Is it fair to keep secrets from your loved one?
Will you do anything to make your loved one happy?
Is love "giving" or "taking, "forgiving" or "acceptance"?
Desiree has always been obsessed with the Phantom of the Opera. On a visit to Paris, she me...
A/N : All photos and song are not mine, credits to original owners.
The sound of water lapping the sides of the boat and the occasional waves made by the punting rod filled the silence in the underground lake. Desiree was sat in the middle of the boat, massaging her strained ankle to relieve the discomfort.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
Desiree looked up to where the Phantom stood at the helm of the boat. He was regarding her with a sideways glance. He looked like an angel of death in the dark, escorting poor souls into the netherworld on a dingy rowboat across misty waters.
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She shook her head, "No".
"Truly?" He pressed.
"I'm really fine, master, no more injury, Nope", she popped the "P" and grinned.
His eyes glittered and he suddenly became livid again.
"Do you think this is a matter to jest about? You could have died! I am astounded as to why you could still laugh in this situation."
Desiree's giddy feelings from his earlier gentleness evaporated from his rough tone. She turned around and sulked, cursing him in her mind. ('*&^##$%^ Well, what 21st century girls would want to fall to their death in the 1800s? Or die a 23 year old virgin... isn't it his fault that I fell in the first place. Creepy guy with his obsession of traps...%*&*$^$&^')
"I need to decide to do something about the traps if you insist on continuing these ignorant wandering sprees...." He continued speaking, voice returning somewhat softer than the reprimanding tone before, but Desiree was still sulking.
Finally, they arrived at the lair and Erik lifted a still- sulking Desiree off the boat, failing to notice her stiffness. To Desiree's chagrin, he put her in Christine's room and left, leaving her staring at the mannequin with Christine's face and the wedding dress. This did not help matters at all but Desiree found it hard to be mad at him for a long time. For someone who claimed to be an all-knowing Opera Ghost, the man was as clueless as they can be when it came to matters of the heart.
Erik came back soon with a cold rag, which he used as a cold compress on her ankle despite her protests. The steady pressure of his warm hand calmed her and the soothing coolness of the cloth dampened the pain. Desiree was feeling drowsy by the time he stood up, the adrenaline rush going down and tiredness of the day catching up with her. Her eyelids drooped and she struggled to stay awake. Erik pulled up a soft comforter over her body and stepped back.
"Rest now." He commanded and turned to leave.
"Is that all?" Desiree found herself asking despite her her sleep-hazed fog.
"Whatever you mean?" He asked her.
"Usually, when you bring maidens to your lair, you sang to them, didn't you, Master?", Desiree giggled.
