The Man Clad in Black (Phantom of the Opera)

The Bragging Rights of a Father - Chapter 10

The next few days - or weeks, as you could hardly keep count - seemed to go by far too quickly. Rehearsals were a breeze. You were able to meet with your father, and during the night, you would sneak off into the catacombs and play for Erik, and Madame Giry no longer tried to stop you...

However, when you would return in the mornings, Meg would appear to be skeptical. She would eye you suspiciously and, when she finally got a chance to speak with you, she would only interrogate you about your whereabouts. You always had an excuse...

However, today stood out the most. It was finally the opening night for Hannibal, and when she was unable to find you in your room the night prior, she looked genuinely concerned - perhaps even a little angry - the following morning.

"I couldn't find you in your room last night, [Y/N]!" she whispered loudly, pulling you aside in the hallway. The ballerinas were all scurrying through the halls in preparation for opening night, thus leaving you and Meg to have this conversation without raising anymore suspicion. She looked livid. However, you knew her well enough to know that  she wouldn't ever act upon her anger - she would only let you know that she was upset and simply pray that you would fix it. "Where did you go? Did someone take you away? Have they done anything to hurt you?"

"No, Meg," you reassured. She looked ready to bombard you with even more questions, although once you placed a hand on the ballerina's shoulder, her mouth was shut.
"I promise you that I'm alright... I've just been a little busy unpacking and spending time with my father - that's all."

Speaking of your father, you were supposed to meet him at dinner today - you were already fifteen minutes late.

"[Y/N]... are you sure that it's -"

"Yes Meg - I'll be alright!" you said quickly, turning on your heel to leave. "Now... I promised my father that I would meet him for a meal this morning - "

"Just tell me where you were, [Y/N]! It's quite simple!" she pleaded. You still said nothing that would answer her question. She opened her mouth to speak again, but this time, you were already walking off.

You really had to go.

You quickly scurried out of the opera house, practically running down the marble steps to get to the restaurant in time... at least, slightly less late than you already wed.

As you walked (or speed-walked) along the streets of Paris, wearing a gorgeous red dress that Erik had made for you himself (there was a reason that they were so low on costumes), you found yourself briefly peeking into every window that you passed by. Jewelry stores, dress shops, bakeries - you began to wish that you could fit the world of France in your pocket.

Where was this place? Bouillon Chartier, it was called. It opened a month or two ago, and while you were concerned about the price of the reservations, your father insisted that you go there. He had probably dropped a hundred francs or so just to get you in...

And now you were late.

Upon hurrying around, asking a tremendous amount of strangers for directions, you finally managed to catch sight of Bouillon Chartier. There was already a long line of people outside.

Yikes.

You quickly made your way over to the front desk in an attempt to tell someone about your reservation, but as soon as you walked through the door, a waiter was already there to greet you. His dark hair was combed back neatly and his eyes were vibrant and bright, and he already seemed as if he had known you. His hands held what you assumed to be the menu.