Fate had dealt a horrific hand, and yet, for a moment, it seemed perhaps that a new hand was being handed out; one that brought a joy that was thought to be long unattainable. For the first time in so many years, Rose felt happy. She felt so much so, that the word could hardly be considered enough to explain the kind of bliss she was feeling. After so many years of heartbreak and picking up the pieces, it seemed as though a kindness was being paid to her, giving her new joy with each passing day. And though she would never admit it so, she believed she had a good idea as to the reason why.
Rose felt as though she had a place once more; her dreams were coming true, being able to dance, a place where she could she could be almost completely happy. The stage was her home, and being able to put her heart and soul into her work was one thing she could never take for granted. It was when she was dancing that she felt like she had finally found her true worth. Her mother and sister were healthy and content, and now that the last missing piece of her heart had returned home, Rose simply felt that everything was just...right.
Her days were broken up between dance and her free time; she had rehearsals, performance and time to keep to herself. Most of the other dancers used their precious time away from Madame Giry's reproachful glance the best they could; the young ones would enjoy the Parisian air and take a stroll, while the elders would socialize and spend a few hours on the town with friends and lovers. They would always offer for Rose to join them, knowing there was no animosity between the Prima Ballerina and the Corps. She would simply smile and politely decline on each occasion, having her own preferred use of her time. She would venture down into the caverns below the opera house, and there she would sit for hours on end, reading while Erik worked at his organ.
That did not mean that their evenings were entirely peaceful. With Erik's temper and Rose's talent for being stubborn, there were moments when the two would wind up in the most heated arguments, only to get to the point that they forgot what trivial matter it was they were yelling about. In most cases, Erik would stalk to his room, or to his keys and play the harshest piece he could come up with. Rose would stand her ground a little longer before retreating to lakeside with her back to him and stay there with her feet dangling ever so slightly in the water. Eventually, the harsh notes would fade or the sound of damp footprints would grow near, and the two would make amends.
Rose was no fool, and knew that while Erik hardly refused her company, even if time would fly by without so much as a word spoken between them, the man was a creature of habit, and still craved his space alone. In these times, Rose would all too happily oblige, using the time to herself to have the stage to herself late at night, or venture into the city with her sister of Nicholas. But those moments by the lake, the coolness in the air as she listened to her skilled maestro play, those were the moments that Rose loved the best.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Erik held a deep understanding of many things; music above all else, architecture, design, any number of things. One thing that did escape all levels of his comprehension, however, was how it was at all possible for someone other than himself to feel at all comfortable in his domain.
There were many times that Rose came to visit him, usually after rehearsal or on her nights free, where she would make herself at home rather easily. At first, Erik tried to dissuade her from doing so; it did not bode well for someone to feel so at ease in his abode. It was his and his alone, and the idea that someone else felt the slightest bit of comfort simply didn't sit right at all. Erik was a solitary creature, despite the fact that it seemed to be increasingly clear that he no longer had a say in that matter. He even went so far as to come off angry about her lack of propriety. But it soon became rather apparent that Rose could somehow see through his efforts, and even more surprisingly, that he slowly but surely lost his will to mind it at all.
The way that she conducted herself while underground seemed a not too distant cry from how she acted in the land of the living, but with less of a sense of propriety. Erik knew that Rose was not at all like many young women her age, who believed that one's actions should depict the highest of society's standards. She was polite, but approachable, and was still not shy about staying true to her upbringing. However, out of the public eye, below in the caverns so deep where only the two would venture, one could perhaps consider her actions indecent. She walked around his home with ease, lacking in shoes opting for bare feet despite the coolness of the stone ground. Her hair was hardly pinned, instead flowing freely down her back, or tied with a ribbon at most. There were times where she would wade in the shallows of the lake, the hems of her skirt hitched just below her knee to save her hems from getting wet.
Or at times, such as this night in particular, when Rose she would simply lounge around; sitting by the organ or on the chaise, with Erik's feline companion, Ayesha curled up by her feet as she devoured one of the tomes on his shelf.
Erik knew that if her mother had any idea of how her daughter behaved as such, she would likely suffer an aneurism. Despite the severity of the thought, he could not help but smirk at the idea of Antoinette's disapproval. The very thought that the Prima Ballerina, her daughter, would behave in such a way, and in the present of a man of no relation, well...it was positively unheard of.
Regardless of how she acted, Erik still could not fathom a single reason as to why she felt so at home with him. Though he enjoyed her company when she chose to give it, grateful that she did so, she had no obligation to him by any means. Rose could be spending her time with those aboveground; she was young and had the company of those her own age, he knew that she should be enjoying her time in the sun, not spending her days in the darkness with him. For a while he thought perhaps it was an escape, that she would spend time in the darkness to avoid those in the land above, to get away for a while. Or perhaps it was to sneak away with one of his books that she did, in all fairness, return to him. Eventually.
But then there were the days where all Rose wanted to do was talk. She would ask him questions, about his travels, or his latest piece, even what he had planned for the management upstairs when something wasn't to his liking. Erik hated talking, at least, he usually did. He felt no need for such things, knowing his time would be better spent on more conducive matters. Yet more and more, he found himself putting up less of a fight, until he would eventually just give in and indulge her. Rose would sit beside him at the organ, and Erik would teach her scales, or simply allow her to try and follow on to some of the simpler pieces in his repertoire.
