Author's Note: Look at me, updating fics when I should be studying for CETs. Hermione Granger would be proud of me, I have no damn clue on how to get my priorities straight. I have zero regrets though. Here's another update in the same week because I owe you lovely people that much after such a long absence! I think I'm getting back on track when it comes to having a steady update schedule, yay!

Quick question though ― how is my portrayal of Erik? It's just that I've been through the reviews recently and I realized that there are actually very few comments in total regarding how I write Erik. A little feedback would be nice since I do want to know whether or not I'm doing him justice, especially since I actually find him very easy to write. Pretty please?

( twenty-four )

THINK OF ME

New Year came faster than Jovan anticipated. The months that led up to what she came to recognize as Elea's last production and not as the opera about a man who lost his wife to the Devil swiftly rolled by, almost gone in the blink of an eye. But she made sure to make the most out of those last days that she had left with Elea, the ballerina doing the same as they both stole time from before, between, and after rehearsals to spend it together. To Jovan, it was as if they had returned to their old habits, long before she came to the Opéra Populaire and when they were just two young girls who were blind to the cruelties of the world, living in ignorant bliss. However the imminent departure of her best friend still loomed over Jovan like a shadow, haunting her during the moments where she only had her thoughts for company.

When the night before New Year arrived, even Jovan was thrown into the flurry that was the preparation for the Masquerade. It was not the first time that she had to partake in the arrangements so she moved there and about more easily than last time. When the clock struck eight in the evening, that was when the carriages began to arrive, unloading lavishly costumed members of high society into the opera house's grand foyer. Jovan only planned to stick around long enough for Elea and Aldrich to arrive, the couple donning white outfits when they turned up at the entrance. While Elea had told Jovan days ago that she and her fiancé would be emulating the ballet Swan Lake, it seemed more to Jovan that they were already dressed for the altar.

As the Bal Masqué commenced, Jovan remained hidden in one of the upper rings of the foyer, along with a few of the more curious members of the opera staff. She had no plans to meet Elea below in the crowd, having no costume of her own nor the want to embarrass her friend, but Jovan was fine with that. She was content to watch the brunette socialize with other guests and enjoy herself among the sea of masked faces and music. Elea's laughter reached Jovan's hears as a man wearing the outfit of a Roman general whispered something into her ear.

"Who're you spying on?" a voice came from behind her which Jovan instantly recognized as Mateo's.

"Just Elea," Jovan replied as she felt Mateo take the spot on her left, imitating her cross-legged position on the floor.

"You're not going to watch her all night, are you? Because that's... that'd be creepy."

"Heavens, no." Jovan shot the younger stagehand a look of disbelief. "I was actually just about to leave when you arrived."

Mateo didn't seem to hear her reply as his eyes remained glued to the masked multitudes below. "Where do you think the Phantom's at? Perhaps he's among the crowd?"

Jovan refrained from heaving a sigh as Mateo's words pulled her back to the memory of Erik. The Phantom had grown particularly irritable ever since the holidays began, causing Jovan to decrease the frequency of her visits to the man to avoid letting his low spirits dampen her own mood. After a few comments about how inane Christmas was and then one that made sense to Jovan ("What's so delightful about the holidays when the destitute are out there freezing in the snow?"), she had thought it better to spend her time with either Elea or Mateo and not with a moody Opera Ghost. Of course, she'd told Erik about this decision to avoid any misunderstandings in the future, and he'd sent her away with a wave of his hand while mumbling unintelligibly under his breath. Jovan could only hope that his disposition would improve once New Year arrived.

"How am I supposed to know? What's got you so damn interested in the Phantom anyway?" Jovan asked, arching a brow.

"Maybe the fact that he's capable of doing something either very clever or terrifying at any moment," Mateo said with an uneven grin.

"Do you mind clarifying, but do you think that the Phantom's a man or a ghost?"

"Doesn't matter to me, not that it's going to change a single thing around here."

Jovan couldn't agree more, but she bit her lip to stop a reply from escaping her lips. She couldn't exactly tell Mateo that Erik was indeed a bit of both, could she? He was very much a man, yes, with bones beneath his skin and air in his lungs, but he lived his days as a ghost, hiding in shadows and haunting the walls of the opera house. More than anything, it was actually sad, how a genius like Erik had to hide from the world because of one imperfection that could easily be overlooked if only people were a little more kinder.

