Le Phantome De l’Opera (Part 2)
The second part is here! I promise the third and final part will be out within the next week/week and a half :)
If you’d rather read it on AO3
It was a few days before Jay returned to the upper levels of the opera house. He refused to say where he had been in those few days, since he didn’t want others to know of Eric. But once he had been back for a decent amount of time, the panic of his disappearance died down.
But then Matt showed up one evening.
~ ~ ~
The door to his dressing room opened, loud footsteps entering the room before the door clicked shut again.
“Where were you?” Matt asked softly, walking to where Jay sat on a cushion in front of a mirror, mindlessly counting the scratches in the glass. There was silence between the two where there should have been an answer.
A pair of hands grabbed Jay’s, shocking him a bit and forcing him to look up to a face with dried tear tracks and bloodshot eyes. The air around him seemed to freeze solid.
“Jay I’ve been...I haven’t been able to sleep knowing that you were missing...I was so terrified that...that…” Matt cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath, squeezing Jay’s hands and looking towards the floor.
Silence filled the room once again, a coldness filling the air between them.
“I’m so sorry Matt…” Jay muttered, glancing down towards where his hands were hand and noticing how they seemed to tense up a little. “I just...I didn’t think anyone would notice if I was gone...I didn’t think anyone would care-”
The grip on Jay’s hands became unbearingly tight, Matt’s own seeming to shake around his. “I cared…” He mumbled, refusing to meet Jay’s gaze now.
Jay shook his head, tears starting to fall down his face as the words seemed to hit him with something he didn’t expect. Letting out a choked sob he leaned forward and rested his forehead on Matt’s shoulder, crying into the expensive fabric and feeling Matt’s shoulder relax underneath his head.
They sat there in silence until Jay had finished crying, little sniffles leaving him as he lifted up his head again to meet Matt’s soft gaze. “I’m sorry...That probably cost a fortune, and I just got my snot all over it.” He chuckled, but it was dry and felt a little forced to hear.
Matt laughed in return, running his hand through Jay’s hair to move it from his face. “It’s alright, I can always buy another one.” He replied softly, kissing Jay’s cheek softly.
~ ~ ~
Matt spent every morning with Jay from that moment forward. The new opera season wouldn’t hit the Paris Opera House until the spring, so Jay happily spent as much of his free time as he could with the man. Reveling in the sweet comments, and horrible jokes that Matt purposely told just to hear Jay’s laughter.
Then Matt would leave in the afternoon, always leaving soft kisses along Jay’s cheek and promising that he’d be back in the morning as soon as he could. And Jay would happily smile as he watched Matt leave the opera house for another day.
In the evening, Jay would refuse dinner from the stage manager, telling Monsieur Ryan that he simply wasn’t hungry after going out with Matt. To which he would then sneak through the mirror to see Eric for the night. Singing for him until the early hours of the morning, and until he felt like he was about to pass out.
It felt stale after a while. Jay wanted nothing more than for something to happen.
~ ~ ~
“What is your relationship with the Viscount?” Eric asked abruptly one night, stopping his hands from playing the notes of the organ.
Jay didn’t know how to reply to the question, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. “I’m not sure, he hasn’t mentioned any sort of romantic intent to our relationship.” He stated calmly, almost in a cold manner.
Eric nodded slowly, beginning to slowly play another song. “Do you wish to have a romantic relationship with the Viscount?” He muttered, Jay almost not hearing the question that was asked.
There was no response to the question, Jay looked down towards the organ keys and running his hands softly against the ivory keys but not pressing them down hard enough to play.
“Do you wish to have a romantic relationship with the Viscount?” He stated flatly, grabbing Jay’s wrist tightly with hand and making him flinch at the grip.
Jay shook his head, tearing stinging the edges of his eyes as he felt nails dig into his skin. “I don’t…I-” The grip on his wrist loosened, Eric’s face dropping to one of horror and regret. He glanced back down to the piano and started playing a small tune slowly, refusing to look back up as he heard the distant footsteps.
~ ~ ~
They hadn’t seen each other for a month.
Eric hadn’t come up to see him anymore, but in the late of night Jay swore he could still hear the distant sounds of the organ, haunting him like a phantom.
Luckily Jay had been able to distract himself with opera rehearsals and the visits from Matt in the morning for breakfast.
It felt normal, and while he still felt a bit empty knowing that Eric wasn’t there, Matt seemed to fill it every time he smiled at Jay. And Matt would always tell Jay that once his contract was done with the opera house that season, that he would buy a chateau in the countryside for them where they would be free from the gossip of judgement of others. Jay couldn’t wait for it to be true...for him to have happiness.
But then it went away in just a day.
A stage hand had been found dead on the light rack, electrocuted to death. With a red rose on his chest, and a letter in his hand from the Phantom.
~ ~ ~
Dear Residents and Workers of the Paris Opera House,
Congrats on the opening of your opera season, you have made quite the beautiful selection of music, perfect for your leading actors.
After your last performance of Tristan und Isolde on the thirtieth of December, I wish to throw a party the next day on the thirty-first of December to say goodbye to your most beloved actor Jay MacCeany since his contract will be up.
I expect it to be a masquerade, and for you to invite every well known noble in Paris that frequents the opera house. The party will start at exactly 8 in the evening, and I will arrive at 10 on the dot. Everyone will be required to wear a mask, and I will be wearing one myself.
You will leave letters about the plan of the party on the chair in the third box where I usually sit. I will then approve or disapprove of your planning choices until it is perfect. For every letter you do not leave in my box, more people in the opera house will end up dead. And who knows how many deaths that could be?
If you do not plan the party altogether, this opera house will not live to see another show ever again.
Signed, The Phantom of the Opera















