He was sitting at the piano when he heard Near open the door. Pages were littered on the floor around him, his own composition at a standstill as he tried to focus. Lawliet would be expecting this portion from him soon, and he'd had no luck with it in the past. He'd been hoping that having Near with him would help, but he couldn't shake the feeling he'd frightened the boy off when he saw the images of himself plastered to the walls.
"Excuse me." Near's voice was soft and quiet, and it hit him like a bullet. He spun around gracefully on the piano bench, planting his feet onto the floor to stop himself so that he could face Near. He was slouched just in front of the door, his hand in his hair. His eyes shot to a clock mounted on the wall- - -a fairly new addition, only three years old and hand crafted by the Phantom himself in order to keep on time with Near's lessons- - -and then back to the musician. "Would it be wise to have our lesson now?"
"Your lesson?" His eyebrow crawled into his hair and disappeared; the Phantom was reminded almost horribly of Lawliet.
"Yes." Near said. "I would hope that, even down here in the catacombs, I would be continuing my lessons with my teacher. Unless he has decided otherwise, of course. But as I have currently taken Miss Amane's role and have plans to stay in that position, I feel it would be prudent to continue my lessons where I left off."
"No, your lesson shall proceed as planned." The Phantom spun towards the piano again, gesturing for Near to join him. He didn't hear the boy as he moved, but he felt the warmth of him against his shoulder when Near came to a stop behind him. Cracking his knuckles, the Phantom placed his hands gently on the keys. "We shall surely have an easier time of it now, since there is a piano readily available to use. Let's begin."
He ran Near through his warm ups, preparing the boy's voice so that it would hit the notes properly. His voice echoed a bit more in the open cavern, the acoustics down underground much better than in the little alcove they had been using before. The Phantom's ear was trained on Near's voice, his fingers flowing easily over the keys with familiarity, but his mind was nowhere on the lesson.
Instead, his focus was on Near's warmth against his shoulder and back, the way the boy's breathing was much more noticeable when he was in a much closer proximity, the wavering tones as they worked their way from the lowest Near could hit to the highest note and then back down.
"Straighten up, Near." He would murmur occasionally, hearing when the pale boy would start slouching again. Or, "deep breath, breathe Near." The boy never argued or complained, just obediently followed what his teacher told him. From warm ups, they ran through the songs he needed for Hannibal, making certain Near would continue to perform admirably in front of his new crowd. After they had gotten halfway through the opera, they took a break and had a silent lunch between them. Afterwards, they returned to their exercises once more.
The door to his study was shut and locked, the key tied firmly around his neck. Neither one of them made any mention of it.
In the midst of doing an exercise that would help preserve Near's voice, the clock on the wall chimed seven-thirty; it was time for Near to prepare to go onstage and awe his crowd again. The Phantom led Near to his room again, where a duplicate of his costume hung. It had been painstakingly made by the Phantom himself in the nights leading up to the opening, in order to ensure Near's stay with him be as long as possible. The boy had opened his wardrobe and stared at it for a long while, not moving or showing any outward reaction to it on his face. Instead, his hand crept into his hair and he shuffled towards the door. His socks, though now slightly damp, continued to make no noise upon the stone beneath them.
"Would you…" Near stopped by his doorway, his free hand on the doorknob to the room. He half-turned his head to the Phantom, who felt his stomach erupt in nerves when one coal eye met his own. He cleared his throat and started over, willing his voice to keep from shaking. "Would you care for some help getting into your costume, Near?"
"No." Near told him, and disappeared into the room with a final-sounding click.
His heart dropped instantly, landing somewhere around his stomach. Near was unhappy, or else he was uncomfortable, because of the images he'd seen in the study. For the millionth time, the Phantom cursed himself for being so careless as to leave the door unlocked and open so that anyone could see. Lawliet knew of his feelings for Near, and so to see such a sight was never a surprise for the older man. He would only make a note if something new appeared, and those comments were generally a praise of his artistic talents in drawn images instead of just dramatic arts.
