Hybristophilia (Phantom of the Opera x Reader)

3.3

"My musical ability?" Erik puts the towel and water bowl away as he explains, "Everyone has talents. Yours happens to be the violin. I want you to play for me." He's basically asking me to embarrass myself in front of him. How could I possibly play here, alone with him? His presence alone is enough to make me start to fidget, but adding in a performance would set my nerves aflame.

"I didn't bring my violin," It is sitting in my room, so this isn't a lie. Erik reaches for something on a cluttered workbench and picks up a violin. He puts it in my hands so I can examine it. It is probably around twenty years older than mine, but it's still good quality. He pulls a bow from one of his other areas of odd objects and hands it to me.

"Play," He commands me. I don't like being commanded to do things, but I bite back my pride and raise the bow, playing "The Adagio in E major for Violin and Orchestra, K. 261" by Mozart. It's not too difficult, so I figure it's something I can play without messing up right now.

I finish and place the violin and bow down on one of the tables, "Was that alright?" I know it sounded fine, but I fear he will not approve of it. "Beautiful," Erik follows me, "You have such a unique way of playing. There's so much expression, but I know you can show more. You're nervous." "Thanks for figuring that out, detective." How could I not be nervous in front of him? For one, he has a relatively haunting presence. The other - LARGER - fact is that I had watched him strangle Buquet to death (not that he hadn't done some things to deserve karma, but still). Dropping him on the stage was unnecessary and it scarred many people for life. A number of the ballet girls quit because they can't bear to be on that stage again.

"Zoning off, are we?" His voice breaks my thoughts. "Sorry, long day," I wipe my hand across my forehead, trying to relieve some stress.

Erik gives me a small smile and passes me a book of sheet music. They're all violin solos with piano accompaniment. "We will play some pieces from here, just for fun," Erik sits down on the organ's bench and waits for me to set the music up on the stand.

We spend a few hours playing random pieces in the book. As more time goes on, I get more confident playing with him. His fingers are so sure of where they are supposed to go on the organ's keys, yet he hardly glances at his own sheet music.

"I believe we have done enough for today," Erik rises from the organ and I place the violin back on the workbench where he picked it up from, "you did well. You really are cut out to be an excellent musician. Are you sure you're self-taught?" I nod, "I used to have a friend who would play piano as my accompaniment, but he's not here anymore." "I'm sorry for your loss," He gives me a sympathetic look, but I don't think telling him that my friend moved away and didn't die (as far as I know) is really that important, so I thank him instead.

He leads me back to my room, checking on me many more times than usual. "I'm not going to fall into another trap," I roll my eyes. Erik smirks in a way that I can't tell is playful or evil, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

The hallway starts breaking off into a series of other hallways. "One of these leads to Christine's room, correct?" He doesn't respond for a few moments, "Yes." At least he told me the truth. "Do you give her lessons too?" I'm not sure if I care how he answers that question, but I kind of want him to say no. "I do. Or, at least, I did," His voice turns cold, "but she denied me and completely threw me aside."

I feel bad for him, but I'm oddly relieved at the same time, "I won't do that to you. I'm not the kind of person who can leave someone I care about behind so easily." I experience a mental whiplash as I go over my words in my head. Someone I care about. I admitted that I care about him without even realizing I've developed a minor attachment to him. Erik momentarily tightened his grip (not enough to hurt or bother me) on my hand as I spoke those words. "I hadn't realized you fell for me so quickly," Erik teases, observing my face heat up. "That's not what I meant!" I defend myself, but he may not be wrong. He is rather handsome, he has a pleasant and funny personality (when he isn't teasing me), and his music is mesmerizing. If he was raised the same way a child is normally raised, I'm positive he would have women trying to hit on him. Since that isn't the case, I suppose that means I don't have any competition.

I stop that thought in its tracks. I already decided that I would not date or marry anyone. I don't want a man to clip my wings and prevent me from pursuing my career in music so I can be a "submissive stay-at-home wife." I won't let society catch me in its reign.

Part of the hallway protrudes, which I guess is my mirror. When we get close enough, I can see my room inside. All the candles have been blown out, leaving the room dark. The mirror slides open automatically as Erik stands before it and the candles in my room magically set themselves aflame. I step into my room and turn around, "I have no idea how you do these things, magic man." He laughs, "I am The Phantom, after all." It's almost as if he is trying to remind me about his reputation so I don't forget.

A question burns in the back of my head, "How many people have you..." "Killed?" He says it so easily, yet his voice sounds slightly disappointed, "I lost count." I look up and let out a tiny, accidental gasp as I notice that the Phantom is directly in front of me. He frowns, "I won't add you to that number, if it makes you feel any better." My arms wrap themselves around my sides as I close myself off, "Sure does." My tone doesn't sound very relieved, but I don't care. I guess it is my fault for asking in the first place, "Sorry."

This man has an odd aura that can either entrance me or make me shiver, which is something I've never experienced before. I can't tell if this power he holds is good or bad, but it makes me even more interested in him. He has so many secrets that I want to figure out. I want to figure out all those odd expressions he makes. I also want to figure out the language hidden in his music.

He steps away from me and back through the mirror, "I have other things I need to do now. Have a good day." He continues down the hall as the mirror slides back into place, leaving me to figure out what I should spend the rest of my day doing.