Chapter Text
A chilly rain was pouring down on all of Paris that afternoon. Meg sighed as she glanced out of the cold, damp window of the girls’ dormitory. She had hoped that today would be a warm, sunny day so that she and Christine could go to the park and pick some flowers, and watch the ducks swim in the lake. Today was their only day off from rehearsals, and the only half day off Christine had from her demanding and mysterious singing tutor.
Meg shivered as she walked over to her bed. She had not dressed warmly enough but there was no point in getting re-dressed just to stay indoors. True, she felt a bit silly at the moment for wearing such a low-cut, sheer pink dress meant for summer, but it did make her feel pretty just feeling the silky fabric against her skin. She had hoped that the dress would catch the eye of a handsome young man at the park, but now that hope had been washed away too as the rain came down harder against the window. Meg picked up her faded, tattered blue shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“At least I will be here all day with Christine. Perhaps she can think of something fun we can do around here.” Meg thought as she picked up an old book of fairy-tales that she had held onto since childhood. She was waiting for Christine to meet her in the dormitory at noon. Meg knew Christine had stopped on her way to talk to the managers about something, and would hopefully arrive soon.
Meg continued to mindlessly thumb through her old book, admiring the lovely pictures of castles and princesses in it, when suddenly the door flung open with a loud BANG!
“Oh Meg, there you are!” Christine said as she sailed into the room. Her deep brown curls were a bit of a mess as though she had been running through the hallway. She sat down at the vanity they shared.
"Something most wonderful has just happened! You see, I had stopped by the manager's office to speak with them as they requested, and Raoul was there!”
“Oh?” Meg said as she watched her friend quickly brush her hair and pin some loose curls into place. Meg had an uneasy feeling as to what was about to happen, because Raoul was the reason for Christine canceling their plans three times in a row as of late.
“Was he here for business or for pleasure?” Meg said in a curt tone, her eyes remained cast downward to the storybook.
“Well, I suppose a bit of both!” Christine giggled, not looking away from her own reflection.
“Anyway, I noticed it was raining and I told Raoul 'Oh, what a shame it is raining! I was supposed to go to the park with Meg today but now it is ruined!' And what a kind gentleman he is! He offered me a carriage ride to his favorite place in Paris for the best tea and sweets, and then to go for a stroll at the museum. It will be so wonderful to go out and about instead of being cooped up in here all day with you! He is such a sweet man, isn't he?" Christine beamed as she sighed, clearly smitten thinking about Raoul.
Meg felt like someone had just punched her in the heart.
"You two are both certainly something." Meg said quietly. She glanced back down at her book, doing her best to hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes.
Ever since Raoul came back into Christine’s life, she had been spending all of her precious free time with him. Meg didn’t hate Raoul- on the contrary, she was happy her best friend had such a handsome and kind suitor, and she knew Christine had feelings for him. Meg did not want to come between the happy couple, because she dearly loved Christine as a sister, but it still stung Meg every time Christine chose to spend time with Raoul instead of her.
Christine was too oblivious to notice any of Meg's emotional turmoil, and an awkward silence on Meg's end was threatening to reveal it. Christine was humming the “Think of Me” tune that had won her an elevated position at the opera house while adjusting her newest hat, her newest expensive gift from Raoul, onto her head. She looked herself once more over in the mirror before heading out the door and gave a wide smile.
"Well, I can tell you are enjoying your book, so I will leave you to it and see you later tonight! Goodbye!” Christine called out merrily as she went out the door, letting it slam loudly behind her. The sound echoed off the drab walls, making Meg feel more alone and miserable than ever.
Meg felt so cursed. What was it that made people forget about her so easily?
Was it the way she looked? Probably. Meg thoroughly detested being the plain one amongst her friends. Christine had luscious, chocolate locks for hair and sparkly blue eyes that matched her angelic singing voice. Sorelli had gorgeous raven hair and her long, athletic legs were to die for! Every dancer dreamed of having a body like hers- a body that captured the attention of the entire opera house whenever she was on stage. Even little Jammes had something special with her wild orange waves and freckles that matched her charming dimples and child-like disposition.
