Erik had gone up to his room, but found he couldn't sleep at all. He sat by the window, watching the people on the street below.

 "Erik!" Raoul burst into his room.
 
 "Would it have been so much trouble to knock?" Erik asked dryly.
 
 "This isn't a time for formalities. I do regret to inform you that I have been confronted by your friend."
 
 "You are my only friend, Chagny."
 
 "I mean your former  friend, the Persian lunatic."

 Erik looked away from the window. "You saw Amir?" His voice shook a bit as he spoke.

 "Yes, I did. And he made his position very clear. He is obsessed with you, Erik. He told me that if I ever did anything to hurt you in any way, he would strangle me and toss my body into the ocean. And then there was what he said about the Girys."
 
 That definitely caught Erik's attention. "Madame Giry? And Meg? What about them?"

 "He claims to have murdered them and thrown their bodies in the ocean. The man could have been joking, but he doesn't seem the sort to make jokes. He means to convince you to leave France with him, and he wants me to stay out of his way."
 
 "I told him, I am not going anywhere with him," Erik snapped. "He is a madman, Raoul. I had only just begun to think of him as an actual friend when I had to leave Persia. I am still afraid of him."
 
 "Do not forget you were like that once," Raoul reminded him. "You were obsessed with Christine for years. You kidnapped her and threatened to kill me if she didn't marry you. The difference is that you showed you do have a heart. I cannot say as much for your Persian friend."
 
 "Do you think he really murdered the Girys?" Erik asked. "They didn't deserve it. It was an accident. If anything, it was my fault. You said it yourself once."
 
 "He seemed very serious when he told me he'd murdered them. Yes, I think it could be. Don't you think they would have come to pay their respects to Christine? They did care very much for her."
 
 There was a long silence. Raoul stood there looking a bit uncomfortable, not sure what to say.

 "How is Gustave?" he asked. "Did he have any questions?"
 
 "He did. The strangest thing was," said Erik, "that he did not seem angry. He seemed to feel...sorry for me, that I had such a horrible life. I avoided that subject with him for so long, first because I thought he was too young, then because I thought he would hate me for what I did. But I don't think he does, Chagny." 
 
 "You are his father," Raoul pointed out, "and that was years ago. You've become less of a lunatic, and you haven't murdered anyone in years."
 
 "What are you saying, Chagny?"

 "I am saying that you are a better person than you used to be. We did lose Christine, but then you had Gustave. That boy is definitely worth living for." Raoul glanced over at Erik's desk.
"What are all these papers? Erik, are you writing another opera?"
 
 "I have written more than one opera in the last six years, Raoul."

 "Oh. Do you mind if I borrowed one? Just to read through it. I'm curious now."

 Erik looked surprised by the question, but said, "Yes, if you like. I am the only one who has ever read them."
 
 "Right. I will return it when I've finished." Before he left, Raoul turned back and asked, "Are we friends?"
 
 "Friends? Yes, I suppose so. Why do you ask?"
 
 "Because we never talked about being friends. And you used to hate me."
 
 "I did hate you, years ago," Erik admitted, "But I don't have any reasons to hate you now. And I suppose I would like to have a friend, even if it is you."
 
 "Oh. That-that's good. Yes. I'll go now. Good night."
 
 Erik smiled to himself. Raoul would always be just the slightest bit awkward around him. But he did to murder him once, so it was understandable.