The Final Act (A Phantom of the Opera Phan Fic)

Chapter Six ~ In Which A Butterfly Sings

Erik's POV

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I had spent the entire rest of the afternoon in my hotel room. Alex, at the expense of multiple crewmen and their backs, had provided a small piano which had been carried to my room. I played without thought or emotion. My fingers glidded over the keys without knowledge of what I was playing or to whom I was addressing. It felt wonderful to simply play. In silence. In solitude. Without care to who heard or without interruption of patrons.

A brief pause in my performance occurred when there was a knock at my hotel room door. I thought it was perhaps another tenant who would complain of the noise, but once I opened the door I found Alex standing rather shakily on the other end. His eyes flitted from me to the piano back to me.

"Good afternoon, Master Alex. Can I help you?" I tried to be somewhat cordial to the poor fellow.

"I need your help! It's urgent. Oh I'm a fool!" He cried out, pushing past me and dropping himself down on the edge of the bed. His head fell in his hands and desperate groans rose from his person.

I raised an eyebrow and walked toward him, taking a seat beside him. "Come now. It cannot be that awful. Now, tell me what is on your mind."

"Monsieur Worthington, or most notable patron, is coming to visit L'Aira tomorrow morning. He expects a performance of some kind, any kind, to continue his funding for the opera house. The problem is that I have no money to fund even the tiniest damn thing!" He spoke in heavy, near-sobbing tones before breaking down once more.

An involuntary laugh came from my lips and I covered my mouth quickly in shame. "Pardon me, Alex. But do you not realize why you brought me here?"

He looked up at me as if some revelation had struck him on the back of the head. His teary eyes glistened with new hope. "E-Erik...pardon my nonsense. Forgive me. I-I forgot...." He cut himself off and wiped his eyes quickly. "I am so foolish to have forgotten such a thing. But, could I call upon you at the last moment like this?"

"But of course! That is why I am here, no? Besides, Master Alex, my music is to be heard, not kept a secret. I would rather be hung from a bell tower than have my works lay in dust forever." I tried to cheer the boy slightly.

He smiled softly and stood from the bed before walking toward the piano and looking over my scribbled sheets. "You've been working, I see."

"Messing around more like it." I stood, walking toward the piano as well. "Does the Monsieur have a preference of genre, Alex?"

"Well...I-I have no idea to be honest with you, Erik. All I know is he is a connoisseur of the finer arts of the past. Opera, classical paintings, architecture, etcetera."

I smiled a little and took a seat at the piano. "Name a piece, and I will play it."

Alex just stared at me blankly. "I-I haven't the foggiest where to begin."

I thought a moment. "Well, do you request simply the piano or more than that?"

"Perhaps vocals."

"Fair. Then who will sing? That way I know what I can and cannot play."

Again the boy simply stared at me.

I slouched slightly on the piano bench. "Master Alex, may I ask does your wife sing?"

"Oh but of course! She has a voice like near magic, Erik." His eyes looked off into the distance with a sense of dreamy euphoria.

"Then she will sing the piece." I said firmly, nodding slightly and straightening up a little.