Hello, everyone! While I have written a few small stories, this is my very first novel-like story so please be open-minded. While the story is has a romance genre, the plot is still strong and I hope it meets your wishes. Thank you to everyone who supports me on this journey. Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters in it. You can thank Gaston Leroux for that.

Warmth.

When she was broken, she was whole. When she was whole, she was broken.

It was a little seesaw that Christine seemed to teeter from time to time. Whenever she was sad, her father would be there to comfort her and make her feel all better. Usually when things started going great, everything went wrong again but her father would be there for her again and again as he swore he would be.

But she wasn't whole anymore.

Her father wasn't there to comfort her; he wouldn't be there to make her whole again. And of course, this all had to fall apart when her life was getting better. It had been almost together. Normal.

There had been that stupid, stupid almost.

Maybe it was the deniability that supposedly comes after you lose someone or maybe it was the fact that she had never felt so completely and utterly lost before, but she felt she had finally lost the will to not just live, but to be alive. After losing her mother, being fired from so many tedious jobs, dealing with her depression and anxiety that decided to haunt her frequently whenever it pleased, numerous trips to the hospital for her mother, and now… his death.

His death.

Death.

Dead…

He was dead.

Her hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. It was the finale. After every great crescendo, it had been leading up to this moment. God seemed to like to tease her. Make her think the worse had already come.

But she could think of nothing worse than the fact that everyone she had ever known and loved was now dead. Every single person she had ever met, smiled at, spoke with, or loved would never be in her sight again.

And she couldn't help but feel that seesaw of whole-brokenness falling apart as the broken began to take over.

Three years later.

"Christine."

She hurried to the kitchen and pulled the kettle of the stove quickly before the screams of the kettle made their ears fall off. She knew there was a different kind of kettle that would whistle in a lower tone, but the woman who owned the house seemed rather reluctant to buy any new gadgets of this "disappointing new teenage consumed era".

"Christine."

So they kept it. Not if they had enough money anyway. They were lucky to have a working microwave. With Ms. Valerius's halftime job as a nurse at the Saint Agnes Hospital and Christine's constant failing attempts to get apparently any job, they were only able to do so much. If only Christine hadn't dropped out of college. If only she hadn't gotten depressed which led to her dropping-out. If only her father hadn't passed away, then none of this would be happening. None of it at all. And they would have the new kettle.

"Christine!"

Christine spun around, her brown hair tangling in her vision. "What? What?"

Ms. Valerius sighed. "I thought I was the one with bad hearing." Christine scoffed. "Never mind. I was asking if you would mind to give me the lavender tea this time."

She ignored the condescending tone. "Oh. Yeah…any honey?"

"Yes, please." Christine reached over and poured honey into both of their cups. She, on the other hand, preferred the sleepy time tea. Even if it was 6:00 AM. It helped relax her muscles.

"You know, Christine, sleepy time tea doesn't get you ready for the day. It would do you good to drink some coffee."

She frowned. "It's not as good for you as tea is. It has a lot of caffeine and sugar. I thought you'd be more aware being a nurse and all."

"All in moderation. A little coffee a day wouldn't hurt. And black coffee doesn't have any calories. Could you hang me the newspaper, dear?"

"Diet coke doesn't have any calories either but it still destroys the liver." She spoke as she handed her the paper. It was at least a week old, but the newspaper has been postponed due to their inability to pay. But she still played along. "Any good news?"

The woman glanced around the page for a few seconds then muttered. "Nope… just a bunch of politics and sports."

"Oh. Well, maybe tomorrow." She handed Ms. Valerius the tea she requested.

"Seems like every day gets duller and duller. Maybe it's an older thing."

Christine hummed. "Okay, I'm on my way to my job interview. Wish me luck."

"You'll do fine, sweetie."

"Thanks." Christine pulled on her purse and slipped out the door. "Bye. Have a nice day at work."

"Oh, you too dear." And then she was gone.

Christine hated job interviews.

She had recently been fired from her job of working at Barnes & Nobles. She hadn't been doing a good enough job at organizing the books and she kept constantly reading them in her free time without paying. She thought she would have gotten a little more freedom in the book store since she worked there but apparently not. Now she was on her way to work at Baskin Robins; an ice cream shop. It wasn't exciting at all but it beat putting books in shelves. It was also all she could get. For the past six to seven years, she had been struggling with getting a job. She had been in taking a music major in college but that didn't work out so well.

She shuddered off all melancholy feelings. Looking up at the dreary sky, she saw it was overcast; her favorite kind of weather. Maybe it was a sign. She needed to make a good first impression. Her hair was wrapped neatly in a ponytail and she hoped they would tell that she did that knowing to be more sanitary. She wanted to seem like she knew what she was doing. Even if she herself didn't have a clue.

After walking the short distance the ice cream shop was from her house, she went to open the doors to the ice cream shop but they wouldn't budge. She took a look at their hours and saw they opened at 7:00. She glanced at her watch which was eight minutes slow. 6:33. She banged her fist on the door. They had told her to be there at 6:45. She banged on the doors again. "Hello! Is someone in there? Hello!"

