𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑶𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫 (𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎)

Chapter Six

Will made his way towards the centre of the stage in strides of light, gracious footsteps. He turned to face the auditorium, causing a flourish of the pristine white robe that framed his figure and cascaded beyond his feet to gently brush the wooden floors. Graced by the pointed lights that beamed from far above him, Will looked as though clothed in the likeness of an Angel touched by heavenly light.

His surroundings were grand just as they always had been, only the theatre hall was obscured by darkness, untouched by his light. There was nobody in the audience. In their stead faint shadows seemed to pass casted by the gentle sway of the tall and bejeweled chandelier - Only the chandelier wasn't supposed to sway at all.

The gentle light casted from within it was peculiar, faint and cold like moonlight in place of its usual luminosity and warmth. It was a welcome change, for the contrast seemed to heighten Will's presence all the more. He embodied the sun, ardent like a burning star. Adorned by Saturn's rings in the form of glinting traces of silver in the jewellery he wore.

Despite the lack of spectators beyond the light that enclosed him, Will felt a sense of importance, a duty to perform. Softly, he smiled, nimble hands reaching beyond himself as though the lights that shone above him were something more. Paths to something ethereal, divine yet unknown.

With a parting of lips he went to sing. In that very moment and with a precision unmatched, a voice that wasn't his own resounded from far behind him. It forced Will's silence before he could even begin to speak - or rather left him lost for words.

Wounded and obscure, the Phantom's voice possessed a depth only true to tragedy. A darkness that evaded all warmth. Even so, Will was taken by it. Enraptured, bewitched... perhaps even comforted by his very sound for he knew the torment in the man's voice to be familiar to his own. Despite the obscurity of it all... his words still seemed to border the seductive. And Will surprised himself when he found himself leaning into it, eyes fluttered closed as he basked in the attentions of such a haunting serenade.

Come to me, Angel of music...

The voice only seemed to come closer. Despite Will's initial surprise, it all began to feel as though it was meant to be. The line between what once was and what was to be began to blur, now indeterminate. This was no longer what Will had predicted to be an Aria, singlehandedly performed. No, this was a pas de deux. A duet of sorts, if Will was to let himself be carried away by the temptation of it all.

Even worse, psyche emboldened, a part of Will came to understand that this was a courting, a blatant pursuit - a chase. Sincere and far beyond anything that could be merely and solely performed. Dangerous, and therefore tempting all the more. Perhaps Will was doomed to dance along the very precipice of this maddening pursuit and orchestrate his own fall.

In fear of that fate, Will began to wonder. Could there be another way? He knew he may well give into temptation and blindly follow in this ghost's paths... But perhaps if he could perform, only perform. If he were to allow himself to give in whilst remaining within the bounds of safety, of fiction, and solely upon the stage he found himself above, could it then remain just an act after all? Could he be absolved of the guilt of wanting to follow the voice that reigned so completely over his mind? ...That very voice called in the midst of his questioning.

Come to me, Angel of music... Sing for me, Angel of music...

-And Will leant into the Phantom's embrace before he could even begin to answer such a question for himself. The single step back he'd taken felt endlessly precarious as though it was a leap into the dark and yet Will had taken it. Stern arms held him now, an act of possession through which Will was now willingly entrapped. The Phantom loomed closely behind him, the press of his figure firm against his back. It rendered Will feverish, just as the open palms that rose to feel the surface of his chest. Will breathed, conflicted yet weak to the lift of fabric beneath the other man's ravenous touch. Wandering fingertips skimmed between his ribs, just barely above the white lace that clothed him. Their grasp tightened suddenly and Will gasped. His head lulled back, lips parting to welcome the passing of breaths that strained with an anticipation for something, anything. He remained beneath the stage lights still, only now they were eclipsed just as the darkness of his own irises; tainted by lust, no longer crystalline.