Erik wrung out a wet towel and started to wipe off the heavy make-up that was caked on his skin. His dressing room was silent with only the soft piano playing coming from the excited cast celebrating a delightful night. The party was rather loud and he knew soon that Madame Giry would put an end to it, so there was no point in joining in. Besides, being around that many drunk people in a small space never entertained him, rather the great peacefulness of his empty room served as his reward of a grand performance. Most of the attention was given to Carlotta, which was fine with him, so his door was untouched all night expect for one little knock.
"Erik?" He heard a voice call from behind his door.
Immediately he thought of it to be Frimin ready to applaud him for keeping the full house from wanting any refunds, so he quickly opened the door. However, it was not Frimin nor Andre but rather an unfamiliar face. "Thank you for coming to laud over me, but I am rather tried."
"I think you can make an exception for me," The blond man welcomed himself inside.
Erik carefully studied him, trying to match his face with anyone he had met in the past. The man was tall with bright blue eyes and a complexion almost like a girl. He was still handsome, but beautiful would be a better word to describe him. As well, the man was not a commoner for he dressed with some of the finest fabrics out there. Erik had never met someone so well-heeled as him.
"Excuse me?" He asked.
"I cannot believe you do not recognize me!" The man rose his arms up and threw his rose on the vanity. "It's me! We were playmates when I was little. I remember one time you lost your red scarf in a lake, and me being as small as I was, I ran in after it."
"And your father quickly scolded you!" Erik laughed. "Oh, Raoul, I'm sorry I didn't remember you sooner."
"Rik, I'm just glad that we are reunited again," Raoul hugged his old friend who rapidly ran from the embrace.
"No matter how many years have passed, my hatred for that cursed name nor your unneeded intimacy has changed," The singer growled.
"You are still the same: grumpy, rude, and introverted. It's hard to believe that you are even more of a humbug than you were at the age of five."
"Personalities rarely change, Raoul."
Raoul laughed. He really had missed his companion, for he was one of the only people who would play with him. Although, the two of them were opposites and often clashed, but fit perfectly together to make a friendship stronger than ever. Erik was always a pale and lankly child, taught to keep to himself and avoid people's eyes. Raoul, on the other hand, was tan and well built with the loudest personalty a kid could have. These two were like the moon and sun, but got along like a fish and water. Being without his best friend for so long, hurt the small vicomte but he had found him again and he could not be happier.
The two sat down on a couch and Erik steered the conversation over to Raoul, trying to avoid attention. Being as he was, Raoul was more than willing to oblige to talking about himself. He unrolled his entire life story starting from where Erik ran away. The vicomte did have more hardships than just spoiled tantrums, but rather told about the misery of how alone he was. Not surprisingly, most of his friends where in it for more gain than just companionship. Raoul also was not good at sports, or wooing women as his brother was. He was more funny, down to earth, and wished to love someone but could not succeed at getting them to love him back. This wasn't because no one wanted Raoul, no he was adored by many women, but Raoul had a "waiting for the right one" complex. If a women was bold enough to make an advance on him, he would return in asking everything about her and would then judge if she's worth his time. His goal was to find his perfect bride, not someone he would only love for weeks. Such a request could seem as selfish or prude, but his intentions for himself were to find someone kind and caring, not mean and only in it for his fortune.
Erik tried to empathize with his life, but it was difficult. Sure, Erik was a handsome man, but his social-awkwardness made him seem pathetic when it came to dating. He had many crushes and tried to ask a girl out, but would stutter too much or wreck it completely. When girls had feelings for him, it was miracle for more than one reason. His personality was always rather rough and his humor dark, which did not help his image with women. At points he would seem mysterious and he could make a girl swoon, but if she dared to speak his exterior would crumble to reveal his shy interior. Erik could only dream of what it was like to be raised like Raoul, with admirers, money, and everything handed to him on a sliver spoon. Envy started to sprout in Erik's heart, but was quickly put out when he realized that he had it and had a chance to keep it. He was the one who threw it all away out of fear. Not only that, but he was delighted that such a warmhearted friend lived a grand life.
"So, you don't have a bride already?" Erik questioned. "Someone as charming as you?!"
"Please," Raoul sighed. "I wish I did, but it just seems that no one is right."
"I think you are being too picky," He raised his eyebrow. "Women are not like chocolates you can pick and choose, they are like actual humans that you have to get to know."
