Four days pass and the Phantom could feel the tension between them as if it were a solid wall, physical and yet intangible.
Near had reappeared the next morning and they'd begun lessons again. It seemed that it was all they did now. Once seven-thirty hit, Near made an aborted move towards the boat as usual, one he stopped once he realized that the Phantom was heading to the kitchen; he had begun dinner preparations, which wasn't something he'd done while Hannibal was running. Following his teacher, they ate in silence. Then, while the Phantom was cleaning, Near disappeared into his room for the remainder of the night. The Phantom felt the silence between them like a shroud, but had no way of breaking it with his own words.
And so it continued for the next week.
Aside from lessons, where the Phantom gave notes and suggestions, they did not speak to each other at all. Near seemed to have resigned himself to living underground, and before the Phantom's eyes, grew even paler and more listless than before. His voice rang out only during their practice, but for the most part, Near was silent. He moved as a ghost, silent even in the cavern where everything echoed, and the Phantom didn't have the faintest idea on how to fix the situation.
"I told you to talk to him," Lawliet said crossly when he reappeared after two weeks of such treatment. The ballet teacher was looking frazzled, his hair sticking up in more directions than usual. The Phantom was sitting in his usual seat across from the desk, his arms crossed. He'd only meant to come find out what the next opera was and when it would be, and had ended up having a conversation with Lawliet. It was their first in months, it felt like; Lawliet had his hands full with Mikami and Takada's inability to run the opera house efficiently or with any form of proving they could obey orders, and the Phantom was focused solely on Near now that he had him physically by his side.
"I tried!" He said in protest. Lawliet shook his head and the Phantom scowled. "It came out wrong, ok? But I tried! Now he won't talk to me at all, and I don't know what to do!"
"Figure it out, and quickly." Lawliet said. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, the motion turning into rubbing at his temples. He looked tired and worn, well over his thirty-odd years of age, and the Phantom felt slight shame for putting the ballet teacher through this. If he'd moved faster, put his plan into motion sooner, perhaps Lawliet wouldn't be looking this way; Lord knew the Phantom got away with much more when Whammy had been manager. "I don't know what I'm to do about Mikami and Takada. They are intent on either locating Near or pleading for Misa to return."
"No!" The Phantom stood up, panic racing through his veins. He'd worked hard on putting Near in the spotlight. Misa Amane's return would put him back in his plans, and that wasn't something either he or Near wanted; assuming, of course, that Near wanted to continue being in the spotlight. After all, the limelight meant giving up his precious Vicomte, and Near hadn't given any indication that he was willing to give the boy up.
Lawliet shot him a look, and the Phantom nodded his assent before disappearing into the two way mirror.
As he returned to his home, his mind was in disarray. He walked down to the catacombs without paying attention, his body moving automatically around the traps he'd set along the way.
Instead, he was focused on what to say to Near, or how to fix the situation. When he'd left, Near had been asleep; it was nearing seven in the morning now, but it had been much later when he'd first seen Lawliet. He wasn't sure if the boy was up yet. If he was, then perhaps he would make Near a breakfast. If not, the Phantom decided to work on his opera for Lawliet.
As he approached his home, he listened carefully for any sound that Near was up and active; when he heard none, the Phantom swept down the stairs and into his living space. Knowing for certain now that Near wasn't up yet, he strode over to his piano by his room. Taking a seat, he cracked his knuckles and then placed his fingers down on the keys.
Skipping his warm ups, the Phantom jumped right into the area of his opera that was giving him the most trouble. At the moment, it was his Don Juan singing to his lover, trying to convince him to cast aside his bridges. He'd gotten it along marginally with Near at his side, but it was still giving him trouble and he wasn't entirely certain on how to end the last song of the opera. He hadn't expected the song to give him this much grief, and the Phantom lost himself to time as he grew more and more irritated with it. His playing grew louder and fiercer, though it didn't help him any more than before.
A door opening in the lull of his playing caught his attention, and the Phantom whirled around on his bench to find Near staring at him from his bedroom door. There was a silent staring contest from across the space, neither one of them moving or willing to give into the other.
