Why thank you to my lovely three reviewers! Here's the next chapter in this super original story, tell me what you think. Ideas, comments, questions, I love them all. Oh, next chapter most all written! and next up we have some Demitri/girl action, we meet the other Daae-Destler and her bestest friend Molly Giry. Tell me what you think!
He glanced at the clock on the wall, it was about that time, time when Madame Giry would break the girls for lunch. He had seen her everyday since they first met, on all of her breaks she would come and sit with him in the Orchestra pit, chatting with him until they heard the shrill call that had the ballerinas running. He wasn't sure how long it had been since she first wondered down to listen to him play, he had seen her so much that the days just seemed to bleed together. Not that he was complaining, he had found out quickly that he enjoyed her company immensely. She called to him, like an unwritten song, expressing things he never thought she would care about. She was funny, he hadn't expected her dry wit and sarcasm, so like his father's, yet with a wide smile to lessen the blow. She was intelligent, not uncommonly so, like he, but still enough to rouse his interest and keep him thinking.
He had even learned things about her over the coarse of his time with her so far, she liked to read, she hated roses because she claimed everyone adored roses and although beautiful, they became too cliche, she liked being sung to, she hated to be hot, her favorite food was anything involving chicken, she had a sweet tooth for chocolate, she despised corsets and apparently she liked to be in little as clothing as possible. Of course he had learned various other things, but those were the ones that stuck out in his mind.
He sat at the piano, subconciously playing, as he looked around the empty stage, for once missing the sound of the rats above him. They had a costume fitting earlier and left with Madame Giry upstairs to where the costume deptartment resided, they should've been back already to resume their rehearsal, he wondered what was taking them so long.
He heard her before he saw her, the thumps of her feet on the stage. He looked up and saw her running over to the edge of the stage, where she collapsed, breathing heavily, gazing up at the bright lights of the chandelier. She turned to face him, still lying on her back. "Where are the other rats?"
She smiled, her breathing still slightly labored. "Well, we were up in the costume room when Giovanna collapsed! She just fainted right there, in the middle of her fitting! And when she fell, she hit Madame DeMill and the sewing pin got lodged in her hand! It went right through! So Madame Giry cancelled rehearsal for the rest of the day, saying we'd had enough excitement."
"So, why can't you breathe properly?"
She looked at him as though it were obvious. "Well, we had been stuck up there longer than expected, so when she said we had off I booked it down here."
He let out a chuckle, "Why would you run all the way down here just to meet me." she grinned sheepishly and looked away. "Well, I, I thought you might leave."
He was shocked for a moment, she was worried about him not wanting to see her? "That's ridiculous, I would've waited for you." He said it as though it were the most common thing in the world, like she was stupid for even thinking such a thing.
She looked away from his eyes at that, hiding the small smile on her face. He didn't seem to notice his statements effect on her, it touched her that he wanted to be with her enough that he would wait for her until she came to him.
"So, you have the rest of the day off?"
She sat up right, smiling, and swung her legs over the edge of the stage. "Yup, and it's only lunchtime!" He couldn't help but smile at her exuberance, what would they do with all their time together? Flashes of what his subconscious, overly hormonal teenage boy, wanted to do danced before his eyes. He blinked them away, watching as she jumped down from the stage to stand next to where he was sitting at the piano. Her long legs perfectly stretched as she leaned against the piano, lifted her leg to 'pop' her hip. He had learned that dancers joints often got jammed from being in the same positions for so long, so when they stretched out it was to crack their stiff ligaments. But, it still didn't help the desires running through him at the sight of her very obvious flexibility...
"We have so much time...lets do something exciting! Something spontaneous, like...go on an adventure!"
She was talking animatedly with her hands, her pale eyes wide with excitement. She wanted to go on an adventure? In the Opera House? Was she nuts, didn't she hear the stories the chorus girls and fellow rats told before bed. The stagehands drunken ramblings after the shows. The Opera Ghost, or the Phantom as the girls liked to call him, who nearly caused the Opera Populaire to close from a fire, who stole one of its finest performers right out from the Vicomte de Changy's nose, who apparently lives below in the old catacombs from the Medieval period. She certainly was different from the rest of them, and he couldn't help but stare at her strangely at her request.
"What?"
"You want to go on an adventure...here?"
It was her turn to glance upon him strangely, "Well, that is what I said, isn't it?" she glanced into his eyes, as if reading his mind almost. "Ah, I know what this is about. Your frightened of the Opera Ghost, aren't you."
