Oookay so I think I have a good idea of how this story is going to flow. Please know that while there is a plot, it's not one to be over-analyzed. That being said, I realized my chapters were going to need to get a bit longer to accomplish what I want so here's a longer one for ya. As always, enjoy and thank you for sticking with me. :)

Erik.

"Erik." I repeated out loud, my tongue caressing each letter.

His face softened as I said his name, though his eyes maintained their intensity.

Realizing that he was still kneeling on the floor, I gestured to the space next to me on the chaise.

"Won't you sit with me?"

Erik's eyes widened slightly, as if he was surprised I would ask him. My hand slid down and off his chest and he stood up to move, but his hand stayed over top of mine until he was simply holding it. He didn't let go even as he took a seat beside me. His touch, as innocent as holding hands was, still felt more intimate and personal. All of the other caresses I experienced by his hands rushed through my memory — The first time he took my hand and pulled me through the mirror, how he helped me onto the back of his horse, the way he embraced my hips and traced my curves as he sang to me in his cavern below. I never minded his touch because it felt so natural. He touched my body as if he was already familiar with it, he held my hand as if we had done so a thousand times.

Recognizing this comfort between us encouraged me to relax further and I leaned into Erik's shoulder. The soft smile that graced his lips told me he liked this too.

His smile only lasted for a moment before fading back into the typical, serious set of his jaw.

"Why were you shedding tears for me?" He asked earnestly.

My gaze locked onto the plush carpet as I answered him, "I was thinking about today… earlier, how — if I hadn't…" I paused, growing flustered with my incoherent response. Erik gently guided my chin so that I was looking at him again, prompting me to continue.

"I couldn't stand the thought of you being hurt." I said quietly.

Erik's face grew more severe at the mention of the duel.

"You should have let the boy kill me when he had the chance. If he knew what was good for him, he would have finished it."

My jaw dropped at his harsh words, "How could you say that?" This question earned me a surprisingly delicate huff.

"Erik, no. I couldn't let him hurt you."

"And if the roles were reversed?" He questioned, "Would you have thrown yourself between us to protect him from my blade?"

His question stunned me, because this wasn't the scenario I played out in my mind earlier. I only imagined Erik's death and how it would have broken me. Imagining it the other way around hadn't even occurred to me. I wanted to say yes, I would protect him, too, but something made me hesitate, made me unsure of my answer.

It didn't appear that there were many questions I could answer today.

"I… I don't know." I said admitted reluctantly.

Erik's finger was idly stroking my jaw as if he were physically coaxing words from my mouth.

"I didn't plan on jumping in between you two. I was scared," I continued, "It was when Raoul was about to strike you that I rushed to you. I did it without thinking."

"You acted on emotion." He whispered.

"Yes."

"Because I am in your heart, just as you are in mine."

"Yes." I breathed.

"You care for me more than the boy. More than your intended."

Yes. The answer was there, on the tip of my tongue, but I caught myself at the last possible second.

I snatched my chin from his hand and the lulling touches he had been giving me. Erik's body tensed at my sudden and extreme shift.

Oh, how I wanted to soothe him, but this was wrong. His harsh, careless assumption of my feelings toward Raul was wrong. At least, that was what my brain was telling me. My heart, ever the rebel, longed to touch him and be touched by him. To agree that he had a special place in my heart, above all others, and it would only be after my heart's final beat that he should lose his place within it.

"Raoul and I are to be married. I do care for him." My defense sounded weak to my own ears, but I felt I had to say something, and this was true. I did care for Raul; we were to be married. Perhaps it was best that I stick to logic, find safety within facts, after acting on emotion today.

"Yes, you agreed to marry the boy. The young suitor who will whisk you away, fill your purse with gold, and parade you in front of all his friends." Erik responded bitterly. He leaned into me so that our noses were mere inches apart, continuing in a whisper that was equally gentle and sharp, "But does he make you burn for him, yearn for him? Are all of your thoughts consumed by him? Do each of your hopes and dreams include him? Does he fill your heart with music so wonderful that there's no hope of it ever being composed by human hands? Does he spark a passion within you that feels like it will devour you if go too long without his presence?"

My breathing had become shallow during his impassioned line of questioning, but it nearly stopped altogether when he drew so close that he was only a breath away and said, "Because, Christine, that is what you do to me."

I felt his words drop lightly onto my lips, which parted instinctively for him. No, Raoul didn't do any of those things for me. Raoul was safe, kind, and gentle. He was a guaranteed way out of the opera house and into a life of comfort. Erik was passionate, mysterious, and adoring. I didn't know what a future with him would look like — would I be forced to hide in the shadows with him or would he let me bring him out, into the every day of society? Would I get to see him in the sunlight? Regardless, I knew he would always challenge me.

