The streets of Paris grew quiet as night began to fall. Shop owners turned in for the night, cleaning up their carts and stands and disappearing into their small homes. The opera house was no exception to this. It had been quiet since the sun had risen save for The Phantom's quiet movements as he gathered the unused parchment from the floor and placed it gently in the seat of his organ bench. Erik had spent the day searching the opera house for any useful paper, especially those with music staffs.
He had procured an acceptable amount of food to hold him over for the next few days as he usually did in his secret manner, but he would have to eat sparingly. This was no change for him; he always ate little and worked in great amounts.
Darkness had fallen, leaving the streets in darkness. Erik could feel night coming on; his internal clock was more attuned than many others'. He had no desire to sleep, only to work. Ever since Madeleine had returned to the outside world, the opera house was back to its original silence and emptiness.
The Phantom worked for another three hours, collecting all of the stray glass particles from the mirror he had shattered after the fire. The passage was covered by a large, red tapestry that hung from the other mirrors. His eyes traced the dim outline of the small hallway, weighing his options for the future.
There was no longer any purpose to the opera house; it was only a skeleton holding broken dreams and memories of those who preformed in it. The Opera Populair may not reside in the beautiful Paris for much longer. After all, factories were beginning to sprout in many other towns, as Erik had heard while searching for food.
It was time to turn in. His light blue eyes could no longer concentrate on the sheet music he was trying to compose, so he removed his mask, placing it on the bust, and made his way toward the swan bed. The black curtain closed, and silently, Erik began to undress, folding his white shirt beside the bed on top of his black boots. A slight shiver ran down his spine as he climbed into the velvet and silk red sheets, causing his solid chest to ripple. After a few moments, his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.
The sheets, though soft and comfortable, gave him no comfort. He slept restlessly, tossing and turning as the night passed. When sunrise came, he could feel it, and opened his eyes to begin another day. He yawned and rose, pulling the chord to open the black curtain and froze, covering the deformed half of his face with his right hand.
Before the bust stood Madeleine, gazing down at the pure white mask in her hands. She stroked it with her finger and looked up at him. A small, timid smile grew on her lips as they gazed at each other, the mask resting gently in her hands. She was wearing the white petticoat she had worn the day she was cornered in the opera house, her feet bare and her long, brown hair fell in messy locks down her back and shoulders.
Slowly, The Phantom stepped toward her, his hand still covering his face.
"Madeleine," he began, "you've returned?"
"Yes," she replied, "I wanted to make sure you were alright." He paused, watching curiously as she stepped toward him, removing his hand and replacing it with his mask. Her hand lingered on his mask, her eyes curiously tracing its curves and the lines of his fine skin on the other side.
"How are you feeling?" Erik asked, suddenly feeling self conscious. He had just realized that his shirt was folded beside his swan bed. Madeleine's gaze moved from his mask to his chest, and back, her eyes wider than they were before. She hadn't realized that he was so exposed.
"I'm sorry," she stuttered nervously.
"No," Erik interrupted, "I'm sorry for being so informal." Quickly he turned to retrieve his shirt, but a hand on his bare arm stopped him.
"It's alright," Madeleine said as he turned to face her again. She was much closer now; their chests were barely touching. Neither moved; they only gazed into each other's eyes nervously.
Slowly, he reached down, cupping the side of her face in his hand. His thumb caressed her cheek as they stood in silence, both frozen in place. Something took over his mind and clouded his judgment, leaving only raw emotions. Without a second thought he leaned down, allowing their lips to gently collide. Her hand moved up to his arm, holding him in their embrace. After a moment, he pulled back slowly, gazing into her eyes.
Quickly, Erik sat up in his bed and looked around.
His lair was empty as it had been when he had fallen asleep. Madeleine was in the outside world, he knew that, but for some reason he couldn't explain, he wished she would return to his solitary confinement and allow him to play the lovely lullaby he had played before.
Once again, Erik was alone.