He had to try not to scoff, if only she knew. Afraid of the Opera Ghost? Well, no he wasn't particularly afraid of him, only when he was in a rage or when he had done something to displease him. The Opera Ghost was his father, and after all, what son wasn't a little frightened of his father. She didn't know that though, no one seemed to which he found most strange and quite funny. He wore a half-mask, just like the Phantom, his last name was Daae-Destler, and although no one knew of the Phantom's true identity, they certainly knew of his Mother's. It was no secret, the Phantom of the Opera had taken Christine as his own, giving her a chance to be with her "beloved" Vicomte, yet she chose to stay with him, the monster. Sure, no one knew what became of them, they had just assumed...well he wasn't really sure what they had assumed, because everyone here still feared the Opera Ghost, still believed he lived below. So then, what of Christine Daae?
Little did they know Erik and Christine had wed and did in fact live beneath the Opera House, that they also had a house in the country, hours away from Paris where they had stayed for a long while. They had children, twin boys and a daughter, and only returned to the Opera Populaire when their children had expressed a love for music and the arts, and wanted to be trained properly. So they lived below during the Opera Season and went away to their home in the country when it had ended. He was honestly surprised no one had figured it out yet, sure Madame Giry knew as well as a few other choice people, and now he had a feeling Marjorie suspected as well, but other than that these people really were imbeciles.
In truth, she knew the Phantom wasn't a myth. She had seen the shadows from the mirror that resided in the dorms, she had seen Madame Giry speak in hushed tones to shadows, she knew there had to be some relation between Theo and the Opera Ghost. She wanted to know what became of Christine Daae, the chorus girl with the voice of an angel, and her love affair with the devil himself. Was she happy? Did she regret her mistake? Did she ever see sunlight, or were they confined to the catacombs that lay beneath? She so much wanted to know and she wanted to know of this boy in front of her, so much. With his piercing eyes, introverted nature, regal speech...
Daae-Destler, obviously his mother married the monster - the man, she corrected, so did that mean the Phantom had a name? Did that mean Theo and Demitri, their sister Misha...they were the product of music, beautiful music, and an age old tale of beauty and the beast...
He watched her gaze drift off, her brows scrunched in thought, as she attempted to figure out the riddle within. He knew she was close, she wasn't stupid or blind as the others seemed to be. She had all the pieces, she just needed to complete the puzzle. He watched in fascination, they were seafoam in color but at the moment they looked like a raging storm as her eyes glazed over with realization. She brought her gaze up to meet his, his green eyes were already settled upon hers. Her mouth opened to speak, but he cut her off by standing up.
He held out his hand to her, "Do you trust me?" their contact never breaking when she placed her hand in his larger one. "Yes."
He smiled, it almost appeared sinister, like she didn't make the right choice in saying yes, yet she was not afraid. He tugged her hand and their trance seemed to break, bringing them back into reality. "Then we have an adventure to go on."
She smiled widely, grasping his hand tighter and followed him as he began walking faster. They raced out of the theatre and into the main entryway, he pulled her up the large stairs, then again to the left, going up. She realized that they were near where the private boxes where located, but they walked past them, her hand still held firmly in his. He took her through a door that lead up, and they ended up in a utility room. She looked around, the walls were covered in horrid wallpaper, peeling from age, there were mops and brooms everywhere. She looked up at him with eyebrows raised, this was what he wanted to show her?
He smiled and opened a door in front of them, nudging her with their entwined hands to go first. She looked at him curiously before stepping outside the door and onto...a catwalk? She held his hand a little tighter, holding onto the railing with her free hand, he seemed to walk perfectly fine up here and she cursed herself for acting so childish. He moved them along until they were facing center stage, and he heard her gasp of surprise. It was beautiful, simply breathtaking. From where they stood, she had an excellent view of the stage and the chandelier above. It was like they were apart of the ceiling, part of the exquisite painting, part of heaven itself. It all looked so serene and peaceful with no one on stage or in the audience, it was quite except for their breathing, and she had never been anyplace more peaceful.
As if reading her mind, he shook his head and smiled, his mouth close to her ear. "This is just the beginning." His whisper was deep, seductive without trying, it sent goosebumps along her skin, and she wasn't sure but she could've sworn there was a second meaning in that phrase.