But for Near, who was the object of his affections, to come to the realization that there was a body behind the voice of his teacher and that his teacher harbored such strong feelings for him in the same night…it was much too much.
The door opening brought him out of his thoughts, and the Phantom gave Near a warm smile of reassurance when the boy came out into the living area. He didn't return the smile, naturally, but the pale boy's entire body relaxed just a bit, and he didn't flinch or make any movements when the Phantom drew close to wrap his cloak around him once more to keep him warm. His hand reached out as the Phantom drew away, and the masked man tried hard not to let the joy bubbling in his stomach show too much on his face when Near's hand came to rest on his arm. Instead, he led him through the living space and down another set of stairs which opened to a giant underground lake. There was a boat tied to a dock, and he gently helped Near make himself comfortable for the ride to the staircase that led to the dressing room.
"You've made quite the labyrinth down here." Near's voice came suddenly as they pushed off into the water. The Phantom glanced down at him, then turned his eyes up to ensure their quickest route. The lake was enormous and led to many directions, after all, and he was trying to be sure to get Near to the right place on time. Still, he couldn't help replying; they had not spoken to each other at all, just practiced and practiced until showtime. He'd been waiting for the danseur to speak first, because that would have meant the boy was comfortable enough to speak freely around him as he had before even with his newfound knowledge.
"Many of the tunnels were here already with the building of the opera house." He informed him quietly. He made sure to never slow their progression, and they were crossing the lake quickly despite its great size; one of the benefits of being who he was meant that his strength had been gathering quickly since he was young, and simple tasks like this never tired or weakened him. "All I've done is expand upon it, and made the passageways connect where I wanted them to. Most of it was done on my own. In other areas, I've had my fair share of help." Near's eyes shone in the flickering candlelight, rapt interest locked onto his teacher.
"Is this how you've managed to get around the opera house unseen all these years?" The Phantom's lips pursed just the slightest bit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ghost of a smirk cross Near's face. "I've never heard the Phantom speak, of course. He seemed to avoid doing so in my presence. Yet I cannot help but think he would not abide by more than one person living down here with him in the shadows."
"No, he wouldn't." He admitted. "You are very sharp, Near. You always have been. I'm very much surprised that you hadn't noticed before that your teacher and the opera's Phantom were one and the same."
"I had my suspicions, naturally." Near said. "After all, the Phantom always curiously managed to avoid doing anything to harm or hinder myself. And with the treatment of Miss Amane being what it was…"
"You cannot tell me that horrible siren did not deserve whatever she got." The Phantom slowed the boat just a bit as the dock came into view, careful not to get any of the lake water on Near's costume. Another flicker of a smile caught his attention, and he tied the boat to the dock as he stepped out of it. Bending down to help Near, he added, "your voice is much preferred to Miss Amane's, of that I can assure you, little Near."
"With such a teacher, that was never up for debate." Near sniffed just the tiniest bit dramatically, taking hold of the Phantom's arm once more as he got out of the boat. "What was questionable was whether or not Miss Amane would give up the limelight for anyone one else to be able to perform."
"Well, I ensured she would for you, Near." They walked swiftly through the halls, the Phantom leading Near carefully around any traps that could be trigger by them. The boy fell quiet at that, his dark eyes turning frontwards as they approached a different hallway than the one they'd gone down the night before. The Phantom felt a stab of irritation at that, though he soothed it down by reminding himself that Near was a quiet individual by nature; he didn't mean to shut him out all the time.
Still, they approached the dressing room where Misa usually changed, to find Lawliet in the doorway trying to usher out panicking managers.
"He will be here, and we shall not have to refund tickets." Lawliet was sounding just the slightest bit impatient as he placed his hands on Mikami's shoulders and pushed him out. "Let me get things prepared. Leave, now."
