The Phantom's Melody (The Phantom of the Opera)

13. Dress to Impress

I popped my head out of the alcove and smiled as I looked over at the Phantom. He was sitting at his desk, scrolling what I would assume is song lyrics onto a book of paper. I waltzed over to him and held out the little box with the croissant I had purchased for him earlier. “Good evening, Opera Boy.”

He looked up from his pages and raised an eyebrow at the pastry. “I will never understand your obsession with sweet treats.” He said as he accepted the croissant and sat it down on his desk. “You don’t have a lesson scheduled for tonight. Why are you here?” He asked.

I frowned. “Good to see you, too.” I muttered before smiling again. “No reason. I just thought I would drop in and check on my favorite opera ghost.” I shrugged, sweeping out the wrinkles in my new dress as I leaned against the side of his desk. “We are friends, remember?”

“As you so often remind me, yes.” He muttered before looking me up and down, accessing me for a moment. “Something is different about you.” I almost grinned, thinking he might comment on my dress. But that hope deflated when he opened his mouth again. “You seem strangely happy. I’m afraid to ask why.”

I shot him a glare. “Is being happy such a bad thing?”

“With you it is.” He said as he opened the little pastry box. “Usually it means you want something.” He examined the croissant with such scrutiny that I worried the poor thing might burn under the fire of his gaze.

I frowned and rolled my eyes. “Again, might I say, you really know how to charm a girl.”

He didn’t bother responding as he broke off a piece of the pastry and popped it into his mouth. I always found it strange seeing him do something so ordinarily...human. Sometimes he acted more like a real Phantom than he did a man. I looked over at the music he was composing and raised an eyebrow at the title: Don Juan’s Triumphant. I opened my mouth to ask what it was, but he spoke before I could. “Why are you here, Lucille?” He asked again.

I felt a shiver run down my back at the way he said my name. It had taken him weeks after our first lesson to start calling me by my name. It still felt weird hearing it come from his lips. Quickly I thought of some excuse I could use outside of me just wanting to see him. “Right. Well I, uh...had a question. About my lessons.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Go on,” He said as he continued to take small bites of the pastry.

I bit my lip for a second before sighing. “I’m getting better right?” I asked.

He glanced at me and nodded. “Yes, you’ve shown good improvement.”

I nodded. “Well...if I’m getting better, maybe I should try securing a better role in one of the upcoming productions.” I hesitated. “I know Christine is obviously a better choice as the lead, but there’s plenty of supporting roles I could audition for.” I pointed out.

I noticed something in his expression change. “Lucille…” He pressed his lips together. “Where do you see yourself going with this?” He asked.

Now more than ever he truly felt like a mentor; a teacher. I looked down. “Well...I know I want to be more than just a chorus girl.” I folded my arms.

He sighed. “It takes more than just a good voice to become something great in the world of music. It requires ambition. As far as I can tell, you seem pretty content letting Madame Giry order you around day and night.”

“I don’t really have much of a choice.” I said, looking down.

“Everyone has a choice.” He said as he stood up from his chair. I tensed up when I felt his hand under my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “You may not be Paris’ next prima donna, but you have more talent than you realize. What you choose to do with that talent, however, is entirely up to you.” 

I swallowed, hating how weak at the knees I felt whenever he would look at me with such intensity. “What about you?” I asked quietly. “I’ve seen the way you play, and you’re always composing new music. Why don’t you do something with that talent?”

He let go of me and took a step back. “Unlike you, life didn’t give me the same opportunities.”

“Life is what you make it.” I reminded him. “I know you’re scared, so am I. But living like a hermit down here while posing as some opera ghost isn’t going to help you.”

“Don’t act like you understand.” He said cooly, his eyes suddenly distant again. “I will not tell you what you should or should not do with your life. I expect you to extend to me the same courtesy.”

I pressed my lips together, realizing I probably crossed a line. I averted my gaze for a second before nodding. “You’re right.” I folded my arms. “I’m scared, okay?” I bit my lip. “What if I fail? Then what?” I shook my head to myself. “I guess I am a little complacent.” I admitted.

He stared at me for a moment. “Everyone is scared of something, Lucille.” He said, his voice softer now. “And nobody is perfect.” He added.

I snorted. “Isn’t Christine?” I asked, looking at him for confirmation.

He hesitated. “No. Not even Christine.”

I stared at him in disbelief. I never expected him to say that. “What do you mean? I thought she was your perfect little angel. A prodigy.”

“Yes, she is an angel.” His gaze lingered on a portrait he had drawn of Christine hanging near his desk. “But even an angel can make a mistake.”

I bit my lip. “I assume you mean the Vicomte?”

He didn’t respond. It was that look in his eyes, the one he had whenever I spoke of Christine. I always thought it was just an obsession, but the closer I grew to him, the more I realized that he wasn’t just obsessed with Christine. He was in love with her. A mentor in love with his student. A man in love with a woman. For whatever reason, I felt my heart sink at the realization.

I looked down for a moment before forcing a smile onto my lips. “Right, well, I should probably be off. Turns out Meg Giry has noticed my little adventures into the opera house.” I sighed. “I’ll see you soon.” I smiled at him before walking to the exit in the wall.

“I like your new dress,” He suddenly said. “You’re actually beginning to look like a proper young woman.” He smirked a bit.

I smirked and stuck my tongue out at him. “Thanks for noticing, Opera Boy.” I winked, waving goodnight as I practically skipped out of his lair, ignoring the butterflies I felt fluttering around in my stomach. But this time I wasn’t so mad about it.