You are happily sitting in a chair, the Braille letters gently tickling your fingers, as you wait for your mother to come help you get ready for bed. This was the schedule every night; read until mother came in to help you get ready for bed, say goodnight, and then go to sleep. It's monotonous and you hate it. You hate being so dependent on your mother, hate being a burden, but most of all, hate the fact that you are blind.

You weren't blind by choice. When you were young, you got into a severe accident while playing with some of the ballet dancers outside the Opera Populaire where your mother, the ballet instructor Madame Giry, taught. As a child, it didn't bother you as much as one would expect since childhood innocence makes light out of every situation. As you grew older however, insecurities and anger for this disability came out against your will and would consume your thoughts. The thoughts stayed in your mind, never giving you a moment of peace, and you hate it.

"Y/n," you hear a gentle voice say, pulling you back to reality.

You gently shake your head, marking your place in the book you are reading before gently closing it. "Meg," you question. "Why are you here?"

"Mother wanted to me to help you get ready for bed," you hear your sister's gentle voice say as it mixes with the gentle creaking of the wooden floor as she approaches you. "She's helping one of the new dancers work on her pliés."

"That sounds like mother," you say with a small smile as you feel the book being taken out of your lap before hearing the gentle thud of the book being set down. "Always wanting to be sure that everything is perfect," you add as you cautiously stand up.

"You're right about that," you hear Meg say with a soft giggle. "Now, turn around so I can help you get in your nightgown."

You obey and turn around. You feel a gentle pressure on your back before it softens as the warm fabric of your dress loosens. The fabric slowly begins to slide down your body, gently brushing your skin as Meg finishes undoing the buttons. A moment later, the pressure leaves your back and you know that all the buttons are unbuttoned. You step out of the dress as the cool air in the room gently nips at your warm skin, causing you to shiver a little. But a moment later, you feel the warm fabric of your nightgown on your skin.

"Arms up," you hear Meg say. You smile as you raise your arms up. Warm fabric slowly begins to envelope your body and a moment later, you feel your nightgown against your legs.

"Thanks for helping me," you say with a soft smile once you feel the warm nightgown completely covering you.

You feel something warm gently take one of your hands. "I'm happy that I could help," you hear Meg say. "Now, let me help you get in bed."

You give Meg's hand a gentle and loving squeeze before letting her lead you over to your bed, but as you walk you begin to think. You feel the cool wood under your feet as you walk, hear the gentle creaking of the boards mixes with the soft gusts of wind outside your window, and smell the gentle, flowery scent of Meg's perfume. Is this all you'll experience? The same touches, sounds, and smells for the rest of your life.

You hear the sound of blankets being moved around before the same warm hand gently guides you to the edge of your bed. With hands in front, you feel the firm edge of your bed and gently turn and sit down before moving your legs so that you were laying down. Once laying down, you hear the blankets shift again before feeling warmth cover your body.

"Goodnight, sis," you hear Meg says before you hear the soft creaking of the floor boards as she leaves.

"Goodnight," you say with a small smile before you hear the wooden door to your room gently close. Silence fills the room as you pull the warm covers closer. You let out a breath before closing your eyes, sleeping overcoming you.

****
Your sleep is restless, full of tossing and turning as nightmares of the accident that resulted in your blindness flash in your mind. This was a normal occurrence, many of your nights are like this as the horrid memory haunts your sleep, making nights a time of dread rather than peace. Giving up on sleep, you open your sightless eyes only to begin to hear a soft noise.

This peaks your curiosity as you begin to focus on the sound. After listening for a moment, you recognize that the sound is a voice. However, despite the voice sounding far away, you did not recognize the voice. You knew it was a man's voice based on the baritone tone. However, as you focused more on the voice you realize that the voice is singing and it's beautiful.

Words can't begin to describe how beautiful the voice is; the only word that comes close is heavenly. The voice sounds like an angel's, an angel of music. You have never heard a voice like it before, which was saying something considering you are surrounded by many amazing singers who performed in the hundreds of shows the Opera Populaire produced.

You move the blankets off your body before you swing your feet over the side of your bed. Your mind doesn't question anything you're doing, the voice being the one thing on your mind. Once your feet touch the cold wood floor, you begin walking in the direction of the voice, not bothering to find slippers or even a robe.

