Chapter Text
Neuvillette knew tonight was the night Wriothesley would come looking for him. Unfortunately, Neuvillette was practically drained out of his own body. He had been working on this finicky song all day, no food, no water. He often neglected his needs during periods he felt locked into his work. That’s how he met Wriothesley the first time, he had been starving and far too exhausted to attend that ballet. Well, you really couldn’t call it a ‘meeting.’ Neuvillette sometimes thinks of that day in passing. He was frustrated he wasn’t conscious while being hoisted up by strong arms and placed in an unmade bed with care.
He wrote a note on a spare piece of paper, not seeming to notice or care about the way the ink slowly ran out and his hand smudged it along. He didn’t even sign it, he just took to his boat and placed the note on the table before Wriothesley would come. As he closed the mirror entrance behind him, he heard the man enter the room. Neuvillette turned around and gazed through the one way glass. Illuminated as always by a single candle, the pepper haired man that had been on his thoughts so much recently.
Tonight wasn’t the night to let him see Neuvillette in such a tired and defeated state over a song. He crept away quietly after he confirmed Wriothesley got his note.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Tonight is not a good night. I will see you soon, though.”
He rowed back, removing his mask upon return. He set it down and readied himself for sleep, passing out instantly as he hit the pillow. Unfortunately, this rest didn’t last long. It was a battle of waking up freezing, with a strange feeling of anxiety- no, maybe something else, blocking his mind. The broken melody of the song that he couldn’t finish rang through his head, bothering him to no end, until the sound of the music box broke through. A pretty tune, one Neuvillette knew there were lyrics too. Thinking of the words to the song finally grounded him until he stood up and shut it off.
Masquerade… paper faces on parade,
Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you.
He took his hair out of its messy braid and rid himself of his sleeping clothes. The underground lake provided him with a nice place to soak or swim to clear his mind. He let his hair into the water, working his fingers through the knots as he sat down near the sloped edge. After feeling more refreshed, he put his hair up in a messy bun for the time being. The Phantom went up onto the roof as the sun rose, laying his body in the shade and his hair out on the ground to sun dry. He hummed to himself, the songs for the theater already made and the one he was trying to make.
He went downstairs and crept into his favorite box, box five. He set down his papers, sheets of music and his future masterpiece on the ground before where he lowered himself. The actors started to rehearse on stage, and Neuvillette watched. And listened. Took note of their voices, their ranges, the instrument players and the way the music sounded. He really did wish he could meet and talk to the composers. He went from the railing to the floor again as he tried to keep his eyes open. He brought his writing close to his chest, his lyrics and melodies. Closing his eyes to think was a mistake.
…
Wriothesley had been rehearsing when he glanced up at a pale, ghostly figure in the what should be empty boxes. When he looked back, though, the Opera Ghost was gone. When the rehearsals ended, he excused himself from what would have been a conversation with Clorinde and Navia and made his way to the boxes. Box 3, box 4… box 5. Clorinde had told him he frequented this one. He knocked softly, and when he heard nothing, he turned the door handle and peaked inside. There was Neuvillette, passed out on the floor with music sheets scattered around him.
His mind panicked for a moment. Could this be like the first time he saw the Phantom? He went over and bent down to the side of him, debating on how to approach this. He was curled in on himself, pen loosely in hand, breathing softly. Maybe he was just… tired? Wriothesley set his hand on his shoulder and shook him softly.
“Neuvillette? Hello-“
The Phantom shot up and clashed with Wriothesley instantly. Both of their foreheads hit and they separated immediately, groaning and bracing from the pain. Neuvillette opened his eyes, but was seemingly assaulted by sight.
“Are you okay?” Wriothesley asked.
The pale man shielded his masked face from the light of the chandelier and candles. “Yes, it’s just… bright.”
“You fell asleep here. Our practice was over and I thought I saw you up here earlier, so I came to check.” He explained, glancing around at the mess on the floor. He started gathering papers to help.
