The Leading Lady (Phantom of the Opera x Reader)

Chapter Nine

She had come to realize that her arms where fatally weak. Every time Madame Giry critiqued her, it was because of her two arms — either they were not outstretched enough, or they were shaking, or she had difficulty lifting them and holding them above her head for prolonged periods of time.

When she returned from her all day dance practice, she collapsed as soon as she shut her dormitory door. She became a puddle of limbs and pain, and quietly moaned as she rested herself against the wall, closing her eyes against the warm white of her room. She mentally debated whether or not she should force her body back into a standing position in order to start a bath, or if dying and decomposing where she sat now would be a peaceful way to go. She decided on the former, eventually using the doorknob to hoist her body into a standing position as she sluggishly made her way to the large bathtub, and began pouring a mixture of salts and herbs into it. She started the water up, making sure it was warm but not too warm.

She pulled herself once more into the bedroom, and opened a dresser drawer to produce a pair of pajama pants that were her father's — made entirely of silk. While it was unorthodox for a woman to wear pants at all, she and her father couldn't let such a set of pajamas go to waste. She pulled out a white woolen cardigan as well, and brought them into the bathroom, where she undressed and sunk herself into the tub, shutting the faucet as soon as it was full.

She quickly felt her eyelids getting droopy and her body being slipped into a state of deep exhaustion. She wasn't falling asleep, but rather allowing her eyes to close and her mind to clear. She lost track of time this way, siting and relaxing and allowing her muscles to relax to their fullest extent after the abuse they had managed to endure.

It was no less than hour later when she heard a light knocking at her bathroom door, and stirred into a conscious panic — remembering that she was supposed to have a lesson with Erik.

"Oh, Erik! My apologies," She spoke quickly as she got out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy white towel around her and patting herself dry, "I completely forgot the time! Give me just a moment."

She quickly changed into the pajamas and sweater she had in the bathroom, drying her body off thoroughly and throwing her hair into a bun which she secured with a ribbon. When she emerged, Erik sat quietly in her arm chair, looking at her with an indifferent look.

"I am deeply sorry — I got home after practice and was in so much pain and—" She was about to continue with her explanation when Erik dismissively waved a hand.

"It's no problem, Y/N. I was simply checking to see if you were alright. Would you like to skip lessons today to rest?"

"Is it terrible if I say yes?" Y/N was already halfway across the room, collapsing onto her bed in a seated position, "Giry obliterated me today."

"She tends to have that affect on people. Could I get you some tea, perhaps?"

Y/N sat up to look at him, "That would be bloody brilliant."

She thought she could see him smile at this, but he stood quickly to exit through the mirror. While he disappeared she got under the covers of her bed and reached for the book on her nightstand — Othello.

She was halfway through Act I when Erik returned through the mirror with a carefully balanced tray of tea and biscuits. She put her book down and smiled as he came to her bedside and carefully sat it down on her nightstand.

Erik didn't want to leave immediately, and had been contemplating how to prolong his visit. When he saw her book, he saw an opportunity.

"What are you reading tonight?" He asked.

"Othello by Shakespeare. Are you familiar?"

"Only with his other work," Erik lied — he had read Othello cover to cover on several occasions, "Are you enjoying it?"

"I've just begun," She answered, taking a cup of tea and pouring for herself, "I have a feeling I will greatly enjoy it, however. If you'd like to stay, I can read part of it to you? To see if you like it?"

Erik didn't respond, but rather pulled her armchair to the side of the bed and sat down, taking a cup of tea for himself and looking away from her. She took this as a prompt to flip back to page one, and began reading: "Enter Rodrigo and Iago, Rodrigo: Tush! Never tell me. I take it much unkindly -- That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse, as if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this." 

Y/N was excellent at reading aloud, Erik noted -- no doubt from site reading music and lines so frequently. She changed her tone slightly for every character, without it being odd or ridiculous, which he appreciated. She also didn't rush through the reading -- every line was spoken as though it were being performed, and when Erik closed his eyes he could imagine the entire show taking place in the Opera Populaire. 

Y/N was halfway through scene three of act one, as Othello and Desdemona's father argued over her in front of the councilmen. Erik interrupted suddenly, "Do you think Desdemona's father has a right to be upset over her choice in husband?"

It took Y/N a moment to process the question, before answering, "Well, yes and no. I don't think he should be upset that she has married a Muslim, but I understand being upset that your daughter getting married without telling him. I couldn't imagine doing that to my father -- he would absolutely need to know if I intended to wed someone!" 

Erik nodded, making it clear he would not add more to the topic. She continued on reading. 

The plot of Othello developed as such -- Othello and Desdemona would leave for Cyprus, Othello's friend Iago would sabotage him by spreading false rumors of Desdemona's infidelity, and end with Othello killing Desdemona and himself. Y/N chocked back tears during the last scene, her heart breaking over the tragic death of the two lovers. 

When Y/N closed the book, and wiped her eyes, she turned to Erik with a lazy smile, "That was a truly beautiful story."

"Yes, it was. Well, I suppose I should let you go." He stood, picking up the chair to put it in its original spot. 

He was about to clear through the mirror when Y/N spoke out, "Erik!"

He turned back questioningly. 

"Goodnight." 

"Goodnight, Y/N."