The Art of Manipulation || Phantom of the Opera & Loki the God of Mischief ||

-My First Love-

A/N: Picture credit goes to Murinin007 on Deviantart!

-My First Love-

*flashback*

"Who will love this child? So lost and all alone." ~ The Hunchback of Notre Dame the Musical

~*~

From Box Five I watched as the stagemen pushed around heavy scenery and the maids polished all the golden statues, readying them for tonight's audience.

I remained unnoticed in Box Five; front row, second chair from the aisle, hidden by the shadows with Hannibal open on my lap. I released my pencil from my teeth and followed the notes with the tip, my mind playing the tune. I need to figure out how to make this opera awe inspiring again, the Opéra Populaire depended on that. And I couldn't depend on Carlotta to fill in the empty void this score has.

Around 9:34 AM, as I sat in the Opera Ghost's box, I heard from behind me the crunch of the red carpet and the shift of the material beneath it. Without looking up from the music I tapped my pencil on the paper and smirked, "Salut (hi), Erik."

After an aggravated grunt, he plumped down in the chair to my left, the one on the aisle that I expected him to take, "How do you do that? I can sneak up on everyone but you!"

I twisted my head to look at him and faked a pout, "Aw, were you trying to sneak up on me, Opera Ghost?"

Erik rolled his eyes and pulled his jacket from under him, "Very funny."

Smiling, I returned my gaze to the sheet music, "You know, for a Phantom you're not all that quiet."

"'All that quiet'?!" He twisted in his chair to face me full on, his eyes wide with disbelieve, "I couldn't even hear me come in here! I can't figure out how you could hear me." I giggled at him as he faced the auditorium again and buttoned the front of his jacket.

"We can't all be perfect, dearest." I teased, reaching over to pat his knee.

He grunted and remained transfixed on the activities going on below us. I giggled again and resumed studying Hannibal.

If only he knew how I could hear him. He wouldn't believe me if I told him anyways. Would you believe me if you didn't know me and I walked up to you and said, "Hello, I'm Asgardian. I can hear any kind of sound from here to a few miles away!" You'd either laugh or find someone to slap a straight-jacket on me. Not that I couldn't break out of it... But still, you get the point.

Erik glanced down sideways at the music in my lap, "Still having problems with Hannibal?"

"Yes." I replied, without looking up from my lap. "I still can't figure out what's so different about it. I am certain that the first time I had heard it," I didn't say that that was when I was there at the time Chalumeau wrote it, "it hadn't sounded so...dull. I know that I'm overusing that word but that's what it is: dull." I made a sour face at which Erik chuckled.

"Here, let me look at it again." Erik reached over the armrest and took the score from my lap. His green eyes scanned the pages and I sat back against the chair, closing my eyes and savoring the sounds.

I always try to discern which sound I like best. The sound of the ballerina's shoes hitting against the wooden floor? The sloshing of the underground lake? The swish of the brooms in the lobby? Or the strong steady sound of Erik's heartbeat? I'm sure you already know which one wins that debate.