You feel your heart soar as you continue to walk, hearing only the singing as it leads you to an unknown place, gradually growing louder with each step you take. Normally, you would not listen to the voice of a stranger, but this voice gives you a sense of security and you trust it. You don't feel nervous, scared, or anxious, just wonder and a longing for the voice to never stop because, in this moment, you feel truly alive.

Suddenly, you hands make contact with something soft and a little warm as the singing voice abruptly stops. You stop walking as your hands begin to inspect what they found. It feels as soft as cotton with a few bumps, which you assume are buttons, before your fingers move up and make contact with something warm. You hear a soft, but sharp intake of breath before feeling whatever was under your fingers move away slightly. That's when you realized that it's skin.

"Wait," you think, realizing what just happened. "Where am I?"

You feel your heart being to beat faster as you came back to your senses, instantly pulling your hands away from whoever was in front of you. It was like someone had poured a bucket of cold water on you; you had no idea where you were and now there was a mysterious person in front of you with who knows what intentions. Based on the cold wetness under your bare feet, you assumed you were outside, but you felt no breeze or head the voices of people or even the sound of an animal.

"Where am I," you ask, trying to keep the fear out of your voice, despite the slight waver.

"In the catacombs," the voice answers in a gentle tone, seeming to try and calm you. "Under the Opera Populair."

You feel your heart stop. Your sister told you stories about the catacombs that ran under the Opera Populair. She told you how the entrances to the catacombs were near impossible to find due to the many renovations that had been completed over the decades and how, if you did find one, one could easily get lost in the labyrinth that the catacombs were. With that in mind, your mind raced. How did you get in here when you did not know where an entrance was, let alone being blind?

"How did I get here," you ask, hating that fear was clear in your voice, but you can't help it.

Your mind is screaming for you to run, but a part of you tells you to stay. If the man wanted to harm you, he could have easily done it by now; he didn't need to answer your questions and tell you where you were. As far as he knew, you could see and could easily run away, but he was not making any attempts to tie you up or restrict your movement.

"I assume you heard me singing," the voice answers in the same soothing tone, quenching some of the fear causing you to relax a little.

You nod your head, suddenly remembering the how you got here in the first place. The only thing that logically made sense is for the man to physically lead you to the catacombs, but that's not what happened. You heard his voice and just followed it, throwing caution to the wind. But the feeling you felt when listening to his voice....

"I was in bed when I heard it," you answer after nodding, the fear gone as you think of his beautiful singing. "You sing beautifully, better than any performer I have ever heard here."

You hear a soft exhale, as if he was expecting to hear an insult rather than a compliment.

"What's your name, if you don't mind me asking," you ask, all fear gone and only curiosity remaining.

There's a moment of silence, as if he is deciding if he should dispel that information or not. "Erik," he responds. "Erik Destler. And may I know your name as well mademoiselle."

You feel a smile grace your lips as he addresses you with a politeness you rarely experience. "Y/n," you answer back. "Y/n Giry."

You hear a sharp inhale, causing your heart to sink. "What's wrong," you think, mind beginning to race. "Does he know mother? And if he did, why has mother never mentioned him? Considering how beautiful his voice was, mother could easily help him get a role in one of the Opera Populair's shows."

"Giry," Erik asks, a little shock in his voice. "As in Madame Giry."

Your shoulders slump a little, not wanting to answer based on his tone, but nodding anyway. "Yes," you answer. "She's my mother."

You hear Erik mumble something, but it's too quiet for you to make out what he said. "You need to leave now," Erik says after a moment. "Your mother cannot know about you being here."

"What," you say, disbelief clear. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. He seemed content enough to have you here a moment ago, but now that he knew who your mother was, he wanted you gone.

"If your mother finds out you were here, she will have my head," Erik answers. You open your mouth to protest before closing it realizing that he is right.

"But I won't tell her," you say. "She's probably asleep right now, as long as I'm back before morning she'll never know I was gone."

There's beat of silence, as if he is considering your words. For a moment, you believe that Erik believes you and will continue talking with you. "I'm sorry," he says. "I can't take that risk. Just turn around and continue walking straight, you'll come to the door that lead into here."

You can't help your jaw dropping. How dare this man! "You can't just leave me here," you exclaim, fear beginning to creep back at the thought of never being able to find a way out of this place.

"I just gave you directions to get out of here," Erik replies nonchalantly, either ignoring or completely oblivious to the fear in your voice. "You'll be fine."

