La Carlotta was an audacious woman. Just five weeks before the show was meant to be performed, the Italian soprano returned with a vengeance and refused to leave without a role. As the current opera was Il Muto, she demanded to be the Countess- regardless that Christine was already being prepared for the role. Not being able to ease the red-headed woman, the managers and Reyer had no choice but to let her have her wish.
Meg sneered, "How dare she march in here and take your role? Who are you to be now?"
"Whatever they allow me. There is little else I can do."
"The Opera Ghost won't be pleased."
"And just the other day you chided me for believing in my Angel." Christine mused.
The rest of rehearsals were spent on gossip and some of the leading positions trying to shush everyone else. Carlotta's lover Piangi was obviously delighted, even though he likely knew she would pull such a scheme. By late afternoon, the only other news was that Mademoiselle Daae was to play the Pageboy.
It was a shock to any cast members who sided with Christine. Why would the managers give her the silent role? Hadn't her voice just recently impressed audiences enough for to continue singing? It was of no matter now, for this was the absolute last-minute change possible in casting.
They would have to rush in preparing La Carlotta for her blocking and singing, no matter how much she declared that it was a waste of her time. Christine would also be required to learn new positions and become more focused on facial expressions, her character being mute.
The dormitories were in uproar just as everyone was preparing to go out for dinner, all discussions circling around Carlotta's sudden return. The younger soprano remained seated upon her sofa, thoughts muddled with confusion & imagining her new role. Soon the other rooms were emptied, or at least they all seemed empty. In this silence, Christine heard the whisper of her name from within the walls.
"Erik?" She asked, keeping her voice at a quiet whisper.
"Those idiotic managers are going to regret that little stunt they allowed to pass." Her teacher's voice warned, speaking more to himself than to her.
"Please don't harm anyone. The Pageboy is still a major role, and I would be alright playing him."
"It is a disgrace to the talent and vastly improved technique of your voice."
"What would you like me to do?"
She thought for a moment, having some ideas that didn't refer to this particular show and decided to voice them.
"Take me back to your home, just for a lesson and to spend the remaining part of the day together. It's quiet calming to be away from everyone. As for the managers, perhaps you shouldn't bother them about it, I'm sure they'll give me a better role next time."
"They had better, the next show could very well be my Don Juan." Erik scoffed, ignoring Christine's first request.
"What exciting news! I'm glad it's almost complete, though it would be better if you could agree to the other thing I asked of you."
"Do you truly wish to return to my home? To spend time with a person who is more monstrosity than man? You know hardly a thing about my dark past."
"Yes, I do. If there is anything I need to know about your past, you must tell me yourself." Christine argued.
Erik gave in, his own desire of being with her further pushing him to agree to her wishes. Through the dressing room mirror, the masked man pulled his student inside and led her through the un-illuminated paths. The mirror always slid back into place behind them, leaving no trace of Christine's leave.
"How long have you been down here? It must be so lonely to be here without any visitors and only dealing with the affairs of the Opera."
"Well, I'm not always alone. There is a single person from my past that visits me every so often, he is an old police chief from Persia that cannot leave me alone to my own devices. He does not believe that I am capable of being a decent human being without his guidance."
"I'm sure he doesn't think that. He is just a caring friend who wishes you the best and wants to ensure you're alright down here."
Erik rowed them across the misty lake in the black gondola, hiding a small smile as he responded: "He believes the same thing."
"From knowing him, I assume you met in Persia?" Christine asked, hoping she wasn't intruding too much.
"Yes. My times in that country were not very happy ones and I don't wish to tell you about them now."
A few moments of silence ensued, only the rippling sound of water gliding against the paddle creating noise. Christine hummed a quiet tune she remembered her father playing, her voice gradually growing to a mezzo forte dynamic. Her gondolier was lost in the beauty of it, proud to know that such talent came from his teaching. The time seemed to slip away and, all too soon, the boat landed on the bank.
Erik took Christine's delicate hand, helping her out of the boat and onto the rocky floor of his home. All of the rooms were refreshingly open to the subterranean air and Christine was thankful for it, already feeling excited at seeing the pipe organ.
Together, they created music for what seemed like days. The organ's keyboard was being played expertly with such intense vigor by Erik's skilled hands, pairing as a beautiful accompaniment to his student's ethereal, yet deeply emotional voice.
By the end of their lesson, both of their chests were heaving for more oxygen. Perhaps it was just the heat of the moment after performing such a desirous piece, but the pair were practically leaning against each other. Erik had stood up from his playing bench and turned to face Christine, who was positioned directly at his side.
