So, chapter 2. Yay. Hopefully this chapter kind of hints towards the plot of the story. If it doesn't, the next chapter will make it clear :) thanks for reading! Please review!


He waited until the next night to speak to her again. He had contemplated going up to her while she was preparing for the show, but he had decided against it. Even though he could not see her, he could definitely hear her. He could hear every thing that was going on in his theatre.

She sang beautifully, and as he waited for her behind the mirror again, he replayed the previous night's events over in his head. Would she still be afraid of him? Well, that was a given, of course she would, who wouldn't? He had been thinking about it all day, over analysing every move she made and every gasp she took, everything he could remember.

He looked up when the door opened and he smiled involuntarily, momentarily forgetting what had put him in such a bad mood. She was singing under her breath, something she seemed to do a lot, and the grin on her face made him feel unadulteratedly happy. She proceeded to sit down on the chair in front of her vanity and take out the pins from her hair. He smiled as he realised that she must have a very precise method to return to her normal self after a performance, and with a deep breath he opened his mouth to speak to her.

The door opened then, just when he was about to vocalise his presence. It was that blasted boy again, grinning happily, just like the night before. He was talking to her about the scarf again, and he started glaring at the boy when he heard her giggle, just like she had the night before.

The boy but his hands on her shoulders and he nearly shouted. Once again, the boy had asked her to go out with him. Seriously, could he not take a hint? She had said no last night, one day would not change her mind. He smirked when she declined yet again. But then the boy just went out of the room to get his hat again, and he assumed the boy would be back soon if he didn't interfere.

And so, he spoke to her.


He had expected her to be at least a little afraid of him, but she seemed perfectly normal. She was looking at him just as curiously as she had the night before, still letting him touch her and speak to her without running away and screaming for help. Not that he wanted her to be scared of him, he had just been preparing himself for her inevitable caution and revulsion. But instead of looking at him as though he was a disgusting creature, she looked innocently up at him, as though he had all the answers in the world.

He didn't let it bother him. He should be thanking her, praising her for not stopping their sessions. She must obviously be amazingly brave and strong to be able to overlook the obvious problem of his face. He had known she was unimaginably kind, but he had not expected her to be completely fine with his face.

He felt nervous every time he looked at her, as though, by just seeing the mask, the memories of the previous night would come rushing back and she would run and hide from him again. But with every glance, she seemed to follow him even more obediently; he thinks she may have even smiled at him once.


Just like the night before, she did her regular vocal warm ups. It was going great until she fainted again. Luckily, he caught her just in time and laid her down in the boat. He immediately became concerned as he looked at her. Her face was pale and cool, yet that didn't take away from the utter beauty that she bestowed. Her long hair begged for his touch, and he had to move away from her to resist it.

He thought concernedly about why she could have fainted again. Still, it was only her second real performance as the prima donna, so she may have worn herself out yet again. But surely all this fainting wasn't good for her health. He wondered whether she fainted when she was at home or in rehearsals, anywhere that he couldn't access easily. The latter he could help with, but he couldn't tend to her at home, couldn't make sure she was unharmed.

He noticed his organ and, with a glance at the unconscious girl, he moved to the instrument. He was currently writing his newest piece, Don Juan Triumphant. He was writing the character of Aminta specifically for his angel, and he could not wait until she would be able to sing it for him. Although, it was a piece of art, so he could not rush it, not matter how much he wanted her to sing his own music in the present.

He added a few new lines to his work, scribbling onto the parchment. He was in the middle of one of Aminta's lines when his world seemed to brighten. The candles all around him seemed more severe and intense, and he felt a distinct coolness on the usually flustered side of his face. Instinctively, he turned to look to his side, finding his angel there, grasping his mask in her delicate fingers and staring at him with a look of pure horror.

His hands immediately flew to his face, and he let out a cry of shock. Surely she should have known better than to repeat last night's events. Had she forgotten what he looked like? Impossible. And, even even if she had forgotten the sight, nothing could make her forget the utter fear she had felt, and that should have persuaded her to never relive the ordeal.

She stumbled back, clutching the mask tightly now, still staring at him. He moved towards her, and she jumped slightly, shuddering as she looked at him, constantly staring at his face. She put a hand up to her gaping mouth, still pressing the mask to her side.

"Christine?" He asked her confusedly. "Look, I know it's horrible, but I thought that-"

He stopped when she backed away from him, leaning against the wall, just where she had been trembling the night before. "Thought what?" Her voice was small and soft, and the utter terror in it made him wince.

He shook his head slightly. "You- you acted as though you were fine with this deformity when I brought you here, I thought that you had overlooked it."

She still gave him the same wide eyed look, but this time he could swear he saw pity enter her gaze. "I-I didn't know what it was then."

He shook his head in confusion, still trying to make sure he didn't make any sudden movements lest she run away. He couldn't hold the bitterness in his voice back though. "Oh, don't act like you have no idea, you practically ran from it last night-"

"What? No, I didn't-", she shook her head in confusion. She looked down at the floor. "Can I go back now?" After a beat, she made eye contact with him. "Please?"

He deflated and looked down sadly, but nodded anyway. "Of course, Christine."

She nodded and walked towards him cautiously, but still recoiled when he moved closer to her. She walked past him towards the boat, and sat down in it gently, making sure her back was to him. He followed her. When he stepped into the boat, she turned to him and offered the mask to him. As soon as he grasped it, she immediately pulled her hand away, obviously afraid of touching him. He sighed in disappointment and sadness. Of course.

The boat ride was silent. So was the walk back to her dressing room. She kept at least two strides behind him at all times, and when they reached the mirror, he had to step aside before she could walk through to make sure they didn't touch. When the mirror closed, he stayed there for a minute, watching as she took deep breaths and looked about frantically, as though she was scared he would jump out from a corner of the room and scare her.

When she walked towards the door, she gave the smallest look to the mirror, then left.

He didn't understand. What had happened? He hadn't dreamt last night, no, his progress on Don Juan proved that. But how could she not remember? Could she have forgotten in such little time? Of course not, his Christine was smart and remembered all the little details.

He shook his head in confusion before walking slowly back down to his home.