A soft hum pulled him from his thoughts, causing Erik to lift his head from his work, glancing over across the room. Rose lay stretched out on the chaise, her knees brought up to her chest. Her feet were invisible, hidden beneath the cat curled up by the hems of her skirts. Her focus was solely on the book in her hands, a cover he could not decipher at his current distance, yet apparently was enough to hold her undivided attention. In a newly discovered habit of hers, her thumb was resting on her bottom lip, and Erik couldn't help noticing the way she would bite at it whenever she had been left in suspense before turning the page. An odd quirk, he thought, but for whatever reason, he found it almost endearing.
The thought in the back of his mind was ever present; she could very well curl up with a book in her own quarters, or anywhere for that matter. And yet she chose to do so there...with him. It was strange, but knowing that filled Erik with a warmth that he was not used to. The fact that someone like her was willingly seeking out a chance to spend time with him was such a foreign concept to him, Erik's mind seemed to do all it could to dissuade him from believing it to be true. Yet there she was, as real as the mask on his face.
His hand moved to the porcelain that lay resting against his face, his fingers brushing lightly over the curve at his cheek. It was the facade that hid his godforsaken face, even in darkness. Erik knew that if Rose ever saw the wretchedness that lay beneath, she would be gone and never look back. What beauty would dare to spend her precious time with a monster like him, knowing the truth about why he lived in the shadows?
No, he could never let that happen. Rose was the one light in his perpetual darkness, the one good thing that he somehow had the fortune to hold onto. He would not make any mistake that would jeopardise that.
Erik had been so consumed in his fears that he did not notice the young woman in question leave her warm and cosy spot on the chaise. In fact, it wasn't until he turned to look at her again that he noticed anything at all. His brows furrowed in confusion; surely she hadn't left, not without telling him so. Though, of course she was free to leave whenever she pleased, but it was a kindness that she bestowed upon him, simply just to say goodbye. Perhaps he had been too involved in his own problems and thoughts that she thought he wasn't paying enough attention to her, but when had that ever been an issue before.
Soft notes filled the room, snapping Erik out of his confused daze. Turning towards the sound, he found Rose seated at his organ, slowly playing the notes that he had taught her. Erik was...surprised, to say the least. The thought of anyone touching his precious instrument, especially without his say so seemed abhorrent, and quite honestly if it had been anyone else, he likely would have reached for his Punjab within seconds. But for whatever reason, Erik...didn't seem to mind.
Rose had no idea that he was watching her, and a part of him felt strange about doing so. But in that moment, she was rather captivating. Her face was crumbled slightly in concentration, focusing on the keys under her touch. Though he wasn't sure why, the sight brought a small quirk of the lips. There was no music in front of her, she was simply playing the notes that he had been teaching her recently. There were mistakes, a missed not or two, or an extra sharp here and there, but Erik didn't say a word.
Seeing her there, her fingers moving lithely along the keys as he tried to recreate the piece, he felt a slight jolting sensation in his chest. She looked so focused, frowning and chewing her bottom lip when her fingers fumbled. He found that even for a moment, he could not look away. She was beautiful.
In that moment, Erik felt something stir deep within, a warmth that came from no flame he had ever encountered. It was like every breath had been removed from his lungs, yet he did not feel faint. He was merely frozen to the spot, a look of complete wonder on his features. It was though he had seen the sun for the first time, and he felt no need to shy away into the darkness. A sudden burst of fear seemed to rise up within him, forming a kind of panic as his thoughts slowly started to piece together. His hands clenched on the edge of his desk, unsure what to do, feeling still as the grave.
"I'm not entirely sure if you're making fun of the horrendousness happening to your music right now, but you might want to come and save what dignity I have left."
Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts once more, subduing but not relieving the panic all together. But what could he say? Nothing, of course. Erik cleared his throat, nodding despite knowing that she couldn't see him. Rising from his desk, Erik nudged Ayesha away from his feet and made his way over, taking a seat beside Rose at the organ. The redhead looked up at him, smiling in thanks. And what surprised them both, was when without hesitation, Erik smiled back.
oOoOoOoOoOo
With her career blossoming along with business at the Opera House, there was one point of contention in her life that Rose had almost been certain that she had managed to avoid with some skill. But with her birthday quickly approaching, and her ready to turn twenty one years of age, her mother seemed to have other ideas.
While Rose hardly considered herself a spinster by any means, her mother had become increasingly determined that it would soon be time for her to marry. She herself was married to Luc when she was but seventeen and even then, some girls were marrying younger. It was conversations such as these that Rose simply didn't want to think about and almost flinched when her mother would bring up the subject yet again.
"It is time you found yourself a husband." Antoinette chided gently as her daughter stretched before practice. The young redhead barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes for fear of feeling the wrath of her mother's staff.
"Madame, why is there such an urgency for me to marry? I'll only be twenty one; I'm far from an old maid yet." Rose said with a soft smile. "Besides, when I do intend to marry, I want it to be for love."
Rose had learned of love at a young age, seeing her mother and father together. While her mother had grown colder in the years since her father's passing, she still remembered the joy of the two of them together; so young and in love. It was her dream to one day share even a half of that with someone herself. But until she felt that spark herself, she would not be pressured into marriage. She would know it when it happened, of that much she was completely certain.
Antoinette pursed her lips hard, and Rose knew she was somehow barely holding back another argument, but was thankfully saved by the need to start rehearsal. As her mother's back turned and walked away, Rose managed a small smile in victory, knowing she had slowed that particular conversation for another day. It was far from the end, but it was the small victories that made it worth it for now.
Unfortunately, the hold with that conversation with her mother did nothing to still it within the public. News of the Opera Populaire's Prima Ballerina and her lack of marital status had spread through the city, and soon some of Paris' most elite and eligible bachelors were buying up tickets to performances just to catch a glimpse and hopefully ensure a meeting with the redheaded beauty after the show. This was something that Rose had certainly not expected, but she certainly was not shy about her stance on the matter. With every invitation, she would politely decline without fail.
