How dare you? Leave him behind and run into the arms of another, even if it was just a small conversation, that man had rubbed your cheeks of your tears and warmed your arms under his hands. You'd deliberately decided not to come to him when upset. You'd been avoiding him lately, Erik saw it, the dread was starting to set in his chest He adjusted the mask on his face, his eyes narrowed as he stormed through the narrow path through the walls. He'd tried to gather you up in his arms, kiss you, make it right, and you'd pushed him away.

Damn you, he thought, stalking through the labyrinth that lay beneath the opera house, But he'd die before he fell out of love with you. Even if you could be annoying, even if you didn't seem to know what was best for you, even if you thought he had some sort of notorious plans underneath all his kisses and late night visits. Surely not. That was ludicrous, appalling in fact. Erik was a gentleman, he'd studied plays and music since he was young, he knew how to treat a lover.

Erik adjusted his mask one last time before sliding the secret entrance into your room open. You were sat at your desk, he smirked when he noticed it. The Phantom delicately gathered his cloak in his fists, keeping it from brushing against anything, and started stalking behind you. His head tilted back, his eyes cold and sharp. Delicately, he put his hands on your shoulders, leaning down and kissing the nape of your neck, "Chéri," he cooed, kissing down lower on your neck.

"You've been busy making friends," Erik said calmly, his finger and his thumb keeping your head forward. His free hand curled in your hair and brushed through it, then he pushed his nose against your skull and sighed softly, "I've been feeling neglected, petite souris." He hoped the message was getting across, that you understood exactly how serious the transgression was. It was one thing to speak to others, it was another to actively prefer their company over his.