Her small height in comparison to Erik's caused her adoring blue eyes to stare up at him, seeming curious to find out what was happening. A minute had passed and they were both still breathing deeply, standing against one another. The masked man could feel his bloated lip almost trembling from proximity.
It began like the light touch of a butterfly, Christine initiating the contact between their lips. She set her palms upon his chest due to her inability to comfortably reach his shoulders or neck. Erik didn't seem to respond as he'd fallen into a brief daze. In fear that this was just a dream, he took his opportunity to truly return the kiss. His fervor guided his hands to rest at Christine's mid-back and pulled her slim body closer to his own. The girl whimpered slightly as the kiss deepened and sent her head spinning. But it ended too quickly, both of them needing to catch their breaths.
Erik stepped away and turned from his student, already feeling the insecurity creeping in.
"I would like to say something, but I'm speechless." Christine murmured, just loud enough for her teacher to hear, and smiled.
He didn't see, fearing what her response would be.
"Erik? Are you alright?" She questioned in concern as her feet came closer to him.
"Ha! Is Erik alright? It must be the second time I've ever heard such a question! This circumstance is much more favorable than the previous time."
"I didn't mean to hurt y-"
"Hurt?! Definitely not, I'm only amazed you haven't shriveled up and died. Congratulations, dear girl, you have lived through kissing the living corpse!" He said, sounding as if enraged but with tears streaming from his golden-brown eyes.
"Please do not call yourself such demeaning names. You are still a man, a very talented one at that."
"Oh you are such an intriguing girl. I must stop this at once, there is no way I can suppress myself if you dare to do something like that again."
"No, please don't force me away! I find I miss you terribly during rehearsals, even if you are somewhere within the walls and listening to everything."
Erik ran a hand up to his face in agony. It was so difficult to control his impulses with the girl acting so willing to be with him! Oh how that insufferable Daroga would scold him if he were here, reminding him that he warned against intruding in the girl's life. As he paced across the rug, occasionally stepping on some sheet music, Christine watched him in worry.
"Oh Ange, please tell me what you're thinking." She begged.
If only it were so easy...Erik thought. Just seeing her standing there with her chin outstretched in wonder and the caring expression on her fair face. Her untamable curls were still pinned in place- a style that would've been difficult to perfect by anyone besides this young soprano. The lavender gown she had donned complimented her pale skin tone and the light blush on her cheeks. But the exquisite way that it curved over her dancer's frame was what Erik most appreciated about the dress. Much to his dismay, and almost horror, the masked man could feel his trousers tighten before the lovely Christine.
"I'm sorry if I've overstepped my boundaries." She apologized, her gaze falling to the floor.
"No, you couldn't possibly do such a thing. It is simply my unfamiliarity with... touching and whatnot. It is a very unexpected thing for me." He paused, "And if you wish to, I can explain why in further detail."
"Oh please, Erik! You know so much of my life and I know nothing but music of you."
And his story began. This one was of his early childhood, just at the age where comprehension and memories begin. He spoke of his mother's fear of his tragic visage and how she cowered away from her own child because of the deformity. Instead of offering compassion, she refused to face him until Erik put on the crude mask she gave him. It was the first piece of clothing he was given. Time passed and Erik was near the age of five (birthdays not being a commonality) when his mother gave him away to a circus. The owners paid her decently, knowing that the oddity of her bastard son would bring in much better profits.
Christine remained silent, not wanting to interrupt his story, while tears fell endlessly down her cheeks. Her instructor didn't bother to continue with the horrifying details of his life at the circus, stuck in conditions that were worse than that of a caged animal. The empathetic girl couldn't help but get up from her seat on the embroidered cushion and tightly embrace her teacher. His body went stiff beneath her arms, awkwardly reaching behind to her back to return the motion. Now he was crying again.
"You truly are an angel. I cannot believe having such a childhood and still being as wonderfully skilled as you are." The short brunette remarked, her face buried in his collared shirt.
"It is but the beginning of my story, Christine. And by no means does it make me a decent individual- some of my crimes are unforgivable even with such a background."
"I don't believe so, Erik. People can change over time, and you've clearly become better. The only trouble you cause are silly pranks in the theatre."
He shook his head, "No, I'm afraid you've been kept in the dark about the worst I've done at the Populaire."
Christine sat back down, this time directly beside him, and looked expectantly at her teacher as if to prod him onwards. He sighed, feeling ashamed for the first time for his actions. Of course there was always some remorse after committing a crime, but this was the only time Erik truly felt regretful. But Christine would need to learn the truth at some point and now seemed to be one of those times. She wiped her eyes with a dainty handkerchief and listened to his story.