There was the son of a well to do member of court; debonair and slick with no affection for the arts or even Rose herself. He had been simply after a piece to have on his arm and show off; a Prima Ballerina would be a fine prize. He had been turned away in an instant. Then there was the Naval officer, fresh from duty and looking to secure a wife and family the very second he could. His idea of marriage would be for his wife to have no career at all and bare him children. He didn't last much longer than the first. They came in their hordes; some not making it past her mother's scrutiny, others barly made it to her door. Willingly, Rose saw none. Against her will, she met with few, could stand even less. Every single one was turned away and didn't put up much of a fight after. All except one.
One such bachelor was quite determined; a young Comte who had been a patron of the opera since his youth. Philippe de Changy was the eldest son of a rather prominent Parisian family. The de Changy name was renowned in property and a patron of the arts. He did, however, have a reputation that was well known amongst the workers in the opera house; and a flair and desire for romancing ballerinas. It had taken one rather short meeting for Rose to decide completely that this was not a man with whom she could even entertain the idea of marrying. Aided with her refusal to marry, and what she had learned about her rather insistent suitor to be, Rose was more adamant than ever to turn him down every chance he had.
But the Comte was as stubborn as he was wealthy, and saw Rose's refusal as a game of sorts. While some of the younger and more persuaded of dancers practically fell at his feet, he refused to give up the chase.
The night of Rose's twenty first birthday fell on a performance evening. Rose was never one to really celebrate her birthday as she grew older; in the past it had been something her father and her celebrated together. Since it was unclear as to what date her birth actually fell upon, the two instead honoured the day that she had been found. But in the years since his passing, Rose saw less reason to pay the day much mind at all; the man who had shared the special day with her was only there in spirit, and she did not feel the need to be made the centre of attention when it did not seem necessary. So, other than a sweet card from her sister, and the occasional well wish from a company member or two that had known her since birth, Rose's birthday went unnoticed. As the years went by, less and less notice was brought to the occasion, until it simply appeared to be any other day.
The evening was spent in front of the audience, with the soft sounds of composers gone by filling the theatre. From the stage, she could see the Comte in the front row, watching with a look in her eyes she could not place. On his lap lay a bouquet of what she could only assume to be rather expensive red roses. But Rose paid no attention, not allowing anything to distract from her performance. Her smile was for the crowd, the love of her performance, and for the two souls whose opinion she cared for the most; one in this life, and one in the next.
After the performance, Nicholas escorted her back to her room, fending off the collection of well wishers that had made their way backstage. She didn't want to be rude by any means, but she knew that those who truly cared for her performance or to wish her a happy birthday had done so in earnest earlier in the day. Besides, she had somewhere to be.
She changed quickly, hanging her costume over her bed for collection and changing into something far more comfortable. Rose had just finished lacing her dress and sat down at her vanity when she heard the increasingly familiar voice just outside her bedroom door. The Comte was there to stake his claim. Closing her eyes, she sighed, listening to the almost rehearsed speech that Nicholas was well practiced in by now.
"Mlle. Deveraux is not receiving visitors tonight, Monsieur. Though, she thanks you kindly for your warm wishes."
She smiled as she ran a brush though her hair. She didn't know what she would do without Nicholas.
"I've heard this speech tirelessly, boy. If it is true, I wish to hear it from Mlle. Deveraux herself. Surely she can spare one night."
Rose sighed, wondering just how many rejections this man would take before he realized she meant it. Shaking her head, she stood up, deciding to take matters into her own hands. Rose tied her hair back in a silk ribbon and moved to the door, opening it to find Nicholas about to repeat the statement to the rather unconvinced Comte. Both men seemed to be rather startled by her appearance; one confused and the other relieved.
"Good evening, Monsieur." She greeted sweetly, with all the airs and graces that a Prima Ballerina would have toward her guest. The man looked surprised to see her in person finally, though more than overjoyed it seemed. He bowed slowly and low in greeting, all but shoving the bouquet into Nicholas' unsuspecting hands.
"Good evening, Mademoiselle. It is a pleasure to finally be fit to greet you. Might I say, your performance tonight was enchanting. You are an absolute vision upon the stage." He said, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Rose did all she could to keep her pleasant smile in place. One glance to Nicholas and she noticed that he was scowling, and rather near throwing up it seemed.
"You're too kind." She said, snatching her hand away before he had a chance to continue.
"I speak nothing but the truth. Though I do believe tonight is a night for celebration? It would be the highest honour if you allowed me to escort you to supper this evening."
"Again, you are too kind, Monsieur. But I'm afraid I have a previous engagement. So, I must bid you farewell this evening."
Rose didn't give him even a moment's chance to respond before she sent a smile of thanks to Nicholas, and stepping past the two, venturing on her way. She could practically see the look of utter confusion on the Comte's face, highly doubting that he had ever been faced with such a rejection before.
This journey, however, was a little different than most, as per the request via the note left on her dresser that afternoon. Instead of venturing into the depths of the catacombs, she would be making her way up to the rooftop. Rose had to wonder just what he had planned, knowing that unless there was a rather good reason, Erik never ventured above, and certainly not in such an open space. But the weather had a slight chill in the air, and with the exception of herself, nobody really visited the roof, which in Rose's opinion, was entirely their loss.
The roof of the Opera House had the most beautiful view of the city, no matter the weather. Just sitting by the ledge, you can watch over the river, glancing over rooftops and buildings as far as the eye could see. She had spent many an hour there, just alone with her thoughts. Though it was beautiful during the day, there was something about watching out over the city at night that held a special place in her heart.
