A/N: Still in a writer's block and it's really late now, so I don't have much to say for this chapter. I just hope to be able to write more soon!

moonlightrose1991: Sigh, I listen to music all the time while I work, but it's just not working well for me now ): I hope to get over it soon too, thank you for your encouragement and support!

Masked Man 2: I feel like it's normal for Christine to not want to tell Meg, because even in reality, you wouldn't tell your best friend everything immediately, I guess... especially if it's something out of the ordinary and a little strange! Theo's a character I would like to develop a little more... it would be good for Christine to have another friend!

emeraldphan: Yes! I'm glad you could see that Christine is developing some feelings (though non-romantic); at this point in time she's probably starting to get more and more curious about Erik. I do like a slow build up (;

Tsuray: Hmm well she's not in love yet, definitely no! That part's going to take much longer. They haven't known each other long enough yet! (; But yes, in upcoming chapters, maybe!

RedDeathLvr: Thank you for your support! I hope you like the new chapter, too (:

Chapter 8

Christine stood in her position on stage, wincing as she watched Mr Chanteur argue with Charlotte. In fact, the whole cast was currently silent and watching the pair.

"I see nothing wrong with my singing, Mr Chanteur," Charlotte huffed, crossing her arms over her bejewelled bosom. She was dressed in a red and green bustier that was encrusted with faux jewels, and a full skirt made of a thick embossed material, complete with panniers, as per Carlotta's costume in the actual musical. The costume department had outdone themselves.

"You're not singing as Carlotta, Miss Redcliffe," he said coolly. "You're singing as yourself."

"So what?" She demanded. "How exactly would you want me to sing?"

"Like Carlotta," he said drily and slowly, as though he were talking to a five-year old. "Your role, Miss Redcliffe."

"You want me to sing horribly?" She pursed her lips at him. "In front of the audience? Can you think what that would do to my reputation?"

"It takes a skilled singer to be able to sing in a 'horrible' voice, as you so put it. You knew what you were getting into when you accepted this role." He snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Playing the role of Carlotta is not about showing the audience how lovely you think your voice is. It is about acting the role of the overbearing diva who's well beyond her prime."

"Then that role should go to Christine," Charlotte said icily. "For that's exactly what she is, isn't she? The diva who's well beyond her prime. She used to play the lead until I took over, Mr Chanteur. I don't know what miracles you think you can pull off by putting her in the lead, but it was a mistake."

"Enough. I grow tired of arguing with you over this." Erik Chanteur said harshly. "You may not have received the role of Christine, Miss Redcliffe, but it is extremely ungracious of you to be bitter about it. Although you can't quite seem to sing as Carlotta, you most certainly behave like her."

"What?" Charlotte blustered, flushing red. "You—"

But he had already walked off the stage, signalling to the technical crew to start up the music again. "Any more complaints, Miss Redcliffe, and I will replace you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Christine saw a few of the cast members shaking their head in annoyance. They were not strangers to the arguments between Erik Chanteur and Charlotte; over the past rehearsals, Charlotte had taken every opportunity to go against their mentor, almost as though she were punishing him for taking the role of Christine Daae away from her. To Erik's credit, he had not fallen for her bait yet.

The music started again, and Christine focused on the beat, preparing herself for the dance that was to come.

After the rehearsal, Christine shooed Meg off to walk home by herself first, claiming her shift at the supermarket as the reason. She waited until all the cast members had left, then walked up to where Mr Chanteur stood, packing his scores away into his briefcase while tapping on the screen of his phone at the same time.

He looked at her distractedly as she approached. "Is there something you wanted to say?"

"Should I have gotten the role of Carlotta instead?" Christine mused. "Perhaps Charlotte was right, and we are playing out the Phantom of the Opera in real life. She as the upcoming young singer who cannot get a role due to the overbearing diva who can no longer sing."

"Such drivel," he snapped, "should not ever get past my ears ever again. Miss Redcliffe thinks too highly of herself, and not so much of others."

"She has the voice," Christine reminded him.

"So do you," he said, looking at her straight in the eye. "If you can get over this lack of confidence. Is this yet another hurdle we have to cross, Miss Sangare? First I had to help you get over yourself and start singing again, and now I have to help you be confident?"

