A/N: Yes, I like fluff. Don't worry, there will come passion later, but right now I am in a particularly fluffy mood. Enjoy this next chapter! Sorry that I haven't updated sooner, but School has been busy, and I just started a new fic.
Noelle woke gently the next morning. She did not sleep much, out of habit. The first thing she remembered were arms, gently around her; warmth, and a beautiful voice, comforting her... Erik, her mind whispered gently. Erik. He had trusted her with his name, she thought dazedly, amazed and happy. The memory of him seemed to stay in her soul, filling her spirit with a feeling not unlike the one when she had tasted good wine, allowing it to fill her spirit with warmth.She remembered everything else that had transpired that night and shook her head, disgusted with herself. She had acted like a child; no better than the brat she had been when she had been living with her mother.
Noelle turned around blinking sleep from her eyes, half-expecting Erik still to be there. She smiled dazedly as she realized he had left a note. She sat up, noticing that she had foolishly fallen asleep in her ballet clothes, which were by now hopelessly ruined. She straightened herself out, smoothing her clothing down gently, until she felt awake enough to read the note.
Noelle picked up the letter. It was written in red ink, which made her pause and smile. It seemed amusing to think that Erik wrote to both the managers and her in the same manner. She frowned as she began to read it, having some trouble. It was written in a scrawling, messy hand, with many of the letters and words disjointed and halting. Noelle remembered the kindness of her tutor, who had been patient enough to teach her how to read, something that her mother had neglected to do. Many of her other 'friends' had not expressed any kind of interest in reading, preferring to pursue other, more wonton acts. Noelle had found the world of books fascinating, and had devoured novel after novel, much to the irritation of her mother. She forced her thoughts back to the note. She was forced to read it several times over before she could fully comprehend it. The basic thought of it was:
Dear Mademoiselle Chanter,
Last night was... amazing, my dear. I fear that I have too many tasks to attend to for me to stay with you later then I have. I would come to you tonight again, for a singing lesson. There is much I have to teach you before you are to take Carlotta's part. Expect me around seven o'clock. I look forward to seeing you then.
– Your faithful servant and teacher,
– O. G.
P.S.- Look in your closet. I hope you will be pleased.
Noelle wondered why he signed the note O.G. That was strange- didn't he trust her? There was no need for him to be Phantom now; with her. She sighed and wandered aimlessly over to the bathroom mirror, where she scrubbed her face hard with water and looked up to see a woman with a vague, disoriented, happy look on her face. She realized that the woman was her, after a brief moment, and almost cursed herself aloud for looking like such a fool.
Noelle closed her eyes, swiftly banishing all emotion from her thoughts and eyes. It was a process she had underwent often, for one could see what she was thinking through her eyes. She gently rubbed her temples as she assumed the mask that she had been wearing ever since she came to the Opera Populaire. She conjured up the image of herself, looking like a wraith, not sticking out at all, looking like all the other ballet girls; blending in.
Noelle opened her eyes to look at herself in the mirror. Gone was the innocent girl who had gazed at her before; in her place, there was a woman who seemed to shrink back into herself, blending in perfectly with her surroundings. She smiled at herself in the small mirror, seeing the demure, almost sarcastic ghost on her lips. Good, she thought. Now, no one will see me, or even remember my name. Except for Erik, a little voice whispered.
She suddenly remembered his instructions to look in her closet. She carefully walked over to her closet, wondering briefly what the Phantom of the Opera could have left in her closet...
She walked over to the closet's dark brown wooden doors and slowly opened them. What she saw made her jaw drop.
The hangar inside was filled with dresses. They were her kind of dresses too- there were high-collared and stiff ones, and there were more relaxed ones too. There were formal dresses, adorned with riches she could have hardly imagined. They were all modest, and suited her tastes perfectly.
She actually staggered a couple of paces back, still trying to comprehend what she had seen. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, unable to think until she saw the white note, pinned on one of her dresses. She picked it up, her hands mechanically obeying her. It read,
Now, you shall dress in splendor, and your inner beauty shall match your outer. Best Regards, Erik.