She made her way through the labyrinth of stairs, moving along the higher stores of the opera house, past old scenery and props until she reached the black iron staircase. She paused on the second last step, hearing the faint sounds of a violin coming from the other side of the door. Rose closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool wood of the door and took the chance to simply listen to the music, feeling it move to her very soul. It still amazed her how taken she could be with just a few notes and chords, despite having no musical ability herself, other than keeping in time. It was something she had never heard before, but an original she knew for certain. She very well could have stayed there all night, simply listening to him play, but she knew that he was expecting her. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Rose brushed her hair behind her ear and stepped out into the night air.
The lights were low enough, though she could still see him clearly in the moonlight. He was standing with his back to her, dressed impeccably as per usual. So much so that Rose felt a little underdressed in her dress of deep green silk. It seemed as though Erik was as lost in the music as she was, for he had made no indication that he knew she was there. Rose did not breathe a word, allowing the music to take over her once more. Eventually, the playing slowed and eventually stopped, though he did not turn around to face her.
"I hope you don't mind." He murmured. Rose smiled with a shake of her head; of course he had known she was there at some point. He always knew.
"When have I ever minded listening to you play?" she asked, a brow raised in question as she ventured further out onto the roof. Erik paused a moment before turning around and lowering his violin under one arm. The small hint of a smile on his face told her that he had no reasonable reply to her question.
"You did not take the Comte up on his offer for supper."
Rose knew she shouldn't have been surprised that he knew about that; he had eyes and ears in every inch of the Populaire. Something had to be of very little importance if he declined knowledge of the matter. But if Rose didn't know any better, she could have sworn there was an almost cool tone to his voice when he mentioned the Comte, which was ridiculous she knew. She hummed softly and shrugged with an air of nonchalance.
"I had somewhere else I would much rather be." She told him simply. Her words seemed to take him off guard for a brief moment, before the smallest half smile appeared on his face. He nodded once, and turned to put his violin back in its case before moving fetch something that was out of Rose's view.
"Close your eyes." He told her softly. Rose sent him a look of suspicion, but decided to play along, knowing that there was very little chance of him allowing her to do otherwise. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in slight confusion as she heard him occupying himself somehow. Her intrigue only grew, unable to place the sound. Thankfully Rose did not have too long to wait, soon hearing his soft but familiar footsteps making their way closer until they stopped right in front of her.
"You may open them."
Doing as she was told, Rose opened her eyes, looking up at him with a look of confusion, searching Erik's features for any indication of what he had been planning. Yet his eyes were not on hers, but something that he was holding in front of them. Following his gaze, Rose noticed that he was holding a small plate with what appeared to be a small cake with a single candle on the plate beside it.
"What's this?" she asked looking up at him in surprise. Erik almost looked embarrassed, the flames of the candle highlighting a small blush on his cheeks that she was sure he was trying to hide.
"I do believe that it is a cream cake." He replied sardonically, causing another eye roll from Rose.
"I can see that, Erik. The question is why do you have a cream cake?" She wondered, tilting her head to the side in question. The man didn't bother hiding his groan of annoyance. Apparently her skill of frustrating him beyond belief did not dwindle with age.
"I was under the impression that one receives something much like this when it's their birthday. Am I mistaken?"
Rose lifted her head and looked up at him in surprise and disbelief. Erik, a man who celebrated very little in life, had remembered. Part of her was surprised, that he would want to partake in and mark an occasion that to Rose seemed so trivial and unimportant. Her mouth fell open, as though she were about to speak, yet no words were uttered from her lips. Rose was suddenly and rather surprisingly overcome with emotion, something she had not at all expected. Her birthday was of no consequence, and that was usually a fact that sat perfectly fine with her. But there was something about the fact that the most important person in her life remembered, seemed to stir something deep within her.
Erik thought for a moment that he had done something wrong, perhaps overstepped by now. She looked upon him with a look of surprise, yet had not said a word. That couldn't be a good sign, could it? He feared her reaction, quickly trying to come up with some form of retraction or apology when she let out a soft breath, shaking her head with a sort of wonder. Rose looked up at him, her eyes glistening slightly with threats of unshed tears. Was she...crying? The thought made Erik feel worse; he had not intended for her to cry.
"Thank you, Erik." She murmured finally, looking up at him with a smile that she was sure only attempted to convey how grateful she was. Erik looked lightly uncomfortable with her honest and sudden praise, but simply cleared his throat and nodded.
"Make a wish." He said, extending the offered pastry towards her, all the while letting out an inaudible sigh of relief.
The idea caused a smirk to appear at her lips, knowing that despite Erik's proclivity for illusion, wishes were something to be scoffed and ridiculed, as were the people who believed in such things. Though apparently there was some leniency that could be spared since it was her birthday. Pushing her hair over her shoulder, Rose closed her eyes and thought for a moment of something that she could wish for. Though her belief in such things was fleeting at best, she smiled and leaned down to blow out the single flame atop the cake. She was relieved when Erik did not question about what it was that she wished for, for she had no inclination to tell a soul. She might not believe in such things as wishes, but she wouldn't risk the chance of it not coming true if it could.
"I don't suppose you'll help me to eat this, will you?" Rose wondered with a smile, expecting him to simply refuse. She reached out and swiped a small drop of cream from the plate and brought it to her lips.
Erik paused a moment. His eyes observed the movement in silence; his gaze moving to her lips, lingering for a moment before meeting her eyes once more.