Christine scowled at him. "No, Mr Chanteur. Thank you indeed for the vote of confidence. I'll see you around, then."

"Can I give you a ride back home?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at her. "Or are you going to throw another tantrum and refuse to come for lessons?"

Christine stared at him indignantly, but the tell-tale glint in his eye told her that he had not been serious. She sighed. "I have a shift at the supermarket, but thank you for the offer."

"To the supermarket, then," he said, shrugging. "It is not that much out of my way. Besides, I kept all of you late after the rehearsal, and you'll have to rush for your shift now. Come along."

Christine accompanied him silently to the Academy's parking lot. He deftly retrieved his car keys from his pocket and led her to a sleek black Bugatti Veyron convertible, standing proudly by itself in a lot. Christine stared at the car.

"This isn't your usual car," she said.

"It is," he informed her smugly. "The other car is used when my manager drives me around. This is my personal car."

She put out a hand cautiously to open the door, scarcely daring to touch the gleaming surface, as though she might leave fingerprints behind that would mar its glossy finish. She got in, and watched as he slid into the leather seat with an air of satisfaction. He slid the key into the ignition and the engine began to purr.

"It must be tiring, having rehearsals and then work," he observed quietly as he drove. "It's already eight and your shift lasts until, what, midnight when the supermarket closes?"

"I manage," she said, shrugging. "Besides, singing energizes me more than it wears me down."

"You've grown," he replied, sounding a little amused. She looked at him to realize that the corners of his mouth were turned up slightly in a semblance of a smile, or as close to a smile as he usually gave, anyway.

"Grown?"

"A few weeks ago, you were the girl who refused to sing because she couldn't get over herself, the girl who wanted desperately to sing yet kept herself from singing," he reminded her gently. "Now, you tell me that music energizes you, as it very well should."

"I'm glad," Christine said, staring at her fingers. "For I think papa would have been proud to see me get through this."

"He would." Erik Chanteur had reached the supermarket, and he stopped at the side of the road, unlocking the doors of the car with a click. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Thank you for the ride, Mr Chanteur," Christine climbed out of the car. "And… for everything, of course."

She shut the door and made her way to the supermarket.

XXXX

"Hello, Henry," Christine smiled at the doorman.

"Good evening, Miss Sangare," Henry said, beaming at her.

"Please do call me Christine," she said, rolling her eyes amusedly as she stepped into the lift. "You don't need to stand with such formalities with me, Henry. I'm just plain old Christine."

It had been a couple of weeks since the first rehearsal, and she came here three times a week. Henry now recognised her, and he never failed to smile kindly at her whenever she came to this building, which made Christine glad. It made the cold building a little warmer. Often times, she had stepped into the lift to find herself standing beside one of the building's occupants, dressed richly in their expensive coats and jewels, looking her up and down in her department store sweaters and jeans. She had attempted a smile at one of them once, only to be rewarded with a snooty sniff as the woman sashayed out of the lift on her floor, leaving Christine standing awkwardly in the lift as the doors closed again.

The giant metal contraption brought her up to the penthouse floor, and she stepped out just as the door to Erik Chanteur's house clicked open.

"Oh," said Christine, blinking in surprise. She had expected the man behind the door to be the composer himself, but instead it was the dark-skinned man she often saw around the house, yet had never had a chance to speak to before.

"Hello Christine," he said pleasantly.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I know your name…" She trailed off awkwardly, and he laughed, sticking out his hand.

"Nadir Khan at your service. I'm Erik's manager, though you may have already guessed that."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Nadir." She shook his hand firmly. "I'm here for my lesson with Mr Chanteur. Is he in?"

"Mr Chanteur?" The man's eyes twinkled. "You call Erik 'Mr Chanteur'? He used to tell me it made him feel extremely old whenever someone called him that."

Christine blinked at him, at a loss for words, and Nadir laughed.

"Don't take it to heart," he said. "If Erik hasn't corrected you yet, he probably doesn't mind. Anyway, he's in the music room, but I would tread carefully today if I were you. He seems to be in a foul mood tonight, so every little thing will annoy him. Maybe even 'Mr Chanteur' will."

