Chapter Text
For two days he showed up at the opera house to visit that abandoned room. It looked as untouched as the last time he had seen it, which did not surprise him much. What did surprise him was the lack of the Phantom. Raoul had shouted and called for him as loud as he could but alas he never showed. It was as if he threw his temper tantrum at the premiere and proceeded to then disappear into thin air. How badly Raoul had wanted to speak with him; to chew him out for making such a big deal about Firmin and Andre being in his box, to prattle about how he cannot just ghost him for however long he wanted, to just do anything that involved speaking with him! The Phantom, however, just seemed to want to remain a mystery.
After much debating and many hours spent laying awake at night, Raoul had finally decided he would attend the performance the next day. And attend it he did. When he had walked into the opera house the atmosphere seemed rather different. Perhaps it was the anxiety caused by the chaos that was the previous show, or perhaps… No, there was nothing else it could be. He made his way through the bustling crowd and into the hallway that led to the fifth box. He found it odd that there was no sign of the managers- not a single door ajar or chipper Andre waiting outside. He had not seen either of them since the disastrous show- they must be spending their time behind the stage or within their offices.
Hesitantly Raoul reached forward and twisted the knob, slowly pushing the door open. The box was completely empty except for the seats, which made him crease his brows and tilt his head. Had Andre and Firmin been avoiding the box since Il Muto’s premiere? Had they submitted to the Phantom’s requests so quickly? I mean, it is not that he blamed them. Nobody would want a shattered chandelier.
“Hm,” Was all the Vicomte found himself saying as he ambled forward and leisurely sat on the velvety chair, running his hand along the armrest. It felt strange to be accompanied by no one but himself in that box, but he assumed he would have to get used to it from now on. As the lights slightly dimmed above him he could not help but feel as if the air got cooler. Something about the ambiance felt off to Raoul but he got comfortable into the seat nonetheless.
The music of the orchestra roared and soon enough he felt his worries fade away with a benevolent smile on his face. His thoughts were filled with nothing more than the arts, free of the Phantom and the managers, free of Carlotta and Madame Giry’s wrath, free of anything else that could be a bother to him then. It was peaceful being by himself to say the least and he supposed he would have the Phantom to thank for such. If he ever decides to show up again. With a bitter sigh, he adjusted his posture in the chair, keeping his eyes focused on the play.
Although the door creaked open from behind him, Raoul did not pay much heed to it. He assumed it was merely Andre or Firmin returning to take their place back in the box.
“Ah, gentlemen! Welcome back.” The Vicomte said in a courteous tone, one hand resting on the railing in front of him. “I was rather lonely without you. I assumed the Phantom had frightened you off for good.” He softly chuckled, pressing against the backrest.
“ Haven’t I?” That voice filled with arrogance spoke from directly behind him, sending sudden chills down Raoul’s spine. For a moment he stared ahead, his eyes wide and body full of doubt. Had he heard correctly? Was the Phantom… standing right there? “ Do not turn, Vicomte. I do not yet wish to reveal myself to you.”
He had not imagined it. The Phantom was right there. And he wasn’t allowed to look at him. The constant need he had to keep his identity hidden was frustrating at times, especially for a man so eager to discover as Raoul. He would respect his wishes, though, and keep his eyes on the play below.
“Where have you been for the past two days? I went to the dressing room and called for you but received no response. Were you ignoring me?” Raoul questioned, trying to hide his irritability. For a moment there was no answer as the other seemed to think.
“ I was here. Composing.” The other responded as he cleared his throat. There was the sound of soft shuffling before Raoul felt the backrest move and the light sound of hands brushing against wood. It took him merely a second to realize the Phantom’s hands were gripping the back of his chair, his knuckles ever so carefully touching the nape of Raoul’s neck.
“Must you be so vague?” With a nervous gulp he let out a slow sigh. “Why did you not respond to me? And why do you want just me in your box? And what on earth was all that at the other performance-”
“ Vicomte.” The way the Phantom snapped his name made his mouth shut instantly. Silence lingered for a moment before the other began to explain his actions in a quiet, much calmer tone. “ I made my instructions to your managers very apparent. They did not listen, therefore I had to take things into my own hands and give them a hint as to what would happen should they disobey me again.”
“By poisoning Madame Carlotta and nearly dropping the chandelier upon the audience?”
“ That toad is not poisoned. I merely… made some alterations to her throat spray, thus leading her to… croak.” A soft chuckle came from behind Raoul, which made him frown. “ As for the chandelier, that was but a threat. Nothing more. ”
“I truly would hope so.” Slowly his head moved back so that the knuckles behind him pressed against his neck more. The hands flinched and for a second seemed to move back, almost frightened of touching him. Slowly, however, they returned back to their place. “And the whole… not speaking to me for two days?” Once more he questioned him about his absence and it made the Phantom stop to think, fingers tapping gently against the wooden rim of the chair.
