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Erik was a study in contrasts,
possessing both the engineer’s analytical adroitness and the
artist’s ability to harness and translate emotion. His superior
intellect was but the least of his attributes, for he was generous
and companionable, as attentive to my present comfort as he was
sympathetic to my past. As time went on, our conversations
lengthened and deepened, and we never tired of each other’s
company. It seemed the more I shared, the more he hungered for. I
was mesmerized by his power, for he could obtain anything I asked
of him, and accomplish anything he set his mind to. He was like an
exotic gem carved into myriad facets, and I longed to explore each
one. Each day that passed, I felt more drawn to him, more infused with him, until I could barely remember a day before
we met.
    Erik shared the secrets of the labyrinth with
me, and he showed me the entire opera house as no one else had seen
it. One day, a Monday, I think, I had just come from exploring the
opera house from within, using the skeleton of the foundation as
Erik had taught me. I found him at the pipe organ, a huge
mechanical animal that filled the underground chambers with
music.
    "Come to the surface, Eric," I suggested.
"There is no one about now. We have the whole opera house to
ourselves."
    "Not tonight."
    I was disappointed. I had remained below with
him for some time, and I was growing weary of the opera house
altogether. I wanted to see Paris in its full glory, by night, as
Erik used to. Perhaps if I could persuade him away from this
dungeon, he might shake off the irritability he had manifested of
late.
    "Please, Erik. Let's at least go above. I
would have you sing for me again on the stage, like you did last
week."
    His gaze never left the keys as he muttered
sardonically. "Is it spring already? Does Persephone long to escape
the underworld and return to the living?"
    A frown creased my brow. "What do you
mean?"
    His voice took on a razor-sharp edge. "I
mean, that if you want to leave, you are free to do so. Go back to
where you came from. I shan't stop you." He played on, oblivious to
my presence.
    What brought on this attack? "Have I done
something wrong?" No answer. "Did I displease you?"
    He was silent, but the tune he played became
a bit more sinister.
    "Erik!" I placed my hand on a muscled
shoulder, its fabric taut with the width of him. His hand came up
and roughly shoved mine away. "What's wrong with you?” I
demanded.
    His fists came down hard on the keyboard,
choking a strangled wail from the pipes. "I am not content to
worship you anymore. I want something more from you, something you
have not tried to give me. I told you once that unrequited love is
no love at all. I will not subject myself to that agony again. Not
for anyone. Not even for you."
    He must have noticed my look of bewilderment,
for he went on. "Can't you see? I am suffocating with the need of
you. Every day that passes my love for you grows stronger. My
passion for you consumes me, until there is nothing left but
this…this ache inside me. It is like a thirst that only you can
quench. But you clearly do not feel as much for me.”
    I was afraid of this. I knew this moment
would come, but I did not expect it so soon. Erik was mistaken. I
did love him, more than he could imagine. But he was asking the
impossible. I liked who I was around him, and how he made me feel.
I kept no secrets from him. But now he was asking something of me I
had no intention of sharing.
    "Of course I feel it, Erik. I love you just
as much as you love me. But...” He stiffened at my hesitation.
"There are many different ways people demonstrate their love for
one another.”
    "Then you do not love me as I love you. I
want to be one with you. I want there to be nothing between us. I
want to get deep inside you, so that we truly become two halves of
the same person. I want to please you and be pleased by you –"
    "Yes, Erik," I interrupted. "I feel those
things, too."
    "Then why do you