“I’m… I’m incredibly sorry you had to see me in such a state, it was very improper.” Neuvillette’s typically pale as can be complexion flushed a deep red. A lot of it was hidden by the mask, but his ears and cheeks were like roses. The damp, braided bun certainly didn’t help how cute he looked, Wriothesley thought to himself.
“There’s no need to worry, it’s fine.” He shrugged. When he went to pick up the paper closest to Neuvillette, the phantom swiped it away quickly.
“There’s an ink spill on it.” He muttered to himself, frustration surfacing on his flustered face. He put his hand over his face, and if he didn’t have a mask Wriothesley thinks he’d be pinching his nose bridge. “Alright. I’m sorry, I should go.” The phantom gently took the papers Wriothesley had collected and placed the ruined one on top. It was the one he had seen before… All I Ask of You.
“That’s… unfortunate.” Wriothesley frowned. “Did that set you back? Do you remember it?”
“Yes, but maybe I need to start new anyway.” They stood, Wriothesley leading him to the door. Neuvillette then had him follow a back way, and new way Wriothesley didn’t know about that lead down to the boat in the underground lake.
“What a labyrinth.” Wriothesley mumbled. “I can row you back across. I do remember the way from the first time.”
“You would?” Neuvillette considered. “I’d be very grateful.” The two boarded together, and this time it was less impressive than he recalled. Still fog, but not the same brilliant candle lit path with moving structures. Maybe that was a one time little show Neuvillette had made for him. Speaking of the man, he was slumped over the side of the boat, gazing at the way the water moved around his hand. He really must be tired.
When they arrived at his cave, Wriothesley helped Neuvillette disembark. “Thank you for everything. Once again, I’m sorry-“
“-Neuvillette. You don’t need to keep apologizing. Just get rest.” Wriothesley interrupted him. His posture, his mysterious bravado, it all melted away. The actor held his tired eyes until the phantom turned away and padded across the floor, setting his papers on his piano. As he started unpinning his bun, Wriothesley began to row himself away.
…
After getting a much better amount of sleep, Neuvillette felt ready to address the messed up page. He ended up tossing it, the ink had spread over too much and it wasn’t good anyway. He worked through the night and into the morning, making it to the acting practice the next day. Instead of working on his music, though, he took a break to watch. Wriothesley noticed him again up there, but this time the Opera Ghost didn’t shy away from being seen. When everyone had left, he even beckoned Wriothesley to his box.
“I trust you’re rested this time?” Wriothesley asked with a smirk upon entering the box.
“Much more so. I also believe I’ve finally done it. My song, I think I know what I want it to be now.” Neuvillette’s small smile crept into his voice and lilac eyes.
Wriothesley couldn’t help but smile himself. “When can I hear it for the first time?”
“Would you keep me company while I work for a little bit more?” Neuvillette asked but quickly added, “Unless you have something to do, that is.”
“I can come down with you for a while. Mind if I go to my room and grab some things?”
“I’ll bring you. Come with me.” Neuvillette offered, leading Wriothesley to a painting on the wall in the hall outside of the box. He pried to open, hoisting one leg up and then the other to enter. Wriothesley followed suit, the two walking through the dark tunnels in the walls once again until Neuvillette abruptly stopped.
“Sorry.” Wriothesley muttered as he bumped into the phantom. He gave no reply, he only felt along the wall until he pushed out another picture in the hallway Wriothesley’s dorm was in. This was the picture he had seen that trail of water coming from that one time.
“Get what you need and come back. Knock, and I’ll let you in.” Neuvillette stuck his head out slightly and looked left to right before adding, “Don’t let anyone see you.”
Wriothesley gathered music, scripts and sheets, and finally a book for himself and brought it back. The two went down to the cold underground lake.