"Well, I doubt that you can finish it on your own." He said simply. Rose paused, her finger between her lips as she finished the spot of cream, looking at him in utter disbelief. She could likely count on one hand the times that she had even seen Erik partake in a meal of any kind in all the years she had known him. But she would not question his reasoning, not when she knew the likeliness of him taking it back.
Rose took the plate from his hands and moved to take a seat on the ground. Erik raised a brow at her, which was simply met with a grin on her behalf. She expected him to join her, but was surprised once again when he returned to the statue a moment and returned with a bottle of wine. Apparently he was just full of surprises that night, but she was far from wanting to complain. He poured them both a glass, handing one to her before he sat down beside her, looking probably the most relaxed that Rose had ever seen him...likely ever. Smiling contently, she lifted her glass to his in a toast, to which he happily obliged.
It was a beautiful night. The sun had set long ago, leaving the sky the colour of the deepest cobalt, almost black. Up above them, a million stars seemed to dance above their heads. Rose smiled, leaning back and gazing at the sky above.
"I don't think I could ever tire of a view like this." She murmured, sipping at her wine. "It's like being on top of the world."
Erik simply drank; glancing at her beside him a moment, but saying nothing.
Neither them really knew how long they stayed out there. It could have been hours and neither one of them would have been able to confirm or deny otherwise. They simply passed the time enjoying the quiet and looking up at the stars, though they finished the bottle of wine between them in a relatively short time. Rose felt warm and content, undoubtedly with a nice blush forming on her cheeks. The night had been so simple, and yet it meant so much to her, she honestly had to wonder if Erik knew just how much so.
Resting back on her arms, Rose closed her eyes, sighing deeply. The city was all but silent, save for the light whisper of the wind. There was a sort of power that came with the night, when the city had retreated into itself and all that remained was the darkness. Every sense seemed to be heightened, anything was possible. It was freedom.
"Do you hear that?" She asked softly, breaking the silence. Erik paused, looking around, his brow raised in slight confusion, something that seemed to happen increasingly whenever he was with her.
"Hear what?" he wondered. Surely his hearing was in no way affected, unable to hear whatever sound had bewitched her so.
"The night." Rose said simply, opening her eyes to gaze above them once more. "The music in the air."
Erik could have laughed in that moment, but somehow resisted. She sounded completely out of her mind, something he was rather familiar with, and knew he could only blame the empty bottle beside them.
"I think you've had too much wine." He hummed, taking the bottle away from her. Rose sighed, lolling her head to the side to look at him, a smile playing at her lips.
"You are the most genius composer that I know and yet you can't stop and listen to what's around you. Why does that not surprise me?" She teased, nudging his arm lightly as she moved to lie down on her back. "Go on, just listen."
Erik huffed, though there was a faint pink touch to his cheek at the compliment he had been paid, even if it was followed by a not so thinly veiled accusation. He was in half a mind to call her preposterous and call it a day, but he didn't. Instead he relented, rolling his eyes and allowing a moment to take it in.
At first he couldn't hear a thing, and was almost certain that she was simply intoxicated. But she had said it with such conviction; he supposed he could at least give her the benefit of the doubt. So Erik listened some more. There was nothing but the light breeze in the air, and the sound of their breath. It was cool, and calming and Erik soon found himself feeling rather at ease.
"People are afraid of the night, yet they fail to see the beauty that it holds." Rose said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's calming, almost hypnotic, but it's also a form of protection...it feels as though anything is possible. There's no need to hide from it. You just, surrender to it. Let it free you...like a song."
Though he stayed silent, Erik would never have expected her words to hit him so deeply. His life was surrounded in darkness, and that was of his own volition. But the darkness kept him safe, kept him away from the world that had tossed him aside. But the night was so much more than just darkness. It was the end of a day, time started over, it was redemption and salvation. And finally at last, Erik could hear the music within it.
"Lay down with me."
"No."
"Please?"
"I have no need to do such a thing." He insisted, standing his ground. Rose rolled her eyes, turning her head to face him.
"Indulge me, Erik. It's my birthday."
Erik knew that it was likely well past midnight, and that her birthday was over for another year. Though in reality, he had no inclination of the time until the next toll of the bells. He turned to look at her, ready and willing to argue until daybreak if it was needed. But the look on her face stilled him to silence. Her hair lay fanned out beneath her head, a stark contrast to the dark roof tiles beneath them. Her eyes were almost pleading for him to agree, and Erik knew in his heart that he could hardly deny her such a simple request. He sighed in defeat, causing the beauty beside him to smile triumphantly as he shifted to stretch out beside her.
"I hope you're pleased with yourself." He retorted dryly, which only made Rose's smile brighten.
"Very much so, thank you." She nodded.
Erik rolled his eyes again, getting himself comfortable, with one hand lying atop his chest. Silence befell them once more as they simply lay there, gazing out at the sky above them. Rose had an almost wistful smile on her face as she moved a hand to clutch at the pendant around her neck, feeling the spirit of her father close on this of all days.
Erik watched the gentle movement out of the corner of his eye. He was by no means a spiritual man, but if he had to believe in any idea about the next life, it would be that those who loved and were loved in life could look down upon the living still. Not having anyone to feel about him in such a way, he wouldn't think it true. But he would possibly reconsider his stance for her sake.
A moment's pause fell between them once more, though the air was light. As her hand fell from the chain, falling silently to the ground between them, Erik felt his fingers twitch; flexing a moment, almost inching towards the much smaller hand that lay beside it. He held back, willing the foreign desire away, though it seemed to have a mind of its own. He let out a breath, his eyes focused on a constellation above as he slowly moved his hand closer to hers, his fingers curling around hers as he took her hand in his.