"L, you can't surely expect- - -" Takada's protests were cut off by Lawliet grabbing her gently by the arm
"I can, and I shall. Out!" Lawliet pushed them both out and pulled the door behind them. The Phantom held Near close to him, prompting him unnecessarily to keep quiet as the managers and Lawliet walked away. It was nearly half past eight now; Near would be reappearing long enough to do any last minute preparations, perform, and then disappear at the end of the night once more.
"Now, listen carefully." He said as he opened the mirror in the room. Near was watching him with solemn eyes, waiting for his orders. "Once the performance is over, you must come straight here. I'll be here to get you. We shall descend once more, and I will provide food. We will spend all day tomorrow practicing as well. This is how it will be for the rest of Hannibal, do you understand?"
"I will not celebrate with the opera house?" Near questioned.
"No." The Phantom shrugged a shoulder as he helped Near out of the passageway. "The opera house is too rowdy for one of your nature, and their drinks will do nothing but bring your voice to ruin. It would be best if you avoid it altogether." Near raised an eyebrow impassively, and the Phantom sighed just a bit. The boy didn't even have to speak in order to get his way with him; it would bring him to ruin, this trait of Near's. "If you must insist." He brought Near's hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against the boy's knuckles. Near's eyes grew wide, and his breath caught in his chest. "You may attend celebrations only once, on the very last performance. One hour only. Agreed?"
"And what of the Vicomte?" Near asked quietly. Irritation flashed through him and he dropped Near's pale hand gently. The boy slowly brought it back to his side, holding it against his chest.
"You declined before." He snapped. "Do so again."
"I cannot continue declining his invitation." Near reasoned. "Enough times, and he may withdraw his patronage from the opera house." He growled and ran his hand through his hair, just barely managing to keep his mask in place. Near was beginning to overstep himself, questioning his orders. Had he wanted to go, the previous night when the Vicomte invited him out? Had it only been his word, the one that said Near wasn't allowed any distractions out of practice, that kept him from leaving?
"Do you want to continue being in the spotlight?" He grit out through his teeth. Near seemed to take an involuntary step back, his brow furrowing just the slightest bit in the face of his temper. The Phantom tried to reel it in, but he couldn't get a grip on it. "Do you wish to continue performing, or would you rather be the feed for rumors? Is it your wish to be pulled from the stage just as you've gotten your first taste of it?"
His fingers itched to throw something, and he was tempted to tear his mask from his face and heave it at the wall as he'd done the night before; it was only Near's barely audible breathing, faster now, that kept his hands from his own face. Near was frightened of him already, because of his uncontrollable temper flaring. He could hear it in Near's breathing, in the swish of his costume as he took small steps back. It made his hands clench into fists instead, and his body tremble with rage. He wanted to yell, but he'd done his damage enough just with his actions. He didn't need the opera aware of his situation with Near at the same time he was dealing with the issue with the Vicomte.
"Is it, Near?"
"No, sir." Near's voice was quiet and unassuming, blank as it always was. There was the slightest tremor to it, though, one he noticed instantly. Without a moment's hesitation, he strode over to the pale danseur and pulled him into his arms. Near tensed, not knowing what to do as the Phantom approached, and stayed still as the older held him closely.
"Hush, now, little one." The Phantom cooed. "I would not cause you pain or suffering, you know this." Near nodded into his shoulder. "I merely wish to see you succeed, that is all. You are my muse to the world, your voice the embodiment of my spirit. We've worked too hard and far too long to waste our opportunity now, right?" Near nodded again. His fingers ran, almost against command, through the snow white locks again.
"I will reject the Vicomte's invitation." Near said quietly, almost a little bit reluctantly. The Phantom purposefully ignored the reluctance, holding him just a little bit tighter. He would see, the Phantom knew, that this was for his own good. The Vicomte was not the kind of man who would treasure this poor boy as he had, and there was no way a talentless thing like him could ever hope to continue with Near's lessons. No one, in fact, but the Phantom himself. He would be damned if anyone tried to take Near from him.
