Marjorie's stood infront of the door at the top of the steps. She could hear someone moving around in the tiny kitchen. They were probably making breakfast. She had no idea what to do. She didn't have any excuses, she had gotten here too late. She had wanted to get home before dawn had broken, and act as if she was there all night.

Now she stood at the top of the staircase, her mind reaching a complete blank. she was completely trapped. There was the sound of movement and the door opened infront of her. Hey brothers wide eyes mirrored hers. "Marjorie?"

She stared up at him, no words coming to her lips. His stature was intimidating. He was already a head taller than she was and now that she stood on the lower stair, his stance was much above hers. She had never been afraid of her brother, but she had no idea what would happen now.

"Where have you been?"

She stood there, her mind still completely blank. A cold sweat formed on her forehead. She could feel herself go into panic mode. Suddenly, words seemed to pour from her mouth. "I spent the night beneath the opera. There's a lake and the most wonderful man. He plays the organ and sings like an angel and wears a mask and I think I may be deeply in love with him." She slammed her hand to her mouth as soon as she stopped. You've definitely done it now, you twit.

Marc gazed at her, absolutely dumbfounded. Her shoulders were tense as she waited for him to begin his yelling. The sound that came from him nearly made her fall down the staircase. His shoulders began to shake as laughter poured out of him. His hands fell on her shouldersl as he pulled her up the stairs and into an embrace. She stood there stiffly, thoroughly confused. "What?"

"My god, I've missed you, Marjorie. I haven't heard your humor since you were nearly eighteen. I've missed you so much."

Humor? What? Had she missed something? She pulled from the embrace and looked at her brother curiously. "Humor?"

"A masked man living under the operahouse? Who lives on an underground lake and plays romantic music to our dear Marjorie? What a fanciful idea! I say," he turned to include Celine in the conversation, "have you heard they're rebuilding the old building? A grand remanier, I believe they're calling it. Maybe you can take those lessons that you were once so adamant about."

He hugged her shoulders tightly. He thought this was a joke? Just mere humor? A mixture of relief and disappointment washed over her. She was glad that he thought every thing she had just said was just a joke, but then again, she wished he believed her. Feelings she wasn't even aware of had poured out of her mouth, but now that she knew them she wanted everyone to know. She loved Erik. And that was wonderful in her mind because she was nearly sure he loved her too.

Her whole body ached. Her brother was convinced it was a wonderful idea to drag Celine and her all over Paris even though they had all lived there for their whole lives. They walked everywhere, only stopping when Celine complained about her feet or the baby. Marjorie wasn't so lucky.

She pushed open her bedroom door, leaving the couple their quiet time. She didn't mind, she was tired anyway. She slipped off her dress and loosened her corset, dropping them onto the floor. She pulled on her nightgown and crawled into her bed. She dropped her head onto her pillow and something velvety brushed her cheek. She picked it up and turned on the oil lamp.

In her hands he held a rose. it was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen. Each yellow petal was perfect, their red tips curled out tips curled out perfectly. A yellow rose with red tips; she used to know each color's meaning, but now she couldn't recall. Silently, she crept from her bed and over to her bookshelf. She grabbed a book labeled Horticulture and brought it over to the lamp. She flipped through until she found a dog eared page. She scanned the page until she found it. Red-tipped yellow roses: friendship, falling in love.

Erik's POV

I stood in the street, my eyes fixed on her bedroom window. At least, I hoped it was her bedroom. Finally a flash of blonde caught my eyes. Marjorie stood almost directly in front of the window, her back turned.

At first I couldn't tell what she was doing, but then I caught sight of her light pink corset. I felt a lump form in my throat and my cheeks turn red. I couldn't manage to draw my eyes away. The pink fabric hugged her hips beautifully. Then she pulled the corset from her body. I felt like I'd nearly fall over. I was seeing much too much. I couldn't pull myself away as she shimmied into her nightgown.

Eventually she moved away from the window and I couldn't see her any longer. Blood still pulsed in my ears. I couldn't bear to stand outside of her home any longer. I wished to stay, to see her find the rose, but guilt wracked my mind at what I had just seen. I felt as if I had almost defiled her. It wasn't my fault, I was just an onlooker, but I felt terrible.

Marjorie's lamp flicked on but I turned back towards the opera house. I couldn't be invasive any longer. I wanted to protect her as much as possible. I wished to redeem myself with the rose, but instead I stole her innocence.

That night her body seemed to infect my mind. I tossed and turned as her body danced infront of my minds eye. It felt vulgar and dirty, but I couldn't push the thought away. I craved for every atom of her being. I wanted her pressed against my body. I wanted our every fiber intertwined. I dreamed of her body pressed against mine. I craved for her touch.

We laid in the swan bed together, our bodies intertwined. We moved under the sheets, nothing between us any longer. There was no hate, only love. Our hearts and bodies bared completely to each other. There was no more ugliness. There bodies moved in silence, the air around the map was electifupying. Her hand pressed against his cheek. "Erik." He felt his shoulders being shook.

"Erik."

His eyes fluttered open to see green ones, barely inches away.