One QUICK note: This story is rated T because of strong sexual references. I can assure you there is NOTHING on here that deserves an M rating. JUST to clarify things! ^_^ Thanks!

Perfect Strangers

Act I: Erik

Composing was regarded as an art, but Erik felt that it was rather a sport. In sports, there's blood, tears, sweat, swearing, and frustration. He felt composing was much the same. In both, there was fierce competing, much effort, and more often than not, the undying will to be the best at what one did. The only difference between the two was the outcome. Composing led to either a masterpiece or a disaster, or at least music. Sports led to broken bones and other such tragedies. It was at this moment that Erik thought maybe, just maybe, this piece could lead to broken bones as well as music. He squinted his eyes, staring at the notes scribbled across the page, and left edits, such as extra notes or a quickly scribbled fermata. Once again playing the notes in his head, Erik clenched his teeth. Everything's wrong! he thought and let out a roar of anger. He snatched up the piece and crumpled it violently, tossing it as hard as he could at the wall.

The paper hit the wall with a quick thunk, and fell to the ground amongst a pile of other disregarded music sheets. Erik's face was red with anger. It was the seventh time that week he'd lost his temper over a piece he knew would either never work or he'd not the patience to work with. He'd been especially annoyed with everything this week, and whether the music was a cause or a side affect of it was to be determined later. His nerves were on the edge and any bother he had became ten times worse than normal. If his pencil broke, he'd swear profusely, cursing the pencil to the worst hell imaginable. If he was out of his dark room to eat or ask Madame Giry about something, Meg's very voice would set him on edge and he had to growl at her to keep away. The girl was beyond persistent, however, and found a new way to annoy him each day.

Erik sighed, supposing he was getting awfully worked up over another piece of trash that might've been music. It wasn't the music that was creating this mood, however, and he knew it was the dreams he'd been getting so often lately. He certainly didn't believe that his dreams were trying to convey a life-changing message, for he knew exactly what they meant. He was dreaming of Her. Chrisine Daae, the first and only woman he'd ever loved in his entire life. He'd sighed one more time, recounting each dream. They weren't the same thing each time, for that would've been a marvel in itself. No, each one had it's own story, and each opened his wounded heart a bit more. One night, it would be Christine singing, and he'd be watching from his box. The next night, it would be during one of their music lessons, with him playing his violin behind the mirror, teaching her to sing, and she was unafraid of him. The most painless of dreams came from ones where she would be horrified by him and leave him alone to die. At least it was a reminder that it was impossible for her to love him, and that she was gone from his life. Erik thought maybe nine or so years would've healed him from her. But no, it was as if the Grand Opera Garnier, his opera, was burned only yesterday. The most awful of dreams were the ones where she would react to him the way he'd always dreamed she might. In one dream, Raoul was but a meaningless name, nothing more, and Christine had kissed him with so much passion, that he'd thought maybe it wasn't a dream, but that he was waking up into reality for the first time in years. When he'd woken, he didn't eat once all day, and Meg had come into his room to bother him with food. He'd sent her off with a glare, and she'd gone, embarrassed. But the worst and most terrifying dream had come just last night, and he was convinced he'd never sleep again. It replayed that night, the night where he had held Christine in his arms and...

Erik swore under his breath again and turned his attention to taking out a bottle of ink and a quill instead of a pencil. He would not allow himself to revisit that dream, if only for a moment. Such pleasure would only hurt him deeper. The dream had not only made the wound deeper, it seemed to cut a hole through him. The memory of that night was the best and most terrible in his life. The feeling of her in his arms, the kisses he'd showered her with, and the perfect feeling of her against him made him want to...

At that untimely moment, light flooded the room and Erik squinted at the light, turning to see Giry looking disapprovingly towards him. "If you must scream your profanities, will you at least cover you mouth with your hands? Meg and I could hear you loud and clear from the other side of the house."

Erik scowled. "I'm in no mood for a lecture, Giry."

Giry was stubborn like her daughter, however, and changed the subject. "Meg would also like to know if tonight you will be attending her show. She's still waiting for you to at least see her preform once."

"I'm much too busy," Erik mumbled, turning back around to his paper, making it look like he was deep in his writing when in fact, the paper was blank. He began leisurely drawing circles with the quill, pretending to write music. "Another day."