It was purely an offering for comfort; that was what he told himself. Rose could accept it or refuse it, and he would feel no shame or foolishness. Erik felt the urge to pull his hand away when he felt a light squeeze in return. Glancing over at her, he found her focus on the sky above, though a gentle smile rested upon her lips.
It was some time later when they moved again. Though the sun would be up in a matter of hours, the night air was cooling down. He might have been used to the cold, but he knew that Rose was more inclined to favour warmth. Erik pulled himself up, causing the redhead beside him to look at him questioningly. He said nothing as he reached for his cloak, laying beside the statue nearby, and draped it over her shoulders, keeping her warm. Rose smiled up at him in thanks, the chill of the night air already easing from her bones.
"You should return downstairs. I don't think the management would want their star freezing to death upon the rooftop." Erik said knowingly. Rose knew that he was right, they would have to leave their solitude at some point, though she didn't much care for the idea. If nobody would miss her, she felt she could be rather happy with a life up there.
"Perhaps...one last song before I take you back?" He offered, already reaching for the violin. Rose simply smiled and nodded her head, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sat back comfortably. Erik pulled out the violin, such a beautiful instrument, and fell effortlessly into another tune. It felt similar to the one earlier the evening, but in a strange way, felt almost familiar, though Rose knew the chances of that being the case were too small to even consider.
Rose already felt the melody seeping into her skin, bewitching her with its beauty. She pulled the cloak around her tighter. It was large, and enveloped her entire body with ease. Rose felt an instant calmness having it around her shoulders, a kind of familiarity. It smelled like him, the thought of which seemed to make her smile.
She considered herself rather fortunate that she had seem some truly wonderful examples of beauty in her life, but nothing compared to seeing Erik in his element, lost within the music, acting as one and the same. His eyes were closed as he played the notes as though they were pouring from his soul. She knew all too well that they were doing just that.
She felt mesmerised, under his spell as she watched. He truly was beautiful, though she dared not speak it out loud. Her soul felt like it was flying, her skin cool to the touch and yet she felt such a warmth coursing through her veins; it almost burned, scolding...and yet she welcomed it.
In an instant something changed. Slowly, but very surely, it was as though a switch had set off in her head, and every piece of a strange, convoluted mystery was working itself into place. Nothing made sense; she couldn't explain it, but it seemed like at the same time, nothing had ever been clearer to her.
A soft gasp fell from her lips; for Rose felt as though she were seeing the stars in the sky for the very first time. She felt out of breath, but didn't dare to breathe as time seemed to stop around them; the world no longer existed beyond that rooftop. Rose knew that it would never be the same, and the thought scared her to death. But she smiled, as was often the case whenever she was around him. There was something, some tiny voice in the back of her mind, that assured her that perhaps, just perhaps, this was not such an awful thing at all.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Time passed quickly, as it did often, and in the blink of an eye, the year had come and gone. It was time for the Opera Populaire to once again host its New Year's Eve Masquerade. Excitement filled the air throughout the company, no matter the station. Girls fussed about what costume they would wear and who was taking them, the crew in discussion about just how much booze they'll be able to sneak out with for their own celebrations. The management were in high spirits about the announcement to introduce their new leading soprano. And Rose could hardly care about any of it.
Though she was pleased that the Opera house was filled to the brim with excitement, the idea of a large, over the top extravagant party was simply not her idea of fun. She had never been one for extravagant celebrations; personally enjoying a small get together with close friends over the over the top opulence of the annual affair; but her position within the company deemed it necessary for her to make an appearance.
Though if anything, there was one aspect of the evening that she did rather enjoy; and that was the chance to dress up. Rose did not consider herself glamorous by any means, especially compared to some of the dancers or the patrons of the Opera. But she loved to dress up, in her costumes for performances or the like, and especially at events such as a masque, where she could be whoever she wanted, just for an evening.
With the help of her friends in the costume department and a sweet seamstress named Elsie, Rose had found an outfit that she felt was perfection. It was dark blue in colour, almost black and rather akin to the colour of the night sky. Silver beads and crystals adorned the fabric and sparkled under the lights of the chandelier like a thousand glittering stars. Her hair was flowing loose in curls down her back, with a crescent moon tiara rest atop her head. Her mask wasn't overly conventional, but was made of simple blue lace, which did very little to conceal her identity, though she loved it all the same.
Without fail, the Masque had gone off without a hitch. Lefèvre had voiced his concerns about the Opera Ghost making himself known and spoiling the events of the evening, but had been thankfully surprised to not hear a peep from the apparition. Instead, he chose to down a rather large glass of champagne, and introduce the Opera's brand new leading soprano, Carlotta Guidicelli, newly arrived from Italy to win the hearts of the Parisian public, and since her arrival, had already begun to act like she had.
While it hadn't been her first choice to spend the evening, Rose found that she was enjoying herself more than she had expected. The halls were filled with people, all dressed to the nines in some of the most beautiful outfits and costumes that Rose had ever seen. The orchestra had been set up in the great foyer, filling the entire Opera House with luscious notes that one could not help but want to dance to.
Rose had managed to politely decline any and all offers she had to dance that evening, pointing the potential suitors in the direction of other dancers who were far less likely to step on their toes. It didn't seem apparent for the gentlemen to question that coming from the Prima Ballerina, and Rose was all the more grateful for it. So instead she hovered in the background, making sure she was seen by those who had requested her presence there; her mother and management above all else. The kind gentleman who was in charge of providing champagne was being an absolute dear, making sure to circle past whenever a fresh tray would arrive. Some would think it odd, to go to a ball and refuse do dance, despite it being your life's passion, but Rose was simply content to watch others. It brought a smile on her face, seeing the couples dressed so beautifully, spinning along the floor in perfect unison.
