines voice rather than Eriks to those who questioned. 

Gustave felt watched all the same. He was used to attention, being the young Vicomte, but this was different.

He wasn't normal anymore, he doubted he ever had been.

As they left that cursed dock, The captain escorted them to their cabin.

When Raoul had escorted the two to America the room was small and dirty but Erik's room was majestic and beautiful.

Two beds were on the furthest wall, bright pictures of far-off worlds and adventures framed every view, there even sat a small chess table at the foot of the bed.

"Oh!" Christine cried upon entering. "Oh, Erik I don't deserve it."

Gustave gawked and grinned for the first time weeks. "It's beautiful."

Erik nodded quietly, his shyness and timidity had come back to him in the time of Christine's recovery. "Yes, Gustave. Yet, not even this room is as beautiful as your mother."

Gustave noted his mother looked sad when he spoke of her, but there were so many a better question to ask.

"What is your name?" Gustave asked in curiosity after the luggage had been put down and the help left the three runaways alone.

"Erik," he said, "Erik Destler." 

 The room was silent as the young boy pondered that for a moment.