Better Endings -- Phantom of the Opera

Name Behind the Mask

When I awoke I was staring at a painted ceiling like the ones in royal castles or the Sistine Chapel. I looked around me to find I was in a luxurious bedroom suite. I sat up quickly noticing that I was alone. My mind first began to rush to conclusions as I worried where The Phantom had gone. Though, as I woke up more, I remembered the last time I was with him while I slept. He wasn't there by me, but instead he was sitting writing songs that would sing in my head.

I went to the door and cracked it opening, peered out. The rest of the suite was just as luxurious as well. I swung the door open and walked into the living room portion of the suite. I skimmed the room seeing a figure sitting at a desk in the corner shuffling papers.

"Christine," The Phantom said standing up from his chair turning to look at me. "Good morning."

"Good morning, my Angel of Music." I smiled. I walked over to where he was sitting to see what he was shuffling through. I looked down seeing a map of Europe. I lifted up the map only to see other map. This one of North America. I looked up at The Phantom. "We haven't traveled far enough?" I was still in the dark as to where we were even now.

"We must travel farther." He looked at the maps then to me. "Where would you like to go?"

I thought for a moment scanning the maps in front of me. We could go anywhere!

"How would America sound? We could live in New York!" I grew excited, I could sing once more.

"Once everything settles down we can pursue your singing." He reassured my hopes.

I grew excited knowing the long travel will be worth it. I had heard of how nice America was. Rich and opportunity everywhere. We had enough money to live anywhere we wanted. To have the grandest of houses. I had a thought the Phantom would want to live somewhere grand. I hoped we could live somewhere we could see the sun rise. I had wonder how long it had been since he'd seen a sunrise. The beauty of the world he'd turned from.

The Phantom was pacing around the room as I was in my thoughts. I could see he was deep in thought as well. He had dark circles under his expressionless eyes.

I walked over to him gently taking his hand. He looked down at me.

"You should sleep." I stated. He shook his head. I ignored the gesture knowing he hadn't slept last night. "America can wait." I guide him to the bed. He reluctantly laid down in the bed with his arms crossed.

What a drama queen. I thought to myself with a chuckle.

He didn't take off his mask. I sighed, knowing he still didn't want his face to be seen by me. I sat on the edge of the bed next to him. I slipped off his mask for him and placed it gently on the nightstand.

"You're face does not frighten me."

He doesn't loosen up. I laid down next to him putting my head on his chest with an arm around him. He hesitated to put an arm around me, but eventually he does. "If I was scared of your face would I have willingly agreed to run away and marry you?" I whispered.

He doesn't say anything. I think we both know I could have.

I closed my eye but I did not fall asleep. I already slept, unlike The Phantom. I found lying there quite comfortable. He began to run his fingers through my hair softly. I sighed wishing he would get some sleep. We remained in silence. It wasn't an awkward silence. It was calm, peaceful.

I ponder how we'd get married. Would the marriage be official? He would hide his face behind his mask again if we were to marry with a priest. The wedding would no doubt be small. I wouldn't be wearing the wedding dress I was wearing now. It was, sadly, water damaged and the hem covered in dust and dirty from our getaway. The dress still held beauty. I wondered if it could be salvaged at all. It then occurred to me, I didn't actually know The Phantom's name. I had always called him The Phantom or Angel of Music. As fitting as the names were I would have liked to have known his real name.

I broke the silence knowing he wasn't asleep yet. "What's your real name?" I looked up at him.

He sighed. "What happened to sleep?" he asked averting the question.

"We both seem to be wide awake." I noted.

"Erik," He answered as if it's someone he rather hated.

I repeat his name closing my eyes.

"I was named after the priest that was there at my birth. My mother didn't even bother to name her own son." he shared bitterly.

"We don't have to talk about it." I tell. I raised my hand to cup his cheek. He took my hand as if he didn't want me to touch his deformed half. "Erik, I love you."

He kissed my hand, then let go, so I could do as I wished. 

"Christine, I love you." I wrapped around his neck.  It isn't until I know he has fallen asleep that I fall asleep.