"Hey," Mateo said as he poked her arm with his elbow. "Julien and I are going down to a nearby pub. Wanna come?"

"What?"

"The Harpy's Haven. Not far and it's pretty obscure."

"I know which pub. And no," Jovan swiftly answered, the idea of being around intoxicated men holding zero appeal to her, even with two other guys to watch over her. Yes, she trusted Mateo, seeing as he was one of her friends and that he was absolutely uninterested in the opposite sex, and Julien a bit too, since he was a fellow stagehand after all and had proven himself over time to be one of the more sensible people around (even if he was still scared silly of the Opera Ghost), but Jovan didn't think that she could pass for a man when it came to going outside the opera house, something that would've been preferable if she did want to go to some public bar. But the risks were just too high, especially the one of being seen and recognized, so she had to decline Mateo's invite, no matter how well-hidden the pub was or how much she wanted to go outside.

"Alright then, suit yourself," Mateo remarked as he stood up before stretching his arms. "Don't stay up late."

"Yes, yes. Your concern is deeply moving," Jovan retorted as she felt his hand give her head a pat before he finally walked away.

Jovan let a moment pass before she too got up to her own feet, dusting her trousers as she did so, and took her leave of the hall. She went straight to the dormitories only to see the room occupied by none other than Christine and Meg. After greeting the two 'Happy New Year' and gaining one in return, Jovan took her cloak and made her way to the rooftop.

Much to her dismay, the place wasn't empty. There was a young couple present, but at least they stayed on the side of the rooftop that was opposite the one Jovan frequented. As her boots fell mute against the white snow, Jovan found herself inching closer to the edge until she was met with a view of the mass of masked people scattered upon the steps that led to the Opéra Populaire.

Even from the rooftop, the music and singing was audible. As if the flirtatious tête-à-tête wasn't enough from the couple in the distance, Jovan found herself wishing that she could just burrow herself into some dark and silent corner of the opera house where she couldn't be bothered until the morning stole away the festivities of the night. The Phantom's lair came to mind, but that was out of the question and Jovan quickly shoved the thought away.

Gathering her thoughts, a feminine giggle that drifted from the couple afar reminded Jovan of Elea once more. She remembered that her friend ― her best friend, her childhood friend ― would be leaving the opera house come the next morning. It would be a difficult thing, Jovan knew, to have to reshape her reality when there would be nothing left but the empty space where Elea used to be. She could only hope that she still had strength to spare in letting go one of the people she held closest to her heart.

When a tear fell from her eye, Jovan quickly wiped it away.

1877

"Just ― just put the pin over there."

"Here?"

"A little bit more to the left."

"Here?"

"There," Elea confirmed with a smile as Jovan placed the pin on her hair, finishing the half updo hairstyle that the ballerina had wanted. Placing down the handheld mirror on her lap, Elea looked over her shoulder to Jovan and cracked a grateful grin.

"See? I told you you could it," she teased with a glint in her eye.

"Oh, please. Between the two of us, you're still the better stylist," Jovan replied with a playful roll of her eyes.

"You did more than a decent job," Elea offered as she reached up to gently pat her pinned curls. Jovan stepped away to give Elea some spac,e and she moved around the empty dormitory in attention of the bags that Elea would be taking with her.

Jovan's skirt rustled as she paced, the redhead having thought it appropriate to dress properly for Elea's departure, something that had brought much delight to the ballerina. "Just two bags?"

"Yes, along with the chest."

"Oh," Jovan breathed, watching as Elea stood from the edge of her bed and crossed over to Jovan. There was a tender look in the brunette's blue eyes as she took Jovan's hands in her own.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Elea asked, her voice quiet as her fingers rubbed Jovan's hands.

"I will be," Jovan assured her with a faint smile.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way―" Elea began but Jovan cut her off with a gentle shush.

"I don't, Elea. Please, you deserve to be happy too."

"What about you?" Jovan saw tears gathering in the corner of Elea's eyes and the sight pricked her heart.

