Hi! This is my first (and probably only) POTO fic. Nyuck. I don't own any of the characters or music or any of that fun stuffness. If I get anything wrong you'll have to forgive me XD This is based off the 2004 movie instead of the plays or...yeah. o.O You know what I'm saying.
"You" are the main character. If you're female, good XD If you're male...well..uh...either pretend to be female while reading this, or picture your favorite girl there XP
This starts out after Christine is returned by the Phantom from her first visit to his cave.
"Another intruder..." a voice says quietly behind you, sending a shiver down your back.
"H-Hello?" you say, turning quickly to see no one.
"How did you get in here?" Madam Giry asks you sharply as you step quietly down the hall toward Christine Daae's room.
You jump, turning back the original way you'd been going. You take a slow breath, and regain composure. "Well, I...no one was at the front when I came. So I just let myself in," you explain, twisting the ribbon on the box of chocolates you've brought.
"What is that?" Giry ask, eyeing the item in your hands.
"Oh. This? This is just a box of chocolates. I hear that Nestle and Peter are working on some sort of milk chocolate. It sounds delicious, but..." you trail off, swaying nervously under the strict woman's gaze. "You see, I'm here with my ballet academy. My parents sent me to the academy for the summer. They're over in America," you continue to explain after receiving no reply from Giry.
"America?"
"Well...well yes. Your Opera House is well known and my teacher assumed it'd be a good experience to come see your wonderful ballet and...but that's beside the point. Anyway, we came yesterday and when Miss Daae performed, I couldn't help but want to come back and give her something! She was so inspirational!" you exclaim.
She looked slightly flattered, pushing her long braid behind her shoulders as she drew in a proud breath. "Yes, well, I must say our ballet is quite renowned and..." she seemed to come back to her senses. "You are not allowed to be back here. And Christine needs rest. If you wish, I can give her the gift and you may write her a letter and send it to her."
"Who's here?" came Christine's weak voice as her door opened slowly.
Giry turned and tapped her cane on the ground. "Just another admirer."
"She's about my age," Christine observed. "I'm feeling alright. Let her in."
"Christine, you really should rest," Giry says firmly.
"Could you please find Raoul and tell him I'm sorry I kept him waiting?" Christine asked, changing the subject.
Giry's nose twitched, knowing Christine would never let her win. She turned on her heel and walked off, leaving you and Christine alone in the dark hall, lit only by two torches, giving off barely enough light to help you recognize the diva's face.
"I promise you, she'll never let me have any friends outside of this Opera House. She really does mean well," Christine says, laughing quietly as you step inside her room, stunned.
You gaze around at the stacks upon stacks of bouquets of flowers. Suddenly your chocolates feel rather puny. "M-Miss Daae? I'm honored to meet you," you say, giving a small bow. You straighten out your tattered grey cloak hiding your red leotard, black silk skirt, flesh colored tights, and red dancing shoes. "I loved your singing. It was beautiful! Truth be told, I love to sing more than to dance, but my parents won't listen," you say rather hastily as though she'll turn you away if you don't spit it out all at once. "Here, these are for you," you say, presenting your small gift.
"Oh, well thank you," she said sincerely, smiling as she pulled the ribbon off and opened the box. "I do love chocolate so much. I can't say I've gotten this many flowers before, but, after a while, they all look the same. Chocolate however, never ceases to excite me."
"So how do you do it?" you ask intently.
"Do what?"
"Sing like that. Like an angel. You made me feel as though I was floating, and everyone else was astonished as well!" you say, hoping to get a few tips for your own singing.
Her eyes lowered and she set the chocolate on her desk, her freed hand settling itself on top of the long stem of a single blood red rose lying beside where she'd placed the chocolates. "I honestly don't know. It's as though I don't even feel like myself as I sing. You see...well, no, it's too silly. No one believes me anyway."
"What? What is it?" you ask, sitting in the chair directly from hers.
"I have a tutor, but I don't quite know his name. Ever since I was a child he's sung to me while I lie awake in my bed. Just...just last night, I was able to meet him for the first time," she said, her voice lowering a great deal as though she was afraid someone might hear. "And when I hear his voice, it's as though a great force is pressing down on my chest and I can barely breath, it's so beautiful. Almost like it's too ethereal for human ears to handle. But it scares me the way it almost possesses me. Like I'll never be able to escape him if he didn't want me to leave." Her expression had become so distant it was as though her subconscious was speaking.
