Passionate Friendship

I still do not own anything from Phantom of the Opera, that's all Leroux. And I still don't make any profit from this. It's just a gift phic for a friend. :)

Slash, solo M

After that first little snippet of information I spent the next several months slowly prying the entire story from various European traders. The ghost had apparently taken up residence almost as soon as the building had given it's inaugral performance. The young ladies of the corps de ballet ran in abject terror of this apparition and spread horrible tales of him. The managers, Mssrs Debienne and Poligny apparently bowed to his every whim after a series of unfortunate minor catastrophes had put the fear of God into them. Box 5 on the grand tier belonged exclusively to this Phantom and was never ever sold even on evenings when the massive auditorium was filled to overflowing. The tales of the tricks and the malicious doings of this ghost were every inch what I would have expected of Erik.
So I packed my things and informed Darius that we would be moving to France for a little while. The poor young man seemed quite confused and more than a little concerned at my apparently sudden decision and the frenzy in which I hastened to make the arrangements. He asked me if I had gotten into some trouble that was forcing us to leave, and valiently offered to defend my honour against anyone who would threaten me. I merely chuckled and kissed my loyal lover for his worry over me.
I explained to the young man about Erik, the things he had been and done in Persia, and the new rumours of this opera ghost in Paris. Darius listened very attentively and came to the conclusion that I was in great concern for the safety of all those within this ediface. He assumed that I had no reason other than protecting humanity at large from the horrible creature I had described. I opened my mouth to explain that my concern over the well being of innocent bystanders was only a small portion of my reasons for making such a hasty change of locale, but stopped short.
I did not know for certain that it was Erik secreted within the massive Palais Garnier, nor did I have any indication that even if it were, as I strongly suspected, that he would hold anything more in his heart for me than simple gratitude for the services I had once rendered him, and perhaps some small light of friendship still held in his heart for the nights we had shared bottles of wine and our time. I also feared wounding Darius, who had been so good to me those past few years. How could I tell him that I desired this wicked, malformed man? That even as I shared my bed with him my mind would still stray to thoughts of how Erik would feel lying in my arms?
So I said nothing and let him think me a noble man with no higher purpose than to protect the innocent and safegaurd the world. When he took me in his arms speaking words of praise at my selflessness and honorable soul I felt bile rise in the back of my throat for such a heinous lie of omission.
We left immediately and as we crossed the Mediterranian en route to France I felt almost giddy at the thought of seeing the man I had never expected to encounter again in this life. I had such pretty imaginings of how it would be to see him again.
I would walk into the fine new opera house, and Erik would see me from whatever shadows he hid in. He would reveal himself to me, still all grace and sensuality benieth his hideous outward appearance. We would speak of old times and he would be eternally greatful that I had rescued him. He would invite me into his new home which I imagined would be magnificent enough to rival the palace he had built for the shah all those years ago. We would share a drink as dear friends once more, and I would confess to him my dark secret. How much I had thought of him every single day over the long years and how much my body still ached to caress him.
Of course he would think I was joking with him at first, but he would eventually warm to the idea and confide in me that perhaps he had thought of me in the same way, even passingly. Then he would kiss me and we would fall into his bed to enjoy one another.
Every time I thought of this lovely scenario playing out in my mind's eye I would grasp myself and imagine it was his hands that moved on me. I would stroke my manhood, rigid from the thought of him, pretending that I drove myself into his thin body over and over until I would spill myself over my hand in a brief moment of release.
And then I would only want him more. I didn't care that he was a madman, nor that he was a killer. I cared that he had some capacity for beauty within him. I had seen that through his magnificent music that could bring tears to my eyes at just the memory of it's perfection, the sketches he drew of beautiful buildings he wished someday to construct, even in the way he dealt death in his capacity as executioner had been strangely artistic and gruesomely aesthetic.
I wanted to comfort him as I knew he had never been comforted in the past. To hold him safe with me and allow that beauty inside of him to blossom and not be choked out by the creeping stranglehold of hatred and anger. I could save him if he'd let me try. I could save him, and all of the victems of his that might have been.
However, when I finally arrived in Paris I was in for a rather nasty wakening from my pretty fantasies.
I set up house quickly in a small flat on the Rue de Rivoli, very close to the Place de l'Opera. If I were feeling sprightly I could reasonably walk there. As soon as I was even remotely close to settled I went to the opera house.
