Skipping into my best friend's house, my peach ballet shoes soft thuds on the cold, slick stone floor, I carefully stepped over misplaced clothes and scattered music score sheets that littered the floor, the yellow tinged parchment crackling when I step on one trying to maneuver though the mess.

Glancing about, my brown eyes shining dully in the low light of the few lit candles, almost puddles of scarlet wax now, I do not see the fourteen year old troublemaker anywhere, no signs of him in the entire cave. But what really struck me as odd was the lack of music, no singing or piano tunes filled the musty air, no shrill masterpieces being sung on the violin.

"Erik?" I called nervously, taking a large step away from the underground lake, afraid he would jump out of a shadowy corner like he always does, trying to scare me and I would fall in and he would have to rescue me… again. "Erik, are you here?"

I called out again, only to be met with an echo of my own quiet voice , no answer. Quickly I walked back into his bedroom, my hair floating out around my shoulders, straight as corn silk, a simple bed and wardrobe made of fine, furnished mahogany wood were the only pieces of furniture, and looking around I saw a thick paper envelope lying on the pillow, a skull made out of red wax to hold it closed.

Sighing, I picked it up and flipped it over to be met with my name written in red ink on the backside, Clara. With a smile, I opened it up and two things fell out, the letter, written in the same red ink, and a black ribbon of silk, cool and smooth to the touch. Tying my white blonde tresses up out of my face with the scrap of silk, I began to read the letter, eager to see when he would return, for he always left the letters here with the time of when he would return form wherever he disappears of to.

But, as my eyes traveled down the hastily written article, my smile faded and my vision blurred slightly, turning fuzzy around the edges. I felt the treat of tears ready to spill out of my wide eyes, and I read the letter over and over in my mind until it was seared in my memory and could recite it line for line.

Dear Clara,

Please forgive me, for I have finally made the decision to leave the Opera House. Do not fear, for someday I will return, as I know you and Madame Giry will be missing me if I am gone too long. The reason for my sudden departure is that, I care for you Clara, like a little sister and I want to repay you for the friendship you gifted me for the last year we have been together.

You are the only one who has seen what lies behind the mask, and not drawn back in fear, and for that I am eternally in your debt. Please await my return, as I will wait for the day when I am to see your yummy chocolate eyes again. I will miss you Angel.

Love,

Angel

Letting the tears flow freely down my face, I collapsed on his bed, it smelled of candlewax and ink, his own smell, and sob into my arms, my whole body shaking.

"Erik… my Erik…" I stammered through my tears, waiting for his comforting hands which I knew I would not find.

Composing my flushed and tearstained face, I grabbed the letter and fixed my hair, still tied in the ribbon, and ran out of the cavern and up the nearest staircase, almost tripping over my ribbons from my shoes, tears leaking out again, wanting to find Madame Giry and tell her what happened.

I had lost the only friend I had ever had in my short ten years of living; he was the only light I had in a somber past.

Yes, he was seven years older than me, and yes he was a boy, but he understood me better than anybody I have ever known. Yes, I only met him a year ago when I joined the Corpse de Ballet when I was six, a little trainee, and he saved my life, a story held only by the two of us. And yes, he had a less than fetching face, but I don't care, I love him like a brother, and he loves me like a sister.

After that day, I was fresh out of tears, never crying for him again. I never thought I would see him again, but somewhere deep down in the catacombs of my heart I dreamed he would return, just as he promised. I wore that ribbon every day, the black one that was in the envelope; I tied up my hair at every rehearsal and wore it around my wrist at every performance, bringing me luck.

But I also knew that even in my soul that I would never truly forgive him for this, my Erik. My Angel of Music.