This takes place right after Christine removes his mask at the alcove, mostly from her POV.
She lay on the floor, watching as he thrashed about the alcove, ripping curtains and growling at his own reflection, though the words were clearly meant for her. She had removed his mask while he was playing the piano, and in retrospect, it wasn't a great idea. He had trusted her, didn't think she would betray him like this, but she did. Yes, she didn't see it as a betrayal, but the important thing is he did. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her, and she revealed his face, the one he had worked so hard to hide from people. The piece of white porcelain he had used as a shield for so many years, still lay clutched in her hands, her knuckles now almost as white as she gripped it.
He now sat on the steps at her feet, his right hand still clutching his face and keeping it from her view. But she had already seen it; in the fleeting moment it took him to realize that she had removed his mask, and in the numerous mirrors he had been glaring at for the past few moments, as his angry rant continued. She was surprised that with all of this commotion, no one had come running into the alcove by now, but she guessed that he had taken his precautions to make sure that no sound ever leaves the stone walls. After all, he always plays his piano and composes music, and no one had ever even heard a note.
She snapped out of her own thoughts when she saw how his shoulders slumped, he always struck fear in the hearts of those who had the chance of meeting him before, due to his posture. The way he carried himself, made him look taller than he really was. But now, she found none of that fear-striking posture, nor did she find the confident and talented music Angel before her. All she saw was a broken man, a man who had been walking around with a heavy burden for years, and she was the one who finally broke him. It broke her heart to know that the sense of defeat and surrender he was showing her was her doing. That was not what she meant.
She moved slowly, the white mask still in her hand, and she kneeled next to him. His previously closed eyes flew open, when he felt her hand on his shoulder, as she steadied herself in front of him. His grey-blue eyes met her chocolate ones, and he couldn't believe the lack of fear in them.
"This haunted face" she sang, "holds no horror for me now" she continued, his eyes widening in surprise, and his lips parting, the lower one trembling as he drew in shaky breaths.
"It's in a soul" her voice was the soothing remedy he needed, her hand pressing against his chest, over his heart, "that the true distortion lies" she finished, her eyes holding his terrified ones steady, begging him to believe that she truly wasn't afraid of him.
"It takes more than just a scar to scare me" she informed him, and he was still too stunned to talk, "I do not care about what you look like, I've met many horrible people in my life who had the face of an angel" she soothed, smiling sadly when she saw the disbelief in his eyes.
He finally broke their gaze, and looked down at the hand she had resting on his knee to steady herself, the porcelain mask still safely secured in her hand, and she made no move to stop him when he reached for it. He turned away from her to put it back on, and he heard her sigh in both sadness and frustration.
Once the mask was back on, it seemed the persona granda he had returned as well. He turned back to her, the defeat and fear from mere seconds ago had completely vanished, replaced by the cold, hard stare he normally has. Even the hint of love she thought she saw before she ripped the mask was gone as well, though she supposed that was her fault. He thinks that she took advantage of his vulnerability, and betrayed him. And in a way she did, but not so that she could hurt him like he must believe, but so that she could get to know the man behind the mask.
He offered her his hand to help her up, "you must return" he said coldly, and her hand froze midway to his.
"I beg your pardon?" she whispered in shock.
"Those two idiots who run my theatre will be looking for you" he answered evenly, moving his hand the rest of the way to hers and taking it into his.
The way back to her room was spent in total and utter silence, with her trying to find any landmarks that might help her reach the alcove again on her own. She needed to show him that she won't run and hide just because she caught glimpses of his distorted flesh.
When the finally reached the mirror, he signaled for her to walk through, and without even a single syllable, he shut it behind her. She looked at the mirror sadly, not bothering to hide the hurt from her features, knowing very well that he was still standing behind the mirror, or at least she hoped he is.
"Good Night my Angel" she whispered brokenly, her hand pressed slightly against the mirror, before she left the room and headed for the room she shared with the rest of the ballerina girls.
Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors, I will re-read it tomorrow.
Whether I continue or not is up to all of you, if you like it let me know and I shall continue, if not I will take it down. Thank you.
You know what makes me happy, so keep'em coming :)