A/N: Going back a ways here. Not a strict drabble.
Slumber
It seemed like hours that he watched her sleep before finally retreating to his music. He would not sleep this night—how could he, with Christine so near?—but he at least changed from his suit coat into his favorite robe. He spent a few minutes staring at the open page of his Don Juan before his eyes drifted once again to the prone figure across the room, leading his feet back to her side. She was so peaceful, so unaware that she was in the home of a madman and murderer… Erik chided himself for his dark thoughts. For her he would leave all of that behind, there was no need for her ever to know of his life before he was her Angel of Music. Finally he pried himself away from her slumbering form--it would not do to have her wake up to his looming form above her. He had to tread delicately, now…one false step and he would ruin everything he had worked so hard to achieve.