Hybristophilia (Phantom of the Opera x Reader)

1.2

I shiver, the winter wind blowing harder. The cold is trying to eat its way down into my bones and I realize I forgot to bring gloves with me. I blow on my hands to try to warm them up, but to no avail. I tuck my hands into my pockets and search for somewhere I could possibly find a pair laying around. Though, finding a pair I could get without paying for or fighting over them is very unlikely.

I notice merchants on the opposite side of the street, trying to persuade passerbys that their scarves are the most fashionable and warm or their dresses would be good for an indoor winter gala. I run across the street, making sure I didn't slip. I examine the tables, but none of the merchants have any gloves displayed. Dejected, I turn toward the street, waiting for a carriage to pass so I can cross again. Just as I'm about to step into the street, I hear a voice behind me, raspy and low, "You're looking for gloves?" The voice belongs to an old woman, shorter than me with white hair and wrinkles that cover her face. "It looks like your hands are turning blue," she cracks a smile and I can see that she's missing a few teeth. "How much?" I don't have more than 10 francs, but she might be generous. "Follow me," she turned down the alley behind her. My mind screamed at me to not follow, but I ignored it. If she tries something, I can just run back to the street; she didn't go far in.

"So," my voice portrays my nervousness, "how much are you asking for the gloves?" The lady cracks another smile, this one with a bit of craziness behind it, "Show me your hair." I freeze in confusion, "I beg your pardon?" "Show me your hair! Take off your hat!" She begins to grow impatient. I hesitate, but slowly reach up and remove my hat. My hair falls down my back and the lady's eyes widen in joy. "I'll give you the gloves for half of your hair." Taken aback by her offer, I open and close my mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. If I let her take it, my hair would fall to about my shoulders. My parents liked me having really long hair because it made me look a lot more feminine. "Fine, take it," I sigh, knowing I need those gloves if I don't want to lose my hands. She cackles and pulls a pair of scissors out of her pants like that was normal. "Sit, sit!" I obey her command and sit on the cold ground, flinching at the way it feels.

She hops behind me and runs her fingers through my hair. Once satisfied with it, she tugs, causing me to whince. I hear a snip and I know she began cutting. I sit there as still as I can, hoping she doesn't mess up and make it look bad. "Done!" She places my hair in a box and closes it, muttering something under her breath. I don't know what she could possibly need that for, "The gloves?" "Oh, yes, yes," she rummages through her trunk and pulls out a pair of black gloves. "Je vous remercie," I slide them over my hands. They are soft and flexible enough to allow me to crack my knuckles, but they still provide a lot of warmth. I put my hair, much shorter now, back into my hat. With less hair, it fits a lot better.

I leave the small town and walk for what seems like hours before buildings appear in my vision. Filled with relief and excitement, I pick up my pace. As I run, I nearly lose my footing and slip on the street. I make it into the city, the buildings towering over me. The liveliness of the city causes a huge grin to make its way onto my face. Noticing a man walking by, I stop him, "Pardon me, sir. What city is this?" He stares at me in surprise and then laughs, "Why, this is Paris!" My jaw drops a little. "A-alright, thank you," I pass him, embarassed that I didn't know I was in the capital of my own country.

Something cold and wet hits my nose. I reach up and rub my hand against where it hit and then look at it. On my glove is a small wet spot, possibly rain. That's when I realized I was correct. The water droplets came very spaced apart at first, but it picked up quickly. My coat is protecting me from a lot of it, but it isn't invulnerable. I run in search for shelter somewhere. I find a large, grand looking building and push the doors open and shove them shut behind me.

It suddenly hit me, how cold I am. The rain had soaked through all of my clothes and my body is shivering violently. I rub my gloved hands on my arms, hoping to bring some heat into them. I take off my coat and hang it on the coat rack, hoping it can dry a little there before I have to leave again. My ears catch some whispering and I see a few women huddled together, staring at me. "E-e-exc-cuse m-me, w-where am I?" They don't say anything, but a woman with long, curly brown hair enters from the hall. We make eye contact and she retreats back into the hallway she came from. I frowned, not liking the weird way the people here are acting. The lady with the brown hair returns with a towel, wrapping it around me. My face shows surprise, "Je vous remercie, madame." I gave her a smile which she warmly returned. "This is Palais Garnier. I'm Christine Daae, what's your name?"