Phantom of the Opera FanFiction One Shot

Original Universe – Disclaimer: I am using the characters of Andrew Lloyd Webbers Phantom of the Opera in my own setting as a writing exercise, with no intent to use it for money related purposes.


Christine flicked her long curly brown hair over her shoulder and straightened her dress. It was shorter than she liked – but after her breakup with Raoul, her friend Megan wanted to take her out clubbing.

"You finished yet Christine?" Meg called from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Just a second Meg,"

Christine pulled her calf high boots on and took a final look in the mirror. She didn't look anything like her normal, reserved self but as Meg had told her earlier – it wasn't bad to be different on occasion. Christine swung the door open and Meg smiled approvingly.

"Girl, you are going to have all the boys drooling when you walk in and they'll be in love with you by the time we walk out,"

"You don't think it's too short?" Christine tugged on the bottom of her little black dress shyly.

"No way, it clings in all the right places," Meg grabbed her clutch and threw Christine her own, "OK, time to be off," she said. "Don't forget your mask," Christine reminded Megan, who seemed to have forgotten the theme for the night's party.

The two girls caught a cab into town. On the way, Christine caught herself checking her phone for text messages.

"You shouldn't waste any thoughts on him," Meg noticed Christine's preoccupation with her phone. "He wasn't good enough,"

Christine sighed and shook her head, "I know, but that doesn't mean I'm not sad,"

When the girls reached the club they jumped out and joined the line. Before they had a chance to go to the back, the bouncer spotted them and ushered the two girls inside.

The club was a hive of activity. The strobe lights flashed across the room, in all the colours of the rainbow. Matching to some degree, the different styles and colours of the masks that everyone wore. The wild, loud music left no room for thoughts let alone speech so when Christine felt Meg drag her across the room she had no clue where they were going; suddenly the bar came into view. The two women shouted their orders to the bartender, and had been there barely a moment before being accosted by two men who they unfortunately recognized. No mask could disguise Raoul – he cut an imposing figure. Tall and muscular, but not wide; shoulder length sandy blonde hair that was currently tied back into a ponytail. Christine used to think it was sexy – still did if she was honest with herself. Christine couldn't remember the second person's name, but at the moment she didn't really care.

"Get lost Raoul," Meg stepped forward, to stand in between Christine and the newcomers. Raoul shrugged and shot Christine a smoldering look. "I miss you Chrissy," he used his pet name for her which made her squirm.

"No you don't. Get lost," Christine focused her attention on their drinks. She'd kept an eye on them as the bartender was making them – to be sure he or anyone else didn't slip her something, and now - satisfied that they should be safe, she downed her first shot and took a swig of her chaser. Normally, Christine was not a drinker in at all but as Meg had mentioned earlier – boys could make girls break a lot of their own rules.

Raoul and his mate, seeing that the two girls were no longer in the talking mood, walked away leaving the Christine and Meg to enjoy each others' company. They spent the next two hours alternating between dancing with strangers, going back to the bar for drinks, and then more dancing. Several times Meg swept the floor with her dancing. She was training to be a professional dancer and after graduating from her highly respectable arts school, she was now training at a private dance university. Christine had met her at that school, and while she was also a good dancer, her talents lay in the vocal area. Christine was surprised that she enjoyed herself. Meg was delighted that she did, as it meant Christine might be persuaded to go on more of such outings.

Eventually though, around 1am, Christine noticed that Meg had vanished into the crowd. She wasn't worried about her friend; if there was one thing Meg could do it was look after herself, but Christine was a little frightened to be left alone in such a vast, crowed space. A hand touched her shoulder, and Christine spun around, expecting to see Meg but her stomach sank when she saw Raoul. He was obviously trying to say something, but in her drunk state Christine just turned and ran away. In her haste to escape she pushed through a group of people, spilling a couple of drinks, and causing a commotion but she was gone and didn't hear the end of it. She found some stairs and bolted up them as best she could. The world was spinning a little and Christine felt that she desperately needed some fresh air. There was a little balcony across the hall that opened out onto the street behind the club, and Christine dashed to it with relief. She was a little embarrassed to find that there was another person standing on the balcony who looked up when she burst through the doors.

