Like Father, Like Son | Phantom of the Opera

ii. Burying an Angel

SEPTEMBER 1907

ERIK

The day had arrived. One that I had never wanted to see in all my days since I had met her. The day of Christine Daaé's funeral.

An angel was to be buried that very afternoon.

I straightened the jacket of my suit in the mirror before slipping my black mask onto my face, completing my all-black ensemble. While it was not much of a stretch from my usual attire, the dark mask was a stark contrast to the crisp white mask that typically covered my face. For a moment, I wondered why I was trying so hard to fit the dress code; it wasn't like anyone would know I was there.

But Gustave would know, as would Christine; that I knew for certain. I would make my grief public for the two most important people in my life.

I glanced out the window and raised an eyebrow when I saw yet another one of the Vicomte's carriages waiting outside. While I had been less than pleased to take any sort of assistance from a man like him, I was glad that I would not be responsible for paying for housing during our stay. That man was good for one thing, at the very least.

"Gustave, are you ready?" The carriage is here," I said. I walked out of my bedroom, grabbing my cloak as I went, and stepped into the other room, but stopped when I found my son fiddling with his tie in front of his mirror. "Is everything alright?"

"Papa, I can't tie this," Gustave said as he turned to me for support.

"Ah. Yes, they can be quite finicky. Allow me to help." I walked over and knelt in front of him, taking the tie in my hand. "Well, you have the initial knot tied. Well done. Now, you simply repeat what you did before: pull it through here, wrap it around, bring it up, and then—do you see this loop here?" I asked as I looked to him for a nod of confirmation. "Pull it through that little loop and tighten it a bit. Simple as that." With that, I got back to my feet and stood behind him, setting my hands on his shoulders as he straightened his tie.

"Okay. I'm ready," he said, taking a deep breath.

"I know this is difficult for you," I said as I turned him around and tipped his head up so we locked eyes. "It's hard for me too. But, for your mother, we must be strong. I will be right there with you the whole time. You can do this; we can do this."

"Thank you, Papa. I'm ready to go," Gustave said as he slipped his hand into mine.

I laced my fingers with his, locking our hands together. "Come along then. We wouldn't want to be late."

༻🕯️༺

After a relatively short ride, we stepped out of the carriage and began our procession to the cemetery. Neither of us had said a word since we left the hotel, though the air between us wasn't awkward; it was stiff. Almost as if neither of us wanted to be there, at that moment, with the other. Hesitancy hung heavy in the air.

It was silent for a while as we walked, but I eventually turned to him and said, "You're absolutely sure you're up to this? Because if you aren't, nobody would blame you. Least of all me."

"I can do this," he said, looking around at the graveyard. He kept a placid expression on his face for the rest of the way, almost as if not showing his emotions would make them go away. I was truly hoping he wouldn't inherit that trait from me.

We arrived at the gravesite, which was still only an open grave with a headstone, along with a few other mourners who had arrived sometime before, only for me to notice something that made my blood start to boil; her tombstone read Christine De Chagny—not Daaé. I knew for a fact that she had preferred to go by her maiden name despite her husband's protests. On top of that, her grave was nowhere near her father's as I was told it would be by Chagny's footman. I was enraged; Christine and I may not have ever discussed her funeral, but I knew that that was blatant disrespect of her wishes. She loved her father more than anything, and it wasn't right to keep them apart in death. I knew exactly who was responsible for it, and he was taking a swig out of his monogrammed flask as we walked up to him inside the nearby church that the graveyard belonged to, where the wake would be held.