You awoke to pounding on your door. Both you and Erik were still in bed together, too groggy to actually get up and answer the door, but whoever was on the opposite side still persisted.
"Mademoiselle [Y/N]! Get up! This is important!" the person called out. You blinked a little, tiredly staring at the line of daylight from under your door, and you drew in a deep breath as you sat up.
You felt Erik gently grip onto your waist again. You let out a soft sigh and rested your head again, but hesitantly, you spoke up.
"One moment," you said hoarsely, rubbing your eyes as you felt around for your robe (or something to wear). Erik's hand fell from your waist again.
"Alright," the person said. Once you finally clutched onto your robe, you were quick to pull it on, and you felt Erik give your cheek a quick peck before he let go.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm just— I'm putting on a bra!"
Your standard response.
When you realized what you had said, you swore at yourself quietly, and right through the wall, you could hear a soft, stifled chuckle— and you rolled your eyes.
Oh, come on, Erik.
At least you knew he was hidden now.
You quickly brushed your hair with your fingers, getting out a few knots before opening up the door. The amount of daylight from the hall was nearly excruciating to see all at once, blinding you temporarily, but you managed to blink it away.
You were face-to-face with Detective Francois, who wore an entertained smile as he looked down at you.
You held your breath.
"My apologies," you squeaked. "Erhm... how can I help you?"
"Detective Peter and I just wanted to make sure you were informed of what will be happening tonight," he said. Peter was standing just a little ways behind him.
"When we didn't see you at rehearsals, Madame Giry said that you weren't feeling well," Peter said. "We'll keep this short for you... do you mind if we come in?"
"No— of course not," you said. You resisted the urge to grimace. "Come in... It's dark in here, but it might be easier if we just leave the door open."
"Yes, yes," Francois said. "Come on, Peter—"
The both of them shuffled into your room, keeping the door open so that daylight could flood through, and they both just stood an awkward distance away. You went to lay back down on your bed, tugging your covers over you.
"We came to inform you that we are performing an arrest tonight," Peter said, writing something down before looking back up to you. His notepad was quick to be put away again. "I don't believe that this will affect you in any way, since you're... well, sick and probably not going to attend tonight's show, but just know that if you hear gunshots, it's standard procedure."
You flinched at the word "gunshots." What the hell was that supposed to mean? Of course, you knew what they were— but you had no clue as to why they would sound unless they planned on shooting Erik.
"Good heavens... why?" you asked, trying to sound curious as opposed to concerned. You went to "justify" yourself just in case. "Not that I don't trust you, but... what on Earth would you need to shoot him for?"
Francois flashed you a smile, but Peter cocked an eyebrow. His hand hovered over his pocket again.
"In case he tries anything," Detective Francois said warmly. It was clear that he didn't suspect anything unusual— but that was primarily because he had been asked the same question over and over again. "It is just for our own safety and the safety of others."
You nodded.
You had noticed, by this point, Peter was holding the notepad quite close to his face, squinting to see through the darkness while scribbling something down. Francois cocked an eyebrow.
"Well... I'm sure we'll see you. Get well soon," Francois said with a nod. He shot Peter a look before the both of them hurried out of room.
***
As promised, you found yourself in the audience. Matthew had given you last-minute tickets (though many of the ballerinas assumed that it was because you and him were "having an affair"). After you had gotten yourself dolled up, you ended up being seated in the box directly next to Box Five, and funnily enough, you were seated directly next to Antoine. You hadn't seen him since the incident with the chandelier.
However, it turned out that he didn't choose to not come back— André and Firmin had planned to fire him for a long while. While he said the reasons were personal, apparently, it was enough for him to be "an absolute disgrace to humanity— much less, at the Opera Populaire." He went on to explain that Matthew was trying his hardest to get him back.
"It was... erhm, quite funny, actually," Antoine smiled, gazing down at the curtain rippling with movement. "He knocked on my door with a box of pastries and everything."
"Did he, now?" you hummed, trying to hide your anxiousness behind a smile. You resisted the urge to check if Erik had appeared yet. Truth be told, your heart was drumming in your ears— and while you didn't want to get caught worrying over him, you knew that it would be hard as hell to do.
"Yeah," Antoine said with a soft nod. He smiled as the lights began to dim for just a moment. "But enough about me. What have..."
He trailed off the moment he noticed some commotion next to you.
You held your breath...
But just moments later, you breathed a sigh of relief. It was just Peter and Francois having at it.
However, you realized that this was the first time you had seen Detective Francois upset— while he was clearly trying to keep his voice down, his furrowed eyebrows and blushing face said enough. He seemed angry about something.
"Who are they?" he asked, squinting a little as he leaned forward in his seat. "I don't recognize... do you know who they are?"
"They're investigating the... erhm, phantom?" you said, questioning whether or not you worded it correctly. You restated what you had said when you realized it had been correct the first time. "Yes. The phantom."
"The opera ghost?" Antoine asked, his lips pricking into a frown as his finger tapped his armrest. "What's the point of that?"
What?
You were shocked. Why did he care?
Awkwardly, you toyed with the lace hem of your dress while averting your eyes, trying not to let him notice how flustered you were.
"You're serious?"
"Well... sure," Antoine said with a shrug, sinking back into his seat as he stared at the stage again. "You know, half of the reason people even come to this opera house is to get a glimpse of him."
You legitimately hadn't thought of that until now.
"But... isn't he dangerous?" you asked. Of course, you knew otherwise, but you wanted to get a glimpse into what everyone else thought— or at least, him.
"Yes, but... no matter how much André and Firmin tried to deny it, most people wanted to see him for the thrill of it," he said. "If you get the chance to read the papers, you'll see people talking about him— how he'll sabotage a performance or tease a crowd member. Drove a lady into laughter once..."