But Meg? No. Meg was not pretty like the other girls.
She had blonde hair that was straight and dull like a wooden plank board, with a large nose protruding from between two lifeless eyes on her round face. Her complexion was that of a corpse, and Sorelli often joked about Meg being a vampire. It was partially true, for if she stayed outside at the park for too long, she always ended up with hideous sunburn splotches across any area that was left exposed.
But worst of all, she knew the only reason she was in the ballet corps at all was because of her famous mother, Madame Giry. She knew that people laughed at her on stage, and it hurt to hear their snide remarks. She knew the other girls only spoke to her out of fear of the Madame, or out of some form of pity like how Christine and Sorelli did. Growing up alongside Christine made Meg feel like they were sisters, but now? Not so much.
‘At least the pity from the pretty girls is better than being alone.’ Meg’s mother used to remind her. ‘Be grateful for the small kindnesses that others show you.’
Meg scoffed at the words as they echoed in her mind. Those empty phrases could not comfort her anymore. There was absolutely nothing special about her. Not even her name.
One time, when she was little, she had asked her mother if Meg was short for Marguerite, but she had only received a firm 'No, of course not! Your name is Meg. Just Meg!’ in a hasty reply. Meg could never figure out why her mother did not give her a more feminine name. Was it because her own mother thought she was an ugly, worthless child who didn’t deserve to be loved or feel special? What kind of woman does that to their own child?
All of these thoughts from over the years were swirling about in her head as the tears started to roll down her cheeks. Her book fell out of her hands and onto the floor with a thud. Meg let herself cry. She knew Christine had not said the words 'being cooped up all day with you” to be cruel or in a mocking sort of way, they just fell out of her mouth because she was in a rush to get ready.
And honestly who wouldn’t want to spend all their leisure time with their loved one? It would be insulting to Raoul if Christine turned him down to spend time with Meg. If there was a special someone in her own life, Meg would probably make the same choice too.
But then an even more depressing thought washed over Meg.
What if Christine did not reciprocate any feelings for her anymore? When the girls were little ballet rats, Christine had promised Meg that they would always be the best of friends, as close as sisters. The fear of losing Chrsitine completely squeezed around Meg’s heart like an iron clamp and it made her feel even more distraught. Her mind and spirit spiraled down into that dark abyss of loneliness that Meg often felt.
Because somewhere deep inside her heart, Meg suspected that even her own mother loved Christine more than her. Always doting on how beautiful and talented Christine was, always helping her and standing up for her to the managers, while only ever having condescending and scathing remarks for Meg.
No one knew how Meg’s mother always compared her to the other girls, or how much pressure Meg felt from her mother all the time. Christine never had to face the wrath of Madame Giry when she messed up, because Meg would take the blame for it. Meg knew she could never live up to the expectations her mother had.
It was destroying her slowly from the inside out, and sometimes Meg wondered how much longer she could keep going. Meg felt like such a complete failure as a ballerina, a friend, and a daughter. No one cared about her or wanted to be around her- she truly was a worthless and forgettable waste of a human being in the eyes of everyone at the opera house.
Meg couldn’t hold back all of the feelings she’d had kept pent up inside her for so many years. She didn’t care if the whole Palais Garnier heard her wailing like a banshee. She sobbed for what felt like an eternity to her, periodically burying her face into her shawl so as not to ruin one of her few nice dresses.
But when she was out of tears, the sadness felt replaced with anger and bitterness. She tried her best to shove those unpleasant feelings aside- Meg truly did not enjoy feeling that way toward the world! But she had to let some of those feelings out. She was all alone anyway, what would it matter if she threw in some curse words too? She breathed in shakily as she sat upright.
“Damn them all.” Meg whimpered out as she wiped away the last of her tears with the back of her hand. “Damn them ALL to the deepest pits of HELL!” she shouted angrily into her shawl.
“I couldn’t agree more.” A haunting yet smooth voice replied. An icy chill descended upon the room, and Meg drew in her breath as she quickly scanned the room.