She turned her head to look at him, almost catching his lips with her own. He kept her gaze as he pulled her slowly to follow him, through a different secret door. They were walking through a dark stone hallway, it got smaller and thinner as time went on. She felt as though they had been walking for hours, when it reality it was only a few minutes. He released her hand from his, "Hold on." then proceeded to move something heavy out of the way, sunlight slowly flowing around them. He turned back to look at her, the sun created this glow in the darkness around her, making the blond in her hair stand out and her pale skin gleam. She looked beautiful.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto...the roof?! She held onto him tighter, they were on the roof, so very close to the edge and all he could do was chuckle in her ear. He moved with the grace of a wild cat, grace the best of dancers didn't possess, she envied him. He lead her to more safe ground and stood behind her holding her waist, as she looked out at the city of Paris. Winter was fast approaching, so it was chilly and wind whipped at her hair and cheeks, but she couldn't bring herself to mind. It was literally quite breathtaking, the way the sun rose over the Parisian streets and people walked all around. She almost felt like she was flying.
"This is where I come to think." His voice was no louder than a whisper, yet it startled her because it had been silent for so long. "Sometimes, it just gets too loud in there, too distracting. I don't know how Demitri does it, he loves the chaos of the theatre. I suppose I do too, to an extent. But here, here it's like nothing exists, just sky and fresh air. Its so peaceful."
She had listened to him talk and watched as he meandered around the roof top, idly jumping on stone statues and kicking pebbles with his shoes. He seemed like a child in that moment, and for all his worldliness and maturity, he was really just a boy at heart. She wondered if anyone else had made that discovery about him, or if she was the first one. The sun gleamed off the white porcelain of his mask, she had honestly forgotten about it until that moment. She wondered what was under there, were they bruises, scars, burns, what? She would never breech his personal space and rip it off, but she couldn't help but wonder. Even if curiosity killed the cat, the Phantom never killed Christine and she had seen what lie beneath. She couldn't help but wonder if it would be the same case with her, if she saw what lie beneath would she be eternally his? Would he fall into a fit of rage and she would never be seen again?
No, that seemed more Demitri's style, Theo was too gentle, too nice. She shook her head, why was she thinking about this with him standing next to her, staring out at the beauty that was Paris from above. She trusted him, he wouldn't harm her. And she didn't care about his mask, no matter how much it plauged her with wonder, she didn't care. He was Theo, he was her friend, she liked him, it didn't matter.
He looked over at her and saw the way her brows furrowed in thought, he wondered what she was thinking of. He saw how red her smooth skin was becoming from the cold and knew it was time to get back inside before they both caught sickness. He grabbed her hand softly and smiled when she looked at him. She returned the smiled and he pulled her over to one of the smaller gargoyles, pushing the wing aside and waited for her to go first. She made to go in but paused and turned to him, "Theo," he looked into her eyes. "can I see it?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, confused with her question. "Where you live, can I see it?"
He bit his bottom lip for a moment, thinking, before bringing his eyes back up to meet hers. "You have to promise me." She waited patiently for him to find the correct words to use. "You have to swear that no matter what, you won't tell. I'm trusting you Marjorie."
"I promise."
He grasped her hand tightly, looking into her eyes but she felt as though he was looking at her very soul. "Okay then." He let go of her hand and let her wonder into the darkness with him close behind, he pushed the wing back into place once they were inside. He took her hand in his and walked in front of her, it had taken a while but he was able to roughly see in the dark, a night vision of sorts.
He thought about where he was taking her, that he was actually going to do it, bring her down into the place that no one ever dared come to but also thought about. He knew it was natural for her to be curious, everyone in the entire theatre was and the rumors about his family, more specifically his father, certainly didn't help matters. He had never really thought he'd take anyone down there, he had no need to, he didn't have friends. He looked over to the girl walking beside him, talking softly about something funny that happened during rehearsal the other day, he found her beautiful and interesting. But, was that really enough to bring her down into his domain?
He felt her clutch his hand a little tighter as they saw light coming up ahead and he heard a squeak as he pulled her down a tunnel away from it. He could tell she wanted to ask him questions about where they were and where they were going but she wouldn't, she was trusting him. He felt an unexplainable feeling bubble up in his chest and his smile widened. He pushed at part of the wall and it opened, revealing a lit hallway and she put a hand in front of her eyes, shielding them.
"Where are we?"
"Across from the Prima Donna's dressing room."
