Hello! Awhile back I was looking for some Phantom themed music to include in my fics, and I came across Masquerade Suite by Aram Khachaturian, which I included in this chapter. It's a lovely piece so if you ever have a spare twenty minutes, I highly suggest giving it a listen!
Chapter 17: The Concertmaster Casts His Spell
The Gothenburg Elementary winter concert was rapidly approaching. While Christine had initially thought the children would be more than prepared, she now worried whether she'd been overly confident.
But why would that be? The choir had their pieces nailed, as did the band. The orchestra could use a bit of work, but that group of kids had a habit of losing focus. They were getting there; if they didn't get their last piece together, she could always cut it and no one would know.
Still, Christine was consumed by an impending sense of doom. She'd had nightmares where everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. Everyone forgot their instruments. She tripped when getting up to her conductor's podium. Music stands tipped over like dominos across the stage, spewing more sheet music than had fit on them in the first place. Tonight, she'd woken up in a state of panic, thinking she'd missed the concert altogether.
Christine turned over in bed. She buried her face in her pillow, hoping she could force herself to sleep if she squeezed her eyes shut a little harder.
What was wrong with her? Was she overworking herself? Was she missing her father? Of course, she missed him. Not a single day passed where he didn't cross her mind at least once. There was a picture of him hanging in her office for crying out loud.
Whatever the matter was, her students were not to blame. Christine knew that. The children had settled down since the excitement on the first day of school. Mentions of Erik had declined as they found more interesting things to talk about.
But now, Christine didn't mind the odd story about the masked man. The two of them had gotten rather close during lessons, or as Erik had called it once, "making music with a friend."
That's when her unease had started, when Erik had called her his friend.
Christine turned over again, yanking blankets with her. She reached for her phone and sighed at the time. There was no use sitting here with her thoughts. She wasn't falling back asleep. She stumbled into the kitchen, but coffee and a bowl of cereal were not enough to ease her troubled mind.
For weeks, she'd been stubborn, convincing herself that Erik was up to something. That he couldn't be trusted. That his good deeds were meant to distract her from something else. After all, he'd just woken up one day and decided to start being nice to her. Now he was calling her his friend? It didn't make sense.
It had to be an act.
And yet, during lessons, Erik seemed so genuine, far more real than the sour, hostile facade she'd met over the summer. He laughed and smiled the way any other man would. He still offered criticisms, but they were delicate ones to help her singing, not straight up insults and complaints.
Christine had told herself that inviting him to dinner at her house would be a disaster, that all her hard work would be wasted once Erik showed his true colors, but she had been proven wrong. Dinner had been pleasant. Erik was so easy to talk to; they had so much in common. The evening had passed in the blink of an eye, and when he'd gone home, Christine had been left with an empty house and hollow feeling that until now, she'd been too afraid to name.
She had missed him.
Christine set her mug down on the table. The confused frown on her face curved into a smile. As strange as it seemed, she was ready to accept the truth. Erik was her friend.
On Saturday night, Christine decided to take Erik's suggestion and see the Perros-Guirec Symphony. As she stepped out of her car, she smoothed the skirt of her burgundy holiday dress, her heart fluttering with excitement.
The modest concert hall evoked memories of being a little girl. Before every concert, she'd sit by herself in the audience, kicking her legs back and forth as she eagerly waited for the orchestra to take the stage. Christine could still remember the feeling of pride when her father walked out after everyone else and took a bow, as was the custom for concertmasters.
But instead of her father, Erik stepped out from the wings. There was a wave of hushed whispers as everyone questioned whether the concertmaster was really wearing a mask, but Erik took no notice. He held his head high and bowed with his violin tucked under his arm.
As Erik took his seat, Christine thought she'd be bitter seeing him in her father's old chair, but aside from a tug of nostalgia, she felt no different.
The pinnacle of the night's program was the Khachaturian Masquerade Suite. The whole work was a masterpiece, but the second movement, the Nocturne, was an excellent opportunity to spotlight the concertmaster. The audience sat enraptured as the masked man's spellbinding violin soared above the orchestra. Christine had always been partial to her father, but listening to Erik was otherworldly. Even watching him was an experience in itself. His bow slid across the strings of his violin as though the instrument were an extension of himself. The smile on his face indicated he was somewhere else entirely. The silence following the end of the movement was heavy with anticipation.
At the end of the concert, the orchestra was met with thunderous applause. Everyone murmured praises for the masked concertmaster.
Instead of filing out of the hall with everyone else, Christine made her way backstage, just as she'd always done to meet up with her father. She waved to a few familiar faces who lit up when they saw her.
"Christine Daae, is that you? My, how you've grown!" someone bellowed. Mr. Moncharmin, one of her father's friends, was dragging a cello case behind him. "Did you enjoy the concert?" he asked.
