Like Father, Like Son | Phantom of the Opera

i. A Family of Our Own Design

SEPTEMBER 1907

ERIK

"Diamonds never sparkle bright if they aren't set just right. Beauty sometimes goes unseen, we can't all be like Christine," I said, only to feel Meg tear herself from my arms. I could feel every ounce of rage directed towards me in her movements, but nothing could have prepared me for her actions that followed.

"Christine...Christine. Always Christine!"

The shot was fired and I found myself jumping back a bit. Typically, gunfire never jolted me, but something about that time made it different. Something deep within me had known she wasn't aiming for me, but for some morbid reason, I had hoped she was.

As I stumbled back, I looked down at my chest, preparing myself to see the scarlet blood spreading through the crisp white of my shirt, but found none. I felt no searing pain, and that terrified me even more, knowing that I hadn't been shot...but that someone behind me surely had.

I barely had time to think before I turned around and threw my arms out to catch Christine as she collapsed. Yelling filled the air, but after so long missing that voice, my ears were finely tuned to it. All I could hear was her, and by the look on my angel's face, all she wanted—after all our time apart—was me.

"Christine," I breathed as I fell to my knees and held her close. "Giry, go get help!" I turned to see the woman seemingly stuck in one place as she stared at the two of us. "Go!" I repeated, my voice cracking as I felt my emotions bubbling over.

"Father! Where's Father?!" Gustave exclaimed. As I grabbed at Christine's dress and pressed it to her wound, I glanced up to see the boy frantically searching for Raoul—the man he thought was his father.

"Gustave, your father! Your real father!"

I could have sworn I felt my heart stop beating in my chest when she spoke. I looked at the boy and saw the confusion painted on his face, then turned to Christine to see a pained smile on her face.

"Look with your heart, Gustave, remember what I've told you. The heart understands what your eyes never could," Christine quietly said as she grabbed her son's hand and squeezed it.

Gustave's eyes flicked between me and his mother, tears quickly pooling as his little mind no doubt worked overtime to process all the new information that he was being presented with.

"No!" he finally screamed as he took off running.

"Gustave, please!" I cried as I watched him rush down the pier. I could feel Christine trying to get up, to go after him, but she was too weak. I thought that I had finally discovered what true heartbreak was when Christine left me in the catacombs of the Opera House, but that...seeing that boy, the son I never thought I would have, react so violently to learning his parentage broke my heart into more pieces than I ever thought possible.

I turned back to Christine—the fallen angel in my arms—and tightened my hold on her as she managed to give me a small smile.

"Oh, Christine. Things had only just started for us and you have given me so much joy. The most I ever knew," I said, unable to stop a smile from appearing on my face when I saw Christine grin at me; always finding joy even in the direst moments. "But now we're...we're running out of time, I don't understand how our story is over."

I took a shaky breath then as a frightening question crossed my mind. "And what about the boy? What am I supposed to do?"

I felt her run her thumb across the back of my hand that she was holding so tightly. "Just love, just live," she whispered. "Give him what you can, and take his love in return. You deserve it."