A/N: I would like to warn everyone reading this that Susan Kay was my first Phantom and I believe that is the true story, something to keep in mind when reading ANYTHING I write. Other than that, the answer, who wrote this to whom is the second chapter, that's ALL that it is.

To you,

Perhaps I've always known this; perhaps I've only just begun to see. I am not certain what I know, only that it's there, a tiny blemish on my soul.

I know that I have wronged you, I remember my petty reasons why. I've always known I love you; so what could those reasons be? Ever since I saw my whole being has been in agony.

Not a moment passes when I don't remember, I know I'll never forget. What is it that I will remember most?

I think I'll most remember my misdoings; it isn't what I want, but it fills my heart of it's own accord.

I know you'll never read this; because I am lacking the courage necessary to tell you any of the things I know and feel.

It's amazing how I miss you, despite that it has been all of an hour since last we spoke.

It's amazing how you're beautiful.

I wish you really could find this, I wish you somehow knew. So much you know already…and yet this precious knowledge eludes you.

Maybe you will receive my letter, though you've gone back to your true love now. The love that is so pure, the love that once seemed so innocent. I wonder if I have perverted this simple comfort, if I have made your passion unholy.

I don't deserve to love you, but I wallow in your shadow. I don't deserve your heavenly company, but am blessed with your occasional favor.

I'd like to think you love me. But there really is no reason; I am hardly worthy of your touch, your unfathomable voice, and yes, even your beauty. I have made that clear.

You are beautiful. I would not explain so simple a word, but it applies to you, in more ways than one.

This entire time, this time I have known you has been like a fantastic dream. Almost too fantastic to believe, but such dreams come to an end, mine have a habit of becoming nightmares. Already I can see our majestic love transforming into an ugly demon, doomed to dwell in darkness.

Darkness, however, has become to me a home, I can see it is really not so terrible as I was lead to believe.

I have no love of light as it keeps me from you. You think I belong there, but I only belong wherever you go. If a place holds not you, I can muster no love of that place. For everywhere I go I see your face. This is sweet torment, for your face, with which you are so shy, is now my greatest joy. If I cannot be with you and hear your voice then all I ask is to behold your dear face.

It frightens me how much I love you.

Now I am condemned to weep, for it has occurred to me in my humble mind that even if you were to find this outpouring of my very soul, faulty as it is, you would be disgusted with it. Dismiss these earnest words as a mocking farce, one last lunge at your love-filled heart.

Yes, I don't know how you could love me but I see that you do. I am not so naïve. Not anymore.

I realize now what I know, I know that my soul, as tarnished as it is, is one in the same with yours. We need no legal document to declare us knit, we are already one.

I know that I love you.

I know, that you love me.

These simple things that will almost certainly cause the gates of the world, our world, to come crashing in upon us. Even with this all-important knowledge that I have acquired, I cannot save us. If we come through the coming ordeal unscathed, we will not be together, for if by miracle alone we survive, our world will not.

I can entertain no fantasies about that. He will see to it that any simple joy that may have finally been ours, now that I know, is crushed before it has any chance to grow. Our love may be complete but our bond is an infant only just conceived, not yet ready to stand the trails that will rain upon it.

We have so long loved each other without knowing that we were loved in return, and that babe of conjoint cannot defend against scrutiny.

How my heart cries for His death, once, I would have prevented it but I have let go my childish outlook. The world is not the garden of fairies I would have had it be. Now that the child is gone and the newly spawned adult is in its empty place I can forget my broken dreams and realize what true love is. True love is more important then a child's whims, and if the child must die, so be it, true love is worth everything. Even the life of someone who was once something like a friend. True love, is worth dying for.

And I would, but that would make you unhappy, if I died most gallantly to save love then it would be in vain. For you would die all the same, without me.

I don't want to face what is coming, but I can detain it not. I brought misery on you, now much has come of it. I have been so foolish, now a tragedy is drawing breath to live. Throughout this ordeal, what I long for most is the ability to share with you all that I know.

I wish that somehow you were here with me now, and knew all that I know. I wish this because I desperately need to hear the words that you would say,

"All is well, all will always be well. Nothing can be ill, so long as I am with you."