"Hi, Mr. Moncharmin! Yes, I enjoyed it very much, thank you!" Christine replied. "Would you happen to know if Erik left yet? I was hoping to congratulate him."
"He was packing up last I saw. That man sure is something else, isn't he? I swear, he should be in one of the Big Five or something," Mr. Moncharmin joked.
"He really is fantastic!" Christine agreed. "I must admit, I don't think they could've found a better player to succeed my father," she added proudly.
Mr. Moncharmin smiled at Christine's comment. "Well, I won't hold you up any longer. I'm sure you'd hate to miss Erik before he leaves."
"Yes, thank you. Have a good night, Mr. Moncharmin!"
"You too, Christine!"
As Mr. Moncharmin dragged his cello away, Christine ducked into the room where her father and the other violinists had always packed their instruments. She spotted Erik across the room, shaking hands with a colleague as they praised his performance. Another one patted his shoulder and quickly congratulated him as they hustled out.
"Hey, Erik!" Christine called after he'd finished speaking with the other musicians.
Erik jumped at the sound of her voice and turned around with the widest smile on his face.
"Christine! You came!" he cheered.
"Yes, I…I wanted to support my friend." Christine smiled shyly, still uncertain of this new stage in their relationship, but willing to let bygones be bygones and put an end to her silly grudge.
"I appreciate that," Erik said, returning the shy smile. He never thought he'd be so happy to hear that the woman he loved considered him a friend, but it meant that all was not lost with Christine, that he hadn't ruined his chance with his immaturity and ill-temper over the summer.
"You played beautifully, I mean it!" Christine admitted.
"Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it." Erik had thought of Christine as he played his romantic solo, hoping she was somewhere in the vast sea of faces holding on to every passionate note.
"Oh, I enjoyed it very much!" Christine gushed. "Is there anything you can't do?" She playfully nudged him with her elbow.
When she giggled, a warm blush crept beneath Erik's mask, but Christine only saw the flicker in his golden eyes. Their eyes met, but they tore their gaze away with flustered laughs.
"So…how are things going with the school concert?" Erik asked. "I know you were worried about it." He noticed Christine's dress beneath her coat. It was the same dress she wore on Thanksgiving, the same dress she wore to everything during the holiday season. Would she wear it to the school concert as well?
"You know what? I think it's going to be okay after all," Christine said. The concert had ceased to worry her now that she'd discovered and accepted the true cause of her distress. "Thank you for asking!" she continued. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in coming? I'm sure the kids would love to see you again!"
"I'd love to! When is it?"
"Next Friday!"
Erik's face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry. Mr. Richard, over at the theater, he's been trying to assemble an orchestra for his big spring production, and I promised to meet with him, but I could reschedule—-"
"Oh, no, no. I wouldn't want you to inconvenience yourself like that," Christine insisted. "Believe me, I know how hard it is to schedule things with that man, and he's been trying to get that pit up and running for years."
"Hah, yeah," Erik agreed sadly. "Still, I'd love to see your concert."
"No, really. Don't worry about it. It's just a school concert. There'll be other ones." Christine smiled, hoping Erik would sense her sincerity. It didn't really matter whether he was there; her students' families would make a sizable crowd, along with a few other friends to fill the remaining seats. But still, the fact that Erik wouldn't be there aroused an entirely unprecedented feeling: disappointment.
"Hey, don't talk like that," Erik said when Christine's face fell. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You've worked hard on the concert. You should be proud!"
"Thanks. You're right."
They smiled shyly at each other again, but froze stiff when they realized how close to each other they were. Erik quickly removed his hand from Christine's shoulder. They stood in silence, both looking for the courage to speak and the right way to say goodnight.
"Christine, I've been meaning to ask you…" Erik spoke up. "Christmas Eve's in a couple weeks, and I was wondering if you have plans. It's a Thursday, so if not, we could have a regular lesson, and I thought perhaps, you could stay for dinner…if you'd like."
"Hey, you remembered this holiday!" Christine teased. She gave his shoulder a gentle punch. "I don't have any plans, so a lesson and dinner sounds fantastic to me. Thank you very much."
"Great." Erik grinned ear to ear.
"Well, I guess I should get going," Christine said. The other musicians were starting to clear and go home, but a few were waiting to speak with Erik. "Goodnight, Erik." Christine waved over her shoulder as she left.
"Goodnight, Christine!" Erik called. He grabbed his coat and violin before bidding goodnight to the last straggling musicians hanging around. But he didn't hear any of their praises.
Christine had actually said yes to Christmas Eve! She must have enjoyed Thanksgiving as much as he had, and now he would have another evening with her. Perhaps, if he made it the greatest holiday yet, Christine would be his by the end of the year.