“Now, would you please help me take both boats back? I don’t want the janitor or someone untrustworthy finding it.” Neuvillette said, motioning towards the boat he had taken today and the one Wriothesley had left yesterday. He followed Neuvillette, using a long pole to pull the boat forward. Once they reached his cave, Neuvillette put his boat in a different corner and hoisted himself up on a ledge. He came back down to Wriothesley and told him he could get comfortable here however he liked.
While Neuvillette worked at the piano, hunching over to write notes or pen music sheets, Wriothesley brought up a different chair nearby. Every piece of furniture here was some sort of antique, but none of it would have been from the same set. Even the teacups on crudely bolted up shelves were all different colors and patterns. Neuvillette said he didn’t mind at all if Wriothesley were to practice singing, so he did for a while. Then, he paid attention to the phantom, watching him compose and asking questions about what he was writing and the intention behind it.
“Are you writing the song for the play?” Wriothesley inquired, pulling his chair closer.
“Yes, I am.” Neuvillette answered, eyes still trained on the piano. “Would you think it off putting if I set my mask aside?”
“What? No.” The answer came automatically. The question didn’t ACTUALLY register in his head until he looked up and saw Neuvillette slip his fingers under the blue mask and lift it off, placing it on his opposite side. When he turned back, his face was dusted with a warm blush and bare of any cover. Wriothesley liked that. He was at a loss for words momentarily. He’d seen his profile at a distance once before, but this was entirely different. He glanced at Wriothesley through his pale lashes, and seemingly got more flustered.
“…any- anyway, I’ve finally got a grasp on what I want this to sound like,” he straightened himself, flexed his wrists and wiped his palms on his pants. “It’s supposed to be between Olivette and Valentine.”
Wriothesley’s gaze was still on the man’s face. “May I hear you sing?”
“I’m only so confident about the chorus right now, and I feel even that could use improvement. I can… try, for you.” He adjusted the papers up on the top of the piano.
“Please, by all means go ahead. You’ve trained me for a while now, but I’ve never actually heard you sing a song.” Wriothesley shrugged, trying not to make it seem like a big deal. To him it totally was, but he didn’t want to pressure Neuvillette or anything. Neuvillette nodded and began to work his fingers around his piano. How was Wriothesley meant to believe there was much more room to improve? And then he drew his breath to sing. His voice was so angelic, so enchanting, combined with the sweet lyrics of a handwritten love song it could put anyone into a trance. And Wriothesley was enthralled, even after Neuvillette stopped singing and only continued to play his instrument. If Wriothesley wasn’t able to control his face he was sure he’d look like a fool.
“That was the most incredible piece I’ve ever heard.” The actor concluded, eyes trained on the phantom’s face.
“You think so?” Neuvillette looked at him with a pleased expression. “It’s meant to be a duet.” The comment almost seemed off handed, but Wriothesley could only think just for a moment maybe he’d be able to sing it with him one day. The thought was quickly thrown out when he remembered he would do zero justice to this work of art.
They spent over an hour more together, Wriothesley ‘reading’ his book. In actuality, he was practically going over the same paragraph again and again, listening to the other man arrange and re arrange the melodies. Even his mistakes sounded intentional. The only reason Wriothesley could tell he messed up was because of the small huff Neuvillette let slip.
“Alright, that’s where I should stop today.” He concluded. Wriothesley sat up and gathered his items. “Please, allow me to bring you back.”
“Oh, one more thing, do you happen to have my shirt I lent you?” Wriothesley asked. He didn’t miss how Neuvillette’s now uncovered face flared up for a moment.
“I’m incredibly sorry, I don’t know what happened to it.” He lied straight through his teeth. Wriothesley shrugged and accepted that. He insisted on rowing the boat there, splitting the work he and Neuvillette had to do. They said their goodbyes in the dark of the hallway in the walls. It was only mid afternoon by now, but Neuvillette’s conception of time was just as bad as his sleep schedule. Once back on his own, he hunkered down, getting ready for bed wearing Wriothesley’s white button down shirt.