"I say you should tell him you don't need him anymore. Your voice is already so perfect!" you say, trying to supply options for her fear.
"Oh, I could never do that," she says, turning to look at you. "He would be entirely too angry. He was pleased with my performance and wants to begin tutoring me face to face so I might improve to his level. Until now he's tutored me as best he could without allowing me to see him. I'm afraid if I see and hear him anymore, I'll fall under his possession. It's so beautiful, but there seems something terribly wrong about it..."
"I'd give anything to be able to have that sort of tutoring," you say dreamily. "I know, I can go in your place!" you say with a broad smile. "Look at us! We're so similar in looks. If I just thin out my eyebrows..." you begin to say, standing beside her and comparing your looks to hers.
"Oh, no, I could never let you do that!" she says, placing her hand on your shoulder. "And what if he found out the truth? He's not a heavenly angel...his temper is...not desirable," she tried to explain.
"This is an opera house! Look at all the supplies we've got." You look down at her table, covered with makeup. "My skin is a little darker than yours, but I can just wear gloves when I see him, and I can put lighter makeup on. Like I said, if I thin out my eyebrows and trace the lipstick a little further outside the boarder of my lips, I should look just like you!" you say, just now realizing how uncanny the resemblance of the two of your looks are. "And my hair becomes curly when wet."
"But what of our voices?" Christine looked sorrowful. "Surely he'll know that you haven't been taught under the same instruction."
"I'll do my best. I know you haven't heard me sing, but...oh, Christine, what I'd give to sing like you!" you say, shaking your head. "And besides. Which singer has not had a bad day? Anyone can claim they're having a bad day. I pick things up quickly, and I promise he won't suspect...much," you say, glancing away.
Christine still looked unconvinced. "I'd never put a stranger in such danger. You don't understand him as well as I do. You don't know everything about him as I do..."
You shake your head. "Give me one try. What's the worst he could do? He would not kill his own diva!"
"But he may kill you..." Christine said dramatically.
"Oh, come now. For wanting to be taught by him? Honestly, that's nonsense," you say as you voluntarily begin putting on makeup, taking your hair down from the bun afterward and walking to the water basin.
"But, but..." Christine picks up the red rose and begins plucking the thorns from it.
"There. How do I look?" you ask, smiling at her, a nigh reflection of her. You press the remaining excess droplets of water from your wet hair as it shrinks into curls, not quite as small and tight as hers.
She shook her head. "He'll never believe you..."
"We'll see. Go have supper, I'm sure they're all waiting for you," you say happily. "I'll wait outside your door."
Christine just sighed and picked up her own cloak, wrapping it around herself. "I'll return shortly. I'm trusting you to stay here."
"So...playing a game are we? I shall enjoy playing this very much..." the voice whispered, barely audible, but no one was in the hall to listen anyway.
You sit, playing with the ribbon that had been pulled from the chocolates, humming the scale as practice in case this 'tutor' showed up. Half of you thought it was a silly joke and was excited just to be in Miss Daae's room...though the other half was secretly convinced.
"Are you feeling better?" came that same voice you heard in the hall when you first arrived. All the candles in the room wavered, then shed their light, casting you into complete darkness.
You're stunned, unsure of what just happened. You were never fond of the dark as it were. "I...I am," you say, trying to raise your voice just a touch to match Christine's.
"Very good, my angel...look into the mirror..." he whispers.
You turn slowly, trying to remember exactly where the mirror was placed in the room when you could see, but shortly afterward, a dim bronze light began to filter from where you're facing and you see a black gloved hand reach out to you.
'Could you be...' you think as you slowly reach out your hand. 'The Phantom of the Opera?' you hesitate before letting your fingertips touch the palm of his glove.
"Be not afraid..." he whispers. "You've known me for years, have you not?"
You finally let your hand slip into his, gasping as you find his grip icy. You are led long the dark passageway by the man you cannot see until you approach a torch, which he takes hold of and lifts off the bracket on the wall. Lowering it towards his face, you see the white mask covering the right half of his handsome face.
His hand takes yours a little more securely. "Are you ready to begin your real lessons?"
Okay, so this chapter wasn't tuned towards humor, but the next one will be better XD
Phantom : ...You try too hard. -Turns and walks away-
Me : O.O Whaaa? -Chases after-