Hello everyone, you've been leaving me some very sweet and very funny comments lately, and I just wanted to say thank you! :) Also, I apologize for the long wait.

You'd fallen asleep the previous night, nearly grinning from ear to ear. Even now, as you were stocking the Opera House's bathrooms with hand soaps and hand cloths and toilet paper, a smile sat upon your face. Erik's words from yesterday evening echoed in your head, "the opera is as good as ours."

You were so giddy with excitement you could have squealed and giggled like a little school girl. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined you'd go from struggling on the streets to a managers assistant for the most respected Opera house in France! And Erik, oh Erik. Never had you imagined falling in love so soon, and with someone so much like you. You still hadn't said it to each other yet, those three grand words, but the joy in your heart was enough to tell you it was true.

"You're doing it again," Paul said from under the sink. He was trying and failing to fix the faucet.

"What?" You asked, a bit angry that he had interrupted your happy thoughts and quiet humming.

"Swooning."

"I am not swooning."

"If you say so," Paul grinned, and you stuck your tongue out at him. You really were turning into a little school girl.

You straightened yourself and tried to continue folding the towelettes and cloths. Maybe Paul only noticed you swooning, not that you were actually swooning, because he seems like the type to be the recipient of such affections. You hoped he didn't like you like that. He was somewhat handsome, you guessed, and hardworking. He wasn't as darkly and mischievously handsome as Erik though, nor as talented.

"D'accord Monsieur, since you know so much about swooning, do you have a partner then? Are you courting a lady?"

"No, I have no wife. And I'm not courting a lady either."

"Why ever not? You seem... eligible?"

"I just... haven't found the right one."

You could sense Paul had become a bit uneasy at your prodding, and you started to feel a bit embarrassed at your forwardness. You didn't know him very well and you hoped you hadn't made him upset.

"I understand," you said, hoping it might make him feel a bit better. "It took me a while to find the right one too."

With that you gave Paul some space and left the restroom. You found the other men downstairs in the foyer, milling about. There wasn't much work left to do until a new shipment of supplies arrived, so you let them leave early.

Erik still on your mind, you began to make your way to the lagoon. You found Erik looking for you when you were nearly halfway there. As soon as he saw you, a smile etched itself into his face and you swore you could have seen his eyes twinkle, even in the dim light of the passage.

You spent the evening with him, sitting beside him as he played his music, or sometimes sitting on his couch and reading as he toyed with different tunes and fumbled with his endless supply of sheet music. You weren't sure where it kept coming from.

You didn't know when you'd fallen asleep, but you woke up to the sound of someone sighing loudly in exasperation. You looked toward the pipe organ, expecting to see Erik there, but instead he was seated nearby, toiling over something. As you sat up, you realized it was the music box that had the monkey atop it playing the cymbals, and Erik looked to be trying to fix it. The longer you watched him, the more distraught you watched him become over the music box. You'd never seen him look so upset before, so sad.

"Hey, are you all right?" You approached him from behind, giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"Merde! No, I can't fix this music box."

He nearly froze then when he realized you were touching him, holding his shoulders endearingly. You leaned over him and gave his unmasked cheek a kiss, as you reached for his hand. You pulled him up from where he was sitting and led him to his bed.

"W-What are you..."

"You need to rest. You can worry about your music box in the morning."

Sleepiness clogging your rational thinking, you climbed into his bed beside him and closed your eyes. You loved his bed. It was so soft and it smelled like him, like candle wax and ink and sheet music, so much sheet music.

Your eyes fluttered open when you realized he was not attempting to sleep, but was instead watching you intently. His eyes burned with affection so bright you felt your cheeks heat.

"You're supposed to be sleeping."

"Right, sorry."

Erik finally closed his eyes, but you kept yours open for a moment to make sure he was actually going to try to sleep. When you were sure he wasn't faking it, you closed yours again and quickly fell asleep.

~

You awoke early the next morning to find Erik still asleep beside you. You both had moved significantly closer to one another in the night, and were only centimeters from touching. You could practically feel the warmth radiating from his body.

Sneaking out of bed, you crept away as quiet as a mouse. You figured since you were up early, you might as well get ready for work. However, when the music box caught your eye, a brilliant idea danced into your mind. As quietly as possible, you scooped up the music box and it's parts into your shawl and left.

Your watch was still wound up enough from the day before and read 6 am. Thankfully, you had just enough time to put your plan into motion. Leaving the opera house, you made your way down the streets looking for anything that looked like a repair shop for music boxes. You never did find one that specific, but you did find one for clocks.

You approached the shop keeper who looked very old and had a very long white mustache that desperately needed a trim. His glasses sat so low on his nose, you weren't sure how he was using them to see. Despite his old age and unkept appearance, you saw how steady his hands were as he worked on a small cuckoo clock.