"I am aware of that, Erik!"
"I know you are, but you need to remember that next time you see a woman," Erik crossed his arms. "Don't act like you're too good for them either, because I can imagine you doing that."
"I'm very humble!"
"That is what you think."
Raoul grunted. "I came here to see an old pal, not be hounded by him about how I act. That is why I would like to ask you to come to supper with me, we have a lot of catching up to do."
"Raoul, I wish I could but I can't," Erik's eyes widened. "I am too tried."
"Nonsense! You are just coming up with a reason to not spend time with me!" He laughed. "I know I can be annoying, but humor me and spend sometime with me."
"I can't! Really!"
"I'll be back in ten minutes. I shall get my hat and hope that you have that paint off your face!" Raoul walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Erik made his way over to the vanity and picked up the rose. He carefully looked at it and rubbed the spots were the thrones used to be. "I only wish you understood..."
"Who was that?!" Erik's teacher's voice boomed.
"Just an old-"
"You cannot see him tonight, your triumph was too great to spend with someone like him."
Erik was unsure of what she meant by that but replied, "I understand that he probably does not have all the respect of the arts that you have."
"Anyone has more respect than him!"
"I-I know..." He trembled.
"Do not fear me child, for you are safe with me; to prove so you shall see why in shadows I hide. Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!"
Erik looked at his reflection in the long mirror against the wall. He stared for a while trying to find her, but then he saw a light and sure enough, a lady's face adorned with a mask stood inside. He was utterly baffled and speechless. There she was, the voice that had been instructing him for so long, the voice which comforted him in sleepless nights, and the voice that had slowly started to control more of his life.
"Come with me," The mirror seemed to disappear and a gloved hand reached out of a cape.
Erik shook, but took her hand. He was dragged into darkness and the mirror closed behind him. His teacher grabbed a lantern and led him through a musky hallway. In awe, he admired everything he saw down to the mud footprints on the ground. How could a hidden system like this be inside the opera house? And how could he have missed it? Slowly, she led him down more hallways and tight staircases. He willingly followed behind, with her hand only releasing his for brief moments to check that no one stalked behind them.
Above in the dressing room, Raoul was vigorously jolting the doorknob, which was not complying. He tried knocking, banging, and kicking but the door would not budge. Screaming out for the absent Erik did not help either. Finally, Raoul gave up and walked away, only to hear the door slowly creek open. He jumped inside and checked the room. Erik was gone, but gone with who?
Oddly enough, Erik was pondering the same question. Who was he with? He knew she was the voice, but really who was she? Her identity was hidden with the white mask that covered all her face except for her eyes and the small part of her jaw where her mouth was. Thank goodness for the mask though, because it was the only way he would have been able to see her in the darkness (spare the lantern). The black dress she wore was only highlighted with small amounts of white lace and little red flowers, although most of the dress was covered by her black cape. Erik also took note of the lack of a bustle, which might allow her to move quicker. Possibly she wore all black to hide?
At last they met the end of the last winding staircase and stepped upon a lake shore. The mud was compact and yet felt squishy under his feet. Carefully, she helped him on a boat and hung the lantern at the bow. He scoffed at the idea of the small lantern illuminating their whole path across the lake that was blanketed with fog. Almost magically, as they pushed off from the shore, candles started to bob up and down in the water, allowing Erik and the strange teacher to see more.
Through the mist, Erik could see a shape that looked almost like a house. As they got closers, he was able to make out an organ, table with a few chairs, and many curtains covering what he did not know.
His teacher pulled the boat to shore and hiked up her dress, stepping into the rippling water.
"Oh no, madame," Erik got out and helped her. "You do not need to help me, I would rather help you."
"Just because I am a woman does not mean that I can't get my petticoat wet," She sneered.
"No, I didn't mean it like that."
"If you say so, Erik," His voice rolled off her tongue uneasily, like one might say trying to read a word for the first time.
They both walked to the solid ground, soaked mid-way to their calves. Erik's teacher untied her cloak and offered it to him. He refused and she tossed it on a chair.
"I know you just had a performance, but would you mind singing for me?" She asked gesturing to the organ.
"None at all, teacher."
"Christine."
"Christine?" Erik looked at her confused.
"That is my name. It's terribly awkward with you calling me teacher in these close quarters. I would prefer if you called me that here," Christine sat on the bench. "Now, sing for me."