XxX
"This is the last straw!" The Vicomte was at Near's side, holding the boy's arm in order to prevent him from moving away. The last production of Hannibal had just ended, and though Near had waited his promised hour before making his way to the dressing room in order to meet with the Phantom, he'd been intercepted by the Vicomte as soon as he'd stepped through its doors. The boy had been lying in wait of Near, and the Phantom could only watch with gritted teeth as he tried once again to convince Near to go out with him. Near was looking vaguely perplexed, not seeming to know what to do with the man who'd appeared out of nowhere once he'd closed and locked the door.
"What is the problem?"
"Nathan, do not act the fool." The Vicomte sighed. "It does not become you. Why have you chosen not to accept my invitations?"
"I've told you." Near intoned. His dark eyes glanced into the two way mirror where he knew the Phantom was waiting, and his hand crept into his hair unconsciously. The Vicomte intercepted the movement, taking hold of the appendage between his own and forcing Near's gaze back to him. "My teacher- - -"
"You've been out celebrating with the rest of the opera house." The Vicomte interrupted. "I know you to be against such frivolities. You haven't even gotten drunk, like the rest of the population. And yet, that is a more acceptable distraction than sharing a dinner with me?"
"I've already retired from the opera's celebration." Near said. His voice sounded just the littlest bit helpless, as if what he wanted and what he had to do were two different things. The Phantom watched, helpless, as the Vicomte trailed the back of his hand against Near's soft, smooth cheek. Near didn't lean into the touch, from what he could see, but nor did he pull away from it either. His lips parted, just the smallest bit, though, and he had that little quirk of a smile beginning in the corner of his mouth.
"One night, little Snow, please." The Vicomte insisted quietly. "Just the one."
"No." The Phantom felt his nerves catch on fire when Near rejected him once again, because something sounded off when he said it; the boy's eyes darted to the mirror once more and, in an act of pure defiance, he pulled the Vicomte close to whisper in his ear. Whatever he told the boy made his entire face light up, and the Phantom felt fury rush like a flood through his veins. The Vicomte didn't move from his spot as Near crossed the room to where his pajamas lay crumpled on the floor; Near moved behind the dressing room divider and changed to the words spoken by his Vicomte.
The Phantom was helpless to do anything; he didn't want to reveal himself to the Vicomte so soon, if at all, and Near was well aware of this. Instead, he could only observe as Near reappeared, not in his pajamas but in a white button down shirt and black slacks. He'd carefully taken his make up off, his hair freed from the pins holding it back. His feet were freed from the costume shoes, and though socked, he held another pair of white shoes in his hand.
"One hour only." Near told him sternly. The Vicomte let out a small cheer, taking hold of Near's arm when the boy offered it to him. He began chattering away almost immediately, but Near wasn't paying him much mind. Instead, his eyes darted over to the mirror; he watched it warily out of the corner of his eyes as he was led away, as if waiting for it to slide to the side and reveal the Phantom. His blank gaze seemed to mock the man hidden in the shadows, and then disappeared altogether when Near faced forward and closed the door behind them.
Immediately, the Phantom raced off. Running through the tunnels, he slid to a stop just by the entrance to the opera house. Holding his breath, even though his heart was racing from exertion, he put one hand against the wall and listened intently. He was worried that perhaps he'd been too slow, or that the final production celebrations would be too loud, but he was wrong on both counts; soon afterwards, he heard Near's voice speaking, and the Vicomte's laugh. They stopped for just a moment as Near put on his shoes by the door, but then they were out into the world together. The Phantom waited just a moment more, still holding his breath, until he was sure Near and the Vicomte were away from the opera house.
He turned on his heel and stormed down to Lawliet's office, not caring who would hear him on his journey. His mood was darkening with each step he took, and by the time he stood behind the two sided mirror, his face was set into a fearsome scowl. There was no one in the office, as was expected, but it took merely ten minutes before the tall man was slipping into the room and closing the door with a note of finality. The Phantom waited for a moment, not knowing for certain if there was anyone outside the door. It was up to Lawliet to let him know; at the moment, he was standing in front of the door with his hand on the doorknob, not moving at all. Then his shoulders dropped into his normal slouch, and he put one hand to the side of his head delicately. Doing a quick about face on his heel, Lawliet strode over to his desk and sat down in his usual manner.