A group of younger dancers had congregated nearby, speaking in hushed tones as they watched the room. On more than one occasion, Rose had noticed their glances in her directions, followed by hurried whispers. Not that she cared of course; she had very little time for gossiping. Out of the corner of her eye, a familiar figure, dressed rather well in a long black cape and hat, much to her surprise, made his way over.
"May I steal you away for a dance, Mademoiselle?" He asked, bowing low and glancing at the gaggle of girls out of the corner of his eye. Rose couldn't hide the smirk on her face as she nodded, setting her glass down on a passing tray.
"Why of course, kind sir."
Allowing him to take her hand, the two headed out to join the rest of the dancers as the music changed in tempo. Her suitor pulled her close, resting his hand on her hip gently and taking the other in his as they began to move to the music.
"So tell me, who did you bribe to let you off for the night hmm? Looking all fancy like that?" Rose wondered, brow raised as she barely fought a smirk from her lips. "It's a worry the kind of riffraff they let in these days."
"Riffraff? I'll have you know that I can pass for an upstanding member of society any day of the week." Nicholas replied, straightening up a little more to further prove his point. "Besides, you should thank me for rescuing you from the gossipers."
"Rescuing me, is that what we're calling it? Thank you for saving me, good sir. I owe you my life." She replied with a laugh, rolling her eyes. The sound seemed infectious, and soon Nicholas had joined in. Shaking his head, he spun her around before pulling her in close once more.
"It's been a good year, hasn't it?"
"You know what, it really has."
"And things are only going to get better. Something tells me that next year is going to be the best one yet."
Rose could only smile, humming softly in agreement. Nicholas had no idea just how good of a year it had been. It would be truly something magical for the next to possibly be even better, but Rose knew they simply had to wait and see. The song soon ended as the dancers applauded the orchestra. Scanning the crowd, Nicholas saw Lefèvre making his way over and immediately ducked out of view.
"I need get out of here." He murmured. Following his gaze, Rose's eyes widened as she turned to him, grinning wickedly.
"I knew you snuck your way up here! Go before you get into any more trouble." She teased. Nicholas only grinned, sending her a wink.
"Come join us for the countdown." He offered, lightly squeezing her hand still in his. The redhead smiled gently in thanks but shook her head.
"I think I'm going to sneak away while I can." She shrugged. He looked at her almost disapprovingly, shaking his head in slight disbelief.
"Rosie, come on. Nobody should be alone on New Year's."
While she appreciated his concern, Rose knew that it was far from necessary. She would much rather ring in the new year on her own this time, despite his difficulty in understanding.
"Go before you get in trouble."
Though he seemed almost reluctant to leave her on her own, one last look in Lefèvre's direction put another spring in Nicholas' step. He sighed, sending her a cheeky grin and kissed her knuckles before weaving through the crowd and disappearing out of sight. Rose could only sigh and shake her head at his ridiculousness. With one last glance at the crowd, now dancing to a new song, she decided to take her leave, and made her way upstairs towards the roof.
It was quiet as usual, with only the statues for company. Despite the silence, the streets below seemed to be alive with the promise of the New Year; a fresh start for all. Rose smiled wistfully to herself as she moved to the edge of the rooftop, perching on the edge and gazing out at the city before her. The city was so beautiful under the cloak of night; lights from the street lamps were dazzling amongst the freshly fallen snow, and the streets were buzzing with anticipation from those down below. The music swelled from the ballroom below, just faintly enough for her to hear. Snow was starting to soak through the hem of her gown, but it did nothing to deter her from her post.
"I may not be an expert of such things," A voice came from out of the shadows. "...but I believe a party is to be attended, not escaped from."
Rose smiled softly to herself, biting her lip as she felt that familiar warmth in her chest. She turned to glance over her shoulder, and was soon met with the sight of Erik, gaze upon the sky, leaning oh so gracefully against the statue of Pegasus as though he didn't have a care in the world.
"You know I've never been one for parties." She said with a light shrug as she got to her feet, dusting the snow off her gown. Erik did nothing but lift a brow, still not looking at her. No, he knew nothing of this, knowing all too well that it was entirely possible for her desires to change over the time that had passed between them. The Rose he knew then rather enjoyed being amongst kin in that capacity, dancing and parading up a storm until the early hours. She in turn saw his expression and chuckled softly, shaking her head.
"Well, I've never been one for that crowd. Far too many people with their noses too high in the air." Not to mention a lack of suitors' arms her mother attempted to push her into during the course of the evening. Her amendment earned a nod of agreement from her companion. While Erik had all the airs and graces of a member of upper society, she knew it would never be his scene, even if he were comfortable with it.
It was only now that he lowered his gaze to look at her, and Erik felt himself freeze a moment; his eyes widening at the sight of her. He had never seen her in such exquisite dress, even when she was on stage. He felt breathless, as though he was gazing upon a vision. His throat felt dry, almost as though he had lost all knowledge of how to speak. He soon cleared his throat, glancing down a moment to recover before she questioned him as to what was wrong.
"You look beautiful, mon amie." He said, his head bowing a moment. Rose smiled; feeling a blush at her cheeks as she absently toyed with her skirt.
"Thank you, Erik. You look very handsome yourself." She replied, brushing her hair back behind her ear as she untied the lace from her eyes, letting it fall to the floor. Erik somehow fought back the hollow laugh that threatened to pull from his throat. He wanted to argue with her, dismiss all such claims and refuse what she said to be truth. But he refrained from doing so, not wishing to take part in an argument. He didn't want to think about it, but her words sounded sincere, so instead he nodded once, barely holding his tongue. Rose smiled, almost looking proud of his efforts as she turned to gaze at the city streets once more.