"You don't understand," you say, fear becoming crystal clear at the thought of being alone. "If you leave me here, I won't be able to find this door. I can't see anything."

There's a beat of silence as you realize what you just said. Your heart stops as realization hits you full force.

"What do you mean you 'can't see anything'," Erik asks, confusion clear.

You sigh. "I'm blind," you state.

Another beat of silence. "That means....you can't see me," Erik asks with, is that hope, in his voice.

You shake your head gently. "I was was in accident when I was very young," you answer simply, turning away as you feel your eyes being to burn with tears. It's going to happen again; whenever someone learned that you were blind, the whole atmosphere would change and you would be treated completely different. Most people would coddle and those who didn't coddle, would try to get away from you. And now after meeting someone who you finally thought would treat you differently now knew and would be like everyone else.

As your heart pounded against your chest and tears threatened to spill, you suddenly feel the warmth of skin gently touch your left cheek. You flinch from the unexpected touch. The warmth instantly vanishes and before your realize, you reach out with your left hand trying to find the warmth.

You find the warmth again and instantly close your hand around it. Based on the feeling, you realize that you're holding Erik's hand. Feeling no resistance, you gently turn his hand so the back of his hand is resting in your left palm before bringing your right hand to Erik's palm. You begin to trace your finger on his palm, making a mental map in your mind.

Since you were not born blind, you remember what people look like. You know that people have eyes, noses, mouths, and other features that make up faces. You also know that people have torsos with arms and legs attached. With this knowledge, you want to try and get a mental image of what Erik looks like, starting with his hands.

"What are you doing," Erik asks, confusion clear.

You smile softly, savoring the warmth of his skin. "I'm trying to get a mental image of what you look like," you answer as your index finger begins to move up one of his fingers. "Since I was not born blind, I know what people look like and I want to try and get a sense of what you look like......if you're okay with that."

Silence. You understood his hesitation; even though you didn't mention it, there was the unspoken request of you touching his face. Why would anyone want someone they barely knew to touch their face? You know that this is a weird request and you expected him to deny it.

"Okay," Erik says, his voice soft, but you can tell that he's nervous.

Your finger stops in its path, disbelief filling you. "Really," you ask, making sure you heard him right.

"Yes," he answers simply, hesitance still clear in his voice.

"You can stop me anytime you feel uncomfortable," you say as you take a small step forward and raise your hands. From the nervousness of his voice still fresh in your mind, you only place your right hand on his cheek at first. You feel the warmth of his skin beneath your palm. At the bottom of your palm, you feel a slight movement, which you assume is from the man swallowing. You deduce from that your hand is probably on his cheek. You slowly lift your palm slightly off his cheek and begin to slowly move your fingers, mapping his face. Your fingers move to the left and feel your fingers go up; you assume its his nose. However, as soon as your fingers made contact with his nose, they hit something. Your fingers feel the lip of something cooler than skin. Confusion floods your mind, everyone else didn't have this. Curiosity getting the better of your judgement, you raise your other hand to the other side of his face, feeling for the other side of his face. Your palm comes into contact something cool, similar to what your other fingers feel. This isn't skin; what is it? However, the instant your palm is completely flat on the surface of whatever you were feeling, something warm tightly grips both of your wrists, pulling your hands away from his face.

You gasp, scared from the sudden rough grip on your wrists. You hear a sigh before the grip on your wrists slightly loosens.

"I'm sorry," you say, instantly regretting asking him if you could do this.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Erik says, voice full of nerves.

"What was that," you ask, not needing to specify what you were asking about.

You hear Erik exhale. "A mask," he answers simply.

"A mask," you think, confused. You remember what a mask is; people use them to cover part of their face. They were usually a part of a costume for a performance or a party.

"Why are you wearing a mask," you ask confused.

You hear a sharp intake. "I shouldn't have asked," you immediately think.

"Because I'm monster," his voice hard and full of bitterness. You recognize that bitterness in yourself. Growing up blind and being dependent on others allowed bitterness to grow inside as you wanted to be independent and being able to live on your own, but also knowing that there was nothing you could to change the fact that you would always need to be dependent.

"And I don't want you to leave," Erik says pulling your from your thoughts, his voice soft and broken.

Your heart breaks at the sound of his voice. "Why would I leave," you ask, your voice softening.