The Phantom hit the lever, hard, and jumped over the edge of the mirror once it was low enough. Stalking dangerously over to the teacher's desk, he was careful not to slam his hands down. Still, the appendages trembled violently, clearly showing how furious he was in the wake of Near's departure.
"I had thought," he growled through clenched teeth, "that we had been in agreement, Lawliet."
"We are in agreement, Monsieur Le Phantom." Lawliet said tiredly. "Complete agreement, you know this."
"Then why was the Vicomte allowed to take Near?" The Phantom just barely managed to keep his voice quiet; his trembling had extended to his entire body, so that he was practically vibrating in front of the ballet teacher. His dark eyes looked up and met his own narrowed ones, and Lawliet shrugged a shoulder in response. The lackluster answer infuriated him even more, and it was only the passing sound of drunken laughter that kept him from slamming his fist against the desk. It wouldn't do to draw unwanted attention to Lawliet at this moment in time, not with him so close to the man. "You promised me- - -."
"The boy is extremely persistent, and you cannot put all the blame on me." Lawliet fixed the Phantom with a cold stare. "After all, Near had managed to get into the dressing room. I saw him to it, personally. How, then, was he able to leave the opera house with his protective Phantom hovering over him?"
With a growl, the Phantom threw himself into a chair opposite of Lawliet. Crossing his arms, he sat in the chair and glowered at the door.
Outside, the celebrations continued. And even further, Near was in the company of the Vicomte, just the man alone, and that thought rankled him more than he thought possible. He slammed his hand on the arm of the chair, his free one curling into a fist at his lips. Lawliet was watching him warily, his hands busying themselves with a teacup and his sugar cubes.
"If I may," he started; when the teacher paused, the Phantom grunted to prove he was listening, and Lawliet continued, "perhaps if you sat down and explained yourself to Near, the boy would heed your words. After all, he's a smart boy; if he's certain as to where your interests lie, he would no doubt be more agreeable to obeying your words." Lawliet let himself smile slightly, his head ducking down. "After all, you haven't seen him outside your lessons. He takes what you say and what you think very seriously. He won't even let a sigh of your existence pass his lips, not even to the only teacher in the opera house he trusts."
"You think he's testing me." The Phantom said dully. Lawliet made a slight face, shrugging as he stacked the cubes on the lip of the cup.
"I cannot say for certain." Lawliet denied instantly. His fingers never wavered from their task with the sugar cubes, but the Phantom knew better than to assume the man's attention was not fully on him. The ballet teacher, who knew Near best second only to himself, was as confounded by the danseur's actions as he was. While the Phantom pouted, however, Lawliet's mind went into an overdrive of trying to figure out the puzzle before him. "It would be quite unlike Near, after all. Yet I cannot say whether he truly wants the attention of the Vicomte or not. He agreed to go out, yes, but look how long it took for him to agree to do so."
"It was my word- - -"
"Nonsense." Lawliet pinned him with a dark look. "Near is quite his own person. He listens to what you say, yes. He cares quite a lot about what you think of him, of course. And he would like to continue his training with you. Not just because of the fame it's suddenly attracting him, but because he genuinely enjoys them. He obeys your words because he wants to, not because he's afraid of whatever consequences you'll dole out." The Phantom snorted, and Lawliet tilted his head in response. "That's what happens when you shield him from the Phantom, sir. And now you have this." His eyes were fixed on the Phantom, who was watching him out of the corner of his eye. Lawliet gestured towards the lowered mirror. "What will you do now?"
"Near said an hour at most." He said quietly. "I will…speak to him then. See what he is thinking. And forbid him from seeing Monsieur Le Vicomte again."
