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

Preview

I felt it. The mysterious flow of euphoria and unsureness coursing through my veins as his soft voice called out to me in the night. I was torn as I stood out on the rooftop and let the gentle spring breeze dance with my auburn locks. It was the hardest of decisions. Far more difficult than leaving all I loved and grew up with to perform for no more than ninety euros a performance. In truth that was not much, at least not quite enough to support me and my little Arthur on a month-by-month basis.

But he was offering us more. He offered us better things. A better house, a better life, a better supply of food. But most pressingly, he offered me a better position within the La Cabaletta. It felt too good to be true though. I had known men who promised the world to me, but in the end they offered nothing more than bitter words and cold hands to the cheek. 

A thought like that terrified me. A shiver ran down my spine as I began to wonder if he would be the same way. I prayed he would not. He seemed too honest -- too wholesome. But every time he neared me, I shut down. Every bit of affection he tried to show I shunned. Every touch or soothing move he tried to make I shuttered away from. Even though in the front of my mind I trusted this man, this angel who offered nothing but comfort, in the back of my mind I refused what he could offer for fear that he would end up like the first.

"Ella...." I heard his voice whisper richly, and again I shivered. However, that time it was not out of fear but out of something more. Something I cannot explain. The power which his voice possessed was intoxicating, and I desired to hear the richness more and more. I was becoming addicted to it.

As I turned, I found his darkly clad figure approach me on the rooftop. He walked at a steady pace toward me, slowly approaching me as if I were some fragile flower he desired to collect but not disturb till the time was right. My eyes fell on my lap as he became closer, as if I was ashamed to look upon his face.

"Why did you run?" He whispered softly, finally standing in front of me. I felt his hand brush my cheek, and I pulled away slightly. I was fearful of his touch, yet I wanted it more and more.

"I was afraid...." I barely said, the words passing through my mouth and vanishing with the breeze.

Faintly, I heard him sigh in disatisfaction. "Why are you afraid, mia bella fleur? Have I not provided for you; ensured your safety? Have I not shown you the affections and dedicated time needed to help you see that I am here for you? What do you fear?"

I bit the inside of my cheek as was costumary when I was nervous or could not find the answer to come readily flowing out into words. Could I tell him? Could I just be honest with him and tell him the truth about it all? Why was I being so indecisive? I had a right to be indecisive about this though. I had been wounded far worse than I should have, and it was only right, in the better sense of judement, that I think twice if not three times about this.

"Why do you have fear?" He said with a bit of impatience from my silence.

My mind formulated a half lie in my defensive nature. "I was afraid that...that I would not be good enough. I-I have just been through so much with Arthur and the new performance. I did not have the confidence that my performance would match up to your expectations."

Even as I talked, my eyes stayed focused on my lap. My fingers interlocked with one another, and I felt nervous and slightly flustered with him just standing over me. I was struggling within myself. The half lie was still truthful to some extent. Arthur had been so irrational lately with his little six year old self; the new performance piece was stressing everyone out; and the letter from Rhett had circled around my mind hourly if not more often than that. Life was just so....

Before my mind could rant any further, my chin was placed between his forefinger and thumb, turning my head in the most gentle of manners. My green eyes meet with his soft blue ones, locked in an unending gaze that brought me out of my confusion. I felt warmth overcome me, and my cheeks became flushed.

"Look at you. Perfect like a fresh rose. Do not worry about those trifle things or what I may think in silly matters. Do not make yourself sick like that. It pains me to watch you worry...to watch you run in fear. I have seen enough fear...I have held enough worries. None of that matters in the end, Ella. What matters is love, and life, and happiness. Are you happy?" He asked, keeping his gaze with my own.

"I-I am happy...." I said, smiling softly.

I felt his hand move from my chin and run softly through my plain locks. I did not understand why he showed me so much attention, so much tenderness. I was so plain. So lost in a world that so many others had fallen into. Yet, he did not care about my past. He did not care about how I had gotten where I was. He only cared about where I was going and how he could be a part of that.

"Are...you happy?" I asked, sensing his gaze wander from my eyes and across my figure. It made me shiver again, this time more so out of unknown fear.

Quickly, his eyes snapped to mine, and a small smile pushed on his lips. "I am happy if you are happy, mia bella fleur."

The smile grew on my lips, as I relished his deep voice. "Erik...?" I said softly, feeling his fingers caress the back of my neck gently.

"Yes, my darling?" He replied, leaning close so our foreheads nearly touched.

"Will...you show me your face, the other half...the side you cover?" I asked timidly, my curiosity running wild with new found anticipations.

He backed away from me, removing his gentle touch and stepping an arms length. "I-I cannot." His flustered reply came quickly yet stammered.

My smile swept to a frown. "Why not?"

"Because..." He started, fumbling with his hands. "Because, I am...afraid...."