Summary: What if Christine was a guy? Introducing Christofer Daae. Would Raoul still love him? Would the Phantom still be interested in him and his voice? THIS WILL BE A SLASH PHIC.

"God, Meg. I'm never going to hit that note." Christofer Daae said exasperatedly. "Oh, come on Chris. All you have to do is try!" Megan Giry said encouragingly. "What do you think I've been doing for the past four hours! Mon Dieu!" Chris finally got fed up, and stormed off. Megan just looked after him, sadly. Christofer tried so hard. At times, too hard.

Chris had stormed into one of the rooms the ballerinas used to practice in. It had a large wall-mirror on one side of the room that stretched from one end to the other. Across the other wall, there was a bar the ballerinas used to do their stretches and things. The room was empty, the mats used to protect the ballerinas from the hardwood floor stacked against the far wall. Meg used to bring him in here so he could watch her practice when they were children. Christofer loved to sing in here. It just seemed so calming. He decided to try the song that he was singing earlier one more time.

Think of me

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye…

Remember me.

Once in awhile

Please promise me you'll try…

When you find that once again you long

to take your heart back and be free

If you ever find a moment,

spare a thought for me

We never said our love was ever green

or as unchanging as the sea,

but if you can still remember

stop and think of me

Think of all the things we've shared and seen

Don't think about the way things might have been

Think of me

Think of me waking, silent and resigned

Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind

Recall those days,

Look back on all those times

Think of the things we'll never do

There will never be a day when I won't think of you…

Christofer sighed, and began talking aloud. "I always mess up on that part. I'm never going to hit that note. I might as well forget ever making the chorus of anyone's singing sound good. It's never going to happen." During his singing, Chris had moved to the bar and was currently leaning his back against it, looking at himself in the mirror. He knew he wasn't un-attractive, but he didn't see why everyone always insisted he was handsome. Meg said it was because of his light blue, almost white, eyes and his so black it was almost blue hair. Add that to his aristocratic features, she said, "And you are a god in the presence of mere mortals. Why do you think everyone loves you? Including Carlotta. That woman loves no-one but herself, and yet she loves you as much as she loves herself. The managers love you because you help them out with everything. Mama loves you because you're 'such a nice and polite young boy. Always willing to help with the cooking and mending and cleaning.' Who could not love you, Christofer Daae? You cook, you clean, you sew, knit, and crochet. You sing beautifully, you dance. And you never have a mean thing to say about anyone you meet. In fact, you don't have a mean bone in your body. You're honest, loyal, and brave. You're smarter than most people twice your age, you can compose an opera in 20 minutes if you had to. You play the piano, flute, violin, cello, and harp. And you're modest. You're the perfect man!" Chris still blushed when he remembered that one conversation. Sure, he could do a lot of things most people couldn't, but that didn't mean he was anything special. It just meant that he knew how to do a lot of things. Sighing, Chris turned from the mirror and walked out the door, never knowing that he was being watched.

A man stood behind the mirror in the ballet room, stunned. He had never known someone could sing so beautifully. While it was beautiful the way it was, with some work, it could get better. And who better a teacher than he himself? But how would he let the boy know he was interested? Maybe a note. Suddenly, the man let loose a dark chuckle. His idea was pure genius. "Of course it is, after all, what am I if not a genius?" He murmured to himself, still quietly chuckling. He turned from the mirror and walked down the corridor behind him, towards his lair. And a lair it was, for what else could it really be called? It was deep beneath the Opera Populaire and was rather lavishly furnished. Most of his life, this man had been thrown the short end of the stick, but now, that was not so. His lair was on a vast, glossy lake. Everywhere you looked, there were candles. The first thing you spotted when you came upon the lair was the organ. It was a large pipe organ, its top cluttered with papers filled with notes and compositions. Around the main area, there were portraits, landscapes, and many other drawings of many other things. Most were made with oils, some with acrylics. There were also sculptures lying here and there. In the bedroom, there was a great iron bed in the shape of a swan. The bedclothes were a crimson as were the hangings on the bed. All in all, the place just screamed, 'Decadence!' He grabbed some parchment and a peacock feather quill, and sat down at the organ. 'Dear Monsieur Daae,' the note began.

'Dear Monsieur Daae,
I have heard you sing, and was quite taken with your voice. I am a talented singer, and am able to teach you. While your voice is good as it is, it could be much better. If you wish to be taught, come to the chapel under the ballerina dormitories at midnight. I am,

Your obedient servant,
The Phantom'

The Phantom signed the letter with a flourish and placed it carefully in an envelope. Carefully folding the envelope closed, he reached for the red wax he used to place his seal on missives with. After pouring the proper amount onto the envelope, he carefully pressed down with his signature stamp, leaving in its place, an upraised skull. "Now," He said to himself softly. "to place it in a place my beauty is sure to find it." The Phantom thought for a moment, and had the perfect idea. His Beauty loved to sit in Box 5 of the audience and read when he had nothing better to do. Tomorrow was the ballerina, chorus and lead singers' day off. Christofer Daae would of course be found in Box 5. The Phantom smiled, "The perfect place." He quickly climbed into his boat, poling his way across the lake, the envelope safely tucked away in his pocket.

A/N: Ok, this is my first chapterized fic, much less phic. I will try to keep all characters as in character as possible, but they will have to change some for my story to go the way I want it to. This was un-Beta'd, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Please, review, even if it's a flame telling me I suck. I could use something to roast my marshmallows with.