One Shots

Little Lotte

Little Lotte? Was it really Christine on stage tonight? Raoul's mind was racing with questions. It had to be Christine. He smiled at the memories of his childhood, filled with music, laughter and Christine. She was so beautiful, even as a girl. Her dark curls framed her porcelain face. Her eyes, so soft yet pierced right through you. He made his way to her room with a rose in hand and dinner plans made. He stopped when he heard voices on the other side of the door. He listened. They were muffled, but he could make out Christine's bell-like voice. He could even picture her speaking to whomever was in there with her. The facial expressions she'd make. Then he heard the second voice. A rich, tenor voice. His blood boiled. The man's voice was hypnotic.
"Come with me?"
He heard. And that was it for Raoul.
"Christine!?"
He pounded on the door. Jealousy filling him to the brim. He hadn't heard their entire conversation. If he had, perhaps he'd be less jealous. For the man speaking to Christine was the "Opera Ghost". A horribly deformed man who lived in the catacombs, underneath the Opera Populaire. All he wanted was to finally meet Christine, for he had been teaching her for years, as her "Angel of Music" but he'd never seen her in person. And tonight, this "Opera Ghost" had decided to reveal himself. Raoul, in his jealous rage had suddenly become furious with Christine and whomever the man behind the door was.
"Christine!? Open up or I'm coming in!"
He gave her a warning.
"Alright. I hope you and your 'friend' are decent!"
He called just before kicking the door open. There was nothing in the room. Nothing but a single flickering candle and the feint playing if an organ off in the distance.
The "Opera Ghost" or Erik, as he's actually called had taken Christine to his home. How? Without leaving her dressing room? There was a series of passages in the building known only to Erik, one of them led to a two-way mirror in Christine's dressing room. He never used this mirror for purpose other than to give her lessons. He did not believe in spying. She deserved her privacy. Erik had opened the mirror and guided her down through the tunnels. He could find his way down in total darkness, but thought perhaps Christine would like a lamp.
"You-you're a man!"
She was shocked.
"I am."
He sighed.
"I'm not the fair-haired cherub faced angel you were expecting and for that I apologize."
She was intrigued by Erik. His all black attire and the white piece of porcelain masking the right side of his face. It fascinated her.
"Don't apologize to me ang- is there another name I may call you?"
He looked back over his shoulder at her curious expression.
"Erik. You may call me Erik."
His tone was formal. In reality he was quite nervous to be in her presence. Touching her hand to lead her to his home was almost too much for him.
"Erik?"
"Yes Christine?"
"You-you live down here?"
She asked as the came to a small underground lake. There was a boat tied for them to use.
"I do, I told you I was showing you to my home didn't I?"
He smiled.
"May I?"
Erik reached for her hand and she let him. He helped her into the boat and climbed in. Once inside he rowed toward a dark tunnel. Christine chewed her lip anxiously. Though she was with her angel she hated the dark. But almost as soon as they entered the tunnel, they exited and arrived at a small open space lit by hundreds of candles and lanterns.
"This is my home."
He mumbled. Christine looked at her surroundings in amazement. It was so beautiful. As he helped her from the small craft he started to sing to her a haunting tune. A tune she would never forget. He circled her as his rich, angelic voice filled the room. She was entranced. And something he didn't expect happened. Christine feinted.
Luckily, Erik was swift and caught her but she still had feinted! He carried her to the bed in which he slept and left her there. Not disturbing her, only checking on her every so often and changing the cold cloth he'd placed on her forehead. Erik wasn't one to sleep. He stayed up all night, playing his music. Working on a composition. He hadn't noticed when Christine snuck into his music room to see what was going on. Christine was curious. She always had been as a child. Of the world around her, how things came to be. She was now curious of Erik. What did he hide under that mask? She was about to find out. She slunk over to him and pondered her move. He could be angry with her. But she needed to know. She moved her hand and pulled the piece of porcelain from his face.
Christine wanted to scream but didn't. She understood why he kept his face covered, and understood why up until now they'd never met.
"Damn you!"
He screamed at her, all sorts of obscenities. Making her cringe away. In blind fury he lunged at her, for his mask and she fell back to the ground.
"Now you know!"
He growled.
"I am the 'Opera Ghost' horribly disfigured. Yes. A shame isn't it being I'm so musically inclined!?"
He started raving like a madman.
"Can you even bare to look? Hmm?"
He growled.
"I'm no angel! I'm a demon. Cursed to the darkest depths of hell!"
He stated darkly and moved closer. Christine did not cringe back in horror. She simply put her hand to his gnarled cheek.
"You are no monster. You are still my angel. My Erik."
She stroked his face. Feeling the scarred skin beneath her fingertips. It was strange but felt pleasant to touch. Erik melted into her touch and let out a broken sob.
"Oh-oh Christine."
Was all he could say. She knew he wasn't upset with her, but the world for casting him away to live in the tunnels where he resided.
"It's alright."
She sighed. He rested his face in the crook of her neck.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
"I know Erik."
She stroked his hair and felt his tears on her neck.
"Don't weep angel."
She said weekly and pulled his face up to hers. Christine then did the unthinkable. She kissed the "Opera Ghost".