The Phantom Ascending |✔| [Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction]

The Applause

"Quite a performance. I can see why you love her so much," a voice whispered into my ear.

I snapped to the right and then instantly relaxed, not to draw any glances from the people nearby.

And it was all right, really, to have her here, since she was my initial inspiration for Titania. I greeted her with a smile and she took her seat beside me.

"Willow. What brings you here?"

"The business of loneliness, as always, and of course, some personal curiosity. I wanted to see if my gift was any good to you."

"It was."

"But she doesn't know yet, does she? As it is, your sheer pleasure of seeing her on that stage repels me, but were you together, your loneliness would be vanquished to the point where I wouldn't be able to approach you. Are you afraid, then?" she nodded toward the stage.

"No. I have a plan."

"I see."

I motioned her to keep silent while the music lasts, and she did, relaxing into the chair and giving herself over to the music as she did before in my Cornwall home. Or perhaps she was just swaying to the choir of all the lonely hearts in the audience.

"That was beautiful, Erik," she turned to me when the act ended. "Should I leave, or would you like me to sit here and deflect any curious passersby during the break?"

"Stay."

"That's sweet of you. Do you know, I'm not sure the real Titania would like this story."

"It doesn't matter, as it is not really about her," I retorted, looking at Willow.

"Oh, I see. I am flattered by the comparison, though I doubt I shall ever return to faerie lands for good. Your world is more interesting," she grinned a brilliant smile, her facade slipping to reveal her inhuman beauty for the briefest, fleeting moment.

"Hmm, I wonder if I could be of any help tonight. See that man over there?" she pointed discreetly.

"That's de Chagny," I frowned.

"Yes, him. He loves her too, but he is not perfectly content. And she, your Christine, loves him as well, but also feels some guilt connected to that love. Perhaps she wished she didn't love him, or wishes that she'd love him more. It's hard to tell precisely."

I turned to look at Willow. With her illusions in place, she looked like a perfect lady, amiable and dressed fashionably. Anyone looking at us would see two regular members of society, casually conversing, while in fact we were both masquerading as such.

Had they known our true natures, I was sure they would fear her more than they would fear me. There was nothing more intimidating than someone who could see into your heart. I was now over that particular shame, and there was a calm sense of camaraderie and honesty between us. Not love, but a bond nonetheless.

Willow started tapping with her foot, her gaze restlessly shifting from one random person to another, until she finally caught me observing her, and laughed.

"I am sorry, Erik, I can't concentrate here and must move on. I know you won't tolerate distractions once the music starts, so I will say this now: farewell, my masked friend. I hope your soul will heal. Be brave."

She touched my shoulder and I caught her hand.

"Thank you, Willow. Take care."

She left quietly when the second act began. With my demoness gone, I could now turn all attention to my angel.

I watched the opera unravel to its ending, the pocket watch never leaving my hand. Thankfully, everything played out according to the schedule, and so I joined in the applause, a long, loud, satisfying one.

Discomfort gnawed at me, for now when the lights were lit and the music's spell broken, the presence of the crowd all around me became palpable, and the feeling wasn't pleasant.

Down on the stage, Christine bowed to the cheering audience, and looked around as if she was searching for someone, probably her vicomte. Manelli then took the stage.

"Tonight was our final show before Christmas, and we are honored to have among us the genius composer and librettist of Titania Enthroned. Please, another round of applause for Mr. Erik Dessler."

And he waved his hand in my direction. The applause rang out again, accompanied by curious murmurs and restless glances.

It was one thing to masquerade as a random man in the crowd, and another to stand in the center of everyone's attention. The rising chatter, the sudden reactions, the close inspection by the attendees in adjacent boxes... While it wasn't comparable to the sheer horror and pain of Don Juan unmasking, it was equally suffocating in its surprise.

The memories flooded me; the anger, the shame, the shouts and the mob. Her betrayal.

I must get out of here.

I needed air and the safety of my lair. And Christine, I needed her even more, but I couldn't, I couldn't face her now and calmly pretend that I am someone else, even if only for two hours.

I exited the box, my teeth and fists clenched. In the hallway, people started to approach me, eager for introductions. That wouldn't do.

"Excuse me," I murmured and rushed on, leaving offended faces in my wake.

The once familiar Teatro La Fenice seemed alien in this colorful chaos, but I found the right turn and the door that took me into a narrow passage that only the opera workers used and through which I could reach the exit the fastest.

Others were joining in from a different hallway. As they were passing me by, I realized that one of them was none other than de Chagny. With a bouquet of white roses in hand, he must have been on his way to see Christine.

I kept my face impassive, glancing at him no longer than I glanced at the others. His eyes widened, but that look of recognition was instantly replaced with a frown of confusion. He stopped.

"Excuse me. I only saw you from the distance in the audience, but you are Mr. Dessler, are you not?"

He paused and the others walked on. We were left alone. Not our first encounter, but this time neither of us had a sword ready.

"Yes?" I feigned puzzlement.

"Yes, of course. It's remarkable, for one moment I thought I saw... someone else, but that would be impossible."

He seemed genuinely confused. I deliberately kept my voice as mellow as I could, as different as I could from the commanding way the Phantom used to speak out to others.

"I have been told I have relatives all over Europe. If you could tell me a name..."

"No, no name, and no need. Not that much of a similarity, now that I look better. The lighting is abysmal here," he said in apology. "Are you on your way down?"

"No, I was just leaving."

"Already? Did the production displease you?"

"Not at all, but some urgent matters await."

"I will use this opportunity, then, to say that your opera is exquisite. Just the thing my fiancee needed before she takes a well deserved rest from the stage."

The fool. Christine didn't need time away from the stage — she was born for it. Out loud, I only murmured my thanks and nodded.

We continued in separate directions. Without further interruptions, I've reached the exit and the place where my gondola awaited, and dismissed the gondolier who kept guard over it.

I cursed my cowardice. I would not leave Christine with someone who did not fully appreciate her, but I could not force myself to return inside or even stay here where the crowd will soon emerge. I put on a thick cloak to blend with the darkness, and went straight to the Doge's Palace.