Hybristophilia (Phantom of the Opera x Reader)

3

I feel something in my hair. My eyes crack open a little, barely noticeable, and adjust quickly to the weak lighting. I focus on the feeling in my hair and realize that something is stroking it. I turn my head to look behind me and make eye contact with a masked man. My heart skips a beat and I pull away quickly. I sit up and face the man again, on edge. I recognize the man, the Phantom. He's on his knees beside the bed, dazed. "What were you doing?" I don't drop my guard. Sure, he was taking care of me, but this was weird. Unable to come up with a solid answer, he replies, "I...do not know." He can tell that I'm skeptical about his answer. He fixes his gaze on the sheets, rubbing them between his fingers. 

Pinching my nose, I roll my eyes. "Okay...You're pretty dodgy, you know that?" He chuckles, a playful look on his face, "You haven't seen the worst of me." I'm pretty sure that the things he said on the roof don't make him look all that normal, but I know I shouldn't bring it up. 

Though, there was one thing I couldn't help asking. "Can you remove the mask?" His face twists into anger and he stands immediately, "Do not ask me that! Do not even think it!" I flinch at his voice, "I'm sorry..." I want to let him know that I'm not one to judge, but I can't get myself to speak up. He wavered, guilt spreading across his face. He turns on his heel, "I will be composing. Don't disturb me." Just like that, he left me alone. This only served to make my curiosity grow, however.

Without moving for a while, I listen to him play. He repeats measures over and over, tweaking notes here and there. After what feels like an hour or two, I approach the organ. The man tenses, ready for me to take his mask, probably. Instead, I sit on the floor and lean my head against the wall. Eyes closed, I wait for him to continue playing. "What are you doing?" He questions. "I just want to listen. I think composing is very cool. I'm not great at it," I open my eyes and see the Phantom, turned around in his seat to face me, "While composing may not be your strength, you have great strengths elsewhere." I tilt my head, waiting for him to keep talking. I don't know what he's referring to, but every word he speaks intrigues me. "Your music," a smile grows on his face, taking my breath away, "You are by far the best violin player I have heard. You deserve to be 1st chair." "T-thank you," I'm not sure how to reply. Everything about the Phantom is so mysterious and hidden. He acts like a snake, ready to strike and unpredictable in his movements.

I rise to my feet and get closer to him. He tenses more, ready to grab me or flee if necessary. "I appreciate your kind words," I'm sure he's just trying to flatter me, but I do appreciate it. "I have one request," I try to put my hand on his shoulder, but he instinctively flinches away and grabs my wrist, holding it away. I sigh, disappointed. "I can't keep calling you 'Phantom' in my head. It would be easier to have a name to use," I smile disarmingly. He groans softly before releasing my arm and turning back to his organ, "Erik."

"Erik," I repeat, "that's a cute name." He doesn't reply or even look at me. The Phantom, the Angel of Music, or whatever you want to call him told me his real name. This simple act makes me feel special. Why do I care so much about him, though? We just met. Well, I guess Erik has known me for some time, which is super creepy. I probably feel attached to him because he saved my life, and I owe him for that. Since he gave me his name, I'll leave him alone about the mask for now.

I return to my spot against the wall as Erik goes back to composing. The method he was using would be difficult for most people to understand. Something popped into his head and he knew which notes to play. After he finished writing a whole line, he would play it to see how it sounds and fix whatever he thought needed to be.

A sudden realization sprang into my mind. "Dear heavens, what time is it?" Erik lifted his fingers off the keyboard, "A little before noon." Nearly noon?? "I have to return, the maestro is expecting me," I hurry to the edge of the concrete island. His voice calls out, almost making fun of me, "How do you plan on getting back?" "With the boat-" I realized that, not only he wouldn't be able to get to the boat if I used it without him, but I don't know my way through the passages. I groan and turn around, crossing my arms. "If it doesn't bother you too much, could you take me across?" I try to return his sarcastic attitude and he responds with a shallow smile and downturned eyebrows, almost like he is challenging me. Instead, I avert my eyes and stare at the lake.

I feel his presence beside me as he grabs the oar, "Are you coming?" I take his hand as he helps me onto the boat again. The whole ride back, I am zoned out.

"I apologize for interrupting your daydreams, but we are at the shore now," Erik's sassy voice cuts through my thoughts. "Oh! Right," I take his hand quickly, embarrassed. He leads me through the passages, randomly walking closer to one side of the passages at times and making sure to lead me around certain spots. His actions are confusing, but I don't ask.

"Here you go," He opens a door revealing a darker hallway. "Thank you," I slip through the gap between him and the door and rush off, not wanting to be later than I already am. Anxiety fills my head as I worry about the maestro being disappointed in me, yelling at me, or even firing me.

When I open the doors to the orchestra room, the maestro shoots me a skeptical glance. "Where were you, (Y/N)?" He crosses his arms and I begin to sweat. "I...started my period." His face turns to one of shock and disgust and some of the other musicians laugh. I have an overwhelming urge to crawl into a hole and die. "Well, um, I'm glad you...got that taken care of," The maestro looks away from me and refuses to make eye contact. Of all things I could have said, this has to be the worst one. I take a seat and curl my hands into balls on my lap, staring at the floor.

"As I was saying," The maestro went back to his instructions, "we must prepare ourselves for times of...events like Il Muto." The musicians are all stiff in their seats. While they were spared from seeing Buquet's body, they are still traumatized by all the screams and panic. "To do this, we will be practicing some things, such as getting out of The Pit quickly in the case of an emergency."

The rest of the day, we practiced different scenarios such as fires and criminal attacks. I could hear some of the other musicians complaining about how useless this training is. As ridiculous as the training seems, nothing is impossible. The maestro is actually very considerate to take time out of his day to do this.

After we finish, I go up to the maestro and thank him. He responds with a smile, happy to be thanked for once.

I go back to my room, wanting to sleep for a bit. I am tired from embarrassing myself so many times today. I go to fall onto my bed, but I notice an envelope placed on my dresser. I pick it up and examine the red skull seal. The seal is the coolest I have seen. Opening the letter and breaking the seal hurts me on the inside a little, but I do it anyway.

There is a letter. I don't know who it is from, but I decide to read it.

'Dear (Y/N),

You should expect me to visit more often from now on. I will pick you up in your room every evening after practice. DO NOT try to find my lair by yourself.

I will see you tomorrow evening. I am sure your period problems will be taken care of by then.

Wishing you a speedy recovery,
O.G.'

I stare at the letter, speechless. How had Erik heard my pathetic excuse I gave to the maestro? This letter only added to my tower of embarrassment. The fact that Mr. Mysterious was making fun of me was too much to comprehend. I hide the letter in my desk drawer and fall onto my bed, drained.

A soft but teasing melody plays, but I fall asleep before I could tell whether it is real or not.