“ I… was not ignoring you. I got very lost in my composing. I apologize, monsieur.” Raoul could not help but notice how genuine the apology seemed, which brought a slight smile to his face. “ And I now realize I never answered your question about why I want only you in my box. I am- dare I say- fond of you. Your presence is one that I enjoy. Therefore I would like to have my… acquaintance to accompany me during shows.”
“Acquaintance?” The Vicomte cocked his head to the side as he heard the sound of the hands behind him lightly moving, feeling his knuckles gently drag upwards before disappearing from behind him.
“ That is what you told Andre and Firmin, is it not?”
“Ah, right. Heed not what I say to the managers, for it is untrue. I think of us as more than acquaintances… friends perhaps?”
“ Friends?” The astonishment in his voice was quite blatant as if he had never been offered a friendship before. “ I have never had a friend.” Oh. Well, that solves that.
“I can be your first then.” For a moment there was no answer and Raoul assumed that the Phantom had left the box, but was swiftly proven wrong when he felt a palm rest on his shoulder. The touch made his body freeze and a chill travel down his spine. Hesitantly, he turned his head and shifted his eyes to stare at the gloved, white hand that was now lightly gripping his shoulder. Verbally he did not comment on it, however, his mind raced with many thoughts. He’s touching me. His hand is on my shoulder. What should I do? Do I shake it off? I don’t mind it, do I? Wait a minute- if he is a ghost, how can he touch me? Wait a minute! It all seemed to click in his brain and the moment he realized it he felt rather stupid. So many hints had been thrown right in front of his face, yet he ignored them all merely for some fable. The Phantom of the Opera is no ghost as the dancers say, there is no way he could possibly be. He is but a man. An enigma of a man who preferred to stay hidden under the guise of a specter.
“ I would like that.” The Phantom seemingly could not shake the surprise from his voice and although Raoul could not see, he assumed he looked as shocked as he sounded. He could feel the warmth of the other’s palm as the hand shifted ever so slightly closer to the area where his shoulder met his neck. “ Look at that vile woman strutting about the stage.” A suddenly angered mutter came from the other behind him, causing Raoul to focus his vision on Carlotta down below them. “ She is like a beheaded chicken.”
Raoul covered his mouth and snickered into his hand, resting his elbow upon the armrest.
“Now, now, Monsieur, truly she cannot be that awful to be compared to poultry. Sure she is… self-centered. And loud. And rather disrespectful at times. And pretentious.” For a moment he paused before shrugging. “Disregard my first words, you are absolutely right.” This drew an amused chuckle from The Phantom who gently tapped his fingers against his shoulder.
“ Will… you be returning to the dressing room tomorrow night, Vicomte?”
“Of course, I shall! I wouldn’t miss our meetings for the world.” Raoul grinned a genuine grin, cheek now resting on his knuckle.
“ Wonderful, will you…” He trailed off, stammering for a second. “ Will you be bringing food?” It was Raoul’s turn to chuckle then.
“If you would like.”
“ Could you bring those croissants again? I quite liked them. ”
“Yes, yes, I shall,” Raoul said with a brief, amused exhale. He has been eating the food I have been bringing him, how could I not realize he was merely a human beforehand? A ghost that eats pastries… How dimwitted am I? “Is there anything else you wish to add to your order, monsieur?”
“ Just what you usually bring, please.”
“First I am a postman, now I am a waiter. I eagerly await to see what my next job is.” The two of them laughed together before quieting down, not wanting to be disturbances. “I do have much to discuss with you the next time I visit the dressing room.”
“ Do you? About what?”
“I guess we shall have to wait and see.” Raoul smiled softly. “For now, let us enjoy the show. Or enjoy it as much as we can with Carlotta in the lead.”
“ That is an excellent idea, Raoul.” Hearing his own name spoken by his friend made a fluttering feeling spark within his heart. He was not sure what this feeling exactly was but he summed it up to merely a flare of joy.
The two remained in the box for a while, peacefully watching the show before the Phantom bid his goodbye. After the door had shut behind him and Raoul was once again cast into loneliness, he did not feel as such. He still felt as if the Phantom’s presence lingered- finding himself unable to shake that feeling of a warm hand on his shoulder until night time came. He found it odd how he had gone into that box wanting nothing more than to avoid the Phantom, yet now he was unable to get him off his mind.
He is a man. A man hidden away from the world. But why? What has he to fear? What has he done to be locked away, concealed under an identity that is not his own? I have to find out… I need to know who The Phantom of the Opera really is.