Okay, so if any of you readers have ever read any of my other work then you would know that I love The Phantom of the Opera. It's just such a wonderful story. So for this special, which is to relish within the theme of Halloween, I've decided to write a Phantom tale with Ethan, Rory, and Benny, and some other characters. Hopefully it won't be long, and hopefully I'll still be able to write the slash one-shot I mentioned last time – the one taking place during the Halloweird episode. Anyway, here's another Bethory story since people have been asking me to write yet another one.
Enjoy.
(Note: My Babysitter's A Vampire or The Phantom of the Opera does not belong to me, oh, and if you, the reader, have never seen Phantom then you guys should place your hand at the level of your eyes before I find you [Heh, a phantom reference]. Just kidding, even if you haven't read or seen that beautiful story then all is alright – this shall be as easy to follow as possible).
Wow, this is quite a long introduction, isn't it?
…
Paris, France
Opera Populaire, 1896
…
The opera house is at the height of triumph.
Not only was a new sopranist found at the last minute to replace the absence of Jessie, the previous leading sopranist for the last six years, but that replacement was none other than Ethan Morgan, a danseur of the corps de ballet. What a triumph – what a voice – and what an overall astonishment!
...
Ethan smiled hesitantly from within the flock of people that crowded his dressing room. He couldn't comprehend – no, understand (same thing) why people were fussing over him as such. Just yesterday he had been a danseur, and nothing more, but now he was a triumph – a being from heaven!
The boy smiled at himself at that, finding the irony of the very words he had only heard mere moments ago. He was no angel, no, his teacher was – that voice was.
'The Angel of Music,' he thought to himself, entering his room with the assistance of his female servant, Sarah, and the ballet mistress.
"You did very well," the woman encouraged, handing him a red rose from the folds of her dress, "he is pleased with you."
Ethan nodded accordingly and then watched as Sarah gave him a smile, rearranging the many gifts his 'admires' had sent. It seemed as though all the women in Paris knew who he was now.
"You really did do great." The girl then chimed, shrilling in delight once the mistress had left.
It was only behind closed doors that the two acted as what they truly were, friends. It wasn't ladylike for a woman such as Sarah, even despite her class, to behave so affectionately with a man who wasn't romantically involved with her. It was just unthinkable.
"I can't believe you never told me that you could sing like that, Ethan."
"…I hadn't been able to before." Ethan admitted with a short pause.
The girl stared at the boy curiously, wanting to ask him what he initially meant, but the door had once more opened with a flock of new admires. In other words, they parted their ways, and she fled before she could be scolded once more by anyone of entitlement.
"May I be alone?" Ethan asked the visitor, not even bothering to turn around much to the visitor's slight annoyance. Really, couldn't he have the decency to turn around and look at his childhood friend?
"Always did like solitude." The visitor voiced, chuckling when Ethan suddenly sprang to life in surprise.
"Rory!" The boy muttered happily, his face livid with color once more. In all honesty, Ethan felt as though he was nearly on the edge of fainting. He had given his soul to the music tonight, and now he was almost as one dead.
"Oh, Little Lotte, hair as dark as ash, look and see how he wishes to laugh. Listen as his radiant beauty sings, and hear him strung along like an angel with wings."
"You still remember that." Ethan chuckled.
"And just about everything else," The blond nodded, heading over to the boy who now sat before the vanity mirror, "…all those riddles and games."
"And outings and adventures," Ethan continued.
"…the picnics at dawn."
"…my father playing the violin."
"While we read to each other dark stories of the north," Rory laughed.
Ethan paused. "You know…one of the best stories he ever told us was the legend of the Angel of Music."
"I agree." Rory nodded, "and you know what…I believe he's visited you. Oh, that Angel of Music..."
"How can you tell?" Ethan now asked, his face immediately falling into question.
"It's quite obvious." Rory chuckled, grinning at the other naïve boy. "Just listen to your voice; if there is not an angel behind it, then it must be witch craft."
"So you believe then?" Ethan asked, "You believe that the angel is real, and that he has visited me?"
"Of course."
"Thank heavens." The brunette courted with a small smile, "at first, even up till now, I have thought myself mad for believing it so…but you can sense it to, you understand, Rory."
At this, the blond hesitated.
"Understand what?"
"You know that the angel has visited me, you can sense him to!"
"What?"
"You believe," the other courted once more, "I thought I was going mad – I thought I was being fooled, but it is true. He has come…just like my father had promised."
"Ethan," Rory stammered, pausing once more, "I don't understand."
"Of course you do," the brunette inclined, "you were there, Rory. Remember when my father lay dying?"
Rory nodded.
"Well, he had told me that he would send me the Angel of Music once he had reached heaven. And of course, my father is in heaven now, and I have been sent the Angel of Music."
"Ethan…"
"He sings to me," Ethan continued, not even remotely paying attention to the worried expression upon his friend's face. "Here in this room, Rory. He has the most beautiful voice."
"Ethan." Rory repeated, this time grabbing the shorter boy's attention.
"I think someone is making a game out of you…a joke."
"No." Ethan stammered, still slightly smiling. "It isn't. It can't be – I hear him."
"…Ethan," the blond said a third time, "Do you really believe that your father sent an angel from heaven just to teach you?"
"If not him…" Ethan grinned, "then who, Rory – who?"
Rory frowned. "You're not listening."