A worried face appeared at the see-through door and Christine jumped. The mouth of the worker appeared to be saying "We're closed!"

Christine shook her head. "I'm here for the job! The job!" She practically yelled. Great first impression. The worked slowly opened the clear doors and snuck her head out.

"Are you Christine?"

"Yes and I was-"

"He said you'd come! Great! Come right in." Christine was met with a blast of coolness in the face as the doors were opened wider. She had always loved going there with her father and the smell of the ice cream triggered sad nostalgia. She faked a big smile on her face.

"Sorry about that. I have the worst memory, could you believe that? Follow me." The worker gestured with her hands and went around the side to let Christine in through the side door. As a little girl, Christine had always wondered what it would be like to go in the back. As she entered the dim-lit room, she felt a wave of nervousness yet excitement hit her. She felt as if she had just got a job at Disneyland and was going into one of the rooms that controlled the rollercoasters. Not that she had ever gone to Disneyland.

"Right through here." The chirpy worker directed. She had wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was quite pretty. Her smiling was also reassuring. Christine made her way through into the room and saw a man sitting at a desk. It all looked thrown together as if they had just got the news and put it all together quickly. There were ice creams stains all throughout the room from Cotton Candy to Blue Raspberry to Cherry Blast. The desk had only one paper on it and the man behind the desk seemed stressed out.

He stood up to meet her, holding out his hand.

Christine reached out and shook it. "Nice to meet you Mister…"

"Just call me Joe. Pleasure is all mine. Please. Sit."

She sat down at the chair on the other side of the desk and glanced at the blonde worker.

"You can go, Meg." Joe spoke and Meg scurried away. Christine gulped as he opened up her resume. "So, Christine… Dah-ee?"

"Daae."

"Heh. Okay then." He grinned and she felt herself warm up to him. After talking to him for a few minutes about her high qualities and how she could help them out, he stood up. "Congratulations. You've just got yourself a job at Baskin Robins." He pantomimed a microphone and held it up to her face. "How do you feel?"

"Ecstatic! Thank you so much!" She wanted to hug him.

"Heh. Never had someone so psyched to get a job at an ice cream shop. Now go find Meg and ask her how to work the machines. You'll get the hang of it. You seem like a fast learner. Can't say the same for Meg."

"Thank you. Again." She blushed and went out to go find Meg. The blonde was currently talking to a family of five.

"Excuse me, Miss, but my son here ordered a rainbow sherbet ice cream in a cup, but you put it in a cone." The father explained, obviously upset. She watched Meg as she took the cone from the man's hands, grabbed a cup, then threw the ice cream into it.

She handed it back to him and gave him a smile. "Here." She said through her teeth.

"Thanks." The man said and he and his family left. Meg turned to her and huffed.

"People." She shrugged and Christine cleared her throat.

"Can you help me with learning how to use the machines and stuff?" Silence. She continued. "Uh, he told me to ask you. To show me." More silence. "So… could you show me?"

Meg seemed in though and she swerved her mouth to the side. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I could. First you need to put your hair in a net though."

Christine groaned. So much for her first impressions. She didn't even know how she had gotten the job. They must have been low on employees. Meg paid no heed to Christine's sudden mood change. "Pay attention." After showing Christine the basics of how to use the blenders and such, she then explained how to use the toppings like chocolate or caramel.

"Now if someone asks for nuts, make sure they specify. We have almonds, peanuts, and other stuff I can't remember. Then there is rainbow sprinkles or chocolate. They taste the same but costumers like decoration. We also got two types of cherries. Seed and no seed. Gotta specify everything."

"This is... alot to remember."

Meg snorted again. "Yeah. But you'll get used to it." She then explained how to talk to costumers and how to serve them. Soon enough, a young couple came in and walked up to the counter.

"I think you've got this one, Chris." Christine felt weird at her the nickname but nonetheless still put on a huge smile as she approached the costumer.

There was something incredibly unnerving about the whole thing.

He had been waiting for almost four minutes, the lateness highly uncharacteristic for his partner. He tapped his fingers on the table in a repetitive motion. It had been going on for months, months and months but nothing had happened. Nothing. It was starting to get the best of him. Everything seemed to be a ticking bomb, waiting for the right movement so it could explode. Nadir stood still.

"My apologies would only worsen your inconvenience."

His head snapped upwards and his shoulders sagged in disappointment. "I don't need your sympathy, Nathaniel."

"I wasn't offering any, though it does seem like you need some." Nathaniel whisked into the kitchen. There was no denying it, Nadir and Nathaniel were quite good friends, but they got on each other's nerves sometimes. Nadir was more soft-spoken and patient, but Nathaniel was more fast-paced, usual getting the job done quicker. But, they were an average team. When it was time to get serious, they got serious.

Nathaniel had short, messy brown hair and his skin was a soft white. He had a prominent jawline and cheek bones, and a distinguishing nose. His eyes were a dark brown. He had good looks and used to be very charming. Nathaniel used to bring home a new girl every night, but that was before the accident. Now he was falling apart. Nadir sighed. "Have you… gotten any information?"

