May I request Erik with a s/o that's kinda socially awkward and has some social anxiety? (You can make it headcanons or scenario which ever your in the mood for, or if your not in the mood for this at at don't feel pressured to do it! Thank you have a great day!)
First of all, thank you for the request! I am super excited about this HC and hope it lives up to your expectations. I hope you have an amazing day too darling! <3
A/N: I didn’t directly call the reader Erik’s s/o, but you can certainly read it as such. I did take the concept of the reader being called forward to sing for a position in the opera, much like Christine in POTO. Hope y’all like it!
Warnings: feelings of anxiety, social awkwardness/anxiety, tense social situations
Pairing: Erik Destler x fem!reader
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go when you had agreed to allow him to teach you.
You had taken lessons from the infamous Phantom of the Opera only because he wouldn’t leave you alone until you had agreed to become his protégé. He had heard you sing as you danced alone on the practice stage one late evening, insisting that with the proper practice, you would have the voice of an angel.
At first, you had been miffed by his persistence, only agreeing to lessons in the hope that it would stop him from randomly materializing, demanding you become his pupil. After a while, you no longer viewed your lessons as an obligation, but rather, you looked forward to the time you got to spend with him, treasured it, in fact.
You had finally managed to get his real name from him, only after agreeing that you would someday share your talent (he insisted you were gifted) with others. You had agreed because you had thought, albeit rather naively, that such a situation would never arise.
You should have known...Erik had his ways.
A short time after he had told you his name, you were being called forward from the scattered group of dancers during a practice.
“Ms. Y/N, I have heard rumors that you are truly a gifted vocalist, and since we need someone to fill in for our lead in the closing aria, who better than you? Would you mind singing from the top of the aria, bel canto, please madame.” The director addresses you.
You had reluctantly walked forward that day, singing as if the only one in front of you was Erik (it had been the only way you could get yourself to sing in front of all those around you). Afterward, the director had insisted you be pulled from your position as a backup dancer to sing in the last composition.
With each practice, more and more individuals came to watch, making it harder and harder for you to focus and sing clearly.
You hadn’t realized how bad your social awkwardness had gotten until the night of the performance. You had spent the entire week leading up to it in a state of tense nervousness. The only thing that gave you any sense of comfort was Erik’s music. He would play for you in the evenings, comforting you, if only for a few hours.
You had sung the part, just as you were supposed to, barely registering what was happening. The clapping and cheering of the crowd pull you back to reality. The crowd presses in around you, causing your breath to catch in your throat, making your heart start to race. You clench your hands into fists as you look for a way off the stage, exiting as quickly as possible.
You hike up the heavy skirts of the costume and run through the hallways, only stopping when you reach one of the small nooks off the maze of corridors at the back of the opera house. You slide down the wall, pulling your knees into your chest as you try to slow your breathing. You stay that way for a while, trying to clear your mind of the image of all those faces staring at you.
It isn’t until you feel the air shift that you realize not only had you been there a long time, but that you were no longer alone. You also knew, without looking, who it was.
“I-I...” You can’t think of anything to say, so you lift your eyes up to his. You are only able to make out a small part of his face, the rest hidden by the shadows.
He doesn’t say anything, instead, bending down to look you straight in the eyes. His dark eyes search yours for only a moment before he tentatively wraps his arms around your shoulders.
You unfurl your legs as you lean in, pressing your face against his chest as you listen to the steady beating of his heart.
At that moment, all else falls away. The crowds, the blinding stage lights, the rapid beating of your heart; it all disappears. All that remains is the feeling of being with him, in his arms. And you realize he had become the comfort you had been searching for.
