John and the Phantom of the Opera
I do not own the characters in the following story
Chapter 1
1870 London
John never could be fully comfortable performing onstage. It seemed curious that his passion also happened to be a bit of a fear for him. The other dancers were stretching around him as they all warmed up for rehearsal. John's best friend, closer to a brother, flopped down next to him on stage to the chagrin of his fellow ballerinas.
"For a dancer you sure can be graceless you know that?"
Greg grinned in response. "Well we can't all act like we have a stick up our arses now can we?"
"Tosser" John shoved Greg playfully before finishing his stretches. "You are cutting it close Greg. We're almost to go on." John stood up about ready to begin.
Greg had the decency to look sheepish before he replied, "Well it's not as if I'm regularly late now am I? I had something, or rather, someone to deal with."
"Oh?" John gave Greg a knowing look.
"Shove off I didn't mean it that way! If you must know.."
"Oy! You two, we're about to go on!" One of the dancers, Sally, interrupted.
True to her word the new lead soprano was about finished with her opening solo which was the queue for the ballerinas to enter. John and Greg waited a few beats with the other male ballerinas before following the ladies on stage. John's partner Sally was upstage left and Greg's partner Molly was right center. John tended to be slightly jealous that Greg's partner was not only better company but a stronger dancer that Sally. Being partners with Sally meant he was constantly placed in the back row, never able to be in the forefront. He used to think it meant he was also a weak dancer but Greg, Molly, and a few other companions assured John that the reason he was paired with her so often was because he was one of the few with the patience and talent to handle her personality. His ballet skills also made it possible for her to look better than she truly was. So here he was, lifting Sally, focusing his energy on trying to make sure she stayed in time with everyone else to not draw attention. Dancing with Sally was always a strenuous task.
The group was three quarters through the scene when a sudden thump, yell, and floor tremble halted all on the stage. Anderson dropped his partner again.
"You fool! I cannot work in these conditions!" A woman with a thick French accent and curly black hair screamed before she stormed offstage. Anderson chased after his partner trailed by the director and several stage hands.
"Well looks like we won't be working on any group numbers anytime soon." Greg called out to his colleagues. A murmur of agreement and annoyance rolled across the stage. John sighed. Dealing with Anderson's mistakes was grating his nerves but at least he got a break from Sally for a while. He snaked his way through the crowd to Greg and Molly.
"Seems we have some time on our hands now eh John?" Greg slapped John on the shoulder.
"It appears so. Molly, how have you been?"
Molly gave a warm and timid smile. "Hello John. I've been well, a bit nervous about opening night tomorrow." Molly looked between Greg and John in the nervous way she often does. John always thought she seemed a bit unsure and skittish, a rare thing among female ballerinas these days.
"Off the stage. All of you!" A voice boomed from the left. John snapped from his thoughts and looked around. Moriarty. The newest owner of the opera house glared at the dancers until they scurried off, a bit frightened at his intensity.
John, Greg, and Molly stood in the wings not sure what to do with themselves.
"I do like that new soprano. She has such a lovely voice don't you think Greg?" Molly wondered aloud breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"Oh yes. Quite lovely. Too lovely for the lead tenor don't you think John?" Greg looked pointedly at John whom did not miss the intention behind the remark.
"I think they sound just fine together thank you very much." John replied coolly to shut down anything Greg was going to reveal to Molly.
Greg turned to Molly, "John sings. He's remarkable if I do say so myself. He hardly lets anyone hear though. Like an angel he is. Why just last month I heard him singing in the practice room before the others had arrived and it was haunting. I get chills just thinking about it."
John stood there listening utterly flabbergasted that his best mate had told something so revealing about him to a fellow ballerina. Wait a second. "You were spying on my in the practice room?"
"Ah sorry about that. It wasn't intentional I swear."
"Right." John felt very vulnerable knowing Greg had heard him singing the song he had been working on. His jaw was set tight as he stared among the chairs trying not to think of the eyes set upon him by the two next to him. He could tell Molly was about to say something to try and save their conversation but John was not going to have that. He was going to be angry for a while longer.
"It's obvious we won't be dancing anytime soon so I'll be in the practice room." John marched backstage. He weaved through the various actors, dancers, singers, and stagehands until he made it to the practice room made for the dancers. The room wasn't as well lit or as well kept as the practice room for the singers but he didn't mind too much. Compared to the hell hole he grew up in, most places were a slice of heaven. John let out a long suffering sigh and lied down on the floor staring at the intricate ceiling above.
Dance and music had always been John's escape when he was scared or upset. Dance always seemed like a struggle, or a fight, and he has been fighting his entire life. When he was a child living in poverty living was a struggle. People often tried to take advantage of him or his family, he had to learn to fight to survive and protect those he loved. He mastered the skill without much difficulty. When the ballet company allowed him to join he saw it as his way out. Dance is a fight for life for himself and his family. He has control in dance. But singing, singing is something else entirely. To John, singing is like baring his soul for all to see. He feels raw, like an exposed nerve. The first thing he ever pursued just for himself. Maybe he was too hard on Greg, he was just supporting him. He should go find him.
