Hola! The Same at Heart

Chapter 1

Erik awoke with a sharp gasp. As he sat up, he felt a chilled breeze brush his sweat coated skin. He pressed his large hand to his strong chest, feeling his heart beat in that familiar yet terrible rhythm past the numerous scars. Every night he'd go to bed knowing that his dreams would forever be repeating the nightmares of his past; he thought he would've gotten used to it but he'd still wake up with heart pounding.
He pulled aside the blood red silk covers, revealing his black satin pajama pants, and let his bare feet sink into the lush Persian carpet. He sat at the edge of the bed with his thoughts. He scratched an incredibly large scar on his shoulder he had received during his imprisonment in Spain. He glanced at it but before the memory could replay in his head, the back of his mind sparked his peripheral imagination. He looked over his shoulder to look at the empty side of his bed and it was there that a heavenly vision was granted to him.

Christine.

He saw his petite laying on her side with her beautiful bare slender back to him, the long dark brown waves of her hair, splaying over the pillow with the covers resting just above the curve of her hip. He smiled at the idea and let himself pretend a moment. He couldn't even begin to imagine how her skin would feel: warm, soft, smooth. How much had he imagined simply holding her hand without the barriers of his gloves? Even something as small as that would a blessing beyond imagination. As her image appeared to be waking up, she slowly faded away, reminding him that the only way he could have the love of his life at his side in such a way was only in his mind. Along with the vision, his smile faded as he sighed and ran his hand through his thick black hair.
He forced himself to get up and purposely dragged himself dramatically for his own humor. Once his bathroom was lit, he observed the part of him he hated to most. Deep sunken eyes, an empty space where his nose should be. Not like a certain evil wizard that spends a lifetime chasing to kill English teen wizards and witches but more like a skull with hair. His skin was a thin layer as if it were pulled tight over his skull, his right cheek hallow whilst the other would've been normal had it not been for the scars that once tore across his face, his top lip boated, arching to the right. God must be left-handed, he often thought. He took one look at the travesty of a face and grinned sarcastically at his reflection, "Good morning, Handsome." If he was to live most of his life alone, he'd have to entertain himself somehow.

He sat in the tub a little longer today. Christine was to spend the night in his home again and as usual, he took extra care in his appearance for her. Not that it would change the hideousness of his face but he thought of it as a type of compensation for it. It was also his way of showing her that he could be a gentleman for her, a normal man. His imagination sparked again. He saw her in the tub with him, he head resting on his chest and sighing quietly. Without realizing it, his eyes closed and he involuntarily let himself sink into the water. He immediately sat up when he felt the water rush into his nostril hole...thingies. As if that wasn't enough to ruin his fantasy, he soon felt the sting of the soap in his eyes. He hissed and mumbled curses as he washed out the burn.

His footsteps echoed throughout his underground home while walking to the front door and tightening his black leather gloves. Always in formal attire for her, black pants, black tie, white dress shirt, a dark red vest with gold detail, black dress jacket with satin lapels, all complete with his white mask. It covered most of his face, revealing only his bottom lip and his strong chin. He threw the black majestic cape over his broad shoulders and clipped the silver chain that would keep the cloak in place. Folding back the collar of the cloak with one hand while the other reached for his fedora hanging on the rack next to the door, as he was brushing off the dust from the black hat, he heard the softest cry from his kitchen. Has he been so anxious he nearly forgotten about his best friend? He placed his hat down on the small table beside the door and heeded to his friend's call.
He opened the kitchen door to find his little partner in crime, looking at him with annoyed green eyes. "Bon matin, Angelique!" he exclaimed with an actor's facade. The fluffiest ball of black fur gave a low growl in reply. A while back, while stalking the Parisian streets one snowy night, he heard a small kitten yelping and crying in an alley. He followed the sound and found the kitten buried in snow. The moment he picked up her small body in one hand, he knew she was near death. Shaking so violently, she lifted her tiny head to plead with her big bright green eyes. With that one gaze, she won the Opera Ghost's heart. He wrapped her in his hankerchief, placed her carefully inside his coat, close to his chest for warmth, and took her home. Since then, she has been the small anchor to his sanity giving him someone to talk to and play music for when he didn't have the privilege of Christine's presence.
Erik eyed his furry companion as he prepared a small dish for her, "Oh, don't look at me like that. You know how I am when Christine is going to spend the night." Angelique's eyes widened and head lifted. "I know," he smiled, "I'm excited too." For Erik, having Christine in his home meant having a taste of being a normal man, even though he knew she was staying because she was really unconfident about her aria in the upcoming opera. For Angelique, however, it meant having her fur brushed and learning all the scandals of the Opera Company and learning secrets that she knew Erik would do anything to know. He poured the milk into a medium sized bowl and placed it by his friend, "Here that should hold you over till I return."
He watched her take her first few licks then petted the thick fur at the top of her head. He headed to the front door, placed his fedora on his head and walked into the darkness to find the light of his life.

-

"Psst! Chris!" Meg called. Turning to Meg, Christine accidently tripped on the train of Carlotta's gown. Christine wasn't the only one who stepped on the diva's ridiculously long skirt but she was her understudy for the opera they were rehearsing, which would explain why Carlotta glared at her with daggers. Christine returned a nervous smile as the diva rolled her eyes and turned to sing to an empty auditorium. Christine sang along with the chorus and somehow she was still able to hear Meg loudly whisper from the curtain, "Sorry!" She giggled to herself then smiled at her bff.
As rehearsals went on, Madame Giry watched from the wings, making sure her dancers were doing everything correctly. She suddenly felt that same mischievous presence she used to feel when a young Meg Giry would try to sneak behind her.

"No matter how hard you try, Monsieur Le Fantome', you could never startle me!"

Erik's chuckle echoed throughout the air. He lowered himself to face her upside down. Upside down? Madame Giry looked up to find him hanging from his legs onto one of the beams. She smiled at him, slightly surprised. A wave of his hair dangled as he curiously titled his head, "How do you know when I'm always around?"
Sometimes, she'd catch moments where Erik seemed no more than a child. He certainly had the energy of a small boy with the strength of a well built man: climbing, jumping, swinging, and crawling high above their heads in the rafters and hiding in the shadows amongst them. She often wondered where he learned the skills of a trained assassin from Italy during the Renaissance Era. Never a hint of exhaustion in him even after such vigorous activity. "I'm a mother," She stated, "I have eyes on the back of my head."
He smiled as he picked himself up into the dark. She heard some rustling when suddenly the Opera Ghost jumped down. Landing on both feet with one hand to the floor while the other held his hat, He rose with a type of majesty and grace as he towered over the small elderly woman. Erik was roughly 6'4, maybe taller. His broad shoulders and chest plus his height made him a frightening sight, even if he didn't have a disfigurement to hide. Madame crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows to him. "What?" Erik asked. She tilted her head, "Christine Daae'?" Hell, he had been afraid of this!