“Who’s there?” She called out fiercely. Letting out some of her anger had restored the little bit of confidence she had left. “If it’s that obnoxious stagehand pranking me again, I will report you to the managers this time!”
A small chuckle echoed around the room. “No, Miss Giry, I am not that ruffian. I am someone else who dwells here, within these walls. Someone who understands exactly how you feel.”
Meg thought for a moment. She realized it wasn’t one of the workers playing a trick on her. And that rich voice was so distinct, she definitely would have remembered hearing it before if it was someone she already knew. That only left one other being.
“Are you…” she paused to clear her throat, “the opera ghost?”
“That is one of my names, although I prefer being called the Phantom. It has a much better sound to it, don’t you think?” The voice replied calmly.
“Yes,” Meg whispered quietly, “it sounds as wonderful as your voice does.”
She had always believed the opera ghost was real. She thought of him as a sort of guardian over the building and its occupants, and a keeper of the opera house’s secrets. “I’ve always wanted to meet you!” She excitedly blurted out.
She clasped her hand over her mouth immediately afterward.
What was she saying?! Meg instantly regretted opening her mouth. It was an unfortunate habit she had that her mother frequently scolded her for. She quickly tried to think of a way to smooth over her blunder but instead the Phantom spoke first.
“Ah my sweet girl, the pleasure is all mine!” The Phantom continued in his warm tone, apparently not offended in the least. “I have seen how people around here treat you. It is cruel that the ones you care for always forget about you. I know all too well how that feels. I too seem to have been forgotten entirely by someone I care about.”
“Oh no monsieur Phantom!” Meg said as she patted her face dry with her shawl in an attempt to look more dignified. “You are certainly not forgotten around here! And never by me.”
The Phantom gave a small laugh. “You’re too kind, Miss Giry. You are the one who tells not only the most stories about me around here, but the best ones as well. And for that, I appreciate you. As such, I cannot stand to see a lovely young lady like yourself all alone and extremely upset. I am not the best at speaking with words, but perhaps I can play you a song to take your troubles away if you’d like?”
Meg breathed out one last shaky sigh and closed her eyes for a moment. Her terrible day was certainly turning around for the better, but in the most bizarre way possible.
She would have never guessed that the actual Phantom of the Opera would be here, inside her room, offering to play his music for her. His very presence had already calmed her down a bit, so why not take him up on his offer?
“Yes, please.” Meg said as she sat up attentively.
She began to look around the room as the sound of a violin began to play. Part of her wanted to figure out where it was coming from, but the music was so lovely, she dared not question her good luck at this point.
She then reassured herself that this was not a cruel joke. Not everyone in the opera house hated her, and nice things like this were allowed to happen to her too.
At first the notes were slow, but as they picked up into a more light and airy tune, Meg couldn’t help herself- the urge to move to the music overtook her. She closed her eyes and extended her arms and bent her body to the rhythm that was slowly wrapping itself around her.
She felt herself let go of all her negative thoughts and let her mind connect with the harmony. As she leapt across the dusty floorboards with her legs, all she could think of was how the music was carrying her to someplace without loneliness and sorrow, without anger or bitterness. Music was bliss to her, and being able to dance to it- to feel her body and soul connect to the notes floating through the air along with her- were moments of pure joy she deeply cherished.
Meg craved the way the notes weaved through her body and settled into her soul. Music was what kept her bound to performing at the opera house when every other fiber of her being was screaming for her to run off the stage. The tune the Phantom was playing reminded her of those things. It was uplifting, freeing, and made her feel anew.
After the music stopped, Meg finished a spin and she opened her eyes. A blanket of quiet fell across the room, and the silence made the room feel somber again. Meg looked around, half expecting her musician to be there in person- but not a soul was there.
“Monsieur Phantom?” Meg called out.
But no one answered. The smooth, rich voice and the beautiful music had completely vanished into thin air like magic.
“Thank you.” Meg said with a small smile as she looked around the room once more.
***
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! Any comments are deeply appreciated- especially about things I need to improve on!