Damn! I miss writing POTO fanfics. Haha! I've been quite busy this week, having review classes and all that. This is a really random thought, inspired by a scene I watched from a movie long ago. Haha! Hope you liked it :D And dont forget to give me awesome reviews and constructive criticism!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING. I OWN ERIK THOUGH. Nah, I dont. :( Booo.

"Damn you!" He howled, roughly pushing the fragile woman down as his anger rose at her despicable actions. For once in his life, he let his guard down. Never had he let his walls weaken around anyone, his loathing for the entire human race was so evident, he did not trust any single soul. Except for two people. The one who had save his life, Madame Giry. Second, this juvenile, this girl looking up to him, tears falling down her beautiful face, unable to decipher such violence he is making her see. But he wholeheartedly trusts these people, that whenever he is with them, he drops all his defenses, not a doubt in his mind that these people would betray him. Never were they a threat to his weakness because they are his weaknesses. But why would she do such a thing? Why would she do something he did not like at all?

"You little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see?" He removed his right hand from his distorted face, wanting her to loathe him, to turn away from this demon, to see his true nature. Scowling, he turned away from her, not wanting to see her eyes. Not wanting to see her disgusted face, it will only haunt him in his dreams if ever he even glanced upon her reaction. He pushed aside the candelabra, the fire flickering as it hit the ground and was put out.

Their ragged breathes lingered throughout the phantom's lair, like two strands of melody at last entwined. He heard the rustle of her dress, and he closed his eyes, this was the end, she would leave him. Forever. But he knows, this fantasy could not continue any longer.

"This haunted face, holds no horror for me." She softly assured him, slowly approaching the tall figure, who had known nothing but black despair in his whole life.

"You insolent woman, I don't need any of your pity." He harshly hissed, startling her, she had suddenly felt guilty, why had she taken off his mask? She was just intrigued by it, always wanting to know the reason behind everything. But, every action of her comes with a price. And she might have just ruined their relationship. She could not afford to lose him. No. Not her angel. Anything, anyone but him!

"Erik…"

"Get out!" He roared, dashing towards her, and gripped her wrists tightly, making her look at him, those eyes were full of anger, such furiousness that she trembled against his vehemence.

"This is the last time you'll see this curse. Flee!" He gritted his teeth. He did not want this. But dismissing her would be much easier than it would be of the thought of her leaving him alone. He released her and with sorrow in his eyes, looked at the retreating figure he had loved since the very beginning. She ran as fast as she could, never daring to look back, because his temper frightened her so much, she could not handle it. She did not want to linger on the thought that he was outraged because of her actions; her conscience would not take it.

The mask... Which conceals his weakness... Why had she removed the only thing that keeps him guarded? Why had she betrayed his trust? She had not intended to cause him pain for she just wanted to know more of the man beneath the mask. She felt as though his mask was a barrier, a barrier that kept her from truly knowing who her teacher really was.. She wanted to see his face, it feels as if she is not trustworthy until he shows his face, and it really makes her insecure and vulnerable. So much that she decides she should rip his mask off. But, that was a very immature and dumb thing to do, it's like she snatched his only life away from him, his only protection from the cruel world.

Guilt protruded her mind, permitting the fresh memories to loiter inside her head. Too much sin she caused in just one action. She felt like a criminal, seeing something so distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face. She could not look away from such a hideous sight, now she truly knows why he always wears that mask. The horrifying sight did not leave her mind, it lingered until frightened tears fell down her face, her body shaking. So full of scars she could not have even imagine any man can possess, those grotesque bumps bulging slightly on his red skin, his right eye slightly drooped and no eyebrows were visible. And his hair, it was all false. It was just a black wig, hiding his few strands of hair that he was certainly ashamed of. She was breathing loudly, and closed her eyes, longing for something, but could not quite grasp what she wanted to do.