Then the Phantom twisted on his chair again, turning back to his piano. Seeing Near awake, after his conversation with Lawliet, brought a wave of anger and irritation at the boy. He would give him the day off to do as the danseur pleased, but the Phantom was not up for lessons today. He hoped his body language would have been picked up on; Near was currently in the habit of shying away from him if the pale boy didn't have to be close to him, and would not approach the Phantom on his own.
So when his fingers trailed across his shoulder, the Phantom nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard Near's approach, and he'd assumed that Near had gone into the kitchen to make himself a snack or some food. He glanced at the pale boy out of the corner of his eye, gauging what he was doing as Near stared at him unashamedly. When the boy didn't move, the Phantom began playing again; this time, the melody that came from the piano was soothing and quiet, one that he had created long ago when he was still young.
As the sound echoed in the cavern, the Phantom felt his eyes slip shut out of habit; his fingers playing automatically, he focused instead on putting his emotions into the keys of the piano. He let himself get distracted by the music and the feeling of Near's soft fingertips trailing their way across his face.
His fingers slammed against the keys suddenly, his eyes flying open as the discordant noise echoed loudly in the cavern. He'd worn his white mask to speak with Lawliet, and hadn't taken it off to switch to his black cloth one. Near had, slowly and so subtly that he hadn't noticed what was happening until it was too late, slipped his fingers under the porcelain and pulled the mask off.
He stumbled back instantly, and was knocked off of his feet as the Phantom stood so abruptly the chair was thrown from him. Near stared up at him with wide eyes, horror and fear plain on his face. The emotions on his face, shown more freely than normal, only served to enrage him even more. His fury twisted his face, and he knew the disfigurement on his face was more obvious.
"Damn you!" He roared. Near flinched in the face of his anger, putting his hand up as a sign of submission. The Phantom slammed his hands down on the piano keys, sending another cacophony of noise through the cavern. "You little prying Pandora! You little demon, is this what you wanted to see?" He turned and glowered, not hiding his face at all from the danseur.
"No, I- - -" Near's voice wavered, his frightened gaze never leaving his teacher. The Phantom ran his hand over his face; even through his gloves, he could feel the scars and disfigurements that decorated the side his face.
"Curse you, you little lying Delilah!" Near was taking shuddering breaths, moving hesitantly backwards away from the Phantom. He snarled and darted forward; he fell to his knees over Near's legs, bringing his face inches away from the danseur's. The pale boy froze, and the Phantom took his stillness as an invitation to grab hold of his arms. "You little viper. Now you cannot ever be free!" He hissed. His head lowered, slowly, until his forehead was placed against Near's shoulder. Near wasn't still, his shoulders heaving with every breath he took, which meant the Phantom's head was jostled with every movement. It was oddly soothing, and his voice lowered as he spoke. "Damn you, curse you..."
Just as abruptly, he felt drained. His anger washed away, leaving him numb to the world outside of the two of them. The Phantom sighed quietly, and loosened his grip on Near's arms; he hadn't realized how tight his grip was, and Near hadn't made a noise of protest, but he was strong. He knew that, even if only faintly, he'd bruised Near. Regret wasn't coming to him just yet, but it would later.
"Sir…" Near whispered.
"Stranger than you dreamt it," he said softly, "can you even dare to look, or bear to think of me?" Near's body was stiff, and trembled from the adrenaline from what happened before. He didn't make a sound, though his breathing evened out a little with the release of his arms. The Phantom leaned his deformed cheek against Near's soft one, and felt the boy cringe away. "This loathsome gargoyle who burns in hell, but secretly yearns for heaven."
Near didn't move or make a sound.
"My little one," the Phantom drew away and pressed the back of his finger against Near's cheek. His eyes were still wide and unblinking, but the fear was fading away to hide behind his usual blank face. "Fear can turn to love, you'll learn to see. To find the man behind the monster in this repulsive carcass." He slid away, backing away from Near and giving his protégée some space. "Who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty."