He said it with such an air of nonchalant that it almost made her laugh, it this was everyday stuff that she should've just known. She watched as he looked down each end of the hallways before jumping down and pulling her out, he picked up the piece of wall off the floor and putting back. As he set it back into place, it looked as though it had never moved... She ran her fingers over the wall trying to find the creases that made it a trap door, but couldn't find them. It amazed her, where did they find these places, had they always just been there?
"Come on."
She turned to his whispering form and walked over to the Diva's door with him. "Were going in there?"
He smiled at her and opened the door quickly and ushered her in. She had never been in the Prima Donna's room, it wasn't much different from the Prima Ballerina's, just a bit more luxurious she supposed. She watched as he walked over to the full length mirror and stared at it for a moment.
"So, is this part of the tour too or do you just like to raid the Diva's things while she's not looking."
He chuckled from where he was manhandling the mirror, seemingly looking for something. "That would be a no, I have nothing but a bitter taste in my mouth for Vivianne de Changy or her cousins."
It was true, she was utterly the worst Prima Donna the Opera Populaire had ever seen, even worse than the Italian Carlotta Gucielli who used to reside here before the fire and her ultimate retreat back to Italy. Vivianne was the daughter of Phillipe de Changy, the infamous Raoul's older brother, she was in her late twenties, bright blond hair and a busty figure. She was also Paris' biggest pain in the ass, even the King's young niece wasn't as bratty as the de Changy girl.
It wasn't like her cousins were all that better either, she couldn't help the snort of disgust as she thought of them. The perfectly blond sister Audrianna and her broad older brother Adrien. The de Changy's still Patroned the Opera House, helping it immensely after the fire, but it just gave the bratty kids an excuse to run around and do as they pleased, even more so now that their cousin was Prima Donna.
She was pulled out of her hate-fulled reverie by the snapping of something and Theo's humm of excitment. The mirror was sliding open to reveal a hidden tunnel, he was walking into it, holding his hand out for her. She walked over, her mouth hanging open in shock as she looked on the other side of the open mirror and found that she could see right through it into the room.
"Its a two way mirror," There was such shock in her voice and a smile smile on her face. "are all the mirrors here like that?"
He watched the way her face dropped at little at the thought, as though it just occurred to her that it wasn't really that cool, that it was actually more than a little bit eerie to think that someone was watching her undress.
"Not all of them."
She hit him lightly for the smirk on his face and let him shut the mirror behind them before Vivianne walked in and found it open. They walked down the disturbingly quiet stone tunnel, the scurrying of rats and the cob webs didn't bother her in the slightest. She kinda liked that they could walk side by side in silence and not have it be awkward, if she wanted to talk she would and he was listen to her little stories and enjoy them. They walked on and on until she heard the most heartbreaking sound, a splash.
"Damn it."
He watched as she back up from where he was standing and pulled her leg up to her face. It still amazed him that she could do things like that, that she was literally that flexible. His sister and Molly Giry were that flexible, but that just grossed him out. Marjorie doing it made him hot and bothered, his sister and the girl he considered his sister, not so much.
"What happend?"
She looked over to him and kicked her leg out to him, gesturing to her pointe shoe. "I almost got them wet, this ones a little damp though."
"So?"
She put her leg back on the ground and gave him a funny look. "You know, for a smart guy who has a ballerina for a sister and hangs around them all day, you really don't know that much." He shook his head ruefully, "Alas, I don't."
She chuckled, "Well, I can't get my pointe shoes wet or they'll be ruined and I don't have money to buy new ones, therefore Madame Giry will have my ass."
He quirked an eyebrow at her but thought about what she had said. She obviously didn't have time to change before they left for this little escapade and they couldn't go back through the mirror now, so the only way to go was forward. But if what she said about her ballet shoes were true then she couldn't continue because the farther they got the more watery it became because of the lake.
He let out a sigh, "Alright then, climb on." She looked at him like he really was a monster for a moment, like he had made some lude suggestion. "What?"
"I'll carry you until we get to the boat."
He watched her brow furrow and her mouth hang open wider, "There's a boat?"
"Well where do you think all this water comes from? We have to have a boat to get across the lake to where our home is."
Saying it out loud for the first time, he started to realize just how strange they actually sounded. Using secret passages and going across lakes in boats isn't generally how one gets to their house. No wonder people thought them strange, if they had really any idea about all this they would surely laugh.
"Yeah, it does sound a little sketchy..." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll carry you though, so you don't ruin your shoes."
She seemed to think about it for a moment, accepting his answers about his strange living conditions and nodded her head. "Yeah, yeah, alright, if you really don't mind."
"Trust me, I don't."