John stood up and dusted off his tights and paused. He heard a low noise. Something was resonating inside his chest, a rumble inside his ribcage. John stood in fear as he listened to the low bass tones swirl around the large room. There was something soothing yet exhilarating about the voice he couldn't explain. John strained to listen harder to the bass notes striking his soul directly. He could swear the voice was becoming louder, like the voice was searching for him. Focusing harder on the words the voice was singing he made out the single word, "John". He wanted to answer but nothing was escaping his open mouth. The mysterious voice continued singing his name in the deep tones that touched his soul. The source of the powerful voice must have been getting closer for he could hear it clearly now "John". As quickly as the voice had appeared, it disappeared. Not a moment later Greg walked into the room with Molly in tow.
"John?" Greg and Molly asked hesitantly. He must have looked frightened by the way the approached him. John snapped out of his trance, "Greg. Molly. I was on my way to find both of you. But I heard.." John trailed not knowing how to describe what he had heard without it seeming as if he was going mad.
"You heard what John?" Greg prompted.
"Footsteps. I figured it was you and Molly approaching so I decided to wait here to see." John lied and gave a small smile to the two before walking over to them. Greg didn't seem to believe him but Molly accepted the hastily established lie easily enough. John needed to change the subject in order for Greg to move on and he knew just what would get him distracted.
"I haven't seen Mycroft around lately. I wonder where he could be." John baited Greg.
Greg looked skeptical at first before he groaned and shifted his body weight. He took the bait, good.
"One less micromanaging producer to worry about I say. That pompous man! I swear if I hear that blasted umbrella tapping the stage one more time I'm going to have a fit!" Greg was good and gone on his tirade. Molly watched slightly aghast as Greg continued on his rant about Mycroft giving John the liberty of letting out a sigh of relief. John could be with his thoughts for a few minutes before Greg finished his verbal abuse of the producer. What was that he heard? That voice struck something inside him he didn't even know existed; he was terrified of the power that voice alone held over him. Who was the owner of that deep voice? John hopped dearly that whoever it was did not see his reaction. Surely he would never live it down if the singer revealed how he had reacted to the others in the opera. John groaned inwardly. Greg seemed to think John's painful expression was in response to what he was saying because he spoke directly to John right after, "Oh are you defending this umbrella wielding lunatic now?"Greg accused.
John had to think quickly, he looked to Molly who seemed startled at the conversation to say the least, "No, I was simply thinking of poor Molly here. She, being a lady, has probably not heard such perverse language Gregory." John gave a piercing stare.
"Oh right, I do apologize Molly." Greg gave a half hearted apology. "So what do you say we return? Maybe Anderson's partner made the foolish decision to trust him again."
The three of them headed back to the stage but not before John turned to give a curious gaze around the room.
The rest of rehearsal went as expected. The director was in a mood because of the lost time trying to get Anderson and his partner back so he was taking it out on the performers. Six hours later everyone was finally released to their homes, tomorrow was opening night and they would be at the opera house all day.
"I suggest a good night's sleep to all for tomorrow will be the beginning of a week of constant performances."
The cast broke off their separate ways to collect their personal belongings.
"Well I'm off John. See you in the morning mate." Greg called as he swung a bag full of his clothes over his shoulder. John gave a wave and went back to packing his things. He was always one of the last to leave after rehearsals, tonight not being an exception. John finished packing his clothes and shoes in his bag. He looked around and saw he was once again the last one there. He left his bag on the ground and wandered into the stage. The room was dark as the candles in the room were no longer lit. John stood in the middle of the stage and breathed. He breathed in the room and imagined what it would be like if he were the star. The room packed with people to hear him sing. John outstretched his arms. Here, at night after rehearsals John could live out his biggest lie. He walked to the front of the stage and lit a single candle, enough to see immediately around him. He looked out into the empty crowd, unable to see more than 6 feet in front of himself. Only when he was truly alone did John have the courage to sing. Imagining a crowd there for him he sang. If there was anyone there to hear, they would witness a hauntingly beautiful tenor piercing the silence like an angel.
Quand au hasard des jours
Je m'en vais faire un tour
A mon ancienne adresse
Je ne reconnais plus
Ni les murs, ni les rues
Qui ont vu ma jeunesse
En haut d'un escalier
Je cherche l'atelier
Dont plus rien ne subsiste
Dans son nouveau décor
Montmartre semble triste et les lilas sont morts
La bohème, la bohème. On était jeunes, on était fous
La bohème, la bohème. Ça ne veut plus rien dire du tout
(La Bohème)
John finished his verse and let out a sigh. He wished he had the courage to sing for others, to bare his soul to another and feel accepted truly. He blew out the candle and wet to get his bag. John gave the stage another longing glance before he headed into the cool night air back to his home.
Back in the opera house sat a lonely man staring at the now empty stage with unhidden longing. Little did John know, his wish to be heard had been granted.