"Bonjour Monsieur, I apologize for coming in so early, but I have something important that I was wondering if you might fix."

Lifting your shawl onto the counter, you unwrapped it to reveal the music box and it's removed pieces.

"I'm afraid it's a bit of a mess," you admitted.

The shop keepers eyes widened a bit at what you brought him. His hands slowly grazed over the pieces and the music box, assessing what he was given.

"Do you think you're able to fix it? It's incredibly important to me. I know it's not a clock, but if you could work any sort of magic, I would be in your debt."

"I will try my very best," he said finally, giving you a soft smile. "Come back tonight at 5 and I should have it ready."

"Oh, merci! Thank you so much!"

You rushed back to the opera house, hoping to get something to eat before your shift started. You were starving. When you entered the kitchen you quickly ate your fill of bread and cheese. You couldn't wait until the kitchens were fully stocked with both food and staff. You could practically smell the food already.

When you left the kitchen you found a small team of men carrying supplies into the grand foyer. You were surprised to see that it wasn't Paul and his men. Most suppliers still didn't want to set foot inside. Instead Paul was standing off to the side, watching one of the men carrying a box rather intently with a lazy smile on his face. Maybe a little too intently, you thought. Wait a minute...

Paul saw you then, and saw the expression of surprise on your face. You realized then that he knew you knew. A look of fear crossed his face quickly, and he turned and ran down the hall. You followed after him quickly, picking up your skirts so you could run faster.

"Paul!" You shouted. "Paul wait! Let's just talk."

Despite his running away, he managed to back himself into a hallway with no exit. He almost looked like he was about to cry, whether that be out of fear or misery or embarrassment, you weren't exactly sure. His face looked like it might have been a combination of the three.

"Paul, you don't need to be afraid or embarrassed. I promise I'm not going to judge you for your interest in partners. In fact, if you knew who I chose you might think to judge me..."

You were rambling without really realizing, and you laughed a bit. When you tried to take his hand as a show of comfort he backed away further.

"I'm sorry that I found out this way, and not from you telling me directly, but I swear to you, I will mot judge you for who you love. I want us to be friends, really."

He let you take his hand then, and he sniffled, a bit like a crying child, as he tried to gather his emotions.

"I'm sorry I ran," he said finally. "Most are not kind to me when they find out. They think there's something wrong with me, or that I'm an abomination. Thank you for not being like them."

You pulled back your hair from your face with your free hand then and said, "I learned from a very early age not to judge others."

Paul stared at you for a while, his eyes tracing the outline of your birthmark before looking into your eyes.

"And I thought you just hung your hair over your eye because you were shy!" Paul laughed loudly, wiping away the wetness around his eyes that spilled over from his laughter. You laughed too and smiled. You were so thankful Paul heard you out.

"But what did you mean when you said I might judge you for who you chose?"

You regretted then having told him that, but you didn't think he would trust you if you didn't tell him. You felt like you owed it to him too.

"Do you promise not to judge me too harshly?" You asked, letting go of Paul's hand and clasping yours together tightly in nervousness.

"I promise."

"The person I'm in... I'm in love with is... the Phantom of the Opera."

Paul burst out laughing then, great big peels of laughter. He almost fell over and had to clutch his knees for support as he bent over. When he tried to stop a wheeze came out. He failed to notice your astonished expression through his laughter, and left you very unsure of what to say next.

"Aw come on, Y/N. I thought we were having a serious moment here. I–Oh my god, you are serious??"

The look on your face clearly told him you were not kidding. His laughter died almost instantly and he stared at you for a good, long while. You almost thought you saw his face pale and then recolor and then pale again, and you wondered what his thoughts were, no doubt going a mile a minute.

"You're serious?" He asked again.

"Yes."

"Well... is he handsome?"

"Very," you laughed.

~

That evening you returned to the clock repair shop, hoping desperately that the shopkeeper had been able to repair the music box. You were in awe when you found it sitting on the shop counter looking as good as new and freshly painted too.

"Oh hello," the shop keeper greeted you. "I think you'll find that everything is in working order."

You pulled the music box towards you, and slowly turned the little handle until the box  started playing its little song. It came out clear and in tune as the monkey clanked its little cymbals together.

"Thank you! Oh thank you so much! You don't know how much this means to me."

You pulled your purse from inside your satchel and withdrew your money, but the shopkeeper waved you away.

"Oh, please. I insist. Let me pay you for your work."

"No, no. It's on me. I'm old and I rarely get to work on something so fun."

You grinned and thanked him again, making sure to shake his hand. Taking the music box, you wrapped it up safely in your shawl, not wanting to spoil the surprise. You hoped Erik would be happy.

"That song," he said as you turned to leave, "it's been quite a long time since I've heard it. Take care of his music box."