Wahhhhhh! Why does nobody like to comment on this...? Does no one appreciate my mushy, romantic typed parlance?! GAHHHH! Anyways, here ya go: the seventh chapter. With a fanservice-ish twist at the end.
Chapter Seven: Maybe
The red velvet curtain had come down upon the stage as the final arias of Don Quixote concluded and were rewarded with tremendous applause. Aleera only watched from backstage, admiring how her fellow dancers graced that stage with their nimble moves and seraphine tongues. Her envy was that of a pauper watching as society's elite passed him on the street: bitter, yet in a way, respectful. Right next to Aleera was Erik, dressed in the dark costume and black mask that he had worn at their private rehearsal. His hand rested on her shoulder, rubbing softly so as to comfort her.
That's when the applause didn't cease. Aleera's brown eyes went wide in shock and fear, and her gaze immediately averted to Erik. He only looked back down at her, excitement in his own cobalt orbs. This was it; their solo encore. Paris begged for it, and now, they had no choice but to satiate their hunger.
"Oh god, I don't think I'm ready," Aleera whimpered to her instructor in a panic, fidgeting with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her index finger spastically.
"My little darling, I have prepared you as much as you needed," Erik countered with a frown. "You are my pupil. I have my confidence in you, and you have the talent to make your fellow dancers go wild. Please don't let my faith in you be in vain..." His hand rested on her own jittery one, soothing it with his touch alone.
It was too late. The orchestra, though hesitantly, began their final number: the encore. The musicians had each found new sheet music on their stands, with a letter written to each section, eached sighed O.G. Erik had prepared well, and made sure that third trombone player got a good taste of how tone-deaf he was when tuning his instrument.
Aleera took a deep breath, and looked confidently up at Erik, before grabbing his hand and walking with him onstage, just as the curtain began to open. Erik was truly taken aback, but his lips instantly transformed into a smirk. Pulling Aleera's hips tight against his, one hand going to her waist and the other to take her own, he began to lead her perfectly across the stage, stepping in rhythm with the music.
Aleera's face was almost void of emotion as she danced with the Phantom to the fiery dance of the tango, but her body well made up for what her face could not express on its own. Her eyes did stray once toward the audience, to see what Paris's most cultured thought of her mediocre skills. Yet, they were forced back toward Erik's, as he dipped her down unexpectedly as a warning. Aleera could've laughed, but kept a solid expression, knowing that now she had to remain focused on her partner.
Backstage, one of the youngest chorus girls, little Meg Giry, beckoned the other dancers to come and observe Aleera. They did without hesitation, as well as Antoinette Giry, and observed with impressed eyes as this young novice was being led seductively to tango music of the Phantom's own design, but the Phantom himself.
"Mademoiselle Aleera...she's been taking lessons from him, hasn't she?" asked one of the older ballerinas, Celeste.
"She has to be," replied Nanette, a chorus girl. "Little Aleera couldn't have become so skilled in such a short time unless the Phantom himself were teaching her. He must be beating the lessons into her head after seeing her 'skills' on the stage at rehearsal. Madame Giry probably couldn't achieve this alone..." She sighed with pity. "The poor girl."
"How is she not scared?" Meg whispered to herself, but a stuck-up ballerina by the name of Margot heard her and instantly jumped into the conversation
"He's probably seducing her in some way, and she's falling for every trick he uses. How could she not be afraid of that freak of nature, the Opera Gho-"
"Margot Guinevierre, you will watch your tongue this minute!" Madame Giry snapped, forcing the girl to turn and look at her in the eyes, her own grayish-brown burning in anger. She then turned both their attentions back to Aleera and Erik, and a smile secretly crept onto Giry's face. Well done Erik. You'll turn this girl into another star...
Please, don't hurt yourself... You know what would happen if she were to lead you astray...
Sooner than expected, the music had ended, its last few notes in powerful staccato form, the two dancers freezing with Aleera being dipped once again, Erik gazing into her eyes. For a moment, the audience remained silent. This man in the black mask...he looked incredibly familiar. But from where? Nevermind that. After that moment of sickening silence, the audience stood and roared out in applause. It was enough to make Aleera's legs give out beneath her, but she straightened her body up once again. She stood forward with her hand in Erik's, bowing happily once to the right side of the theater, then to the left, then performing her own expression of gratitude, blowing a kiss to the audience members in each box. Even to box 5, which Erik did not mind being occupied for the first time in many years.
Meanwhile, up in a certain box before stage left, two figures gawked at what had just occurred. To the managers Moncharmin and Richard, the masked figure couldn't have been more familiar if you were to tear his mask from his demonic face. It was the Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera. How in God's name did he make it onto the stage? And only to be responded to with a thunder of applause. This was an absolute outrage.