Nathaniel scoffed while pulling a Bud Light from the fridge. "What do you think?"

He didn't respond. He knew what the answer was. It was the same disappointing noun that kept echoing in his mind.

"What else could we be possibly doing?" Nathaniel continued.

"I don't know… but we can't leave this area. It has the highest income and we have got to figure out why." Nadir picked up the newspaper. "Is this todays?"

"I don't know. I think Claude got it. You can ask him."

Nadir saved the trouble and just looked at the date. March 26. Today. He flipped through some of the pages, a lot of them going over the most recent deaths. His heart would have dropped if it had been the first or maybe even fifth time he read it, but now he had lost count. Hundreds and hundreds of people every day… then something caught his eye.

"Hey, take a look at this."

Nathaniel came over and Nadir squinted as he read aloud the small words.

Hospital makes new donation solely through music at the Mercedes Edwards Theatre.

Intrigued, he read on. There had been a short article written by a Ned something. After the horror of death has taken 221 people this month due to the same unknown illness, the Saint Agnes Hospital has decided to try a different tactic. The Changy's have decided to have concerts in its honor in order to raise money. They will be having bands audition for them March 31. Any money the concerts make will be going directly to the hospital. To audition or for more information, call 1-800-METBAND.

Nathaniel, who had read it over Nadir's shoulder, groaned. "Now they are just getting more people involved. The less people the better. Now we will have to deal with annoying-"

"No. You know what this means?" Nadir felt his heart clench in pain. "More people going here means more people drinking the water which means more people dying." There was silence for a while.

"They… invite people to stop the illness… in the place where the risk is most high. The travesty of it all is almost laughable."

Nadir didn't feel like laughing. He stood up. "I have to tell him."

Only, no one had noticed the shadow already hidden in the room. He stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed. "I heard everything." His voice resonated throughout the room causing Nadir's head to shoot up. The room was already partly dark and he could only make out his silhouette and eyes.

"What are… what are we to do?" his heart thundered in his chest.

Nathaniel joined in. "Maybe we… we could… try to explain to the police again?" he then quickly added, "But this time the full extent or find a health inspector and explain-"

"No, no. We will not do that. All that will do is waste time we don't have." The voice was almost annoyed. "The government is already well aware of it all and is trying to keep hush about it to not cause any panic. Us going and making a big scene about it will just disrupt their precious peace."

Nadir ran his fingers through his hair. "What do you propose we do?"

"Nothing. Continue dealing with it as we have been."

"We can't just do nothing." Nathaniel said, upset he had been shot down. "More and more people will be dying because of this. We need to put a stop to the concerts. What about the people who chose to drink from the water fountains?"

"There's nothing we can do. We will return to what we were doing."

"But nothing was happening!"

"Then we will continue to do nothing for the time being."

"But we can't just sit and watch-" but he was already gone. Nathaniel sighed went over to one of the cupboards, grabbing a glass, then slammed it on the table. Nadir was surprised it didn't shatter. "Everything he says goes. Even if he's wrong."

"How do you know he's wrong?" Nadir challenged. "What else could we seriously do?"

Nathaniel poured himself the Bud Light into the glass, making Nadir's eyes water from the smell. "I'm going to talk to the police."

"No. Don't do that. That will… that will just make the situation worse."

"Even more people are going to be dying… and there's nothing we can do. Nothing." There was that sickening noun again.

Before Nadir could respond to him, they heard a slight call from upstairs. If you weren't paying attention, you wouldn't have heard it, but Nathaniel and Nadir knew better as they both exchanged glances and made their way upstairs. They entered one of the bedrooms where a single candle was light.

"One or two?" Nadir spoke rapidly, his words tangled up.

"Two." The soft voice replied. Nadir and Nathaniel both visibly relaxed, letting out huge amounts of air. "I heard arguing down."

"Oh… oh," Nathaniel spoke, "Claude, it's nothing." He scratched his forehead. "Just talking about the whole… uh, situation."

"I heard. Um… what are we, uh, going to gonna do about the, um, con….con..."

Nadir paled. "Concert?"

"Yes. Con-cert. What are you guys gonna do about it?"

"We don't know yet." Nathaniel sat down next to Claude. "How are your legs feeling?"

"Better. I can walk better. I think. What about the concert?" he repeated.

"We'll figure something out. Don't worry. I can't believe you heard us from all the way up here." Nadir faked a grin.

"If only… my legs were as better as my ears. Right?"

"Right." Nathaniel smiled. Even though the joke was morbid, it was a sign his brain was able to register more things as a joke. "But you're getting there."

Claude nodded. "Take a look at the paper again. Maybe some good news?"

Nadir scanned the paper. "Nope. Just politics and sports."

"Oh… well, maybe next time?"

Nadir shook his head. Maybe tomorrow. Then maybe the next day. Maybe the next week. Next month. Seconds to minutes to hours to days to weeks to months to years. It was always maybe next time.

But deep down he knew that next time was all that they had.