Nothing But A Man-- A Phantom of the Opera fic

[luckyleprechaun]

Authors Note: Ever since I saw Phantom of the Opera two weeks ago, I have been obsessed. When I was talking with MoonDuck, we noticed a severe lack of sneezefics on the forum. Therefore, I decided to write one. Keep in mind that I have never written for this fandom before and I have to upload this on my tablet.

This story takes place before the events of the book/musical/movie.

The song in this part is "Point of No Return" from Phantom of the Opera.

Not much sneezing here, but enjoy!

~Nothing But A Man-- A Phantom of the Opera Fic~

Part One

Once again, Christine Daaé finds herself in the chorus.

Because of this, Erik sees no reason to attend the performance that night. After all, why should he listen to the voice of La Carlotta that has tortured his ears for five seasons running? Someday, he thinks, someday, Miss Daaé shall be the Prima Donna instead of that toad.

That day, however, is not today.

He sits in his lair, playing his organ with a fierce resolve. Every so often, he pauses to write a lyric or a bar of music in a leather-bound book labeled Don Juan Triumphant. Occasionally, the scratching of his quill pen is accompanied by yet another harsh sniff.

Every time it happens, he pauses, feeling a slight tickle rise in his nose and disappear just as quickly. He dismisses it as nothing important. "After all, it is not possible for me to get ill," he says out loud, as if trying to reassure himself. He sets down his book and resumes his playing, a slow, seductive melody dancing under his fingertips.

"You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge." There it is, the soreness in his throat that plagues him every time he sings. It had started late yesterday as he watched rehearsal and had gradually blossomed into a slight pain over the course of the day. He swallows hard, wincing.

Erik knows in the back of his mind that he is getting ill, but he refuses to admit it. After all, the Opera Ghost cannot have a head cold! He is omnipotent, strong, and

Suddenly, something catches in his throat and he begins to cough, his hands slipping away from the keys as he covers his mouth. He turns away from the organ as the coughing continues, his face growing red and sweaty under his pearly white mask.

Eventually, the fit stops, and Erik turns back to the organ. Unfortunately, as he begins to sing, experimenting with notes and melodies, he finds that the pain has grown steadily worse. As it becomes too much to bear, he pauses, choosing that moment to write some notes in his score.

The tickle returns, but this time it continues to rise, irritating his nose to the highest degree. The quill slips from his fingers as his hands slowly rise to his face. Erik sniffs deeply, trying to lose the itch, but it doesnt work. He inhales sharply, his head tilting backwards, "Hehhhh-" Slowly, his breath begins to hitch, and he knows what is about to come. "Etshoo!"

The sneeze is wet and breezy against his cupped hands. He recoils in disgust, wiping his hands on his cape. A few short coughs escape as he reaches for Don Juan Triumphant, quill pen at the ready. "Past the poidt of do returd," he mutters, writing the words on a fresh sheet of parchment.

He pauses. Wait a minute

"Past the poidt of do returd."

Oh dear.

Edited September 9, 2015 by luckyleprechaun

[MoonDuck]

YES. AWESOME. I AM SO GLAD YOU DECIDED TO WRITE THIS. I think it's really good! You wrote the Phantom really well and in character and all of his thoughts totally make sense and I need to know what happens next.

[meepsy]

Eee I love the Phantom of the Opera and I loved this fic!! I never thought about it before, but the phantom certainly is a fine subject to torture! (Always fall for those brooders ) I loved his congestion at the end, and how it impedes him. So good!!!!

[luckyleprechaun]

YES. AWESOME. I AM SO GLAD YOU DECIDED TO WRITE THIS. I think it's really good! You wrote the Phantom really well and in character and all of his thoughts totally make sense and I need to know what happens next.

Eee I love the Phantom of the Opera and I loved this fic!! I never thought about it before, but the phantom certainly is a fine subject to torture! (Always fall for those brooders ) I loved his congestion at the end, and how it impedes him. So good!!!!

Thank you guys so much! Another part will hopefully be up by the weekend after I write it.

[stifledsneezelover]

OH MY GOODNESS THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!! I absolutely ADORE Phantom of the Opera. There is most DEFINITELY a lacking of fanfics for it on this forum! Love the Phantom You made my whole day, thank you!!! please continue, you will be my favorite person ever if you do

[luckyleprechaun]

OH MY GOODNESS THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!! I absolutely ADORE Phantom of the Opera. There is most DEFINITELY a lacking of fanfics for it on this forum! Love the Phantom You made my whole day, thank you!!! please continue, you will be my favorite person ever if you do

Thank you so much!

Author's Note: This weekend... haha very funny, Lucky. This weekend turned into 16 days. However, it did give me a chance to write a good quality part and use the computer to post this time.

So much credit goes to my beta and friend SunDuck/MoonDuck. She helped me with sneeze spellings, stuffy talk, grammar things, and little technicalities that made the writing even better. Thank you!

So, without further ado...

Part 2

Erik groans in annoyance. The sudden onset of congestion startles him. How is he supposed to compose an opera if he cant speak properly?

"Now where is it?" he mutters, his eyes scanning the area around his organ. There should be a handkerchief lying around somewhere. He sniffles, not caring enough to bother looking for it, then redirects his attention back to his music.