"How many more days after that?" Giry grumbled. "It's a terrible thing, that you own Phantasma and you do not even bother to see the shows."

"I said I'm busy, leave me to be," Erik growled again at his only friend. It still surprised him how kind she was to him after everything that had happened in the course of their lives.

"Fine," she snapped. "But like I said, keep your fowl language to yourself. It's unwanted in a peaceful place such as upstairs. You could try out the sunlight for a moment, it really wouldn't kill you."

"I won't risk the chance that it might," Erik might've cracked a small smile if he wasn't so cranky. He kept drawing circles, even though his quill had ran dry a moment before. "But if you would fetch me the newspaper, I'd be ever so obliged. Good day, Giry."

He could almost feel Giry furrow her eyebrows with displeasure before she closed the door behind him with what he might call a gentle slam. As soon as he was in the barely-lit room, only brightened by a lone candle burning on his desk, he sighed and thought about why he had Giry fetch the paper.

After these dreams, Erik had decided that he was done being lonely. It had been over nine years since he had last experienced the joys of the flesh, let alone a kiss. And he didn't like it one damned bit. If he couldn't have Christine, then he'd hire a new Christine, just for this one night. It didn't mean anything, that his love for her was flickering to a close. This was merely for his own selfish pleasure.

The door opened once more, but it wasn't who he'd expected walk through the door. It was Meg, holding the newspaper in her hands and a bright smile on her face. "Good morning, Erik," she chirped, handing him the papers. He took them, trying not to look at her. If he was perfectly honest, this was another reason he would invite a harlot in tonight. It was Meg. Lately, her attention seemed focused on Erik. She paid him more glances and smiles than was natural to give to a creature such as him. She did her best to please him, and would blush far more than a girl of her age, twenty-eight years old years, should. Erik feared for the worst. He wouldn't have that Meg liked him at all. She could do so much better with her beauty and talent, and he had no room in his heart for her.

But, said once more, Meg was a very persistent girl, and it seemed that she was squeezing her way into his heart anyway. Memories of Christine were slipping away, and even now she was becoming a distant memory. Thoughts of Meg were pushing the thoughts of his angel away. One of her most hypnotic features were her eyes. She had a most beautiful, unique set of emerald green eyes that he felt were of the handsomest he'd ever seen. Christine's eyes were as beautiful and delicate as her, but her chocolate brown, doe eyes didn't uphold the intelligence and humour that Meg's did. It wasn't necessarily the colour her eyes were, but how they seemed to speak. They often looked humoured, like she knew a hilarious secret, and was about to let you know that she had no intention of telling you. He'd only once seen her distraught and angry, and her eyes looked as though they were blazing. Erik had been scared and intrigued at the same time. He could stare into them all day if he wasn't careful enough. How could he betray Christine like that? He supposed hiring the harlot wouldn't be any better for betrayal, but at least he could imagine it really was her. On the same track of mind, he knew there would be no connection or feeling of love between the two. He'd have no idea who the perfect stranger would be. In that way, he wasn't really betraying his Christine. Erik began hating Meg because of how she wormed her way into his thoughts, and couldn't look at her today. It would make him even angrier.

"Thank you," he grumbled. "You may go." But the door stayed wide open. He repeated his command, louder now.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you if you had written any new material for me. I've been preforming 'The Other Side of the Sea' for a while now, and I wanted to see if I could rehearse another song," she said with a brilliant smile that he caught out of the corner of his eye. He frowned deeper.

"No. You are excused, Meg," he growled.

He felt the disappointment in her, but she left with a quieter, "I see. Thank you, anyways." and left. As soon as she was gone, he tried shaking the thought of Meg out of his head, and instead focused on looking the paper for a stand-in Christine.

A quick note:

This was originally a one-shot, but things got out of control and I realized that publishing a +9,000 word one-shot wouldn't work too well. I'm now publishing it in III separate Acts. If it helps any, I'm using the movie 'Phantom of the Opera' characters for looks and personality, somehow intertwining with the personality of the Love Never Dies versions. I just based them off the movie because I'm familiar with that. Not to say I don't love the musical Phantom, I just prefer to work with familiar material. Also, in case you hadn't noticed, this is set nine years after Phantom, and thus is set one year before Love Never Dies. It's a bit of an alternate reality, so try not to be too confused. :)

Best Wishes,

Aktress.