"Firmin..." Moncharmin turned to his business partner, a mix of emotion in his age-faded eyes. "Do you suppose...?"
"That this was Mme. Giry's doing?" Richard seemed to be right on the same level. "There's not a solitary doubt in my mind." The manager was sitting there, dark anger in his eyes.
"We'll have to say something about this..." The two men stood just before the fall of the curtain, anxious to find Antoinette and have a word with her.
Back onstage, the curtain fell before the two performers, and now concealed, the other performers walked out with an applause of their very own. Aleera couldn't help but turn a bright shade of crimson. Erik could see it, too, and found it simply adorable. However, he began to find this crowd too bothersome raher fast, and took Aleera's hand, leading her swiftly off the stage, passing Madame Giry, who only looked over her shoulder, worry in her eyes.
Soon, the two were back in Aleera's dressing room, and Erik wasted no time in taking Aleera up in his arms, spinning her around happily. "My dear, you were passion itself," he said happily, setting his pupil back down on solid ground.
"Thank you, Monsieur Erik," Aleera laughed. "You were as well. I've never felt so passionate doing anything before..." The brunette was so thrilled about the events from that night, she didn't even notice that Erik's arms were still around her.
"I told you, ma cher. You had absolutely nothing to worry about." For the first time in a long time, the Phantom's eyes began to sparkle with pure emotion of the most wonderful sort. "My confidence wasn't all for naught after all..."
Aleera smiled, her eyes involuntarily moving to her feet before returning back to Erik's. A typical young girl. Slowly pulling from Erik's arms, she moved toward her red velvet chair in the corner of her dressing room and sat down. "Monsieur Erik...you can remove your mask. You don't have to wear it in my presence."
Erik's eyes almost widened. Yet again, she had invited the removal of his mask, instead of yanking it from his face. It almost made him want to cry out in joy. Instead, he dropped to his knees before Aleera, a smile on his face.
"You remove it..."
Aleera blinked a few times in surprise. "W-what...?" She knew what he had said, but it seemed as if her mind refused to translate the words into something simple enough for her to comprehend.
Erik smiled at her timidness and reached for her soft, small hand, placing it on the mask but right at the edge of it. "Remove it for me, my little darling..."
With a small nod, Aleera's fingers curled around the edge of the black leather mask and cringed slightly as she pulled it from his face, her hand shaking. The mask was then placed to rest in her lap, and her eyes scanned Erik's face. Not one drop of fear laid in her liquid gaze, but tears began to form in their place.
Erik's head tilted to the side in confusion, moving closer to her. "Aleera...what is wrong?" He asked in a whisper, his thumb moving up to wipe away the wet trails on her soft cheek.
"I don't understand..." Aleera whispered back, sniffling slightly. "How could anyone label you as a monster? You have shown me such bountiful kindness, trained me to become something great in only two days...something I could be proud of."
It seemed to be this that brought her back to that lonesome, colorless void of a room in the funeral home, where she had sat with other relatives from her home back in Italy, to listen to the last will and testament of Salvatore and Gianna Lorenti. Her parents. Her section.
To my daughter, little Mademoiselle Aleera. My dear, you are the light of the world. Whether this is to be read to you as a child, or when you have a family of your own, I am sure that you will continue to strive for greatness. I do wish, however, that you could see yourself as something...more. It is true, I haven't been present too often at our homes, both in Capri and here in Paris, but I have heard what your maids and attendants have said about you. My dear, plans have been arranged including your intentions for you to become something great...something that you can be proud of...
Aleera's eyes closed, and the tears continued to fall. Erik looked at this girl with the utmost sympathy, and leaning in with a sharp inhale, he ghosted his lips over her tears, brushing them away. Erik despised pity more than anything, including the people that had made his life a living hell, but something about this girl had convinced him that her feelings for his fate involved more than just pity. "Aleera..." He breathed out her name softly as if it were a prayer.
"Monsieur Erik...?" Aleera looked upon the man before her, her eyes now full of confusion. The sounds of her heartbeat and labored breath became well audible to them both.
"Erik...just Erik..." He moved closer to her, and was absolutely shocked when she didn't retreat back. "Aleera...my little darling..." One hand now rested against Aleera's cheek, caressing it gingerly with his musical fingers.
Inches apart...
Erik seemed to halt in his tracks, scared of what he wanted to accomplish, but his scarred, bruised heart could've stopped its beat right then and there, as Aleera's warm lips closed in on his. Finally joining them together in a wave of slow, heated hope.
