The Angel of Music

Dean followed the Angel down a stone hallway, which was lined with candle holders protruding on golden sculpted arms from the walls. If he wasn’t looking at them, he thought they moved, but he couldn’t be too sure. The Phantom led him further and further along, looking back at him every now and again as they moved around in the bowels of the opera house. Dean stared at him in wonder, relishing every moment of the first time he saw his angel. He led him down and down a stone staircase, the torch in his hand burning bright, but all Dean could think about was that his Angel was real, and elegant, and charming, and attractive. He noticed that he had ice blue eyes, in which everything could be reflected. A cold draft blew from somewhere, but he didn’t notice. When they reached the bottom, the man stopped his silence.
“Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you, grows stronger yet.” He sang, his deep voice like a lullaby in Dean’s ears. It echoed off the stone around them, and Dean looked at where they had come from. “And though you turn from me to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind.” He snapped his head back around and met the other man’s eyes. They reached water and a small dock, where the he helped Dean into a small, sleek boat which he guided across the water. All Dean could do was stare at him as the water cast rapid reflections over his face, blending him with his mask. They went down winding tunnels of calm water, Dean now singing a duet with his Angel as they glided further into the depths of the theatre. Their boat came to a dead end, a sort of port again, but this time guarded by a gate which rose as they came closer. Dean continued singing, his voice rising and rising.
“Sing for me, angel.” Said the Phantom, and his pride stirred Dean on. He looked about him to see luscious curtains lining the walls, desks and bookshelves, and even a glossy black piano. Music sheets filled every other space that wasn’t occupied by candles. So many candles. “Sing for me!” He commanded again, and Dean obeyed.

When the boat stopped the Angel nimbly leapt onto the stone, flinging the cloak off his shoulders to reveal his suit beneath. Dean took his firm body in, and the way his fingers curled around his when he helped him out. Dean stayed where he was, while the Angel backed away slightly, as if to show his student a classroom. To his left there was a desk, filled with quills and papers and wax stains, and a mirror hiding behind a curtain of red velvet.
“I’ve brought you here for one purpose and one alone: since the moment I first heard you sing I needed you with me to serve me to sing for my music.” The Angel said. He came closer again, taking Dean’s hand as he began to sing to him again, more gentle this time. He moved to the sound of the Angel’s voice, as if in a trance, his hand latched onto the other gloved one. He let the Phantom lead him deeper into the maze of papers and candles, where the light of day seemed dull compared to the golden tones of fire and gold mixed together. Looking to his side, Dean saw a model of the opera’s stage, on which stood a mini figurine that looked as he had done in that night’s performance. Paintbrushes and pots cluttered the sides. The Angel drew him closer and closer, still singing, soothing Dean’s mind, as their breaths mingled, green clashing with blue. He ran his hands along Dean’s side, touching his waste, and Dean leaned in, craving attention from the man that had looked after him and taught him so much. “Touch me, trust me.” He whispered while he sang, pulling Dean’s hand up to his mouth. They felt eachother’s warmth between their clothing, and Dean shivered, only now noticing the goose bumps on his skin. Noticing his reaction, the Angel pulled away slowly and led him to another room, where there was a large bed surrounded by ebony veiled curtains. Swallowing, Dean looked at his teacher nervously, but the other man remained calm as he let Dean settle in, drawing the covers around him. He stepped back, drawing the strings for the curtains before leaving. The Phantom stopped singing. Dean watched him leave before closing his eyes, giving in to sleep.