𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝘼𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 | 𝙋𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙢 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖

xxvii. I'm Here

Erik moaned a bit as he began to stir, finding the cat sitting on his nightstand and staring directly at him. "What are you doing?" He frowned, his voice still rough with exhaustion.

Phantom merely continued to stare back at his master as he set his paw on the porcelain mask that was sitting next to him on the nightstand.

"Don't you dare," Erik said, trying to keep his voice down so Charlotte would stay asleep.

With a flick of his paw and a mischievous glint in his eye, Phantom sent the mask tumbling to the floor, staring Erik directly in the eye the entire time.

Erik was quick to try and push himself to a seated position, only to gasp when he accidentally put pressure on his injured arm. "Stupid cat," he said, adjusting his position to look over the side of the bed and pick up his mask, examining it for any damage.

"Erik, what are you doing?" Charlotte mumbled, reaching up a hand to rub her eyes.

"Gustave's ridiculous cat shoved my mask off the nightstand. He stared me down the entire time too," Erik replied. "I'm sorry, love, I really didn't want to wake you up."

"No, no, it's fine," Charlotte yawned, glancing at the clock. "Oh, god, I have to go. Get up."

"Where are you going?" Erik asked, sitting up so Charlotte could get out of bed.

"I have a doctor's appointment to see if I'm pregnant or not," Charlotte said quickly, scrambling to change clothes.

"Ah, I see. Yes, you better get to that," Erik said, getting out of bed himself.

"God, that was such a bad sleeping arrangement," Charlotte sighed, tying her corset.

"Yes, in hindsight, that wasn't our best idea," Erik replied as he stretched.

"No, not at all. If you didn't break your arm, I would have pushed you to the floor."

Erik laughed. "Well, thank you for not doing that."

"You're welcome," Charlotte giggled, kissing his cheek. "Alright, I have to go. Give Gustave and Angelina kissed for me when they wake up."

"I will. I'll see you soon," Erik replied as he gave her a quick kiss.

—————

"Hello, Mother," Gustave smiled, embracing Charlotte as she hung up her coat. "Where were you?"

"Oh, just at an appointment," Charlotte shrugged. "How's your arm?"

"Better. I wish it would get better faster though. I missed out on ice hockey with James, Jean, and our friends," he replied.

Charlotte kissed his forehead, cupping his face in her hands. "You know what? Ice hockey is dangerous anyway. I wouldn't have wanted you to play, even if you weren't injured."

Gustave sighed. "Okay," he mumbled.

"I love you too much to let you fall through the ice and drown," Charlotte said softly. "Now, where's your father?"

"He's upstairs in his study. He was trying to compose earlier, but because he can't write, he would play a note and have me write it down. It was kind of funny."

"It sounds like it. He had better not be designing now. I told him to wait to work."

"He probably is. You know he can't wait for these kinds of things."

"Yes, I do. And if I know him, he's up there pouting because he can't draw a straight line."

"Probably. Go check," Gustave said with a giggle.