The man standing on the balcony, a man by the name of Erik, looked up in surprise as a young woman came stumbling through the glass doors into the crisp night air. She looked flustered, a little spooked, and – if he was being honest – a smidge drunk. Those were inconsequential things that he only saw briefly however, because her beauty quickly overshadowed any other thoughts he might have had about her. She was a magnificent creature, with long dark curls that fell to the middle of her back and framed her pale skin, the top half of her face he couldn't discern as she was wearing a black, lace mask. She almost perfectly matched the decryptions of Snow White – with beautiful skin and lips as full and pink as apples.

Oh he could ravish lips such as those, he caught himself thinking. Her short lacy black dress clung to her body, showing her slender frame, skinny waist and wide hips. Her legs, he thought, they just seemed to go on forever and the boots she wore seemed to make them all the more perfect.

A woman such as this, he thought, is only found once in a lifetime - a pity that even though I've found her, she would never have me. With a jerk, Erik realized that he had been staring at her for a great deal longer than was necessary. He tried to cover his error by asking her anything.

Christine blushed, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink, under the gaze of the masked man on the balcony. For a moment she didn't know how to continue, and she just stood there silently while he stared at her. Just when she was about to turn around, feeling a little strange under his penetrating stare, he spoke.

"You must be from the party downstairs,"

Christine nodded, she couldn't think of anything to say – her brain was still addled from the alcohol she'd had earlier.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" the unknown man asked politely. Christine did her best to walk to the railing without wobbling; she needed something to hold onto. She nodded again as she walked, but found that trying to answer his question and walk at the same time was a little too much for her to handle at the moment. The result of attempting the complex tasks before her was a very graceless stumble, which would have had her on the ground had the stranger not leaped forward to steady her.

Christine got a better look at his face now that he was out of the darkness. He too was wearing a mask. His was interesting; it covered the left side of his face, from the top of his forehead to his top lip, where it curved away from his mouth and ended at the bottom of his cheek. The mask itself was white and plain, emphasizing how handsome the right side of his face was. For a moment her breath escaped her, partly because this masked man had his hands on her arms as he guided her to a nearby chair – and partly because of her inebriated state.

Erik guided the young woman to a chair, the balcony didn't have many but he was glad that some had been put out tonight. Normally he forgot, but the bartender had remembered for him tonight. He'd been busy with other preparations. He didn't want to let go of her once she was in the chair, but it would be rude and might scare her away. He didn't want her to go away. Erik knew that if she walked away now he would never see this angel again, and he did not want that. He sat in one of the other chairs and looked out onto the street, wanting to distract himself, in case he started staring.

"I see Nadir, the bartender, has worked his magic on you," Erik chuckled. His friend really was one of the best barmen around.

The woman hung her head and massaged her temples. Erik couldn't help feeling that she didn't want him around, after all – she had not spoken even a word to him yet. To his surprise however, she now said,

"I don't normally drink so much, but I wasn't paying attention to how much I was drinking," it was little more than a whisper, but her voice was sweet and gentle, with a hint of regret. Erik smiled, it was exactly the voice an angel should have, he thought. He wanted to say something to keep her talking, but nothing came to mind.

"It's all that stupid Raoul's fault. If he hadn't broken up with me, I wouldn't have listened to Meg and thought it was a good idea to go out tonight." She kept talking, it seemed that the gates had now opened and there was no way to stop her – not that Erik wanted her to stop.

"What sort of a man would walk away from a woman as perfect as you?" Erik surprised himself with his own question and instantly he was embarrassed. Why had he asked her that? What would she think of him? Now she would probably just want to leave. After all, he wasn't anyone worthy of speaking to such a beautiful creature.

"The sort of man who is a coward,"

Erik was surprised she answered.

"Never wanted to do anything remotely commitment worthy, he always gave me excuses like 'nothing I could give you would be as beautiful as you' for missing my birthday. I've known him ever since I was little and I knew that he chickened out of the important stuff if there was any risk to him but I thought he was different when he asked me out,"

She sighed, and a couple of tears dripped down her face. "I don't know why I'm telling all this to a complete stranger. You probably don't even care, you were just trying to be polite."

As the owner of a club, Erik had seen behaviour like this many times before. This woman was obviously a weepy drunk. Normally, he wasn't exposed directly to the tears but for one, he was now in the time of fire. He pulled his handkerchief from his vest pocket and handed it to the woman. He didn't want to see her cry for a man like the one she described. She deserved an angel, because she was one.