"No," Ethan pondered, "you're not listening. You just said that you believed in the angel but now you are trying to convince me that I am but a fool."
"Ethan, it's just that-"
"Go away." The brunette mumbled, looking back at the vanity mirror and away from Rory – his eyes already settling on the red rose before him.
"Ethan, I-"
"Please." Ethan insisted, giving the other a small smile, "I'm feeling tired, Rory…we can talk another time."
Rory nodded and then began walking to the door, all the while noticing that Ethan was holding a red rose between his fingers. 'Who had given him that?'
"Goodbye then…Little Lotte."
"Bye."
Once Rory was gone, Ethan sighed in utter exhaustion – his face growing pale once more. He really was as one dead, wasn't he? The boy placed the rose down and examined his face in the mirror. Since the performance, his eyes had darkened in color, and his cheeks had whitened and drained. Where was the soft pink to them? What had happened?
"You did excellent." A voice declared, pausing Ethan immediately in his seat.
"Angel?" He asked peering round.
"Yes, it is I – who else could it be?"
Ethan paused, noticing the small sound of irritation within the angel's voice.
"You are mad?" He asked.
"Certainly not your blond suitor," the voice continued, ignoring Ethan's question, "no, because that ignorant fool of fashion has left."
"He is not my suitor." Ethan insisted with a small blush. Really, Rory and he were just friends…
"You may think that." The voice rebutted, "But I'm not so sure he is quite up to date with your intentions with him. He seems awfully fond of you."
"We are but friends." Ethan stated flatly, quite unconvincingly though because of the angel's previous words. What were his intentions with Rory – actually, the real question was – what are Rory's intentions with him? "But I won't see him anymore, I promise. It's music before life, career before heart."
"If he is truly but a friend," the voice insinuated gravely, "then why ignore him? If he is truly a 'friend' then by all means, associate with the boy. But just remember this, Ethan, you sing only for me."
"Of course I sing only for you." Ethan gawked. "I sang my heart and soul tonight, and now I am dead."
"Your soul is a beautiful thing, Ethan." The voice remarked, its tone now returning to fondness. "Tonight the angels wept."
Ethan nodded and then peered round the room once more. He could never trace the exact spot the voice came from. It just seemed to resonate from every corner of the room.
It existed in the mere air, and nothing more.
"…when will you show yourself, angel?" Ethan asked, the mere question slipping from his tongue without another moment of hesitation. It was always at the end of their meetings that Ethan would ask this; actually it was because he would ask this that their meetings would end.
"Soon," the voice merely answered, fading away from the room like a forgotten echo, "very soon…"
The voice was now gone.
...
Rory glared at the door before him, wanting to tear the wood off its hinges.
He had but left Ethan's dressing room only a moment ago, thinking the boy was truly tired, but there was someone else in there with him now. Who could be in the room with Ethan, surely no maid from the sounds of the voice, but who? An admire – the person who had given him the rose?
"You are mad?"
"Certainly not your blond suitor, no, because that ignorant fool of fashion has left."
Who was he to call him an ignorant fool?
"He is not my suitor."
"You may think that, but I'm not so sure he is quite up to date with your intentions with him. He seems awfully fond of you."
Rory smiled a bit at that, finding triumph in the fact that this 'other' knew of his love for Ethan.
"We are but friends, but I won't see him anymore, I promise. It's music before life, career before heart."
Rory paled at that. Was Ethan being forced by some man – or did he truly not care for him as much as he had initially thought? 'No, this voice – this man, was demanding Ethan to obey him. What a fiend.'
"If he is truly but a friend, then why ignore him? If he is truly a 'friend' then by all means, associate with the boy. But just remember this, Ethan, you sing only for me."
'He sings only for whom?' Rory thought to himself.
"Of course I sing only for you. I sang my heart and soul tonight, and now I am dead."
"Your soul is a beautiful thing, Ethan. Tonight the angels wept."
Rory turned around in the hall and then peered down the passage. He had heard enough, but he wasn't about to go home just yet. He would wait till Ethan and the 'other' left the room, and then he would know who he was up against. For surely this 'other' was after the very same thing he had initially wanted for nearly ten years now, Ethan's heart.
After a while, the door to Ethan's dressing room had finally opened, revealing Ethan in a coat and a pair of grey gloves. Now Ethan was no patron, not like Rory himself, but he was no commoner either. He was somewhere in between, and that was good enough for Rory. Sure, there were rules set up against love such as this, Rory knew that. His family would disown him if he were to run off with an opera singer, a male one at that. But he didn't care, what truly mattered to him was Ethan.
Rory watched as Ethan entered the passage and left, but what shocked the blond was the absence of the 'other'. Where had he gone? Surely he's not still in the room.
When Ethan had fled, Rory had slipped into the dressing room, which was as black as night. He had called out to the other, hoping they would answer, but after a while he became confused. After another minute of standing in absolute darkness, he turned on the oil lamp, and was surprised to find himself alone in the room. There was no 'other', no trace of another door. So whose voice had he heard?
Who had demanded that Ethan would only sing for him?
…
And there's part 1.
Hopefully this catches on with readers, and you guys like it.
If not, well let me know.
(I will try to update as soon as possible for the next installments. This must be done before Halloween).
Sorry for grammar, didn't proof read – I need to head off to school right now.
- Peace.