"Everyone else does when they see me," he answers. "Why would you be any different?"

"Because I can't see," you answer, for the first time ever in your life, being grateful that you couldn't see. "I won't leave you. Please."

You feel his grip loosen even more, the warmth of his hand still lingering on your wrists, ready to pull your hands away again. However, you slowly feel him lead your hands, your right one soon feels the warmth of skin while your left one comes into contact with the coolness of his mask. You shiver slightly from the contrasting temperatures. Slowing, you begin to move your fingers. This time you move your fingers up, the two contrasting temperatures slightly messing with you, but don't mention it. Your fingers come up to a slight dip. You instantly stop moving your hands, one of your fingers feeling a light, tickling movement. "These must be his eyes," you think as you move your fingers away.

Still feeling the warmth around your wrists, you slowly move your fingers down. Your left fingers come to the edge of the mask and you stop, silently asking permission. The grip sightly tightens on your wrists again, but Erik doesn't say anything. Taking that as permission, you carefully pull up at the edge, feeling the mask begin to move. You carefully maneuver the mask up until it feels like the mask is off. You carefully put the mask in your right hand before moving your left back to the now uncovered half of his face with a little assistance from Erik, who still has a soft grip on both of your wrists.

The feeling is unlike anything you've ever felt before. While it's still warm like skin, the texture is different. It isn't smooth like the other side of his face, your fingertips rise and fall as you gently move your fingers over the now uncovered side of his face. "What happened," your voice barely above a whisper as your fingertips continue to gently touch his face.

"I was born with it," you hear Erik say, his voice sounding like a man reliving a terrible memory full of pain. "Many believed I was cursed with this..." Erik is quiet for a moment, like he's trying to think of the right word. "...repulsive face due to a terrible sin. I was feared and loathed by everyone, even my own mother."

You feel a pang in your chest, not only for sympathy for him but also recognition. "I know the feeling," you say, your voice soft. You knew this feeling from being blind; hearing the whispers as you walked with your mother through town, the giggles you would hear from the ballet dancers when Meg would help you back to your room, and the way employees would make you feel worthless by saying you were just a burden since you couldn't do anything useful around the opera house. However, unlike him, you had your mother and sister, both of whom loved you dearly and you loved them back just as much. Just the thought of them loathing you due to something you had no control over broke your heart, making your heart fill with sympathy for the man standing in front of you.

As your fingers continued to gently caress his cheek, you suddenly feel something warm and wet hit one of your fingers. You instantly stop moving your fingers, concern filling your mind.

"What's wrong," you ask, the worry and concern you feel clear in your voice. "Does it hurt?"

You feel his head head move side to side. "No," you hear Erik say, his voice just above a whisper.

There's a moment of silence before you hear an exhale. "No one has ever touched me this way before." Another moment of silence. "It's nice."

You feel your own eyes begin to water, his words making your heart break even more. You feel a small smile grace your lips as you bring your thumb up to where you feel the tear and gently wipe it away before you flatten your hand against his cheek, feeling the unevenness of the skin beneath your palm. You feel his head nuzzle a little more into your hand, like he was savoring the sensation of your gentle touch.

Despite having just met him, you feel like you and Erik will be close; both of you having a  condition that was out of your control and learning how to live with it. But now, you two wouldn't have to deal with it alone, you both now had each other to it didn't make you any less human and it felt better than you could have ever dreamed.

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Hi everyone. I know that it has been a long time since this was updated and I apologize for that. Life has been hectic, especially recently. So I decided to update, but there are going to be some changes. The first main one being that I won't be doing requests anymore. I apologize to everyone who made a request. If I replied to your request, it will eventually be published since I have already started writing it. The main reason why I am no longer doing requests is because I want this to be a book for me to update on my own time and to be a stress reliever from school and work. I had people continually message me about when their request will be out and it was a little stressful as I was trying to write well and also get it out quickly.

So from now on, I'll be finishing some requests (sorry if I don't include your username) at my own pace; it may take longer based on my inspiration for that one shot. After the requests are done, I will be writing more of my own personal ideas that I have had, I hope you all will like them :) I apologize to everyone who requested something and did not get a reply from me. I can't really give an update schedule right now, but I do hope to keep updating this for you all. Thanks for understanding.

Also in case you were curious, the actor in the picture is Chris Mann, the same person singing the song :)