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Raoul had never been one for singing, I mean, his voice wasn’t horrible by any means, but he had never sang in front of other people, even people he knew. Despite all this, he found himself centre stage in the Opera Populaire.
Ever since he had become patron of the Opera house, and fell head over heels in love with Christine Daaé, he felt as if he was being.. watched.
She went on and on about an angel of music, a violent angel, an angel of death, a Phantom. He swore he didn’t believe her, maybe he really didn’t, but sometimes, only sometimes.. he heard the same song she described so passionately. Ever since he entered the Opera house, he felt a gaze upon him, a lustful, sharp gaze. He consistently brushed it off as nerves due to moving so far from his home.
But alas, at the masquerade ball, he heard a familiar voice coming from behind. A voice that told him it was his time to sing.
The Phantom had written a play, “Don Juan Triumphant” he titled it. Although well written, Raoul was appalled at the glaring homosexual themes throughout it. To play the role he was assigned he would be required to act out homoerotic scenes with another man, actions in which Raoul would never imagine performing. Unfortunately, Raoul could also never imagine denying this maniacs requests, no matter how perverted they may be.
And so it was time. Time for him to sing for the phantom. Christine was at the edge of the stage with the pistol Raoul had lent her drawn. He was dumbfounded to why she lacked a role in the performance. The phantom had messed with and cut all these strings, only for him not to cast her at all? It just didn’t add up in his mind.
He took a deep breath, looking down at the dress the phantom had picked for him. Ignoring the blatant femininity and crossdressing, it was quite revealing and low cut, despite Raoul having nothing to show off.
Raoul’s hands shook as he held the cup prop he was given. The cloaked figure of his counterpart entered the stage and began to sing.
“Past the point of no return… no backward glances..”
The man swept his hand and grazed Raoul’s chin, turning the vicomte to him.
“Our games of make believe are at an end.”
The man motioned for Raoul to drink from his cup, which he complied with.
“Past all thought.. of "if" or "when"
The man’s voice was like caramel. He had an Italian accent, which would usually lead you to believe the man was Piangi, but this wasn’t Piangi’s voice. No no, Raoul had seen many of his performances, this voice he was hearing now was deep, more brooding.
“No use resisting..”
He grabbed Raoul’s wrist. To which Raoul really shouldn’t have been surprised, he read and memorized the blocking for the show. But as he admired the hands of his performance counterpart he couldn’t help but feel something, something in a such a deep dark place in his soul that he, before now, could never dream of accessing, at least, not by his own will.
“Abandon thought and let the dream descend.”
The two danced their way across the stage. Raoul neglected eye contact with both the man and the people in the audience that were protecting him, the latter to avoid the lurking feeling of embarrassment, and the former to avoid the lurking feeling of something else.
“What raging fire shall flood the soul? what rich desire unlocked its door?”
Raoul sat down, the petticoat of his dress puffing up in the process. He sensed the presence of the man creeping up behind him.
“What sweet seduction lies before us…?”
The man grasped at Raoul’s side and leaned onto him. Despite his foreknow, Raoul jerked back at the sudden contact.
It was nerves he was feeling, right? Just nerves. Even through all this debate Raoul continued acting, god forbade the phantom disapprove.
“Past the point of no return.. The final threshold…”
The two actors tension further escalated as the man glided his hand up Raoul’s half clothed arm, to his shoulder, and caressed his adams apple just enough to make it neck twitch in sudden ease.
The vicomte’s heart was beating out of his chest at this point. What was happening to him? What was he thinking? After all these years of what he was taught about love, how long he had believed it was to be man and woman, he couldn’t just throw that away over some simple butterflies in his stomach over some cloaked man, it would be ludicrous!
“What warm unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return..”
The man glided the vicomte’a hand up to his chest, and back down far too close to a place that Raoul would never let another man touch. That wasn’t mentioned on the blocking he was given. He jumped from his seat and backed away, he exhaled and panted, having been unaware that he had been holding his breath for a a good minute. He regained his composure and reluctantly began his part in the duet.
“You have brought me, to that moment where words run dry. To that moment where speech
disappears into silence. Silence.”
He tried his best to remain in character, which was surprisingly easy. He must be naturally talented at acting, it’s not like he’s enjoying any of this sick fantasy by any means.
