AN: This came from a prompt over on Tumblr, involving suave, cat-like Erik tripping and hurting himself. I took the prompt and ran. Hoping to update at least once per week until it's completed.
She looked both frightened and entranced by my appearance in her mirror. She, whose face I had all but memorized from afar. Oh, Christine, I thought, you've fallen in love with my voice, yet if you saw what I looked like- I couldn't finish the thought. I couldn't bear the thought. I pushed the mirror away from the wall, letting it swing open toward her, revealing the tunnel in which I stood. She stood there, now looking more entranced than frightened.
The absence of fear from her face allowed me just enough confidence to extend my hand, silently pleading for hers. Hesitantly, she placed her delicate hand in my own gloved one and the sensation both relaxed and sent an unpleasant shock through my body. It had been so long since someone had touched me, since I had allowed someone to touch me.
Carefully, I led her along down the corridor, watching the mirror close behind her before turning to face the near-total darkness I led her through. As we walked, as she sang for me, her movements became less hesitant. As we approached the lake, I turned to answer her singing with my own, walking backwards as I did. It wasn't something I often gave thought to, nor something I often found myself doing.
"The Phantom of the opera is there, inside your-" I didn't get a chance to finish my sentence as my shoe caught in a small hole that I would have been fully aware of had she not been clouding my mind with both her touch and her voice. I yelped as I scrambled to keep my footing, my hand tearing away from hers as I fell flat on my back, my head cracking against the hard stone floor. The impact caused my vision to be clouded by a horrible white fog, and for a long moment I lay there, groaning in pain.
As my vision cleared, I could see Christine kneeling above me, could see her crying. My hands flew to my mask, thankfully exactly where it was meant to be. Had I been knocked out? If so, for how long? And why was she crying so quietly? I couldn't even hear her-
"It's nothing, I'm all-" I started, but words escaped me as I realized I could not even hear my own voice. My eyes widened as I touched my mouth and attempted to speak again. I was definitely speaking; I could feel the vibrations of sound as I touched my lips, my chin, my neck.
"No," I said. Why? I demanded silently. What god would curse me this way? As soon as the thought crossed my mind it both angered and saddened me. I knew precisely what kind of god would allow me to lose the ability to hear. It was the same god who had cursed me to be born this hideous beast.
I stared up into Christine's face, trying to make sense of the words she was saying, searching for context in her eyes. I had never so desperately wished I could read lips. She reached out for me and I cringed away from her touch, rolling onto my side, facing away from her as I slowly pushed myself up. As I sat up, stars danced before my eyes. Even when I closed my eyes they did not disappear.
Oh Christine, I thought miserably, how can I be your angel of music if I cannot even hear you sing? How will I ever finish my opera if I cannot listen to the notes I play?
Tears stung my eyes as I began to realize the extent of the damage I had caused myself. Fool, I spat at myself internally, wretched fool. You've brought this on yourself.
I felt her hand on my shoulder, a gesture I'm sure she intended as comforting. I found no comfort in the contact and jerked myself away from her. That was when the pain shot through my back. Of course, I thought, it is not bad enough for music to be taken from me by my own foolishness. I've injured more than just my head.
I forced myself to my feet, bracing myself against the wall. No sense in bringing her any further. Sighing, I reached out and touched her arm, just enough to get her attention to return to my face in the dim lighting. She stood as well and followed me back along the long corridor. I wondered if she knew what had happened, if she dared guess that her angel could no longer hear. I couldn't bear that thought.
When we again reached the mirror, I pushed it open silently, averting my gaze, avoiding hers. At first, she hesitated. I looked up just enough to see her lips. She was trying to talk to me again. Fresh tears stung my eyes as I said, "Go!"
She reached out, her hand coming dangerously close to the side of my face that was uncovered. I turned my head, pulling away from her as far as I could. Her touch against my bare skin caused every muscle in my body to tense. I closed my eyes and exhaled sharply, wishing she would just go and leave me. Her hand jerked away and I wondered what horrible thing she had heard. I was immediately overcome with guilt as she fled my side. I had frightened her. As the mirror closed again, I watched her disappear out the door and down the hall.
I turned as well, resigning myself to what was certain to be a life of utter hell. An eternity of silent darkness.