It was massive and gaudy on a scale that I felt even the shah would have had difficulty topping. The inside was all gilt and marble, shining gloriously. I immediately began to inquire after the exploits of this Phantom of the opera and was readily entertained by most of the lower ranking staff who were quite pleased to relate to me the most fantastic of tales. It was obvious a good portion of the ghost's fame had to do with the overripe and supersitious imaginations of the staff of this behemouth theater. But here and there I could pick out traces of jests that were distinctly Erik. Before very long I was an established presence at that opera house, and people paid very little heed to me regardless of where I wandered in that opulent labyrinth. Very few people approached me of their own volition, foreign and determined at my purpose that I was, and I could soon hear the ballet girls whispering about me as well as the ghost. They thought I posessed the Evil Eye! Of all things!
Despite my nigh on endless presence within the building, for more than a month I saw no trace of Erik. I began to wonder if I had jumped to conclusions and come so far for nothing more than a building full of superstitious fools with a knack for making up ghost stories. But one afternoon as I was exploring the lower reaches of the building that were said to belong exclusively to this devilish apparition, he revealed himself to me!
He seemed to detach from the shadows, melting into my sight just as one would expect of a real spirit. In the darkness of the lower reaches of the opera house his eyes gleamed a fascinating golden in the light of my litte lantern. He had changed little. Still tall and remarkably thin with that alluring air surrounding him. Even moreso, for this was his kingdom and he was bolstered by the assurance in his mind that he reigned here as a god.
"Daroga. What in the name of hell do you think you are doing here?"
Hardly the welcome I had hoped for. My heart sank to my feet. "I'm glad to see that you, at least remember me, Erik."
"Answer my question." He sounded irritated. After all I had done for him! The ingrateful scoundrel!
I fixed him with a cold glare. I'd forgotten how insufferable he could be when he chose. "I'd heard about your exploits here. I came to ensure that you were not causing harm to anyone." Lies. But he didn't deserve the truth of my devotion to him after he'd spoken to me so.
"Why on earth would I do that? These people treat me with great respect, and I am a just ruler. All of my commands are obeyed without question. I am master and king of this domain. It would be very foolish of me indeed to destroy my subjects without provocation!"
"These people run in terror of you! They think you some supernatural creature of hell!" I snapped.
He shrugged elegantly. "Respect and fear are very close bedmates, Daroga. They both achieve the same result. Why should I care how you label it?" He approached me, moving with that well tuned grace I had remembered with such pleasure. "Did the shah send you to finish what he tried to start so many years ago? I must say if my reputation here has reached as far as Persia I am quite impressed!"
I shook my head and cast my eyes down, recalling all I had lost for his sake. "I was banished very shortly after we last saw one another. They think you are dead, which is why I am not. I have not seen Persia in nearly eighteen years."
For a moment I could almost swear that he looked sorry. But that fell away quickly enough and he was once again smug and superior. "You should feel quite fortunate, my friend. It was a detestable country at any rate. Getting you thrown out was probably the greatest unbeknownst service I could have rendered you."
We stood there a moment in awkward silence. Neither of us knowing what to say next. My heart was filled with words, but my mind refused to allow me to speak them. It seemed rather trivial to talk about one another's health or to make any other small talk. Whatever closeness we'd had in Persia had all but been obliterated by the passage of time. Now we were simply two men, at the cusp of middle age, worlds apart in experiences and circumstances.
At length I spoke again. "I will be keeping track of you here. If I left you to your own affairs I should never be able to live with the blood I would feel on my conscience."
He almost looked hurt at my words. "I have told you, I have no intention of dealing death without warrent."
"And what is of warrent to you, Erik? I have seen you devise the most cruel fates for men you did not even know! Or have you forgotten how you used to amuse the sultana!"
"I try to forget. I no longer wish to astound the world, daroga. Merely to rule quietly and unknown in a kingdom of my own devising. I control everything within these walls. And that is enough. What goes on outside is no longer my concern. I only leave to collect supplies every now and again. You needed worry yourself, I swear I have no intentions of killing here. Merely minor displays of displeasure when I am not heeded, and perhaps a few tricks to amuse myself and give those empty headed chorus girls something to shriek about." He spoke earnestly and I believed that he meant what he said.
"Then it is a promise. But I will still be close at hand. Perhaps someday we may share another glass of wine and speak as friends." We parted in silence without so much as a goodbye.
I did not see Erik himself after that. Occasionally I would stumble upon his handiwork. Practical jokes and little inconveniences contrived by him. But, true to his word, never anything life threatening. It went on like this for about three years. I would come several times a week to the opera house just to ensure things were still going well, and to give Erik the opportunity to speak with me if he desired. He never did, but I was able to keep my mind at peace knowing that at least he was not an immediate threat to anyone.
Of course all of that went straight out the window when the old managers announced their retirement.