True, she was absolutely bewildered by his imperfection, his fallibility. Yet, her love, her pathetic love for him that's quite unrequited, made her see that the man, the so-called monster that stood before her just mere moments ago, was just a normal being just like her. A man who had nothing to wish and hope but be accepted for his self more than anything else. A man who wants compassion and understanding, who longs so much for love, and she is willing to give it to him without him asking. He was everything everybody wasn't. He was her angel. Angel of Music.

An apology, she had not given him any. Her conscience tells her to go back, but she dreads that he might repudiate her. She would not want him to be driving her away; she might as well stay where she is. He is broken in pieces by what she did. And nothing can change that, not even a pathetic, woeful apology from her. She ran off, and that's what he expected, like any other people he encountered, she should not have though, she did not want to. His voice is so powerful that it can manipulate anyone. But it is gentle at the same time, that it can lull anyone to sleep forever.

She looked at the mirror; her beautiful face would have made all men bow down before her. Her beauty is a sin. She did not like the fact that she was gifted with such beauty while her mentor is given with such hideousness. Her tears fell once again, unable to comprehend why fate is to be cruel to her angel. And she could not even prove to him that she was not scared, and his face didn't make her love fade away for him. She just ran, but fear of his temper rather than his face. He might take her actions the wrong way, and that is the thing she would have been avoiding. She wants for him to see he is worthy than any other person she had encountered. He was her most beloved mortal, angel, mentor and father figure.

She grabbed the small mirror lying on her desk, and smashed it into pieces.

Smashing of everything he could reach, grunts and sounds of frustration were to be heard throughout the catacombs of darkness, Clatters of things thrown around would frighten anyone who would dare to even come down there.

"Maestro!"

He stopped and inhaled as much as he can, savoring that sweet voice that always sang for him. Had he already gone mad that he started to hallucinate and hear that angelic voice calling out to him?

"Angel?" Her voice faltered. He turned around, expecting no one to be there but there she was, standing like an angel, calling out to him despite what he had done. He drank the sight in front of him from her legs, curves, breasts and finally her beautiful face. He could not trace every single thing about her but as she drew nearer, his eyes widened at the sight bestowed upon him.

"Good lord, Christine, what the devil happened to you?" He treaded towards her, taking her fragile, innocent face into his large gloved hands. His trembling hand against her skin was evidence that he could not comprehend what and why had something like this happened. Surely, she did not do this to herself? Why would she even do such a senseless thing? He gasped as he carefully studied her face. Fresh blood was trickling down the right side of her face; her perfect face has been flawed by rough cuts, her porcelain flesh opened, eyes were red and puffy from crying. He was staring at her eyes, looking for an answer.

"I wanted to share your sorrow, I cannot bear that you think of yourself so harshly. It hurts, angel." Tears ran down her face, making her cringe as the salty liquids came in contact with her wounds. It stung. She did something that she had not even thought she was capable of doing. But love makes you do foolish things.

"You injudicious, reckless little girl." He lightly brushed her wounds, his gloves coming in contact with her imperfection making her whimper from the action, it was painful, and his pain was even greater than of hers. She had everything! Beautiful face, voice and soul! Why did she even think to ruin such perfection? Such innocence? What is she even thinking? He wants to yell at her, for wasting such innocence, yet he cannot even bring his self to do so.

"Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of like have you known? God gave me courage to show you, you are not alone." She smiled gently at him, despite the aching injury on her face. He pulled her into his arms, her face on his chest, drenching his black coat with her blood, not wanting to let go. Sobs were suddenly heard from his lips.

"Erik, why do you weep?" She asked faintly.

"Because your actions will be the death of me, little angel. Now, I will carry this burden of having you do this to yourself…"

"I am sorry for running away, it wasn't because of what I saw but be-..."

"Hush, child." He brought his finger to her lips, silencing her. And traced down her chin, gently lifting her chin up, so that their eyes met. Slowly, he leaned down and he brought his lips upon her perfect ones, savoring the taste of it, so sweet, so sinful, and so pleasurable. Her blood was colliding with his mask, ruby blood staining his white, porcelain mask. But he did not care, because his Christine, will eternally be bonded with him with this curse that they now share. His curse.

Their curse.

But in his eyes, she would always be perfect.