The elevator dinged as it reached the top floor. When the doors opened, Christine gasped. Standing before her appeared to be a tall, thin, pale middle-aged man, dressed in a black and white suit with a black cape, wearing a black fedora and a mask that exposed half of his face. He held out his hand, anticipating a response while Christine just stood there in the elevator, remaining awe-struck that she was now standing before her long-time mysterious friend. "Christine," he gently said with the voice that she had learned to find such comfort in. "Come to me, my angel of music." Transfixed, she accepted his hand and he slowly led her out of the elevator.

They made their way across the empty parking lot in silence until they reached a sleek black Mercedes. He opened the passenger door to let Christine in before making his way to the driver's seat. When he started the car, the classical music station played quietly through the speakers. As he drove down the ramps to get out of the parking structure, Christine couldn't help but stare at him. She was still overwhelmed that after years of hiding himself from her and only communicating through screens, she was now sitting next to him. Why is he wearing that mask? She thought. And why is it only covering half of his face? She wanted so badly to talk to him just to break the silence. I've never had trouble talking to him before, she thought, so why am I too scared to talk now?

Finally Christine spoke up after taking a deep breath. "So, where exactly are we going?"

"You'll find out soon, my dear," he replied, focusing on the road. Despite his cold exterior, his voice was still warm.

He eventually slowed down as he drove through a neighborhood, before stopping at a one-story house. In addition to its small size, its exterior definitely looked like it had not aged well. After pulling into the driveway and parking the car, he got out and walked around to open the passenger door. "My angel," he said as he slightly bent down, holding his hand out. Christine looked up at him before taking his hand again. He escorted her out of the car and into the house. When he turned on the lights, Christine's jaw dropped in awe.

For how small and run-down the exterior was, the inside looked like a gothic castle. There were large candlesticks and drapes everywhere. In the living room near the television there was a black grand piano and a violin with tons of sheet music. She looked over and saw a desk with a desktop computer, knowing that hours have been spent sitting there watching her. "Welcome to my home," he said as he took off his hat and cape, tossing them aside. "Please, have a seat." Christine awkwardly made her way to the couch. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No, thank you," she replied somewhat uncomfortably.

He sat down beside her. Christine didn't know why she was feeling so nervous. So far he hadn't given her any reason to feel this way. Yet for some reason, the person whom she never had a problem talking to, the person she'd spent years dreaming about meeting in person, was now sitting beside her, smiling at her. She spent so long wondering what he looked like, and now they were finally face to face. Yet she still couldn't understand why he was wearing that mask.

He reached his hands out as if he were going to touch her, but couldn't bring himself to do so, so he just gestured to her, keeping his distance. "Oh Christine, my Christine. You look so much more beautiful in person."

Christine smiled and blushed as she looked away. "Thank you," she replied shyly.

"You're probably wondering why I've brought you here." Christine nodded. "Since the moment I've first heard you sing, I have needed you with me to serve me to sing for my music."

"I still don't fully understand. Why me?"

"Because you're perfect."

Christine let out a sigh of disbelief. "I'm not perfect. I'm just some random girl that you happened to find on the Internet."

"That's not true. I have spent years watching you grow from a teenager into a young woman. I have heard your voice grow stronger, and learned everything there is to know about you."

"And yet after all this time I still know nothing about you."

"You don't want to know anything about me."

"Can't I at least know your name?"

He sighed in defeat. "Alright, fine. You deserve to know at least that much. My name is Erik."

"Erik. That's such a nice name. How come you've never told me before?"

"Because the less you know about me, the better."

"But why? And why did you wait until now for us to meet? And why are you wearing a mask?"

"Because I am not the angel you believe me to be. If anything you're the angel. You're my only source of light in my dull excuse of an existence. Being with you is the highlight of my day, even if it's only for a short amount of time. I still question why you waste your time talking to me. I'm nothing special, just a lonely man who doesn't deserve your kindness, yet you deserve all of mine and more."

"Don't say that. You're special to me."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I really mean it. You've become such a major part of my life that I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh Christine, you're too good to me. I don't know how I'd live without you. And I never want to ever again."

Christine's heartbeat started to increase. "What are you saying exactly?" she asked, trembling.

"Stay here with me. The world outside doesn't deserve you if they can't appreciate the beauty you offer with your voice. Here I'd have you sing for me all the time, and not only would I never tire of hearing you, but I would never want you to stop. We would make beautiful music and sing together. I would write new songs just for you, both for you to sing and for me to express my feelings for you. And when we're not making music we could watch tv and movies together and read together and dine together and enjoy each other's company. Please Christine. You make me happier than anything, and I could give you the perfect home and the perfect life and treat you like the princess you are while I remain your humble servant."

Christine thought about the proposition that had just been made to her, overwhelmed at what she had just been offered. She technically had no home other than living with the Giry's, and it was obvious to both of them that there was an undeniable mutual attachment towards each other. As far as she was concerned, she could see no downside to this. "I accept, but there's just one thing we need to discus."

"Of course my darling. Anything."

"What am I going to do about school? I don't have my own car so I can't drive there from here. And what about my dorm? Mrs. Giry already spent a year's worth of payment for me."

"You won't need school if you stay with me. After all, haven't I given you the education that they've denied you?"

"But what about getting a degree so I can get a job?"

"You won't need to worry about that. I'll take care of you."

"I don't know…"

"Oh! I've almost forgotten. I've written a song especially for you and your visit tonight."

"Really?"

