-------1897------
Charles de Chagny had never been so happy in his life. It taken eleven long years of begging but he had finally been able to convince his parents to bring him back to the Opera Populaire. They were going to be staying in Paris for the whole opera season and got to sit with the mangers in their box which was one of the best boxes in the house.
Tonight's performance was to be Faust and Charles couldn't wait for it to begin. He was practically bouncing up and down in his seat in excitement.
Richard Firmin chuckled at the obvious excitement of the boy sitting next to him. "Anxious for the opera to begin?" He asked.
"Yes," Charles grinned. "I heard that you have some of the most excellent singers in all of France, so I can't wait to hear how beautiful the performance will be."
"You enjoy music then?" Gilles Andre piped up from Firmin's other side.
"Yes, very much," Charles smiled.
He was well aware that his passion for music made him even more like his mother. He had a voice teacher since he had started to sing along with Christine when she sang her old operatic arias when he was six. It was his greatest dream to sing on the stage of the Opera Populaire like his mother had but he knew that because of his parentage such a dream could never be realized. So instead he settled for being able to make Christine cry tears of joy when he sang and the proud look in his father's eyes every time he heard his voice.
As the adults babbled on to each other Charles looked around at the other people in audience until his eyes came to rest on the box infront of theirs which was curiously empty.
"Why is that box empty?" He asked Firmin.
Everyone instantly went silent lighthearted expressions gone and Firmin cleared his throat nervously before answering.
"That's Box Five," He told Charles. "It's the Phantom's private box."
"Oh," Charles said quietly looking back at the box. His parents had told him all about the Phantom of the Opera when he was ten years old and he knew it was the reason why it had taken eleven years to convince them to return to the opera house. That and the little masked boy that Charles had met the first time he had come to the Opera Populaire.
Charles's grip on the arms of his chair tightened as he remembered James. He hadn't come to the opera house just to see the season's performances. He wanted to find that mysterious boy and figure out why his mother had been so afraid of him and why he wore a mask. He could still remember James's words to his mother…
"I understand, mademoiselle. You don't want something like me hanging around your precious little boy."
What had he meant?
Charles was dragged out his thoughts by the light touch of his mother's hand on his.
"Charles," She said quietly, "the opera's starting."
Charles smiled at her before turning his attention to the stage.
The rumors of the Opera Populaire having some of the best singers in France may have been slightly exaggerated—the leading soprano Carlotta Giudicelli had definitely passed her prime by now—but all the same Charles couldn't help but be enchanted by the performance.
Halfway through the performance however Charles glanced curiously over a Box Five.
What he saw there made his eyes go wide.
Someone was sitting in the box!
Pressing his opera glasses to his eyes to get a better look he found that person seemed to be around his age. He was wearing a black suit and cape that made him almost blend into the shadows of the box. His face was covered by the wide brim of the felt hat that he wore but as Charles stared at him he turned his head to look back, revealing a white mask.
Charles gasped his opera glasses slipping from his eyes as his grip on them loosened. Was it James?!
He quickly brought his opera glasses back to his eyes and looked back into the box only to find it empty once more.
James pressed himself all the way back into his chair. His heart was pounding so hard that he thought it would burst from his chest.
Erik had turned to look at him now eyes full of concern. "What's wrong?" He asked.
"The boy in the manger's box just saw me!" James said.
"You mean Charles de Chagny," Erik said quietly.
James froze when he heard the name. "It was Charles?" He breathed.
"Indeed," Erik said. "I think you should keep back for the rest of the opera. The boy's watching our box like a vulture." He then turned his attention back to the opera well James peered over into the manger's box.
Charles still had his opera glasses fixed on their box but as James watched he eventually put them back down on his lap and turned back to the opera looking disappointed. James on the other hand hardly paid any attention to the opera as he studied Charles.
His face had thinned out over the years but with his innocent, soft features and full delicate lips, it still had a slightly feminine look to it. His dark chestnut curls framed this face nicely and the dark eyes which were now sneaking a glance into Box Five were very beautiful. Especially with the thick curling brown lashes that would have made any girl jealous.
James had never imagined that he would see the other boy again. The boy who had been the only person in the world to show him kindness besides Erik and Madame Giry. And yet there he was right infront of him.
He wished that he could go see Charles but he knew it was a foolish wish. His parents were people who would fear and reject him because they could guess what lay behind the mask and perhaps their son would too. Besides who was he to think that Charles even remembered him? He had only been five years old at the time after all. No, for now James would have to content himself with simply watching.
Charles lay in his bed staring up at the crimson clothe of the canopy. It was eleven at night now and he knew he should be asleep but his mind wouldn't stop racing.
He was certain that he had seen James in Box Five tonight. But why would he be in the Phantom's box? Did he have some kind of ties to the man? He would have to have them Charles guessed to be able to sit in the man's box unharmed. But what kind of ties did he have to him then?
Charles sighed and closed his eyes. As he did the image of James in Box Five slipped back into his mind. Why does he wear that mask? He wondered. A mask just like the Phantom's…
His eyes snapped open and he shot up in bed. James wore a mask just like the Phantom's. Could it be that he wore it for the same reason?
Erik entered James's room to find the boy lying on his bed absentmindedly plucking the strings of his violin. He looked over at Erik when he came in. "Hello, Father," He said.
Erik didn't answer him and walked over to sit down on James's bed. He gave his son a serious look.
"You're thinking about Charles aren't you," He said.
James let his violin fall onto the bed with a sigh. "Don't worry," He said. "I already know that I can't show myself to him."
"But you'll follow him in secret," Erik said. "That eventually won't be enough for you though and try as you might to stop yourself you'll reveal yourself to him hoping that he'll accept you. And though he might then he'll later become curious about the mask and wanting to know what's behind it he'll—"
"I know, Father," James said sitting up his voice soft and sad. "I won't do what you did."
Erik sighed and slipped his arm around James's shoulders, pulling the boy to him. James closed his eyes and lay his head down on his father's chest as the man nestled his thin, bony hands in his hair.
"Stay away from that boy," He said. "I won't allow you to get hurt like I did."