Your eyebrows furrowed.
"Really?" you asked. "People enjoy it?"
Antoine gave a laugh. It confused you for a moment, but you soon noticed that he truly seemed ready to defend his idea.
"Do you really think people wanted to just sit and listen to La Carlotta?" he asked, looking over at you with a smile and cocked eyebrow. His light eyes held an amused twinkle in them, and when your curious expression didn't fade, he let out a sigh and sat up straight.
"Think about it," he said. "Everyone enjoys watching public executions. While listening to that old hag sing was practically the same, they all wanted to see something... different. What makes you think they wouldn't believe the ballerina gossip and enjoy watching odd deaths of perverted workers?"
You blinked a couple times.
"That's... erhm, a pretty fair point," you nodded, your lips twitching into a smile.
Antoine nodded, sitting back up as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Pardon if this is rude, but... What happened between the two of you, anyway?" he asked. "Last time I checked, you seemed horribly upset because he danced with the Daaé girl."
You felt a blush rise to your cheeks...
You had completely forgotten about that.
"Okay— first of all, it wasn't because he was dancing with her. It was because he was in love with her," you clarified, glancing down with a small smile to readjust the necklace that you wore (Erik had gotten that for you). "And secondly..."
Before you got the chance to explain the rest, the entire audience and their chatter began to flood inside of the house, all filling up the rows horribly fast. Apparently, word got around that Erik (pardon— "the ghost") was going to be arrested, and everyone wanted a glimpse before being told to go into the house.
"Secondly... Remind me to tell you later."
The both of you exchanged a smile as you returned your attention to the stage, and the performance began just moments later.
You were hardly a few minutes through the first act when Erik showed up.
You only realized what was going on because Antoine spoke up.
"Is that him?" he asked, sitting up straight to get a closer look. His hands clutched onto the armrests as he tried to change his angle, perhaps just to see better. "Already?"
"Yeah," you whispered. "That's... definitely is."
One glance over, and you could immediately tell that Francois was quite intimidated. He didn't dare make eye contact with Erik... or anyone, for that matter.
Peter seemed better composed— at least, with his expression. You couldn't hear what he and Erik were speaking about, but telling from how he clutched onto his handgun behind his back, so tightly that his knuckles turned white, he was clearly nervous.
Your jaw clenched.
When the lot stood up and began to move backward, the view of the interaction was limited to shadowy, blurred outlines of people speaking quietly.
You stood up without even thinking. You kept your eyes locked on the box, your heart again drumming in your ears before you rushed out of your seat.
"[Y/N]!" Antoine whisper-yelled, deciding to try and go after you. "What in God's name are..."
You were already out.
You hiked your dress up as you sprinted to the box, all of the sudden not even caring what might happen if you had exposed the fact that you and Erik had fallen in love, and on your journey to Box Five, you were accompanied by nothing but the pattering of your footsteps and muffled song.
You paused when you arrived at the scene.
It was no wonder why Box Five was such a mysterious seat— it was shrouded in darkness. The only light being offered was that from the stage.
It was also surprising to see that the curtains to enter were already open.
Moments after you arrived at the scene, standing all but a few yards away, things seemed to become so much more vivid— sound of harmonizing voices, the white stage light glinting off of your jewelry, and the gun being pointed directly at the love of your life.
Your heart skipped a beat.
Erik's back was to you at that point, but you were able to hear everything being said... mid-conversation, of course
"...you vowed that we would be allowed to do anything upon your arrival," Peter murmured. You noticed that he had pulled out the gun, and his hands were trembling ferociously while he pointed it at Erik.
Francois was trying to find an alternative.
"Don't you dare shoot," he said. "It was our job to get him arrested, not... slaughtered. Be rational about this."
Peter locked eyes with you. Just as quickly it happened, however, his eyes flicked back to Erik.
"Do you realize how much of an idiot I've looked like these past couple of months?" he asked, his American accent more prominent than ever. "No one's believed anything..."
Francois grew more and more worried by the second.
"This'll cost you your job, Pete," he said. "You're going to regret it if you pull that trigger. You promised me you'd be shooting in the case of him trying to kill you— not the other way around!"
Peter paused for a moment. His eyes seemed to analyze what was going on around him, but instead of heeding Francois' advice, he cocked the gun.
"You're a grade-A asshole, you know that?" Peter said, staring Francois in the eye. "Always hated you."
Francois gulped... but he kept the conversation going.
"You did?" he asked. His voice broke... and surprisingly, it was difficult to tell if he was being real or faking it.
"You treated me like shit!" Peter shouted. Had you been able to see his face, you would see that it had grown quite red. "God... What was your problem? You just... you'd only let me investigate if you were doing something else!"
While he was distracted, Erik was quick to make a move to try and disarm him— but Peter was quick to notice and pull the gun away.
The crowd seemed to be taking notice now. Murmurs filled the opera house as Peter and Francois' opinions finally seemed to butt heads.
By this point, Peter was borderline psychotic— he began to shake even more as he stared Erik in the eye.
"You're going to regret that," he muttered.
Francois' eyes widened.
"Don't shoot him, Pete, I'm telling you," he said. "Pull that trigger, and you'll regret it."
Peter's breathing grew quite ragged, as if it would have been painful for him not to shoot.
"Put that away. We'll figure something out... just go ahead and—"
Bang.
Everyone, whether they had taken notice or not, jumped where they were. A few women shrieked.
It hardly took a moment before you crumpled to the floor.
A/N: Sorry if you find more errors than usual! I've been writing this chapter late at night for the past few days, but I'm too exhausted to edit EVERYTHING. I might go back later, but ngl, I'm more inspired when I'm tired. Idek where I was going with this 😂
Anyway, love y'all, and see you next update! 💖