Winking, he stepped past her and made his way to the elevator. Christine entered the apartment, removing her shoes cautiously. She was not quite sure that she could handle him when he was in a bad mood. She walked to the music room and knocked on the door, before grasping the handle and opening the door.

Erik Chanteur was so engrossed in his music that he had not heard her enter. He sat at the piano, his fingers angrily playing out a tune that was both aggressive and demanding in nature, with loud discordant chords that probably reflected his current mood. Christine leaned against the doorway, watching him play. He was a man with mercurial moods, she had learnt—he had a quick temper, and an anger that died down just as quickly as it had arrived. It made her feel a little overwhelmed at times, but she had learnt to understand how his moods worked, even after only a week of working with him. At times like these, it was best to wait for him to forget what he had been angry about before talking to him.

Eventually, the music stopped, and he removed his hands from the keyboard, flexing his fingers. Christine smiled slightly and entered the room fully, closing the door behind her. At the sound of the door shutting, he looked up sharply, then relaxed when he realized it was her.

"Why did you not stop me?" He scowled. "How long did you have to stand there?"

"It was only five minutes, Mr Chanteur," she said lightly. "Besides, I enjoy hearing you play."

"Mr Chanteur makes me feel old," he said shortly. "I cringe a little every time I hear any one of you call me that."

Christine tried to suppress a smile, for Nadir had been right. "Can I call you Erik, then?"

He looked a little surprised, as though he had been expecting her to be flustered or to apologise. "Be my guest."

"In return, please do call me Christine," she said, digging into her bag for her scores. "What made you so angry, anyway?"

"Curiosity always did kill the cat, Miss Sangare," he said mock-pleasantly, ignoring her request. "If you must know, it was because I have been invited to yet another movie premiere, and I couldn't think of any way to refuse."

"A movie premiere cannot be so bad," Christine said, wrinkling her nose. "I should think most people would be rather excited to go."

"It's such a pity that my name is Erik, and not 'most people', then," he said sardonically, and despite herself, she laughed.

"I would love to see what a movie premiere is like," she said conversationally. "Meg's always showing me photos of events in the magazines she reads, and everything looks very glamorous indeed."

He pinned her with a hard look. "Really? Flashing cameras, nosy reporters… glamorous?"

She shrugged, walking over to him to place the scores onto the piano. "I wouldn't know, Erik, because I've never been to one. Though I suppose reality is never as glamorous as the media portrays it to be; how would the magazines sell otherwise?"

"Would you like to come with me for this one?" He asked suddenly. "I was told to bring someone along; I think the media wouldn't quite like it if I showed up with Nadir on my arm."

Christine stared at him, then burst out laughing, for the image had been too ridiculous to even comprehend. It was only after she had stopped that she realized Erik Chanteur had actually made a joke. It was so unlike his usual distant demeanour that Christine was actually a little shocked.

"Well?" He said expectantly, and she realized with a jolt that he had not been joking about the invitation.

"You're asking me to go with you to the premiere?" She asked, feeling a little light-headed.

He scowled. "If you'd rather not… I just thought that perhaps you might want to see what it was like."

"I'd love to go," she heard herself say. Strangely, it felt like her brain and her throat were not quite agreeing with each other. Did I just… agree to go with Erik Chanteur to a premiere?

"That's settled, then," he said simply, as though she had just answered a simple question of whether she wanted some water. "Shall we have our lesson now?"

XXXXX

It was only afterward, on her way home, that Christine realized she would have to let Meg know about the lessons. She had nothing suitable to wear to the movie premiere, and Meg, with her flair for fashion and spendthrift tendencies, had a wardrobe that could probably rival a movie star's. If she told Meg about the movie premiere, she would have to reveal that she had been going for lessons with Erik Chanteur for the past couple of weeks; after all, it was hardly likely for the man to invite her to an event if he barely even knew her.

Christine sighed as she pondered about Meg's reaction. She would have to swear her to secrecy, that was for sure, but really, she had no idea how Meg would respond. One thing was for sure, though–she wasn't looking forward to letting Meg know.

XXXXX

A/N: As usual, please leave me a review/fav/follow, it keeps me writing! Reading your reviews makes me happy after a long day of work (: xx hazel