A few hours pass, and Erik is still attempting to compose the opera in his house on the lake. While he can still sing, it still burns his throat, and the urge to cough never goes away. It doesn't stop him from trying to compose.

"No second thoughts, you've decided," he mutters, writing the words in his leather bound book.

A tickle once again blossoms in his nose. This time, thankfully, he is able to suppress a sneeze with a deep sniff and furious nose rubbing. He sighs in relief as his eyes finally land on the handkerchief. He bends down to pick it up, his joints aching with the effort. Being sick is starting to take a toll on him.

"No, its ndot!" he argues to himself indignantly. "I amb ndot ill!" His stuffy voice simply further infuriates him. "I just ndeed to blow by ndose, that's all," he grumbles, swiping the handkerchief with his right hand.

Erik slowly raises a shaky hand before he blows his nose. His fingers grasp the edge of his bright white mask and carefully remove it. Although this is a rare occurrence, he hates having to do this. The idea of removing his mask is painful for him. It reminds him of his days as "The Devil's Child" in the gypsy camp, when the removal of his mask meant that he was about to be whipped. He can almost hear the screams now

Erik sets the mask down slowly. With a deep breath, he raises the handkerchief to his nose, blowing carefully. He exhales slowly, the tension leaving as he puts the mask back on.

Nightmares from the camp continue to plague his thoughts, but he pushes them aside. Music, he thinks. You are composing music, Erik. Do not dwell on the past.

He plays the opening chords to Point of No Return just as a ferocious tickle bursts out of nowhere. Undeterred, Erik continues to play smoothly, his fingers sliding across the keys with inherent precision. "You have come here," he sings, the notes still stinging his throat, barely coming out clearly. "In pursuit of your deepest ur-ehh-" His breath begins to hitch, but he lifts his left hand from the keys and presses it against the underside of his nose, hoping to suppress the persistent itch.His right hand continues to play the haunting melody all the while.

At last, the irritation creeping through his nose recedes, and his hand returns to the keys. "Past the point of no-" This time, the tickle sneaks up without warning. "HihhKCHHh!" Erik turns his head to the side at the last second, just as he sneezes, sending the spray over his shoulder and away from the organ keys. He grabs his handkerchief and wipes his nose, sniffling thickly before he tilts his head back again, mouth agape, eyes fluttering. "Eh-htshHMPH! HehhSCHHuh!" He sneezes twice more, pressing the handkerchief tightly over his nose.

Erik groans. For a second, he pauses, anticipating another sneeze. Eventually, the itch fades, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief. He places the handkerchief next to him, just in case. "Why mbust I take such precautionds? I amb fi-" His voice catches in his throat and he breaks off, coughing suddenly and just managing to pick his handkerchief back up in time to catch it.

The soreness of his throat prevents him from shouting in annoyance at his stuffy voice. He swipes his nose angrily once more before setting it down for the last time. Erik's hands return to the organ as he begins to sing, "Past the point of no return." He feels like his voice has lost some of its stuffiness, thankfully, but his voice comes out weak and raspy, to his surprise.

He stops, pondering this new development with rising anger and confusion. He clears his throat, wincing as a fresh wave of pain washes over him. Erik breathes slowly and opens his mouth to test his voice, but all that comes out is a string of coughs. His body shakes, hunched over to the side, as the coughs continue

When they finally stop, he turns back to the organ, his fingers finding their rightful place on the keys. The melody gracefully unfolds under his fingertips, but when he opens his mouth to sing, nothing comes out. He clears his throat and tries again, but he ends up with the same results.

Suddenly, his breath begins to hitch. He turns to the side just as he sneezes a harsh "HahETCHhh!" He sniffles miserably, taking off his mask and reaching for the handkerchief. Each sneeze tears through his throat, making him dread the next to come. "EHsh! IAHhSCHHuh!" The forceful sneeze sounds muffled in the folds of the fabric. Erik blows his nose and groans, a barely audible sound.

Erik reluctantly decides that he cant carry on in this state. If he can't sing, he can't make progress on Don Juan. Sighing deeply, he slowly stands up, his aching muscles protesting at the movement. He sways a little but manages to remain upright. He slowly shuffles to the boat that is waiting at the side of the lake, his cape dragging through the shallow water surrounding it. He picks up the pole and propels the boat across the water.

Eventually, Erik makes it to his bed. Hoping to rid himself of the chill, he removes his wet cape and puts it aside. However, he now finds that the air is a bit too warm instead. Must everything be a challenge?

He carefully climbs into bed, his head throbbing and his body aching. He gives a few weak coughs as he tries to get comfortable. Hopefully, Ill be better in the morning, he thinks. My voice will be back, and I won't have this wretched cold.

He sneezes one last, weak "HuhCHHt!", his tired body protesting at the forceful motion. He sighs, giving a thick sniffle before settling down and drifting off to sleep.

Edited September 25, 2015 by luckyleprechaun

[stifledsneezelover]

Absolutely incredible!!! I'm obsessed with this. Keep up the amazing work!!!

[meepsy]

Ahhh yee an update!!! I love how much time you spend on how his voice is wrecked and he can't work because he can't sing. Really just a superb subject choice for torturing, and you are doing a wonderful job with it so far! I love the sneeze spellings too! Awesome writing -- can't wait for more!