Wow ... so I just realized that I haven't posted on this blog in two whole months. I'm so sorry for my random hiatus, but school is hitting me really hard this semester but there are only two more weeks so wait more me my loves! A little drabble inspired by this. Hope you all enjoy! ~Admin Kelc

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He thinks she looks beautiful, standing center stage, spotlight shining down on her figure. And he’s sure the audience sitting in the opera house would agree.

He watches her from the rafters, a white mask hanging from his fingers. He really has no idea why he’s hiding in the shadows. Everyone knows he’s there, everyone knows he’s real. But he guesses he only does it to preserve the mystery of the opera house. Come for a chance to spot the Phantom, stay for the show’s beautiful lead.

As she hits her last note, the audience erupts in applause, the crowd jumps on their feet. Roses get thrown on the stage with “bravo”s and “encore”s echoing throughout the theater. He quietly claps along with them, much softer, almost inaudible.

She looks up in his direction and smiles and he almost smiles back when he realizes her eyes are not on him. They are on the boy sitting in the private box below him.

Rich, handsome, kind, the heir to the opera house, her fiance, Kim Jongin.

Kim Jongin, with his bright eyes and innocent demeanor. Kim Jongin, who could literally have any girl in the production but just had to choose her. Kim Jongin, who’s … everything he wish he could be.

He eyes a sandbag that is hanging at his side. Just once slice of the rope and …

“Don’t even think about Yixing.”

Yixing’s tightens his grip on the metal railing as he closes his eyes, taking a deep, slow breath.

“It’s Lay, Jongdae,” he grits his teeth before turning to face the boy who’s sauntering down the the catwalk, “And what are you doing up here? Aren’t you supposed to be watching the show with owner to be? It is opening night.”

Jongdae smirks and slinks over to stand next to him, “I’ve seen it a million times, so much it has actually gotten rather boring. But you, on the other hand, were quite interesting to watch.”

The applause below continues as the entire cast takes the stage for one final bow.

Jongade watches his cast with pride but Yixing keeps his eyes on the young boy who’s standing the balcony box.

“Why does it have to be him?” his whisper doesn’t quite reach Jongdae’s ears, “I helped her with her singing. I got her this part. I’ve loved her before he ever spared her a glance.”

“Did you say something?”
Yixing looks up to see Jongdae staring back at him, inquiry in his eyes.

He shakes his head.

The cast lines up in a straight line and gives the audience a bow. They go insane.

“Great show tonight, Jongdae. I think this arrangement is your best yet,” Yixing slips on the mask as the composer mumbles a confused thank you, “But now, the real show begins.”

He leaps over the railing.

Screams echo through the opera house.

The phantom has arrived.