"I don't mind," he didn't look at her as he said it, trying to resist the urge to do a lot more than hand her a piece of cloth, "I'm the owner of the club, I've spent time behind the bar, I'm practically a psychologist," he tried making a joke, and was delighted when he saw a little smile dance across her rosy lips.

Christine took the offered handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.

"Thanks," she felt a little bit better now. The cool air was doing wonders for her thinking, and talking about her troubles was making them seem less worrisome. Whoever this man was, he didn't seem bad.

"You said you are the owner of this club?" she suddenly realized what he had said. He nodded and smiled, and Christine was struck at how handsome he was, despite only seeing half his face.

"Phantasma is my baby," he patted the nearby wall. "She wasn't much when I got her, but she's been my sanctuary for a long time now."

"Meg, likes this place cause everyone always wears masks and she likes hooking up with people and thinking it a mystery."

Christine remembered then that Meg had told her that in confidence. She resolved then that next time she went out anywhere she was going to keep a much better eye on her alcohol intake.

The man nodded and looked out into the night again, his mind obviously wandering.

"I'm Christine by the way, Christine Daae" she blurted out. It seemed only right that after his patience she should introduce herself. The man focused his attention on her with a little smile, but it lit the side of his face that she could see.

"A beautiful name," he murmured, in such a way as to make Christine blush.

"My name is Erik,"

The two of them sat silently for a short while, giving Christine some time to sober herself.

"I should be getting back to the party now, " Christine said, " Meg will be worried I ran off with Raoul while she's not looking."

Erik felt sadness twist his stomach. He didn't want her to go. He would never see her again. A woman such as she, he would never find again – certainly not one who would speak to him. He'd long ago given away his dreams of love, or the kiss of a woman, for other worldly endeavors and had spent his time building his club - which was now one of the most popular clubs in the entire city. This woman though, she made all his old dreams stir in his gut. All he wanted was to sweep her away, and kiss those lips.

"I hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Christine," He liked the way her name felt in his mouth when he said it.

She pushed herself out the chair, and smiled at him.

"Thank you,"

She wobbled less, now that she'd had a chance to recover, and made her way over to the door but was shocked when the doors swung open and out came Raoul and Meg.

"There you are!" Meg was obviously more drunk than Christine; the way she clung to Raoul and then latched herself to her friend screamed 'drunk'. "We were getting soooo worried," Meg elongated some of her syllables and giggled. Christine sighed. This happened a lot when she went out with Meg. Meg would get wasted and Christine would be left to pick up the pieces.

"I think it's time to leave now Meg Giry. What would your mother say!" Christine patted her very drunk friend on the head, trying to be comforting rather than patronizing. Christine couldn't help but think it a shame to leave now. She was tired, after all it was almost 2am now – she'd been upstairs with Erik for almost an hour, but she wanted to stay longer to talk to the mysterious man. He seemed a little closed, and it made Christine curious.

"I'll take you guys home," Raoul offered. Christine looked at him very pointedly and said "No thank you," she was aware that there was another person on the balcony and didn't want to seem rude. "Meg and I can find our own way home Raoul,"

Erik was amazed that the tall man who had come out with Christine's friend was the Raoul that had been spoken of only minutes before. He could see why they were – or had been – a good match. They complimented each other well. He was tall, muscular but not broad, and though Erik never contemplated a mans' looks for himself, he could see why Christine had fallen for Raoul. However much of a jerk he may be.

"It's my manly duty," Raoul claimed, though from the way he was smiling at Christine, chivalry was not on the top of his current to do list, nor was sobriety.

"I'm afraid," Erik found himself standing and interceding "that as the owner of the club, I can't have a drunk person taking anyone home. If something were to happen, it would tarnish the reputation of my nightclub – you seem like an intelligent man, you would understand such things,"

If there was one thing Erik knew it was how to play with drunkards, and to nobody's surprise, Raoul puffed himself importantly and nodded.

"You're right mate, I am. You must have a discerning character. Too right, don't want to cause trouble to such a good guy." He said, and stumbled away. Erik was a little surprised that he didn't need more cajoling, but you never could tell with drunks just how much or little they would need.

Christine looked at Erik and gave him a grateful smile.

"Thanks for that, I didn't want to have to deal with him and Meg,"

"Let me walk you both the taxi rank," Erik wanted to spend as much time with her as he could – any excuse would do. "Its not far, but it does involve going through the club and you never know, he might change his mind,"

Christine hadn't considered that possibility, and accepted his assistance. Erik took Meg, which allowed Christine to make her way down the stairs without being hindered; important when drunk. Christine smiled to herself as she followed Erik across the crowded room – somehow it seemed more crowded than it had an hour ago. Whoever this man was, he was kind. She might have to come back again soon that way she could see him again.