"I will be, in time. I promise you, I'll be okay here. I'll just write if something comes up."

"Promise?" Elea blinked and the dam broke, her tears falling down her cheeks. Jovan wiped away one of them and gently laid her hand on Elea's jaw.

"You have my word," Jovan bit out, feeling something sting her eyes. "And I'll be good, too."

At that, a shaky laugh escaped Elea, and the ballerina couldn't help herself as she pulled Jovan into her arms and held onto her tightly. Jovan placed her arms around the brunette as well, willing herself not to cry when she'd already used up too much of her tears last night.

"No more punching idiotic stagehands, okay?" Elea said.

Jovan nodded against her friend's shoulder. "They have to stop being stupid first."

Elea made a sound that sounded like a cross between a choke and a cry. When Jovan felt the ballerina's arms tighten around her, she tried to ignore the painful stutter in her chest and began to draw circles on Elea's chest to soothe her.

"Write a damn book," Elea suddenly said, the unforeseen remark making Jovan freeze. Elea must have noticed her tense up as she then pulled away from Jovan and stared her straight in the eye.

"You heard me," Elea chuckled. "If your mother could do it, so could you. I just... don't stay here."

"What?"

Jovan stared at Elea's trembling lips as she mustered the strength to speak. "Don't stay here," she repeated, like it was mantra she wouldn't mind repeating over and over again until it was firmly imprinted at the back of Jovan's mind. "Jovan, please, I don't want you to hide here forever."

As if her chest didn't hurt enough, Jovan's pulse only escalated more when she heard Elea's words. She knew where this was going, and hearing the words would be like getting doused with ice-cold water.

"I know you're hiding from... him," Elea continued, taking care of the words she was saying, "but, Jovan, you can't do that forever. Someday, you'll have to face him once more and... I don't know when that day will come, but when it does, I can only hope that you'll be ready."

Jovan hoped so too. If it weren't for the dryness in her mouth, she would have vocalized this answer, but she simply gave a nod of her head. What Elea was delivering was a wake-up call, and a painful one ― that, like Elea herself, Jovan too would have to leave this place someday. She couldn't stay in the Opéra Populaire for the rest of her days, it was the truth.

"You still have so much to give to the world, Jovan. So, please, don't allow yourself to waste away here, hiding in the dark. Don't let him do this to you."

A stray thought found its way into her head as Jovan thought that there was someone else in the opera house who dearly needed to hear those words. She could only wonder if he was listening at the moment, and if he was, she hoped that he would heed Elea's heartfelt words.

Jovan's lips moved, mouthing the word "Yes," but no sound left them. It was just all too painful and all too much at the same time that she thought perhaps the silence would help lighten the weight that had began to settle in her chest.

"And if he comes looking for you," Elea said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "tell me."

Jovan gave a nod.

Elea wrapped Jovan in her arms once more with a whimper, and Jovan did the same, wishing that neither of them would let go.

She stood near the edge of the rooftop once more, watching as Aldrich assisted Elea into the carriage while a few of the ballet corps and Madame Giry stood on the steps of the opera house, waving and shouting their goodbyes. Jovan wished that she could be among them, but she knew better than to go outside looking like herself, her red hair visible and sans cloak to protect her.

Standing in the snow that blanketed the rooftop, Jovan had never felt more alone than she did now in a long time. Heaving a silent sigh, vapors of breath left her parted lips as she watched Elea and Aldrich's carriage stir into motion, rolling further and further away from the opera house until they turned around a corner and vanished from her sight.

"She's gone," a low voice broke the peace, the words escaping like warm honey.

Jovan didn't need to look behind to see who the newcomer was. "Yes."

"How do you feel?"

Jovan turned away from the rooftop's edge and towards the man in the distance. She saw Erik wearing his cloak and his hat, his dark figure contrasting sharply against the snow. Her eyes met his of amber and green, a warm spark replacing the usual intensity they held.

"I'm happy... for her," Jovan whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, but soft enough to prevent her voice from trembling.

A small, rueful smile fell on Erik's lips. He then made his way to Jovan, and a quiet sob left her as he pulled her into his arms.