The Man Clad in Black (Phantom of the Opera)

Bedridden - Chapter 13

You were sick for the next few days.

While you weren't terminally ill, you were still stuck in bed with a stuffy nose and a fever, and you were shivering horribly half the time. You always had a mountain of blankets on top of you... But even after you were on medications with an ice pack on your forehead, you still felt miserable.

However, your misery wasn't only because of your cold, though...

It was your heartbreak that lingered.

You couldn't get the image of neither him nor the girl out of your mind, and that troubled you terribly.

Whenever you received a visitor - whether it be your father, Matthe, Meg, or somebody else - your aching heart would only be momentarily bandaged. The pain would return every time you were left alone.

Thankfully, Erik hadn't made an effort to come visit you, and you were glad. You would have slapped him hard enough to leave a handprint.

The only time you were truly happy during this time was when your father came to visit. He always came into your room with tons and tons of food, and even though he knew that he was emptying his pockets, he insisted on doing it just for your sake.

"Papa, that a literal gallon of soup," you smiled in a hoarse voice. He nodded, as if he didn't acknowledge the fact that it was more than necessary, and he just continued on with his mission to grab some soup for you. You couldn't help but let out a dry laugh at his indifference. "How do you expect me to eat all of that?"

"Simple," your father said with a smile, grunting as he struggled to pour some soup into a bowl. "You're my daughter. If anyone can eat all of this, it's you."

You let out yet another small laugh, only to be interrupted by your sore throat. You let out a small "ouch" and sat up slightly. Your father chuckled as he made his way over to you, a tray of flood in his hands. The bowl of warm soup was nearly overflowing, as was the glass of water, and you couldn't help but smile at the vase with a few flowers peeking out from it.

You recognized them.

"Here, [Y/N]," he said, carefully balancing the tray in your lap. "I know it's not much, but -"

"No, it's definitely enough," you said with a small laugh, picking up an elegant spoon and placing it into your bowl. "I couldn't ask for anything more... Really, thank you."

Your father nodded sincerely.

"Of course," he said with a smile. "Do you like the flowers? I couldn't afford to get anything too grandiose, but I was able to pick these from the stairway - "

"No! I love them!" you exclaimed with a smile. You were being honest - even though you knew that the marble stairway was laden with these lavender flowers, you couldn't help but appreciate the fact that your father had gone through all of that trouble just to make you happy. "Really, Papa... thank you."

Your father smiled. It was clear that he was content with everything he had done.

"I'm sure that they want me to clean something up now," he said, planting a kiss on your cheek as you ate a spoonful of soup. You barely realized how hot the soup was, but once you had, you felt like your entire mouth was burning. It scalded your tongue and burnt the roof of your mouth. For the sake of your father, however, you held it there until he left.

"Bye, [Y/N]. I'll come with more food later." You didn't want to swallow, as you knew that it would probably end badly, although you waved to your father as he left.

Once he had, however, you picked up the bowl and spat your soup back inside. It was probably disgusting, yes - but you couldn't help it. It literally steamed as it came out. Your mouth, while it was much relieved, felt numb. It hurt. However, you couldn't bring yourself to be mad at your father - he was only trying to help.

Oh, what a silly old man.

"Are you enjoying yourself, [Y/N]?" a voice asked with a chuckle. Your head perked up to see Matthew at your door, holding a bouquet of colorful flowers in his hand.

"More or less," you said with a smile. You stared at the bowl on your lap and played with the spoon, laughing softly to yourself. "It's interesting... my father's visited me three times in the past hour," you chuckled. Carefully, you lifted another spoonful of the soup close to your lips, and you gently blew on it to try and cool it off. "But besides him, it does get a little lonely."

Matthew made his way into your room and rested his bouquet of flowers on your dresser, then finding a seat at the foot of your bed.

"Well, now I'm here," he said with a smile. "Another ballerina said that she wanted to come visit you, too... Meg, was it?"

"Yes, that sounds about right," you said with a nod, eating the spoonful of soup that you presumed was finally cooled off. As you sent Matthew a smile, you noticed Meg's head poke into your room, and she had a pitiful (yet hopeful) smile on her face.

"Speak of the devil," you muttered with a chuckle, putting your spoon back next to the bowl as you waved to the girl. Yet again, she was dressed in her typical ballerina garb, and she frowned as she made her way over to you.

"Goodness, [Y/N]! You look horrible!" the girl gasped, hurrying over to stand next to you. She examined you

"I'm feeling better than I did yesterday," you said with a laugh as you took another bite of your soup. Of course, you were still utterly cold and miserable, but you weren't going to complain.

Meg and Matthew stayed with you for a while, but yet again, they left you when they had other things to do. You couldn't blame them - after all, they did have jobs of their own...

You were nearly asleep (with a now-full stomach of soup) until you heard a knock on your door. It was an elegant knock, yes, but it was one that seemed to be full of urgency

"[Y/N]?" a woman's voice asked. Your eyes fluttered half-open as you sat up a little, although they closed again as you let out a huge yawn.

"Yes?" you said groggily. You pressed the palm of your hand against your forehead as you let out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut even more so that you didn't get another headache. "I'm so sorry, I - "

Before you could finish your sentence, you felt a pair of elegant arms wrap around you, and you heard what seemed to be the few, shuddering gasps of tears.

What?

As you opened up your eyes, you saw a head of curly brown hair.

Christine.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who commented on my last chapter! I absolutely love hearing about what you all have to say... also, thank you to Myatnoe123 for voting on so many of my chapters - it means so much! Make sure to vote and comment on what you think! 💖