Near's mouth dropped open slightly, but he didn't say a word. Taking one deep, shuddering breath, the pale danseur lifted a trembling hand and held out the mask again. The Phantom reached out slowly, and Near flinched away almost instantly. It caused the Phantom to draw back just as quickly, and regret coiled in his stomach as Near's eyes dropped to the ground. He bent down to his knees again, keeping mind to stay off of Near, and reached out to take the mask. Placing it firmly on his face, the Phantom stood and held his hand out.
"Come, Near." He said softly. Near's hand wasn't trembling as visibly, but once it was in his own, he could feel it in his hand. His touch was hesitant, unwilling, but Near put his hand in his anyway. The Phantom pulled Near to his feet, and began leading him to the lake again. "We must be going."
"Where are we going?" Near asked softly. The Phantom could barely hear the words, and the regret he knew would come hung heavy in his heart as well as his stomach.
"There are two fools running my theater who miss you." He said as an answer. "It's high time you were returned to them."
"As you command, sir." Near's voice was gone after that, and they walked through the tunnels in silence. Near kept pace on his own, drawing into himself and away from the Phantom's touch. They arrived quickly at the boy's dressing room, and as he helped Near out of the mirror, he said one last piece.
"Do not try and find your way down on your own, little one. I have many traps set, and they were only deactivated while you were to be roaming the hallways." He ignored Near's flinching as he brought a pale hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the palm. "I would be devastated to lose you."
Near didn't say anything in response, just tilted his head curiously and studied him with his dark eyes. The Phantom lingered as long as he dared, but the combination of irritated voices outside the door and Near's eyes landing on his mask made his courage vanish, and so he turned and fled down the hall; halfway down, he slid to a stop and began patting himself down until he found what he was looking for: parchment paper and a quill.
Reaching into a pocket on his cloak, the Phantom absentmindedly threw powder above his head; it lit the torch above him, giving him light to see by. His cloak was one of his own making, and he'd seen hidden pockets upon pockets into it. It was with ease that he navigated said pockets, pulling out a tiny inkwell and beginning his notes.
'To Lawliet,' he began one, and detailed the events that happened with Near that led him to being found in the prima donna's dressing room. He left nothing out, not even his shameful response to the boy's innocent curiosity, and placed the letter on the floor for the ink to dry as much as it could. The next letters he penned to the managers, beginning one with 'Mr. Mikami,' and starting the other with 'Miss Takada,'. Though his irritation with them was plain, the Phantom tried to be as passive about it as he could be. To Mikami, he reminded him of his salary, which neither had attempted to pay though the date had come and gone; he cheerfully added that for the upcoming month's salary, it would be doubled because of it.
For Takada, he congratulated her on the success of their first opera as managers and informed her, politely, that under no circumstances were they to hire one Misa Amane again. He'd already written to Amane the day before, telling her not to return to the theater for she'd been replaced by Near.
Once all three letters were written, he stood and made his way to Lawliet's office. It was empty, as he thought it would be, and he was careful to place the letter on the desk. That taken care of, he headed towards the manager's office. This was a little trickier, but he was saved by the fact that both managers were gone from it. Each letter went on their respective desks, and he'd barely had enough time to vanish before he heard the door open.
Giving pause so that he wouldn't be heard, the Phantom listened carefully as his letter was received; he heard Mikami's voice curse after a few silent moments, and then the door opened once more.
"L!" He yelled, slamming the door shut. The Phantom grinned at that, and began to make his way away from the office; the door opened once more, the footsteps lighter and just a bit quicker than before. Takada had just come into the office.
The Phantom heard her find her letter; she cursed, voice softer and quieter than Mikami's, and she sat down in the chair. He could almost picture her rubbing at her temples, but there was no way for him to check. The entrance to the office was behind a painting, since the Phantom never actually spoke to Whammy before the man retired, and so he had to settle for hearing their reactions.
After a moment, Takada got up and headed towards the door. She didn't slam it like Mikami did, but the sound of her footsteps made it clear that she wanted to.
His job finished, the Phantom turned down to the catacombs once more; he resolved to focus only on his opera, in order to keep the frightened look on Near's face from his mind.