Organ music filled the house by the water. Christine sat nearby, reading a book she wasn't really interested in as her Angel continued to work on his music. For the last few days, her thoughts had been occupied with a single question that she was dying to ask.
Did her dear Angel have a name?
Surely he must, Christine thought. Everybody has a name! It was as common a thing as the air they breathed and Christine desperately wanted to ask. She had only refrained because her Angel had been working on his music for the past several days. She knew better than to disturb him while he was playing, but perhaps, Christine thought, he would be more willing to hear her if she spoke up while he wrote the notes of his music down onto paper.
As if on cue, the music emanating from the organ ceased and the sound of a quill scribbling on paper replaced it. Shutting her book, Christine left it on the couch and rose to her feet, walking over to her teacher. She came to a stop in front of the instrument, seeing her Angel furiously writing notes on an already cluttered piece of parchment. He took no notice of her presence.
"Angel?" She spoke up.
"Yes?" He replied absentmindedly.
"May I ask you something?" Christine continued.
"Yes, yes, what is it?" He said.
Christine could tell he wasn't completely listening. Nevertheless, she pressed on. "Do you have a name?" She asked.
That seemed to catch her Angel's attention. His writing stopped abruptly, though no other muscle in his body moved. He stayed like that, frozen, for only a moment before the quill in his hand took movement once more, albeit much less frenzied than before.
"I do," he replied simply.
"Will you tell me it?" Christine asked.
Again, his motions stalled for a moment. Christine walked around the organ to sit on the bench beside her teacher. She saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eye before quickly looking away.
"What is your sudden interest in my name?" He asked, his tone holding an almost defensive edge.
"I just want to know if you have a name so I may call you by it," Christine answered plainly. "Would you not rather me call you by your name instead of always referring to you as 'Angel'?"
A silence settled over the two. Her Angel dropped his quill and let out a sigh. He clasped his hands in front of his face, like he would if he were in prayer, and shut his eyes.
"I am certainly no angel..." He mumbled softly, almost as if he were speaking only to himself.
The silence continued after that quiet statement, but Christine was not unsettled. She knew how troubled the mind of her Angel was and if something was difficult for him to say, she would give him the time he needed to say it, no matter how long it might take.
It felt like hours had passed, but then suddenly, a single word slipped through her Angel's lips. It was so quiet that if Christine hadn't been paying attention, she might have missed it altogether.
"Erik," he had whispered.
He dropped his hands from his face, refusing to meet Christine's eyes, it seemed. From what she could tell, he looked...frightened, as if the notion of her rejecting his name terrified him. Thank goodness she was facing the side of his face that wasn't adorned with a mask. Otherwise, his emotions would have been impossible to decipher.
"That's your name?" Christine clarified.
"It was...once," her Angel replied, still uneasy. "It was a long time ago, and I have spent so many years as a nameless legend underneath the Opera House."
"Erik..." Christine said, testing out the name with her own lips. A moment passed before a smile broke out across her face. "I think it suits you perfectly."
A breathless laugh escaped her Angel's lips – no, Erik's lips – as he looked down, compulsively clenching his hands into tight fists.
"Believe me when I say that it has never sounded more beautiful than it does coming from your lips, my dear," he said softly, and Christine didn't miss the way he was smiling like a giddy child.
Unable to hold back her smile, Christine covered his fisted hand with her own, turning her gaze towards his sheet music so he would think she didn't see the way he jumped at her touch.
"Will you play me some of your music, Erik?" She asked. "I love to hear your work."
With a truly rare, happy smile, Christine saw Erik nod out of the corner of her eye. "For you, Christine, anything."
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omg this was so cute to write!
i feel like i'm gonna be saying that a lot in this book xD
so i hope y'all liked it! lemme know what you thought in the comments and if there's anything i could do better☺️
and remember requests are open so if you have an idea you'd like me to write, just let me know <3
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E/C Oneshots | The Phantom Of The Opera
同人小说• anywhere you go, let me go too • Here's a collection of oneshots with the lovely soprano, Christine, and the feared phantom, Erik, and what life might have been like had the two found love in each other. [REQUESTS ARE OPEN]
