Normally, he would have brought Ayesha to the performances, but this time around she had refused to stay still beneath the comfort of his cloak, nor even leave the door. A pity! This was possibly one of his most anticipated performances since this opera house first opened it's doors. She was to sing, his angel, his student who he had taught so carefully and with as much passion as his wasting self could provide to every amount of her being. She was ready, he knew that well and good, and he had manipulated the situation just perfectly to allow her a well-deserved debut. So now he sat, cat-less in box five, upright in his seat, ankle over his knee, foot bouncing persistently. His fingers steepled stiffly, the pads of his fingers (or what was there of them) pressed together intently. The beginnings of the opera drawled on and had him antsy. He must have switched one leg over the other at least a dozen times now, looked over the programme at least two dozen simply to stare at her name and trace his fingers over it with a ghost of smile on his thin lips. His heart was a flutter, pounding, and for once it did not threaten an attack, no, it threatened happiness. Oh, how long it had been since he felt such a thing! Had the pleasure and the ability. Lights dim, actors move, the audience bustles, the orchestra starts up and the song hits his ears as if he were standing directly next to a departing train. The sheer force of it had that familiar, once loathed thump-thump, thump-thump drum in his ears, as if his very veins were aware of the music.
But nothing, oh! nothing compares to when her voice fills the entire vicinity of the auditorium.
It seems to cover everything like an ocean wave as soft as air, came over all those present who vocally bowed before it in the form of absolute silence. Not a mumble, nor a remark was heard by Erik's keen ear; Good, he thought for a moment, I shall not require to hunt down a foolish soul. The thought doesn't stay long, nor do any others, as every bit of him sinks into her awesome performance. That voice wrapped around him like it never had before, enraptured his very being, rattled his chest and swelled his heart. In this moment he would have fully believed the illness of his heart was cured for good. Once Erik managed to recover from such a moment, and his heart appeared to stop racing (at least partially), he sunk into his chair, simply watching her with intent eyes, burning with raw emotion. She'd even managed to improve since their last session, he's sure of it. A realization was dawning on him, the realization of the which twisted his heart and made it absolutely thump in his chest without mercy, without relaxing even a moment. Pride. Complete and unparalleled pride for his student, she who had come so far in voice and in soul. Oh, she had come so far. Pride flooded his senses like a sudden bright light; pride, joy, utter happiness- love. Undying, blazing love, which slammed him in the chest as if the opera house itself had just collapsed on top of him. Or perhaps it slammed within his chest, in the form of an accursed heart hammering away as he found himself leaning forward in his seat despite his sudden weakness. Dizziness coursed through his blood, yet he still found himself leaning forward in his chair, thin fingers wrapping around the armrests, a breath escaping past his teeth. It wasn't long until he sensed a wetness upon his cheek under his mask, his chest heaving a moment at the realization, brow furrowing ever so faintly as his shoulders slouched, his body deflating (but not in sadness, no never!)- and he smiled. He smiled fully and willingly; his heart would then begin to calm, and while his head swam in the clouds, closer to the feeling of Heaven than he had ever (never!) experienced before, a dizzy feeling, he knew in that moment all was well. All was so incredibly well.
Erik leaned back within his seat, allowed his posture to lessen into relaxation, sinking a bit into the cushions. Amber, firey eyes watched her perform, the words themselves feeling like a life support with each increasingly fragile beat of his heart. An angel sang on the stage that night, and gave a demon a brief taste of heaven. Truly there was no gift greater; both angels and demons wept this that night. And as those heavenly vocals faded into silence, into roaring, standing applause, he almost found himself unable to rise to his own two feet. But he did, he did and he applauded with them, shouted "Brava! Bravissimo!" and mingled his voice with everyone else's. No one ever knew a voice shouted, sobbed with utter joy from Box Five. Nor would they ever know. They would never know of the happiness he felt in that moment, nor would they ever need to know. The only one who would know, who needed to know, was just her. And as he wandered down to his personal dungeon far below the opera, he decided he would see to it she knew how fair a gift she had given him that night.