Christine fled Erik's apartment, tears leaking from her eyes and a blush claiming her cheeks that was part embarrassment, part anger and part pain. She had been truly beginning to care for Erik, had thought she was succeeding in making him feel companionship, but now everything was broken and tattered.

Her hands still shook by her sides, fear she didn't want to feel coursing through her veins. She refused to view Erik as a monster, refused to turn away from him when clearly all others had, but the fresh memory of him towering over her, his usually open and happy face contorted with demonic rage, was horrifying. She didn't want to believe that he would hurt her - she was sure he wasn't as twisted inside as he claimed - but she could still feel his vice-like grip on her shoulders. He hadn't squeezed or twisted, his touch would leave no marks, but she had been unquestionably at his mercy. There was strength in him she had never known, and something in him had seemed close to losing control.

She didn't bother to wipe at her face as she hurried numbly through the streets, barely registering her path. In her peripheral vision, she could see odd looks being thrown her way by passers-by: curiosity and pity for the crying girl almost stumbling her way along. But she ignored them too, taking notice of nothing and no one until she was once again back in her own flat.

The tears rushed out in full force then; what had been a trickle was now a waterfall. The dam broke and her heart along with it.

Christine rushed into her room, falling into a heap on her bed as she sobbed into a pillow. Last night she had slept by Erik's side, cared for by him and so relaxed in his company. Now she had been thrown out, she had hurt and angered him, and perhaps she would never see him again.

That was what made her cry harder than anything; not the harsh words he had spoken nor the pain in his eyes as he had begged her to leave him be. It was the idea that he had meant what he said about losing her forever, and that perhaps it was actually for the best.

She was truly beginning to enjoy their friendship, the side of herself that only he could bring out. It wasn't like she was lonely - she had plenty of friends, and Meg had always been a wonderful companion - but being with Erik had been something new and different and exciting. He seemed to really see through her, and he had done wonders with her voice. Her musicality had been a gift from her father, but Erik was the one who had made it shine. She had come to adore the way it felt to be lost in music with him, something no one else could give her.

Yet now she didn't know whether it was all real or not. Had she just lost out on a wonderful friendship with a fascinating person? Or was he the monster he had claimed to be, deformed and dangerous, and she had just escaped with her life? She wondered whether he knew that their relationship had not broken when she saw his face - it was a surprise but didn't change anything - but when he had lost his temper. His anger had been the thing that made her run, not the disfigurement he had been angry about.

Christine moaned through another sob, her head spinning and her heart lost to confusion. She had been so determined to make him feel cared for, to really be there for him, and yet the act of purposefully spending more time with him had torn them apart. Instead of leaving to be with Raoul - which was as nerve-wracking as it was exhilarating - she had stayed with Erik, trying to prove that he mattered. But maybe she had simply endangered herself - she didn't want to believe he was really a risk, but his shouts and that fierce grip tried to persuade her otherwise.

No disfigurement could be worse than the gaping wound she felt had opened up in her heart. Erik could look inhuman, he could scream at her until even his beautiful voice disappeared, but at what point did he truly become a monster? Was he more than his anger, more than his pain, more than his appearance; or were they all warning signs that she should heed before it was too late?

All I wanted was to help him. How did everything end up worse?

Nothing would bring Christine out of her hopelessness over the next few days. She spent hours staring at her blank phone screen, or with the conversations between her and Erik open on her laptop. She often waited frozen like that for several minutes at a time, unsure whether she was hoping he would contact her, or if she was trying to gather the confidence to speak to him. Neither happened, and a small part of her was almost glad despite the torment - she wasn't sure he would be happy to hear from her, and still didn't know whether she wanted to see him again.

Not even singing could help her. Before, it had been a comfort; a link to her happy childhood sharing music with her father. After his death it had helped her cope, had given her a new life here in Paris at the Conservatoire, had led her to Meg and had supported her through all the trials the years brought.

But now her voice belonged to him; she had barely sung a melody in the past few months that had not been for him in some way. She hadn't needed him for her music before, but now there was no song without him. It was like he had made her addicted to his voice, his playing, his music.

"Are you alright, Christine?"

Christine turned her head to the bright eyes beside her and forced a smile. "Yes, don't worry; I've just got a few things on my mind," she replied, and Raoul gave a smile much warmer than her own.

She hadn't been able to fully explain to Meg what was wrong, and had simply said she and Erik had argued. Her friend had tried many things to cheer her up, which in itself made her feel a little more loved and happy, but had insisted on contacting Raoul when she heard Christine was struggling to sing.

"Anything I can help with?" he persevered sweetly, his gaze concerned and focused intently on her own eyes.

She hadn't told Raoul about her fall out with Erik either - there was no use worrying him - but she did wonder whether the three of them would work together again as they had for that peaceful afternoon before it all went wrong. What would happen to Erik's music; would he simply replace the two of them like switching out broken links in a chain?

And now there was a fresh fear every time she looked at Raoul: was he hiding something too? She had been so sure she could trust Erik, so sure she knew the goodness in his heart, yet he had seemed close to becoming violent with her. Raoul may have had a handsome face in place of Erik's deformed one, but was that just another mask hiding a monster within?

In losing one friendship, she had begun to doubt another. And now even her music was gone.

Christine glanced down at her laptop, away from Raoul's gaze; so kind and so torturous. "It's nothing major," she lied. "But I'd love to be distracted."

His answering smile was boyish and innocent. "Then it would be an honour to sing with you again."

"You really are an old-fashioned gentleman." A small laugh escaped her lips for the first time in days. It was involuntary and unrestrained, and it felt real.

Christine watched his face light up, and a little of her pain and fear slipped away. Maybe it would take her a while to regain her confidence in this friendship again, but she truly believed Raoul's joy was real. And, if she had lost one friend to fear, she wasn't going to lose another to doubt.

Chasing that thought was the creeping feeling that she shouldn't give up on Erik completely yet either. She had been frightened, yes, but she hadn't actually been hurt, and doubtless his reaction had been based on rejection after rejection in the past. Maybe she had just become addicted to his music, or maybe she knew she would always be niggled by guilt if she immediately abandoned him to loneliness, but she knew this couldn't be how things ended between them.

She had to see him again, even just once more, to be sure one way or another. If he was a monster, she could still get out and know that she had tried. But if he was truly a good man, he would need her now more than he had before.

Raoul hesitated when the apartment door closed behind him several hours later. He was almost tempted to knock, to ask to go in again and spend more time with Christine. She was so enchanting, so delightful, and yet today she had been far from the bubbly, joyful girl he had come to know.

She had put on a smile and a bright voice, but there was something so sad in her eyes that made his heart hurt just thinking about it. He had spent every moment of their session desperate to find out what was wrong with her, fix it if he could, but she wouldn't tell him and he didn't know how to get the information without forcing her, which he couldn't bear to do. He had also longed to put his arms around her, stroke her hair and hold her until he soothed away all her worries...

There were so many things he wanted to do, wanted to say, yet now was simply not the right time. He had almost got up the confidence to broach the subject of his feelings today, but when he had set eyes on her troubled expression, all notions fled his mind and all he could think of was distracting her from her troubles.

Raoul sighed and turned away from the flat, making his slow way down the corridor. He could wait, would simply enjoy Christine's presence and make the most of being her friend. One day he would tell her about the way his heart fluttered at the sight of her, the way his skin tingled at her name… But not today. He didn't believe in wasting opportunities, but nor did he want to mess this up or take advantage of her dampened spirits.

His time with Christine would come, he was almost sure of it, but until then he would look after her as well as he humanly could. She was worth it all.