High above, at the top of the world, Rose felt a peace as she watched the people down below, rushing off to their celebrations, and couples ringing in the new year early in each other's arms. She sighed deeply, a small hum escaping her lips as she looked on with a smile. Her fingers brushed lightly through the thin layer of snow on the rooftop as new flakes tumbled down gently and landed on her skin.
She could hear the soft crunch of snow growing closer as Erik soon appeared beside her, watching the people down below. The music from the Opera House could still be heard rising through the rafters, adding to the atmosphere. After a moment, he cleared his throat once again, resisting the urge to turn his gaze to his feet.
"May I have this dance, Mademoiselle?" he asked quietly. Rose pulled her gaze from the streets below and turned to him, seeing him bowed low, his hand extended in invitation. She was speechless to say the least. It wasn't that she was unsure of his abilities – after all, Erik could do positively anything, of that she was sure.
But in all her years of knowing him, she had never seen him dance. Play for her while she rehearsed, yes, but never getting to his feet himself. But the gesture brought a smile to her face, and it was an offer she would all too readily accept.
"I would be honoured, Monsieur." She grinned, taking his hand and allowing him to guide her away from the roof's edge.
Though he somehow managed to keep a rather confident front, Erik felt the nerves start to take over. Despite seeing couples dancing in the past, he himself had never danced with anyone before. Any step he would take would be purely guess work, and with a professional dancer no less. But he kept his stance tall and sure as he easily guided her close to him; once hand in hers, the other resting at her waist. His heart was beating rather harshly, though Rose smiled at him warmly, stepping forward and closing some distance between them. Counting in time with the music below, they started to waltz.
Their initial footwork may have been a little hesitant, but it took no time at all for the two to fall in time and rhythm with the music, and soon they were moving as gracefully as can be. Rose was pleasantly surprised to find that beyond the nerves, Erik was a skilled dancer in his own right, though she knew it was foolish to have doubted it.
They moved together along the roof, gaining confidence with every step. Seeing the warm look of reassurance on her face, Erik even found himself smiling himself, a feat in itself really. She was so patient and assured, he couldn't help but allow himself to let go and simply enjoy himself. The two wove between the statues, Erik spinning her gracefully before she returned to his side once more, curled up rather tight in his arms.
Rose felt almost giddy, but it was the lightest she had felt in years. There was something in that moment, there with him, feeling free that felt almost heavenly. She smiled up at him, her heart warming as she saw him smiling back at her in return; it was no smirk, or half attempt, but a true honest smile, and it made her heart soar. When Erik let her hand go, she almost questioned it, until she felt his strong hands at her wait, picking her up and spinning around. Resting her hands on his shoulders, Rose let out a joyful laugh, her hair free in the breeze as he set her back on her feet once more, hearing the music slowly start to come to a close. She felt dizzy, but it was a feeling she seemed to crave more of
With the fading of the music, the two slowed their movements until they were merely swaying together; Rose's hands resting against Erik's shoulders, his hands still firmly at her waist until they stopped moving all together. Had they always been that close? Who could say? But neither one of them seemed to mind, or want to move at all. Rose felt frozen, looking into his eyes and feeling a warmth there that she seldom got to see; Erik had shown on many occasions the capacity for warmth he had in his heart, but to truly see it, was almost a gift.
He couldn't take his eyes off her, feeling as though she was looking right into his soul, as dark and worthless as he believed it to be. They were close, closer than they had ever been, and yet she did not shy away from him. No, instead, she smiled and Erik felt as if the world had begun anew.
With a hesitant hand, he reached out slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face and brushing it behind her ear. He should have returned it to her side in that moment, but in a brief flicker of self assurance, Erik moved his hand, cupping her cheek gently. Her skin was soft and cool to the touch after spending who knows how long in the winter air. But there was that undeniable warmth that was simply Rose.
Neither one knew who moved first, nor did they suppose it truly mattered. Both seemed to notice it at the same time, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller. She could feel his breath against her skin, lips parted only just...
Then the bells began to toll.
The sudden interruption caused the two to part quickly in shock, their hands falling to their sides and both turning their attention across the city as Notre Dame signalled in the beginning of the New Year. No sooner had the chimes begun, the sound of fireworks filled the air, and soon the Paris night was lit up in shades of gold and blue, and every colour under the sun.
As they gazed out at the night sky, listening to the crowd within cheering, matching the sounds of the people on the street below, and the magic of the moment seemed to fade along with the remainders of 1864. After a moment, Rose turned to him, watching a moment as the lights from the fireworks seemed to glisten against his mask. It took a mere moment for him to feel her eyes watching him, and turn to face her himself. Neither one of them spoke a moment until Rose smiled gently.
"Bonne année, Erik." She whispered softly.
"Bonne année, Rose." He replied. Rose's lips curled into a soft smile, the corner caught on her lip a moment before she took a step closer. Stepping up onto her toes, she pressed a soft kiss to his unmasked cheek, lingering perhaps a moment too long. When she stepped back, she glanced at him for a brief second before turning and making her way to the door to head back downstairs.
Erik stood there in shock; she had kissed his cheek willingly and of her own volition. In a daze, he reached up and touched his cheek, still able to feel the warmth of her lips against his skin.
When he returned to his lair later, Erik stalked purposefully toward his organ. There, he sat and he wrote a song that had been on his mind for days, now finding more of a purpose to get it down, and the warmth of a smile and a soft touch that had inspired it.
"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation, Darkness stirs and wakes imagination..."