A/N: A bit of a weird idea I had while I was RPing with a friend and listening to Phantom of the Opera.
I hope you enjoy it even though it's kind of weird.
I've given Enjolras the first name René because I thought it'd be weird for everyone in the opera to call him "Enjolras". Sorry if that is confusing.
René Enjolras danced around, moving his legs across the smooth surface of the stage gracefully, arms following his legs in sweeping motions as his fellow performers moved in unison with him. Most of the other performers were women, but there were a couple other young men with him.
René had been disowned by his parents after being arrested for protesting in the streets. He had grown up without the need to work or learn a trade due to how wealthy his parents were. Because of this, when he was disowned, René was forced to work at the opera. No other place would accept him, but because he was a good dancer and had a good voice, they accepted him as a chorus boy.
At the age of eighteen, René only looked sixteen and blended in well enough with the girls. His build was slight and graceful and when he danced, his body bent in elegant ways.
The music filled his soul, and although he would much rather be spending his time in more worthwhile pursuits, he didn't mind dancing. In fact, he quite enjoyed It.
"Thank you, that was beautiful!" The voice of their producer said to interrupt the dance. René stopped and turned to look at the man.
"Who are those men?" Cosette, one of René's friends, whispered into his ear.
"I'm not sure." René replied quietly.
"I'm afraid the rumors are true - I'm retiring. these two gentlemen will be replacing me." The producer explained And gestured to a middle aged man and a white haired man, both well dressed. "Thank you for your cooperation. I hope you will enjoy your time with them." The producer smiled. "Farewell!" And then he began to whisper to the two gentlemen. René narrowed his eyes at them and wondered why they had taken interest in running the opera.
once the old producer had left, the lead male singer stepped forward.
"If you want me to preform, I demand a raise!" the man who's name was Montparnasse said crossly.
"Well, why don't we talk about that later, Monsieur." One of the gentlemen suggested. Obviously he was a bit taken aback by the demand.
"No! I'm finished! Nobody listens to me! This jacket is worn through I want a better one! i look hideous in this thing! If you refuse to take my requests seriously, I'm done!" Montparnasse growled and left the stage.
"Don't leave, 'Parnasse!"Éponine - the man's girlfriend. - called and followed after him, but René knew it was no use. That man was pigheaded and determined to get every franc out of this, as well as beautiful costumes to humor his vanity.
the two gentlemen looked around in alarm. "What do we do now? That was the lead singer, was it not?"
"René could play the role!" Fantine, a woman about sixteen years older than René, suggested. She was Cosette's mother and the one who had helped René get the job in the first place.
"what? A chorus boy?" The younger of the two gentlemen asked and raised an eyebrow.
"He has been well taught." Fantine added and smiled slightly at René, inviting him to step forward. René felt his heart pounding in his chest as he took a step out of the crowd and faced the new producers.
The piano began to play the song and René began to sing. His lovely tenor voice filled the stage.
"No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears," René sang. "I'm here, nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you." As he sang, he imagined the only thing he loved - France.
Combeferre sat and watched the performance. The lead male singer fascinated him. He seemed familiar somehow...
"Can it be?" Combeferre whispered in awe and widened his eyes as the image of a young friend came to mind. "René?"
"Love me, that's all I ask of you." René finished beautifully and left the stage once the applause had subsided.
the blond youth went to his dressing room in hopes of escaping the adoring crowds. Thankfully, most people would be swarming Musichetta, the lead female singer, but René was still cautions. He didn't enjoy the praise from performing. All he was doing was wasting his life away in order to make a living. He would much rather be praised for changing the world.
"René," a voice from behind him said. He turned and smiled as he saw Combeferre.
"Combeferre, mon ami!" René replied and stood. The two stayed where they were in an awkward silence for a moment. They had only been children when they had last seen each other, and now that they were older, they weren't sure what to do.
Combeferre tentatively stepped closer to his childhood companion and after another pause, stepped closer until he was half a foot away. René put a hand on Combeferre's shoulder and the tension slipped away. Combeferre embraced the blond and pulled him close.
"I've missed you. How have you been?" He asked.
"I've been well enough, though I suspect you heard what happened." René replied And hugged Combeferre back.
"Yes, I was told that your parents disowned you. I'm sorry that I was away! I was at school, but now I'm back." He smiled. "I'm glad you've found a way to support yourself, even if it isn't what is considered ideal. Are you enjoying it well enough? You were wonderful!" Combeferre added.
René smiled a little. "Yes, it's alright. I would much rather be doing other things, things that matter more, but it isn't bad. There are worse ways to make a living. So many girls have to go into prostitution, I'm relieved that there are other options, even if, as you say, they aren't ideal."
A knock at the door interrupted.
"René, May I come in?" a man asked. It sounded like one of the producers.
"Yes." René replied and pulled away from Combeferre as the door opened.
"I just wanted to tell you how spectacular the performance was. Thank you!" the old gentleman said with a kind smile. Then he turned to Combeferre and offered a hand. "Monsieur Combeferre, its good to meet you both. Would you care to come and have a drink with me and some of the others in celebration of our success?"
"Combeferre shook the man's hand. "Yes, that would be lovely, thank you, Monsieur. I will be out in a moment."
The old man nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Combeferre turned to face René again. "Come with me, mon ami! You ought to share in the festivities, besides, I would much like to spend some time with you again. get changed and meet me outside in ten minutes." he said cheerfully and turned to leave. René grasped his arm and made him stop.
"no, Combeferre, I would, but I'm afraid I cannot."
"why not?" Combeferre asked and sounded a bit upset, but looked concerned.
"My teacher, the one who taught me to sing so well, he's very strict." René attempted to explain. It was difficult because he didn't understand it himself and he didn't want Combeferre to mock him, although the childhood friend he knew would never have done that.
"Strict? How so?" Combeferre inquired at an attempt of understanding.
"He doesn't like me to leave. He would rather me stay and practice my singing." René attempted again.
"Well, every performer needs a break, surely he will understand! Come! I'll see you in ten minutes!" Combeferre smiled and left the room. René tried to stop him, but it was no use. Combeferre had already shut the door.
René sighed. His friend was right, he needed a break and he really did miss Combeferre. It would be nice to have a break. He took off his costume and took out his normal clothes. They used to be nice, but from nearly contrast wear, they were quite worn and dirty. He grimaced. He understood how the common man must feel. Dirty clothing made one feel so inferior, even though all men are created equal.
He put them on anyway and glanced at the mirror. at least his face and hair were clean.
"Insolent boy! This slave of fashion! Basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" a raspy voice called from nowhere.
René had never seen the creature this voice belonged to, but it couldn't be less than an angel. He had been told there were spirits haunting the opera house, and although the notion seemed foolish, he had to admit that in his case it made sense.
"Angel I hear you - speak and I'll listen. my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, master." René called into the darkness and finished buttoning up his shirt.
"Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide, look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!" The voice called again. René thought this was a strange request, but curiosity overcame him and he looked into the mirror.
As he looked, he could see something in the mirror and could hear a voice. The voice beckoned to him in an irresistible voice, as if enchanted by a spell, "I am your angel of music! Come to me, angel of music!"
The sound of the doorknob twisting in vain was so very quiet to René's ears. It seemed so far away and he couldn't pull his eyes away from the mirror. He tried to struggle, but he couldn't, even when he heard Combeferre's desperate calls. It was as if another mind and heart were inside his own, for he didn't wish to leave this voice.
It was then that the mirror opened into a door and René felt a hand take his own. A gloved hand covered in black leather. A pale face with a pleased and longing expression.