Noelle closed her eyes, swallowing. She opened them and managed a smile. "Thank you, Erik," she whispered gently. She changed into a ballet leotard and tights, choosing a black, velvet leotard and the uniform tights; she found now that she had many choices.
She walked out into the hallway, noticing that no one was up yet. She smiled, the memory of music still lingering and haunting her ear and her mind.
She walked for while, exploring the vast Opera House. She smiled at the few workers that were up and working. She did not venture too low into the many leveled building, and eventually realized that it was rehearsal time.
The rehearsal went as well as it could have with a overblown, spoilt diva as the main star. Noelle was tempted to scream at Carlotta's second fit, but she did not, and eventually got through the day. She retired to her quarters and finished the book she had started earlier, devouring it with speed.
Seven o'clock approached her, and she closed her eyes and turned around, waiting for Erik. An ethereal humming approached her, and she welcomed it, for she knew the voice belonged to its master, Erik.
She felt, once again, a light touch on her elbow. Even the slight touch made her heart begin to race, and she had to force her pulse to be calm. He stood before her, still clad in dress-clothes, bent in a bow. Noelle was taken aback with surprise; he had never bowed to her! He looked up, and his green eyes met hers gently, yet with a power in them she knew there to be. He straightened, and she wondered briefly where he had learned such manners. He beckoned for her to sit, and she nodded, promptly doing so. She felt mildly surprised; she had thought that they would start on her lesson right away.
He gently bowed over her hand, and she recalled all the lessons of formality that had been drummed into her by her mother from an early age. She lapsed into those patterns then, smiling at Erik.
"You wanted to speak with me, monsieur?" Erik looked up at her, and a brief flicker of surprise came and went across his face. She grinned, amused that he was startled.
"Yes, Noelle," his soft, melodic voice said. "I wish to talk to you about the nature of our relationship."
Noelle was startled by the forward manner in which he was talking to her. She had not expected this, not seen it coming for miles away...
Erik continued on, brushing past her startled look. His voice lowered, and although he did not touch her, his voice seemed to caress her in a gentle way that took the sting out of his words.
"I... showed a side of myself last night to you that I have never showed to... anyone before." Erik took a breath, and Noelle began to think about caressing his hands to give him some semblance of comfort... but something in his eyes warned her against it. Erik continued on, "But, Noelle, we cannot continue in this fashion." Noelle felt hurt at his words, and she frowned and opened her mouth to protest. But Erik kept talking on, "At least until Hannibal starts. You have an... amazing voice, Noelle, but it has not been used properly for a long time. I need to train you. I need to be your teacher for a little while longer. A relationship, at least for now, would accomplish nothing, and would be too distracting, for both me and you..."
Noelle averted her gaze from his penetrating eyes. He was speaking to her honestly, but she did not like what he was telling her. She was a distraction? Her lower lip trembled a little bit, but she would not play the brat this time and cry...
She felt a hand on her hand. It was a black glove, and although it trembled a little bit, it stayed. She looked up into Erik's eyes, and the look of half-reverence, half-concern in them made her catch her breath. She had never had a man look at her that way...
Erik said softly, in almost a pleading tone, "I need this time too." Noelle took a breath, and thought about his words and the implications in them for a moment. She put herself in Erik's shoes, and was almost immediately terrified. If she had been a recluse for a long time... she looked at his trembling hand, and remembered how it had been almost afraid to touch her before. She wondered if he had even ever been touched before... She sighed, realizing Erik's need for time, and resigning herself to it.
Something in her eyes must have betrayed her, for Erik nodded, and reverently bent over her hand. His lips almost grazed her skin, and Noelle realized that this was the almost only contact they would have for almost three months. This was a gift for both him and her...
Erik then stood up and told her to close her eyes. She complied, wondering what the system of passages was. She felt a hand, pulling her in the direction of the wall on which her mirror was hung; and she did not resist, but instead let herself be gently pulled through, placing her complete and absolute trust and faith in the man she knew as Erik...
