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Affliction	By : Luv Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2348 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
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- 9
In the days to come, things did change. The tension between us slowly dissipated, and though no formal forgiveness was ever offered, it was understood that his past sins were no longer fresh in my mind. On his own part, he made considerable effort to show his remorse, taking a much gentler tone with me, and often sparing me the trivial jobs he could just as easily do himself. Thus, I was allowed a good amount of freedom during the day. I should have been glad of it, but there was not much else to occupy my time except waiting on him. So I found myself often wandering about looking for some way to entertain my idle hands. Inevitably, I ended up the only place I knew; by his side.
“Do you play?” he inquired one day as I watched him at the organ. He was composing something new, he always was, and it was lovely. I had finished my chores and was leaning against the instrument, my chin resting in my palm, dreamily staring into space, listening to him play. He had stopped for the moment, and was looking up at me with a raised brow.
“No, sir,” I said meekly, feeling somehow ashamed of my lack of musical prowess. I thought of the young woman who had visited.
“Come,” he said then, standing and moving behind the bench. He gestured for me to have a seat.
“Oh, I don’t think…” I began, feeling heat rise up in my cheeks. “I couldn’t possibly, sir.”
“Couldn’t what?” He looked slightly amused. “You can learn, can you not?” He motioned again to the bench. “I insist.”
I carefully slid onto the smooth mahogany seat, and waited, hands lying limp in my lap. He bent over me, and I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.
“Give me your hands,” he said softly, and so I did. His own hands were warm and large, enveloping mine completely. “Like this,” he said in my ear. He placed my hands on the keys, carefully arranging my fingers. I could feel his breath against my cheek, warm and steady. His arms were around me, his hands on my own, guiding them patiently. I had the sense that for him, this was much more than a musical lesson. He was sharing his most beloved gift with me, and there was a sensual nature about it, as though he were teaching me the mysteries of love.
With his expert guidance, and infinite patience, I managed to play a small part of the melody he had just been composing. “That’s alright,” he said to me when I faltered once, and then he gently returned my hands to the proper keys and helped me begin again. I concentrated as hard as I could, wanting to please him, wanting him to be proud of my effort.
When I finally managed to make it through on my own, without his help at all, I did feel a sense of great accomplishment. I turned to look at him for approval, not able to help the smile on my face. He was still hovering quite close, hands resting on either side of me, face just by my left ear.
“I did it!” I exclaimed joyously, my nose brushing against his, we were face to face. I fully expected him to back away, especially since he was unmasked, and so sensitive about being exposed. Since the episode with the young woman, he had taken to wearing the mask much more, something I found quite sad. But this day he had left it off. He looked as he had the first time I had seen him creep out of the darkness, only now colored with familiarity. It wasn’t so bad, not really.
“Yes,” he whispered, barely audible even for our closeness. We sat that way for several moments, the tips of our noses just touching, our breath mingled as one. I could feel my heart rate speed, and heat flushed through my body, rising up the column of my neck and burning my ears.
“Thank you,” I breathed, lowering my lashes discretely, unable to look into the depths of his sorrowful eyes any longer. I stared instead at his mouth, which was slightly open, his breath coming in short, shallow puffs. I could hear his heart beating. We fell silent and still, too frightened to proceed, but at the same time unable to break the spell. Slowly, timidly, he raised a hand and lightly touched the side of my face, lifting my chin. I closed my eyes.
I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason, and when the scuffle across the lake came, I can only assume it was to prevent whatever was about to unfold between us from being realized. At once, my employer was on his feet, clearing his throat and running a hand through his wispy hair.
“Madame Giry,” he choked out, in explanation to me. “I bid her to come, I have some correspondence for her to relay.” He strode off purposefully then, to retrieve the letters, and then made his way to the boat.
I sighed, though I couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or relief that made me do so. My pulse was still quick, and I licked my lips in remembrance of what had almost taken place. I turned back to the keys for a moment, reliving the lesson in my mind, humming the tune to myself quietly. It was something I would not soon forget. I smiled.
By the time he had returned, I had long since quit the organ and was buried in supper preparations. He made a brief pass to inquire what we were having, and then returned to his own work. He did not move from the organ for the rest of the night, took his meal there with a grunt of thanks, and dismissed me early for the evening. He was still there, playing our song when I fell asleep.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Affliction