“I have come here hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind I've already imagined our
bodies entwining, defenceless and silent.”
He intertwined his fingers as he slowly but surely walked closer and closer to the man. He noticed the man shaking, his aura dripping with anticipation.
Raoul wondered, if not Piangi, who could he be? A secret admirer? I mean, he had to be so entrapped with the vicomte that he felt the need to go off script like that. Never mind, Raoul was getting ahead of himself.
“And now I am here with you: no second thoughts.. “I've decided. Decided.”
It felt weird for him to try and be ‘seductive’ with a man on a stage surrounded by people. And it was coming far too naturally to himself for comfort.
“Past the point of no return.. no going back now. Our passion-play has now, at last begun.”
The music was getting progressively more and more risqué for the vicomte’s taste. God what did he get himself into, all this to protect his love Christine, and yet he every breath he made, every breath seething with a strange sentiment of yearning, which felt like more of a betrayal than doing nothing to help her at all.
Past all thought of right or wrong. One final question:”
Raoul sat on his knees behind his counterpart. The mans hands visibly tightened against the fabric of the cloth against his legs. A sick unnerving feeling creeped into Raoul’s psyche as the question remained: who was this?
“How long should we two wait, before we’re one…?”
The cloaked figure’s hands began to rise, they were trembling, far more than Raoul’s himself. The vicomte reluctantly yet suddenly grabbed both his hands. God, he hoped this was enough to distract the phantom, this was enough to put his mind at ease, enough for someone to swoop in and finally shoot him dead.
“When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last, consume us…?”
Raoul swiftly guided the man’s hands down both his sides, up beside him, and finally to the mans chest, following the rhythm of his own voice.
“Past the point of no return. The final threshold. The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. “
The man grabbed onto Raoul’s arms and messily attempted to pull him to the other side of the stage. Yet another unscripted incident. The man began singing along with him. Raoul fought back his best, but the man was far stronger than he could ever anticipate, and so the two were soon brought to stage right.
Raoul was finally able to escape from the man’s grasp just before the end of the song.
“Past the point of no return.”
Raoul’s voice stuttered at the end as he pulled down the cloak of the so very perverted man on stage with him. His eyes met golden ones, one of which was almost covered by a half mask the perpetrator was wearing.
It was the phantom. The fucking phantom. The man Raoul had been thinking such unclean, such dirty thoughts about, it was the phantom of the opera all along. Both actors were caught in a position they had wanted to avoid at all costs, and both of their expressions reflected that quite obviously.
The phantom shuddered, and Raoul began to quickly dash away. Until he’s stopped by the voice once again, this time lacking that same Roman accent from before. He was turned around and sang a very familiar melody.
“Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude.”
Raoul gasped, he could barely believe what he was hearing. All of this, it wasn’t for Christine, it was for him, to make sure he was happy, to keep him away from her for his own sake. He made his way over to the phantom once again.
“Say you want me with you here beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too”
His voice amped up in passion. As he sang this he took from his finger a ring, and placed on Raoul’s own. The two inched closer, Raoul’s gaze grew softer as the man’s voice continued to heighten the senses of the vicomte’s ears. His voice was hypnotic almost, no wonder Christine was so entrapped by it all the time. Well, actually, Raoul wasn’t really thinking about Christine, he could only think of what was right in front of him.
“Raoul, that’s all I ask of—“
The phantom was cut off by Raoul cupping the phantoms face and mask pressing his thin lips to the phantoms significantly more bloated ones. A far more impulsive feat that anything Raoul would ever do for a woman.
He didn’t know what he was thinking, i mean, his soon-to-be wife was standing just a few feet away, in the shadows, with a pistol, but, that thought simply escaped Raoul’s mind. The thoughts of all he has been raised to believe, all that was in the past was gone, he only thought of what was right in front of him.
The phantom at first hesitated, but soon happily reciprocated. The mask bumped against Raoul’s cheek as the Phantom gently ran his hands through Raoul’s neatly combed hair.
The kiss was short, short but passionate. So passionate in fact that Raoul didn’t hear (or quite frankly, just didn’t acknowledge) the sounds of a gun clattering to the ground, and his lover running away from him.
He had truly, past the point of no return.