Darling. (Erik/Phantom x Reader)

Twenty-One.

The Catacombs Beneath the Opera.

***

Y/N did not remember drifting to sleep, but she did remember waking up, and finding herself in a room illuminated only by a single burning candle on her nightstand. She squinted at the clock — 5 in the morning.

She turned to see Erik, and noticed the unusual heaviness of his breathing. Upon investigation, she saw that his mask was being pushed unnaturally against his face as he slept, blocking one of his nostrils from getting air.

"Erik?" She asked. He was in a deep, deep sleep.

She carefully unlatched his mask from behind him, and pulled it off without looking at his face, placing it on his nightstand. She then took the candle in her hand and quietly exited the room.

Quietly, she began her ascent up the passage and to Carriere's office. She wanted to run into the city and grab them an actual meal, or at least the ingredients necessary for one.

Carriere's office was empty of its owner, but his desk remained covered in papers and he had left his door unlocked for her. Fortunately, his office was closest to the main exit of the opera house, and she was walking the streets in no time.

***

Erik awoke at six thirty, and felt almost entirely renewed. His energy was back, as was his mental clarity, and he began to think through the night prior.

She came searching for him — perhaps she thought he was avoiding her. His timing was less than apt, of course... but she found him. She had to have spoken to Carriere to find the entrance to his home... smart girl.

Then, he turned and saw his mask, sitting on his nightstand. A hand flew to his cheek, and made contact with his skin.

He whipped around and saw she was no longer there. Did he see his face and run away? Did he scare her?

He stood up in a panic, before falling back onto the bed. He was still dizzy with exhaustion, and called for her a few times before pulling his mask on and staring at the ceiling, thinking only the worst could be possible.

***

Y/N had picked up a fresh loaf of bread, a box of pastries, two tomatoes, butter, and four fresh eggs. She also bought a basket to carry them in, and once she had the basket she bought a bouquet of baby's breath from a floral shop.

Making her way down the passageway, she hummed an abstract melody as she descended further down.

The closer she was, the quieter she got — just in case Erik was still sleeping. She pictured him in bed once more: messy hair, tucked up in sheets and blankets.

She entered through the living room and entered the kitchen, careful to be silent as she did so. Quietly, she unpacked the ingredients and took an old jar, filling it halfway with water, and placed the baby's breath inside.

It wasn't until she was right outside the bedroom that she heard soft sobs. She froze before entering.

"Erik?" She called, carefully drawing back the curtain to see into the room. Erik was sat on the bed — rather, collapsed upon it — quietly crying. Upon seeing her, he sat up.

She rushed over to him, putting the flowers on his bedside, "What's wrong?"

"Stop!" He yelped as she approached him, causing her to freeze. "I thought you left me."

"Left you? Whatever for?"

"You removed my mask," His tone was both hurt and lethal as he practically spat the words, "You... saw my face."

"No, no, no! I would never look without your permission — forget that, I would never abandon you when you're ill!"

"Then why did you remove my mask?"

"It was pushing against your nose as you slept, making it difficult for you to breath. It was dark when I took it off and I was careful not to look." Y/N kept her tone even, crossing her arms.

Erik seemed to calm down, his body relaxing.

"May I approach, your majesty?" Y/N asked, arms still crossed. He nodded, and she stood in front of him, reaching forward and pulling his head into her chest, holding him close. Her hands rubbed his back in circles. "I left this morning to get some ingredients for breakfast. I... I had hoped you would think more highly of me, then to think I would leave you while you were sick."

"I think of no one in as high of a regard as you," Erik said, leaning back to look at her, "But my face is... is enough to scare off anyone."

"I don't care about what is under your mask. There are things more important than that."

"Such as?" Erik asked, earnestly.

"What's under your shirt," Y/N joked, letting go of Erik and heading towards the kitchen, "Don't try to stand, I'll be back in a moment with breakfast."

Erik followed her instruction, remaining on the bed in a sitting position. He stared at his hands and wondered what exactly it was that he did to deserve her; she was so patient, so caring, and so kind with him. For a fleeting moment, he even considered that she may be capable of seeing his face, without being blinded by it.

But then the moment passed, and he remembered that his face was enough to condemn him to darkness -- even her light could not save him from it.

Y/N, conversely, was plagued by self doubt as she cracked two eggs in a bowl and whisked with uncharacteristic severity. The tomatoes received similarly harsh punishment, as she diced them like Sweeney Todd himself. Why would Erik believe such of her? That she could or would simply abandon him in a time of need? If made no sense.

Perhaps the issue was as Helena described;
perhaps it was Erik, haunted by past wounds, simply finding it hard to trust anyone — let alone her.

She cooked the eggs and tomatoes together on a skillet, and then toasted the bread and adding a healthy amount of butter. She plated the breakfast for him, adding a cup of piping hot tea.

When she joined him back in the bedroom with the tray, he was sat up in the spot she had left him, staring quite seriously at his hands.

"Alright, breakfast has been served," She announced, placing the the tray atop his lap and taking a seat in a nearby chair.

He smiled, and thanked her graciously. They proceeded to eat in an amiable silence, both rethinking the morning and night prior. Both dispelling and respelling their fears and anxieties about one another.