G/T Adventures

Angel of Music (Phantom of the Opera G/t)

This was originally just for my Tumblr, but I liked it too much to not post here for you guys.

Erik stood in the vent, his arms wrapped around his shoulders as he swayed to the tune of the music, Christine Daae's voice echoing around him. That beautiful, gorgeous sound he loved so dearly and wished he could hear even closer. He longed so desperately to touch her, see her divine features up close. But the Borrower had no chance. If she were to see him, she would only despise him.

As the music ended, he moved silently through the vents of the Opera Populaire and toward the dressing room Christine had been taking up residence in for the performance. They always had their conversations this way. He would remain hidden, and she would ask to see him, but he would, of course, like every time refuse her request.

He could hear the excited chatter of men and women alike outside the door, being hushed and shooed by Madame Giry. That wonderful woman that took him in from the cold so long ago, and gave him the chance to encounter Christine.

Christine. That name was always on his mind, it sang in his heart and inspired his music of the night. Her voice was a drug, and he was addicted.

The brunette rushed into the room, the door closing behind her and she leaned against it, beaming and laughing to herself. "It was so wonderful," she whispered, barely audible but he could hear every word she muttered. He carefully leaned over just to see out of the vent, gazing at her form as she danced about the room.

A faint smile crossed his lips, only to fade when she paused and began to look around the room. "I can sense you, I know you're here. Won't you speak to me?" She called softly, taking a seat in a plush red chair.

Erik bit his lip and cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice came out in a hauntingly beautiful, echoey tone as it rumbled through the vent. "You sang beautifully, Christine."

"All thanks to your teachings, my angel of music," she smiled purely, then seemed to hesitate. "But...I would like to say thank you to your face. Can't I at last see the man who lingers in the shadows?"

Twas The Phantom's turn to hesitate. "My Christine, every night you ask this, and every night you know my answer."

"Oh, please," the teenager pleaded, her eyes darting about and her face holding such an innocent expression. "I would love to see the face of such a genius musician."

Unable to resist, he began to climb his way out of the vent, his cape billowing behind him as he did. "Flattering child. Very well."

Erik crossed the wooden floor at a snail-like pace, his heart thumping under his white ruffle-collared shirt. No longer would his voice echo, he would have to get close enough for her to hear him. However, he hardly had to move when her eyes landed on him and widened. Immediately flashbacks flooded through his mind, the way his own mother...

He averted his gaze, his hand raising to ensure his white mask was secure in its place. "You wished to see me. Is this what you wanted to see?!" He shouted from where he stood, his black-gloved hands balling into frustrated fists.

Her mountainous body moved from the chair, shaking the floor where he stood. He would not run. He would not run from her, not her.

A shadow engulfed him, and when he looked up, he found her face meters away, Christine down on her hands and knees on the wooden floor. Erik, unable to stop himself, stumbled backward from the sheer helplessness he suddenly felt being dwarfed by her stunning form.

"I...imagined you taller. A large, handsome man who could hold me in his arms and embrace me with the same loving warmth your singing provided," Christine muttered, her fingers reaching toward the tiny being before her.

"Then you are disappointed with me," a sharp pain shot through his heart, and he closed his eyes, averting his gaze once more.

"I never said that," she spoke firmly. "I'm simply surprised. You look so...well dressed for being so small. Do you make your own clothing?" She asked curiously, her brown hair falling partially in front of her glistening eyes.

"Being alone as often as I, you tend to acquire abilities like that," Erik slowly lifted his gaze, a warmth spreading through him at the sight of her smile.

He'd only been this close to her when she slept. But now, awake and in the light, her beauty was magnified one-hundred percent. He was so distracted by this, he wasn't fazed at all when her hands lifted him from the ground with the same gentility her face showed.

She was silent now, but he could tell she was looking at his mask. Sure enough, she questioned him about it. "And you wear that...why?"

It was Erik's turn to be silent, and he visibly frowned. "That is none of your business!" He spoke harsher than intended, however, his outburst only earned an amused giggle from the young lady. A faint blush crossed his face and he inwardly smiled. Of course, getting angry wouldn't frighten anyone at this size.

However, he hadn't expected the next thing that happened. Before he could react, Christine's fingers outstretched and snatched the white plaster off his face.

"Damn you, you little prying Pandora!" He roared, covering his face with a hand and turning away. "How dare you! Curse you!" He screeched, though no doubt it sounded higher pitched and less intimidating to her.

Christine placed the mask on her nightstand, and a deep frown crossed her lips. She then used the same hand to pinch his arm and pulled his hands from his face. Her eyes widened at the sight of the deformity, and her hand released him and shot to her mouth. "My God..."

He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes. Erik turned his back to her, again lifting a hand to hide his face. "I-I know precisely what you're thinking...'He's a monster. A beast.' My own mother was the same way...My first scrap of clothing was a mask...all because she despised my face. She abandoned me...Madame Giry found me and brought me here." He spoke softly, tears slipping down his face now and he sunk to his knees. "I-I never wanted you to see this!"

Christine turned her hand around and used a finger to tilt his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze. She hardly knew her own mother, but her father...she loved him, and he loved her. How could a parent not love their own child? His tears made her warm heart sting. It didn't take a second thought, and she pressed her lips against him.

Erik's teary eyes widened, and he blinked in sheer shock as the heat enveloped him, her soft lips caressing his skin and body. He leaned into the touch without a thought, his eyes slowly closing. A kiss. Something he never thought he would feel, let alone from the young woman he loved so dearly yet could never get close to...until now. "Christine...wh-why?"

"You are no monster," Christine pulled her lips back, smiling down at the tiny man in her hands. "You have no reason to feel that way." She again leaned forward, her lips meeting his body.

The Phantom was ready this time and lifted his arms to embrace the soft flesh and lean in as much as he could into the kiss. More tears, happy tears, stung his eyes. He placed his own kiss along her bottom lip. This was pure joy, something he'd never felt unless he was listening to her sing. Oh, how he relished in this. How he took advantage of the way her skin felt against his.

Christine giggled against his body as she felt his tiny lips against hers. It tickled, but it felt so right at the same time. "My little Angel of Music..." She murmured, and she simply held him close to her face, the two sharing their passion through such a simple action.