Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from "The Phantom of the Opera". They belong to Gaston Leroux / Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Chapter oneOnce his life had been easy. He had been in control of everything. Of course he knew that his power didn´t extend beyond the opera, but this was enough for him. It had become his world, where he could do whatever he pleased. He had been delighted to discover how simple it was to manipulate people, to make them fulfil his wishes. Secretly he despised them for their weakness, their humanity. Over the years this word had turned into a swearword for him. His mind had always been able to dominate his emotions.
But this was no longer true. Day after day he felt his emotions grow stronger. They distracted him from composing, or all he could produce was meaningless nonsense. Sometimes he even caught himself daydreaming. And everything was her fault. How could a normal chorus girl make him feel this way? He had pondered over this question for hours without finding a sufficient answer. For the first time he had found something his mind couldn´t explain, and for this reason he hated it. It had to end before he lost control over himself entirely, before he became weak.
Weaker, he corrected himself. His hands clenched into fists as he remembered how dangerously close she had come this evening:
Right from the moment he entered the small room they used for their lessons he noticed that Christine was acting in a peculiar way. She blushed rather often and was unable to meet his eye. At first he suspected that she had not practiced her aria as he had instructed her to, but when she started singing it soon became clear that this was not the case.
Erik watched her out of the corner of his eye while he accompanied her. Suddenly he realised it: His student was in love. He had seen the other chorus girls behave like that dozens of times, whispering and giggling, not paying attention to what they were supposed to do on stage. It was both stupid and annoying, and he had appreciated it that Christine wasn´t that kind of girl. On the contrary, she always seemed to be a little isolated in the group. She hadn´t yet managed to get into the elitist circle of Meg Giry´s friends. The girls treated her with a certain wariness, just like they did it with every new member of the chorus. But Erik doubted Christine would be accepted soon: The others hadn´t failed to notice her great potential as a singer and were afraid of the competition.
And now Christine was in love. Maybe for the first time he examined her more closely than necessary. Quickly he came to the conclusion that her body could be considered beautiful, the long, dark curls, which fell over her shoulders, her large brown eyes, thered lips and the slim figure. He knew next to nothing about what men usually found attractive in a woman, but from the occasional conversations he overheard he had deduced at least some pieces of information.
Erik was grateful that he could play the piano without having to think about it as he arrived at the question who the man could be. There were several male dancers in the opera, though at least two of them didn´t seem to be interested in the fair sex at all. As most singers were too old for her, only some stage hands remained. Somehow he couldn´t believe Christine had taken a liking in one of them. But then, it was none of his business.
A soft touch made him stop dead. Apparently his student had left her normal place while he had been lost in thought and stood behind him now. For some reason her hand was lying on his shoulder. He stared at it. It was incredibly warm – it seemed to burn a hole right to his heart. Erik´s breath grew shallow as the fingers started moving up and down his arm. He couldn´t remember when he had been touched the last time, deliberately. He was feeling …No! He couldn´t allow himself to feel. He couldn´t become weak or he would be like them
"What are you doing there, Mlle.Daaé?", he asked as calmly as possible, purposefully not using her first name. "Well, I…" At once the hand was gone, replaced by nothing but emptiness. He turned around to look at her. Nervously she played with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her finger. "Could I talk to you, monsieur? About something private?" Her voice trembled slightly, and her gaze was fixed on the ground. "I´m afraid that I don´t have enough time today. Perhaps after the next lesson…"
He had practically fled from the room to come up here, to the roof of the opera. Often he had good ideas while staring into the dark sky. It also worked now. As he thought about everything he quickly found the reason: Christine only behaved like that because she was looking for attention. She felt lonely at the opera and had therefore developed these strange feelings for the only person who was gentle to her: her teacher. So all she needed was a friend. Then she would leave him in peace.
Sighing soundlessly Erik touched the same spot where he hand had been earlier. Still it felt a little warmer than the rest of his body. He only hoped the plan which was just forming in his head would work. He didn´t want all these emotions.
