This chapter was acually meant to be called 'Hide Your Face So The World Will Never Find You' but it was too long.
The dark, earthy and usually silent underground which Erik had made his home was now being invaded by the sounds of thumping, cheery music and general merry-making. The Bal Masque that those bumbling idiots André and Firmin were throwing was proving to be more annoying and more difficult to ignore than what Erik had previously thought. The loud and obnoxious music was putting a dampener on his creativity and to make matters worse he was completely distracted by the thought of Christine being twirled around by that insufferable Vicomte. Being held close as his hands rested on her gentle curves and she rested her beautiful, doll-like face against his handsome shoulders as they danced long into the night.
He would not be able to compose tonight. The thought of Christine clad in a luxurious ball gown which floated elegantly whenever she walked was too much for him. He was forced by this inviting, seductive image to don his own mask, cleverly disguising him as a regular citizen of Paris and head to the surface of which he saw so little of. Erik missed the warm sensation of the sun on his face, although he would never admit it. He felt that if he told himself that he hated the sun, he would begin to believe it and the urge for the pleasant beams shining upon him or the cool summer breezes would dissipate and would be replaced with a constant need to stay where he is, safe and enclosed from all the world. He decided not to wear the 'Red Death 'outfit as people would recognise him and Christine would surely run. So he settled for a simple black costume which did not bring attention to him but still disguised him.
He climbed through the various secret passageways that concealed his home and ascended into the upper area of the Opera Populaire, where the music and festivities were filling the empty halls with echoed notes, laughter and general chit-chat. He made his way through the throng of drunken people, sloppily falling over each other in an inebriated enamoured state. He wished he could be like that with Christine, without a care in the world. He would not have to worry about people sneering at his disgusting, malformed face. This is the reason he liked masquerade balls, people would not question his mask-wearing as in this environment, it was the norm, he could ease his way through the crowd and that, is precisely what he did. He mingled with the idiot mass that was populating the grand hall of the Opera Populaire and acted as though he were one of the aristocratic fops that seemed to be crawling out of the woodworks in Paris. This was not something he enjoyed doing. He hated people and the fate that they forced upon him.
Erik saw a glimpse of that warm, heavenly face that he had so longed for, but it immediately disappeared into the busy crowd forcing him to chase it down. He wanted to dance with Christine at the very least; he wanted to hold her perfect face framed by her perfect curls against his misshapen chest and dance with her until they both grew weary or too drunk to stand and collapsed as their bodies entwined in an intoxicated mess. He wished her to call out 'Erik!' as their hips met each time in their frenzied passion and not 'Raoul!' He never wished her to call his name. He longed for her to call him 'Erik' at least. She often referred to him as 'Phantom' or 'Opera Ghost'. He despised those names. They made him out to be some sort of dead corpse, back to haunt the living in an eternal rage. He was not a ghost, he never was. He was very much alive, but gave the impression that he must have been supernatural from his stage trickeries and general magician-ship.
One of the ballet rats took his hand and began to spin him round the room in a dizzying display of a shambolic dance. The poor thing was barely able to stand let alone dance and especially not in circles. This feat proved too great for her and she faltered away into the arms of one of the equally as inebriated stage hands. He caught another glimpse of Christine as she stood with Raoul, conversing with an old friend they had not seen in a good amount of years. He daren't get any closer to her, for he feared she would recognise him somehow and alert people to his existence and as much as he wanted to simply snatch her away, he did not want to cause more commotion about him as his home was at stake.
Seeing his Christine with that insufferable Vicomte infuriated Erik. There was something about his general person that made Erik boil with a rage he had not discovered before meeting him. He had a handsome face and a lot of money, which seemed to woo girls at every angle. Raoul had everything that Erik wished he could have and more, including his beloved Christine, which was really all he wanted in life. There was one thing Erik was sure of, and that was his ability to fill Christine's person with a passion that could only be achieved through the most beautiful of music. Raoul could never accomplish this, and it left Erik feeling like he had an upper hand at something, regardless of how many accomplishments Raoul had and regardless of those Erik would never be able to attain. Perhaps he hated the Vicomte because he was all that Erik wished he could be with some left over! He was kind and courteous and had the manners, not to mention patience of a saint! He was never rude and could control his temper and hold his tongue. These were all qualities that Erik did not possess, and these were the qualities that Christine seemed to admire in Raoul. Maybe, she only adored them because they were the exact opposite of Erik's.
Still! He had always been gentle with her, apart from when she had ripped off his mask to reveal his horrid face. Then his temper had overcome him and he had trailed her about him using her own hair. He was ashamed of himself for allowing himself to hurt her like he did, if only he could show her that he was not like that, that he was gentle and kind and romantic. Oh, how he tried to be romantic! He had a whole room for her; he had made music for her the likes of which the world had never seen! He promised he would only say 'I love you' when she permitted and the rest of his time would be devoted her and to his music. Ah, if he had someone devoting their entire life to him! He would love them and care for them more than they had ever been cared for before in their life. They would not have to worry about being rejected, as long as the person who loves him is Christine of course.
Erik spent the remainder of his night stalking Christine through the hectic horde of the Parisian populace that packed the Grand Hall of the Opera Populaire. He followed her every move as she made her way with Raoul through the party and as they chatted to several of their acquaintances and old friends. He even got so close, he could almost touch her at one point, but he knew that if he did, it would mean an end to the secret life he had just began to grow accustomed to. He returned to his layer of solitude at the end of the night when the crowd had thinned out and there were only a few stragglers left behind. His night of following Christine had given him a new hope, that maybe this time, he could convince her that he was the better choice.