She rolled her eyes at him but the smile on her face effectively killing it. She walked over to where he was and stood on the pointes of her shoes, jumping up onto his waist and his arms came around to support her bottom as her arms went around his neck to steady herself. She looked down at him, the way he held her weight as if she were nothing, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and his dark green eyes boring into hers.
She lifted her hand from his neck and brushed the curls out of his eyes, she let her hand move down to his cheek, resting there. She moved her thumb over his cheekbone gently, she slowly moved her lips to his, hovering gently before pressing them to his. He responded back with the pressure of his own, it was still gentle, soft, new. She pulled back and looked at him, finding no qualms in his eyes she moved her mouth forward again against his, he responded quickly this time, kissing her back with ferocity that he didn't even know he possessed.
She tightened her legs around his waist and he walked foward until her back hit the stone wall, mouths still firmly attached. His lips brushed hers again and she sighed against them, the noise catching in her throat as his long fingers moved up from where they gripped her waist and up the spine of her back. His hands inched higher up, his fingers splayed against the thin leotard over her skin, barely tickling, exploring with the same eager, intoxicating pace as his tongue in her mouth. Before she really knew what was happening his mouth had left hers and travelled to her jaw and then to the side of her neck.
She squirmed gently against him at the sensations it brought, living in an Opera House most of her live didn't really leave much time for a social one, she had never really done alot with a boy before so all the feelings were quite new. Of course she had kissed a boy or two, a boy named John when she lived in England and then Jaque and Antwan here, but she had never been kissed like this. She vaguely wondered if he had ever done this before, seeing as he was taking the lead, but she pushed it out of her head for now and let him devour her.
She pulled his head back up to hers and kissed him slowly, teasingly. He pulled back slightly to look at her in the eyes, "Do you want to see where I live or what?"
She smiled at his playful tone, "Why yes, I do."
He pulled her body from the wall, putting his arms under her bottom to support her and started walking down the wet tunnel to where the bank of the lake was located. She played with the curls and waves that the top of head was filled with, grasping the back of his hair with her fingers, running them threw it. She bent her head down to his neck, starting to suckle on the pallid flesh there and revelling in the sounded he made, the hitch in his breathing, and the fact that he had to stop twice to regain his composure.
He almost pushed her into another wall with all the kisses to his neck and the mewing in his ear, he saw the light from the lake up ahead and was never more greatful than that moment. He wanted nothing more than to thrown her down on the ground and have his way with her but he knew he wouldn't. He set her down gently in the boat and jumped in behind her to paddle.
"I never knew there was a lake down here."
"No one really knows why its here either."
"Yeah but, I never even would've guessed." He liked the sound of a laugh in her voice, he thought it sounded even more beautiful.
"So, you live in a cave?"
"Well, essentially yes, but only until the Opera seasons over, then we go home." He chuckled, "We do actually have a real house but its on the outskirts of Paris, so its just easier to stay here until everything done with."
"Whats your real house like then?"
He thought about it, no one had ever really asked him personal questions before, except that is Marjorie who seemed to find intrusive questions all the more fun than regular ones.
"Its, big. Manor like. My Father and my Uncle Nadir built it years ago, he just never had an excuse to live in it until he married my Mom. And my fathers all for nice things, seeing as he never had any growing up."
"So, its true then, the rumors about your father."
They had reached the other side and he jumped off the boat and helped her out of it and into what was there pseudo-music room. All around them were candles, illuminating the whole place, brightly colored rugs adorned the cavern walls giving them a homely feeling rather than that of a cave. The "room" they were in seemed to be the music room, a piano and organ sat parallel to her, sheet music and artistic supplies were strewn everywhere. She could see just beyond Theo a door of sorts that was covered by two red drapes.
"Depends on which rumors your speaking of, the ones about the Phantom taking my Mother and her lover hostage then killing them both are obviously lies."
"Your father is actually the Phantom then, he really married Christine Daae."
Her voice was filled with such wonder and the smiled in her eyes was irresistible to him. "You sound slightly surprised and slightly happy."
"My Mother used to tell me the story of the Phantom of the Opera and how he longed for the beautiful chorus girl Christine Daae who was stolen away by the ever handsome but foppish Raoul de Changy. She told it to me as a love story, with a horrible ending because no one ever really knew what had actually happened after the chandelier dropped, that is of course, except all parties involved. We used to make up our own endings about what happened, filled with happy ones and disregarding what everyone thought about her falling for the Vicomte. Which is ironically funny seeing as our endings had actually come true, seeing as your parents are married and I'm assuming happy."
