Chapter Text
Julien's sleep was sporadic, waking every half hour; swearing to see a shadowy figure lurking that disappeared before he was certain it existed.
He sighs, staring in vain up at the ceiling. On nights like these, he would typically slip out of his bedroom window and sit down at the water. He'd walk along the water line, and sit on the sand, and think.. And for a moment, there in the darkness, in the coolness of the air.. It was peaceful.
For the first time since arriving at the Opera, his room felt.. Truly isolated. He sits up, feet dangling off the edge of the bed, dark eyes fixated on the hard floors. His pajamas, a plain white shirt and pants, were dampened slightly with sweat that left the fabric somewhat transparent where it clung to his ribs and stomach and arms. Julien walks on his toes across the cold floor, stopping at the mirror. He stares at himself, and it starts with the shaking of his fingers, and stinging eyes, and slowly his face contorts to a frown, and his cheeks are stained with tears.
His fingers dig deep into his curly hair, and he lays back on the floor, staring up again at the ceiling. Alone. He was alone, and not alone as he was in his hometown, where he had a friendly face to greet the next morning, or a familiarity to retreat to in the local bakery and theatre. Alone.
Craning his neck back towards the the door at his head, away from the mirror at his feet, his eyes wander the room from the door, to his bed, to his closet, to the mirror, to the desk. There, on his desk, where he had left his purple coat. O.G. He tried to recall anyone he met with those initials, but his mind drew a blank.
There is a quiet exhale that fills the silence, and he sits back up, hugging his knees to his chest now that they had relaxed enough to do so. "A friend. All I want here is a friend." He wipes at his eyes, scowling at the way his voice sounded when it broke. High and weepy, like a damsel in a play.
He could almost imagine what the voice would say, "Such a miserable goal to strive for." He mimicked it droning, he wondered if there was ever a moment the voice wasn't so sarcastic, or if it was a persona he kept up with Julien, or if this entire experience was something he'd made up.
"If you're going to mock me, you could do so in taste."
"Where do you keep coming from?" Julien jerks, now more hastily wiping at his face to dry his tears. He knew by now he wouldn't find the voice.
"My boy," He laughs, a hysterical sort of laugh that Julien could picture someone having to hold their middle for, " I am everywhere." His tone was particularly rasp then, full of a malice that made Julien's heart quiver.
"Everywhere?" He swallows, "How can a man be everywhere?"
"Man? I am no man! I am the phantom of this very opera."
Julien blinks. He wasn't aware the Opera was haunted. "It is a ghost that speaks to me, then?" His voice is laced with skepticism.
"Well, I'm certainly not fit for the living." He says, voice nothing short of bitter.
Not a ghost then, "Then where are you to fit, if not the living??"
"... No where. I am fit for no where but the darkness I lurk even now."
His face contorts with a frown, "What a miserable life to live," without really thinking.
"Indeed, but you can help me." He could hear the smirk in the voice's tone
The painter's eyes light up, "Really?"
"Why, yes." He says, "You can give me new purpose."
Julien's heart fluttered. He leans in indistinctly, waiting for direction. His hands grit against the marble floors. He felt warm, and his leg, though pressed to the floor, wouldn't stop jittering. "How, how do I give you new purpose?"
"All you have to do is follow my word." The sound of a rhythmic pacing followed, "I have a most delightful plan that is sure to sway our dear managers's opinion of you. You have every fundamental to perform and make crowds swoon, if you are just willing to let me help you hone that heap of untouched potential."
"Yes!" He says, "Do you really think you could get me on stage?"
"I could get you the lead undoubtedly. They know better than to disregard my rules. Bad things happen when they disregard my rules.. But I shall not send you up there unprepared to make a fool of my fine opera."
"Deal. Yes. I'll do it." He says, grinning ear to ear with a rose tint to his cheeks that refused to leave his face, "Does this mean I'll finally get to see you???"
"... Perhaps, in due time. Rest now, we shall begin tomorrow."
"...Okay.. Good night." The silence quickly returned, but that didn't necessarily mean the voice had left. He wondered if he had had a moment of privacy since he arrived, and the prospect of it all made him shudder. He makes sure to cover himself very well with the covers, yawning. His eyes are heaving, the steadiness of his vision wavering every second he laid on the mattress. If the voice gave a response, Julien was asleep before he'd gotten the chance to hear it or ask further question.
He was certain the voice would find him, he always seemed to.