The bouncer saw them coming and waved the three people through, saying a quick hello to Erik who smiled in return. Erik's account was correct – the cab rank was only twenty meters away. There was a black and white cab waiting, and with a little help, Christine and Erik managed to bundle the now half asleep Meg into the back seat. Before Christine joined her in the car though, Erik touched her shoulder. He wasn't really sure what he wanted to say to her, but he knew he didn't want her to leave.

"… Goodnight Christine," he said, and without realizing what he was doing – he reached out and tucked a loose strand of her behind her ear. She blushed again; she was cute when she did that.

"Goodnight Erik," Christine smiled shyly, and then she remembered something. "Oh, just a moment," Christine pulled his handkerchief from her clutch – she put it there when Meg and Raoul had come onto the balcony, and held it out to the masked man she'd spent the last hour with. "Thank you very much," she said.

Erik shook his head.

"Keep it, you never know when you might need one. I'd hate to think of a girl like you crying without one,"

Christine, still a little drunk, did something then that she would never have done sober. She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on his unmasked cheek. Blushing, she jumped into the cab with her friend, and the taxi pulled away.

Erik stepped back from the road, and raised his hand to his cheek where she had touched it. He couldn't believe just how much he liked her, after just a single hour in her presence. Her beauty filled him with awe, and that she spoke – even kissed – a man such as him inspired him to hope that maybe he had been wrong all those years ago to decide as he did. Perhaps love was not out of his reach. He turned and walked back to the club. 'No' he reprimanded himself, 'she could not love me, she has not seen me.' Erik thought about the day his face was scarred irrevocably.

It had happened many years ago, when he was only ten. His mother, an abusive woman, had taken her rage out on him - she'd been beating him for a while before, and his cries must have attracted some attention but before anything came of it, she pushed his face onto a stove-top, She had held him there while his face burned and he screamed. The only reason she'd let him go was because the doorbell rung. She'd let him go and ran to the door, eager to try and make excuses for what anyone had heard. Erik had been left in the kitchen with half his face horribly damaged. Amazingly, his eye had been fine, but the rest of his face had not. He'd crawled off the floor and ran to the door, to try and escape and luckily his mother hadn't been able to dismiss them quickly enough. Erik just remembered someone running to his side, while his mother kept saying

"Oh he's alright, it's nothing to worry about,"

He'd blacked out for a time after that, and when he woke he was in a hospital burns ward. They hadn't been able to do very much as he'd had severe third degree burns to that entire side. He'd had several skin grafts which covered the worst of it, but they couldn't do anything more for him then.

He'd gone into the foster system then, which was only a little better than his old life. At least no body was pushing him into fires. He couldn't remember whom now, but someone had given him a mask to cover his face and since then he had always worn one. People would ask him why, but he never had a very good answer. Since he had started his exclusive club however, with was always masquerade themed, it had become much easier to converse with people. He rarely left Phantasma though; it was his hideaway where no one could harm him. He was the master here. A woman such as Christine, she could not love such a scarred face, and she should not. Erik barely noticed the music and the people; he went to the bar and made himself his usual before heading back up the stairs to his balcony.

Christine tried not to fall asleep in the taxi on the way home. The further she got from the club, the more tired she felt. It had been a long evening. Seeing Raoul had been emotionally exhausting, even if she had barely spoken to him. The reason she had gone out was to avoid thinking about him and there he was.

Then she'd met that man, Erik. He was a riddle wrapped in an enigma. He'd been polite and kind, and had very obviously liked her but he hadn't appeared very talkative. The only time she felt like he told her anything of himself was when he talked about his club – calling it his sanctuary, but from what? She fiddled with the handkerchief in her lap. It was a lovely piece of fabric, and it had 'Erik' sewed into one corner. 'Perhaps I will have to go again' Christine thought.

She and Meg arrived home safely, and with some difficulty Christine managed to get Meg into the house and the shower where she perked immediately and managed to clean herself. Christine showered in the bathroom across the hall, and once the two girls were finished, they collapsed into bed and didn't wake until midday.

The End.

If you think it should have more, or needs improving, don't hesitate to mention. ^_^ Any reviews will be returned.