Twisted Every Way(Phantom Of The Opera Fic)

Chapter 67: Stitches

The crutch rested awkwardly on his shoulder. He fumbled about the room tripping and slipping at the tiniest misplaced step.

Gustave had broken his leg rushing out of the apartment, slipped and almost busted his spine. 

He couldn't say he would have minded it though. 

At least the pain reminded him he was still alive. Still capable of feeling instead of the dull numbness that had set in. 

He had been home for two months now, but it wasn't home anymore. He was too broken to have a true home. Erik tried his best to help but not even the kindest of words and most loving of pleas couldn't mend his broken heart.

Luke hadn't touched the trumpet in weeks, its shining metal became dusted and worn. He became quieter without a way to express his voice. He was practically mute.

So time went on.
And on
And on 

And on

Eli sat alone in his room, watching silent shadows creep. They fell and they rose, many a sleepless night had plagued him. 

He had warned them had he not? 

Could he have done more?

Where had he gone wrong? 

His brother wandered the catacombs, sober but stumbling and slurring all the same. Erik carrying him home and desperately finding the baby who was usually left behind in some cradle or corner. 

Eli didn't even mind sharing his room with Luke. He had missed Ilios' company since they had moved out of the nursery, utilizing the second floor above. Winnie and Wade stayed downstairs with mother and Father now. 

But he didn't simply feel right unless someone else was with him. To be honest, he was scared of his thoughts, what they were capable of when left alone. 

"Eli?" His mother asked slowly entering the room,

He bashfully turned his red, tear-stained face away from her. 

"Eli are you alright?" Christine asked with great concern, turning his blotchy cheek towards her own. 

"Fine," He muttered, "Lost my bear. That's all." 

Christine sighed, he had been talking in full sentences, long wonderful sentences not too long ago. Now they were back to small little chimes in the winds of conversation. 

Luke entered like a ghost, sulked slowly into his bed and stared at the ceiling. 

Neither boy said a word to the other, the silence was enough to comfort to them both. 

"Come now," Christine beckoned warmly, "While Lukes here get to know each other better. Find something to talk about, to do." 

Both gave a small glance to each other, then to Christine, then turned their eyes back to the old walls that surrounded them. 

Luke turned over and pulled the covers over his head. He didn't want anyone to see him crying. 

"Mummy?" A small voice cried from the doorway. 

Christine turned and smiled as she saw Ilios clutching the small bear in her wet dripping hands. The small girl's tears had soaked her dress collar and flooded all over. 

"Mummy I want Autumn," Ilios choked out in small sobs. 

"Come here darling," Christine said heartbrokenly gathering the small child in her arms. 

She looked to the two boys and shook her head. 

Softly, slowly she began to sing, one of those songs she had heard after her father had passed, snug through the walls by her angel.