"Yes. Come." They stood up and made their way to the piano. Erik sat down while Christine leaned against it. As he began to play a calm, soothing melody, Christine smiled and closed her eyes. "Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation," he sang. "Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses." He continued his song until he reached the end. "You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night."

When Erik looked up at Christine after he finished playing, she was practically gasping for air, taking short, shallow breaths, her eyes barely watering up. "That was beautiful," she replied awestruck in barely above a whisper. "And that was all just for me?"

He stood up, barely towering over her as he stood so close to her. She felt like a child next to him as she looked up at him. "Yes my love. That was all just for you. Now come with me, there's something I'd like to show you." She followed him down the hall to his bedroom. In the center of the room was a black-framed bed. He led her to what appeared to be a life-size frame hidden under a sheet. "For as long as I've known you, I've wanted nothing more than to know how it feels to be with you in person, to hold you, to touch you," he said as he tried once again to reach out to her, once again holding himself back. "And since before tonight I didn't have that option, I made this, knowing that this was the closest thing to being with you that I could do." He removed the sheet, causing Christine to stare in shock at what stood before her.

Inside the frame of a broken mirror stood a life-size mannequin that practically looked like a clone of Christine wearing a bride gown and veil, holding a bouquet of white roses. "Why is she wearing a wedding dress?" she asked, trembling.

"Because it's yours. I had it made special for you."

"But why?"

"For the day we become husband and wife. That is, if you'll have me. After all, if we're going to live together, why not make it official?"

Overwhelmed at the vision before her, Christine suddenly passed out. Luckily Erik caught her mid fall and carried her unconscious body to the bed. He took off her shoes, pulled out the covers from underneath her and pulled them over her, tucking her in. He gently caressed her face before reaching in to give her a soft kiss on her forehead. Afterwards he got up and headed out of the room, slowly closing the door as he watched her sleep.

It wasn't until the next morning that Christine finally woke up. As her consciousness slowly returned, she could hear music coming from outside the room. She got up, slowly opened the door, and followed the sound down the hall. Sitting at the piano in the living room wearing an Asian robe was Erik, switching between playing and writing. He was so focused on his music that he hadn't noticed her in the room. I have to know what's under that mask, she thought. Acting on impulse, Christine crept over to him as quietly as she could, gently grabbed the mask with the tip of her fingers, and quickly pulled it off. Before she could see what was underneath, Erik let out a loud, blood-curdling scream as he placed his hand over his face, scaring away Christine.

"Damn you!" he shouted as he aggressively approached her. "You little prying Pandora! You little demon!" Christine tried to run away, but he tightly grabbed her wrist, turning her around. "Is this what you wanted to see?" He removed his hand, showing Christine what hid underneath. It was only for a few seconds though as he put his hand back on his face, although that was long enough for the image to scar Christine. When he let go of her, he practically pushed her out of his grip, causing her to fall. "Curse you! You little lying Delilah. You little viper!" He approached her as if he were going to attack her, causing her to cower and turn away from him. "Now you cannot ever be free!" He backed away. "Damn you! Curse you!"

Overwhelmed, he fell onto his knees, breathing heavily. "Why did you have to look at me?" he asked on the brink of sobbing. "I knew that if you saw me you would hate me and leave me, regardless of all the love and kindness you've given me these last few years. That's why I never let you see me. I thought that if I maintained the illusion that I was this fancy mysterious angel, if you believed me to be the handsome prince charming that you deserve, then you would love me. But I should've known; I'm an idiot to believe that you could. Hell, even my own mother couldn't look at me, so what would make you any different?" As he said this, Christine slowly began to look up at him, trembling. He looked so sad and pathetic on the ground, staring longingly at her with such intensity. "But Christine, fear can turn to love. You'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster," he begged as he dragged himself across the floor towards her, causing her to back away. For a second he removed his hand from his face, but remembered to put it back, causing her to look away again. "Please don't be afraid of me. Please don't think any less of me. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, especially to something I can't control. I know your image of me has been shattered, but for how much you hate what you see, I hate it even more. I hate that I can't go outside without being stared at. I hate that people are constantly asking me why I wear that mask. I hate that I can't live like a normal human being when underneath this face that's exactly what I am. That's why I need you. You're the only one who treats me normally. You're the only one who's ever shown me friendship and compassion. Please, don't leave me." Christine turned around to face him again to find him on the verge of tears. "Oh Christine."

This time it was Erik's turn to look away, crawling on the floor and burying his face and crying like a child. Christine, gaining courage, picked up his mask and handed it to him. He accepted it, turning away from her as he put it on. When he put it back on, he slicked his hair and turned back to her, having composed himself and stood up. "Come," he said calmly as he put his hand out. "I'll take you home." She accepted and he helped her up, tightening his grip. "But you are not to say a word about any of this to anyone. Understand?" She nodded, and he let her go. She went to grab her purse, which was still sitting on the coffee table from the night before, while he took off his robe and put his hat on, and they headed out to the car.

The entire ride was silent and uncomfortable. No one bothered to even try and say a word. Once they were back at the dorms, Christine finally spoke up. "Thanks for driving me home."

She was about to open the door, when Erik reached out and grabbed her hand again. "Christine, wait." She turned around, and when they both noticed how he was holding her, he immediately let go. "After everything that's happened, we should probably not speak to each other for a while." Christine nodded in agreement. "Just promise me one thing though."

"What."

"Just let me know what part you get in the opera."

"I will."

Without another word, Christine got out of the car and headed back to her dorm. Erik watched her until she was out of sight before driving away.