"You must say more than that." Lawliet reprimanded calmly.
"We'll see, Lawliet." The Phantom rose, reaching over the desk to put his hand on the teacher's shoulder. He squeezed once, then withdrew instantly. Throwing his cloak over his head, the Phantom stepped into the mirror again, pressing the lever once again. Waving once over his shoulder, he ignored Lawliet's parting in favor of racing down the hidden corridors that led to his home.
XxX
"Farewell, then, Monsieur." The Vicomte's answer was muffled by Near closing the door firmly. Leaning against it just a bit, the Phantom watched as the boy closed his eyes and sighed. Rubbing at his temples, Near crossed the room to the dressing partition, shedding his clothes as he did so. The Phantom waited until he was firmly hidden away before pressing the lever quietly, allowing the mirror to slide away.
"Have you been standing there all night?" Near asked from behind the partition. His voice was muffled just a little bit as he pulled his pajama shirt on, and the Phantom didn't bother to answer such an obvious question. Instead, he waited until Near reappeared before holding his arm out in silence. Raising his eyebrow, Near shuffled over and took his arm.
The Phantom led Near down into his catacombs again, his mind racing over what he had planned for the boy. If Near noticed his tense posture and his unwillingness to speak, he didn't show it; instead, the danseur seemed to gracefully move beside him as they walked. He practiced what dance steps he could while retaining his hold on the Phantom's arm, humming 'Think of Me' under his breath as he did so.
The Phantom's heart throbbed in pain. Not only had Near gone out with the Vicomte, but the new managers had not kept his seat open for him. The reminder of the fact that he missed his protégé's first opera performances aggravated him, and as they got to the boat he shot Near a dark glower. The boy's humming faltered, then stopped completely. They rode together across the lake in silence, one that lasted until they were seated across one another at the table.
"Are you angry with me?" Near asked quietly. He wasn't hungry, which was unsurprising; the both of them had cups of hot chocolate instead, Near's favorite drink. The Phantom dipped his finger into the steaming liquid, poking at the marshmallow that floated on the top. The liquid chocolate warned his finger but didn't burn it, and he made a noise of distaste as he wiped the appendage on a napkin.
Even with the pinch of cinnamon Near insisted on for nostalgic reasons, he couldn't stand hot chocolate.
"I am very upset with you." He said finally. Lawliet had told him to speak to Near, and he'd thought of doing nothing else the entire way back. Now that he had the opportunity to do so, he found it much harder than he'd anticipated. He wasn't quite sure what to say, or how to say it. Near's dark eyes, questioning and curious, weren't helping him form words any faster.
"Is it because I went out with the Vicomte?" A snarl crossed his face before he could stop it, and Near smirked with the corner of his mouth.
"I told you to tell him no, Near." The boy picked up the hot chocolate and shrugged with one shoulder, taking a deep drink as he did so. The Phantom slammed his hand down on the table, glaring at the boy across from him. "I'm very serious, Nathan." The use of his true name had Near dropping the mug from his face, looking at his secret teacher with wide eyes. "If he invites you out again, you will say no. I will have no more of this fluttering around."
"The Vicomte is- - -"
"No more, Nathan, or else you will find yourself in very regrettable circumstances." Near shifted once, looking around the kitchen wearily for the first time since he'd woken up underground. The Phantom watched his eyes linger on the closed door, words coming unbidden to his lips and yet dying before they reached the air. Sighing heavily, the Phantom stood and upended his cup of hot chocolate into the sink; Near followed suit, though he drank the last of it before placing the ceramic into the basin.
"May I retire now?" He asked quietly.
"Yes." The Phantom said. His voice was subdued, and he couldn't help but think that this was not what Lawliet meant when he told him to talk with Near. He reached out as Near turned, but curled his hand away before he could touch Near's shoulder. Turning to the dishes, he said, "Good night, Near."
The quiet closing of the bedroom door was his only answer.