She really never stoped suprising him this one.
"Well, I can assure you that my parents are in fact married, happy and sickeningly still in love."
This seemed to please her greatly, the thought that just the fact that his parents were happy together pleased her without even knowing them struck a cord in him, one that made him warm with delight. He had never met a girl that was this easy to please, stories about his parents happiness and lurking in hidden corridors, and she was set. This might be simpler than he originally thought.
He gave her the grand tour, from the music room they walked through the doorway with the red drapes and found a kitchen - thing. It was a medium sized room with a table in the center, to the left were cabinets built into the stone walls, a sink with a counter attached to it, and even an icebox. There were two doorways with different colored drapes for them, one was straight ahead and the other was to the right. To the right was a living room area, complete with armchairs, a sofa, shelves of books and Demitri's sketch books thrown about, a large golden and burgundy rug covered the floor. Through the other was a hallway that lead to the occupants rooms, the first left was a hallway that extended into his sister Misha's room, the next was a right that had a small hallway leading toward Demitri's, then of course the next left was his and the room at the end of the hall was his parents.
His room was so very like him, tidy, neat, with a constructive chaos that added to its appeal. The walls were lined with shelves of books of all different kinds, the rug on the floor was a deep green that reminded her of his eyes, the bed stood in a corner, a canopy with green drapes that looked like silk ever from where she stood, the violin case propped up at the foot of the bed, sheet music was splattered around the floor like paint but she found it didn't look at all messy, it just looked liked it belonged there.
He lead her back out into the pseudo music room and they sat at the piano and played silly children's hand games until she asked him to play for her.
"I can't believe you don't know how to play Pretty Little Dutch Girl. That was like my favorite game when I was little."
He looked at her, his fingers still moving over the ivory keys with complete ease that still amazed her. "Yeah, well, you didn't know Long Legged Sailor and I mean come on, everyone knows that one."
She pushed his shoulder teasingly and laughed along with him. They settled into a comfortable silence, the only sound was their breathing and the song he started playing.
"Can I ask you a question?" She seemed almost hesitant about it and he saw as she bit her lip lightly and looked up at him slowly. "Of course."
"Well its kind of a personal question."
He chuckled lightly, "Those are your favorite kind, are they not?"
She smiled a little, seeming at ease with his agreement to answer her. "Don't you hate people blatantly staring at your mask and not your eyes?"
Her voice sounded strained, as though she felt the pain for him. He sighed a little, it always came back to the mask, always. He thought she had looked past it, but that was a silly thought, no one could look past his mask. He looked into her eyes and found that thought faltering slightly at what he saw there.
"I-I'm only asking because, I see the way people look at you, hear what the girls whisper and none of it makes much sense to me." She looked down, her brows furrowed, shaking her head. "I don't know why you wear a mask - and its not my place to ask - but, but people just stare! Like your a side show and they say your not handsome because of a piece of porcelain that covers portion of your face."
She looked up at him threw her lashes, a move that usually drove him crazy with desire.
"How do you do it, how do you stay so calm and sweet and gentle? I would've gone crazy and started shooting death rays out of my eyeballs by now if I were you."
Somehow, he was taking this all as a major compliment, the greatest one he'd seem to have received as of late. She knew it wasn't her place to ask about the mask, even though she was curious she trusted him, and she wanted to know how he wasn't killing most of Paris by this point. He couldn't really think of anything to respond to something like that, no one had ever asked him how he felt about it, they always just assumed they knew: angry. And true, he was angry at the world, angry at every person that glanced his way with horror or shock in their eyes, but he was almost past that point now, the caring part...Alright that was a lie, he did care, he really, really did. He wished people didn't stare, didn't ask questions that he wasn't going to answer. He wished people just liked him, not to get to his brother or in some cases sister. He wished more people were like Marjorie.
He did the only thing he could think of doing, he brought his hand gently up to her face, tracing the smooth skin of her cheekbone, pushing the escaped pieces of dark golden hair out of her face. He cupped his hand under her jaw and brought her face up to meet his, he kissed her with as much gentle passion he possessed, telling her everything she'd wanted to know hopefully in this one kiss. He was vaguely aware that she was crawling across the piano bench and onto his lap, where he continued his assault of her mouth, gently probing with his.
For years of his young life he wished he could find the Christine to his Phantom, it was now, in his moment, he was sure he'd found her.