I drew in a rough breath when I realized I had a choice before me. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought two men would fight for me, but there was Raoul, my childhood sweetheart, and here sat Erik, my companion in almost every sense over the past decade.

Did I want a safe love or a passionate love? A love fueled by comfort or intimacy? If my dream was the one day leave the opera house, could I really afford to chose?

"Erik…" I trembled, "I'm terrified."

He moved back from me as suddenly as if I had slapped him, startling me. His face was carefully neutral, though I could see the tension in his jaw and the sadness in his eyes.

Those eyes that both threaten and adore.

"It's my face that frightens you." He stated with forced calmness.

His statement caught me off guard, because he misunderstood my confession and because I hadn't given his face much thought, being too wrapped up in the emotional storm surging within me.

"No. Erik, your face doesn't define you."

"It's defined my entire life, Christine." He responded gravely.

The sadness in his eyes grew and I didn't know what to say. Part of me wondered if that meant, should I choose to stay with him, that my life would be defined by it too? Or would I be his catalyst for change and acceptance?

There was one way to find out which it would be.

"Would you show me your full face?"

At this he physically jolted.

"You've already seen it once. That's more than enough."

"I hardly saw it properly," I responded, "Erik, if you care about me as deeply as you claim, you must trust me."

Gone was his neutral expression from moments ago. Now pure concern and unease radiated from him.

"It's horrid, Christine. Why would you ask this of me?" He questioned.

"Because I care for you and I want to know you… all of you." I answered gently.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, further revealing his discomfort. Then slowly, hesitantly, he reached for his mask and pulled it away from his face.

His eyes were closed tightly, as if he couldn't bear to look at me without the protection of his porcelain armor. With all the tenderness I possessed, I put my fingers under his chin and stroked the good side of his face, encouraging him to look at me.

I could see how frightened he was as I traced my fingers along the contours of his disfigured side, my breath getting caught in my throat as I did. He was right, it wasn't beautiful, but I stood by previous statement. His face did not define him and seeing the spark of hope, albeit small, in his face showed me that it wouldn't define mine either. I would be the catalyst he desperately needed.

I realized I had to amend one of my previous questions to myself. Could I afford a choice between the two men knowing what I know now? Could I chose my own comfort over another person's freedom?

I was yanked from my thoughts by Erik's hand grabbing mine and holding on tightly.

"Please, don't fear me. Don't run away." He pleaded.

Inspiration struck me then and I maneuvered my hand around his and guided it to my chest. In a reversal of our earlier position, Erik's hand was now pressed over my heart with my smaller hand on top. I stayed silent for a few moments, allowing him to feel the rise and fall of my chest and the rhythm of my heartbeat underneath.

He stared at our hands and his eyes widened as they filled with that sweet wonder that was unique to him.

"I'm right here." I said, allowing the feel of my heartbeat to reassure him.

Erik lifted his eyes back to mine, a passion kindling in them that I've only seen when he sang to me before. He looked at my lips longingly, like he was relieving dreams of them in this very moment.

His hand was still between mine and my chest. Absently, I stroked the top of his hand with my thumb. Though the space between us had felt intimate for our entire conversation, it now evolved into something more. My senses felt overly sensitive as they had in the cemetery today, but this time the overwhelm was sweet. Erik's emerald eyes, his scent of sweet brandy and sandalwood, his hand overtop my pounding heart, our breathing coming out in shallow puffs and warming the space.

I could taste him…

Maybe I moved first, maybe he did, maybe we moved together, and maybe that particular detail was irrelevant. Our lips were molded together as if they were two halves of a whole, coming together as they were meant to. I felt complete and at home, and Erik's lips were extraordinarily tender, I found myself leaning further into him. He moved his hands to either side of my neck, kissing me deeply, tenderly.

Too soon he pulled back, just enough to meet my eyes.

"You would kiss this monstrous face?" He asked, stunned.

"I'm not afraid of your face, Erik." I said, bringing my hand to softly cup this side of his face to emphasize my words.

He made a noise that sounded like a choked-back sob and touched his forehead to mine.

"Christine, I love you." He whispered. A confession that stilled my heart and stole my breath despite how I had already suspected his feelings.

"Erik… I —" I began hesitantly, knowing I needed to tread carefully with him.

"Shh…" He hushed me, gently tucking a few strands of curls behind my ear, "It's enough for now that I can finally tell you. You've no idea how madly I love you.

"Say you want me with you here, beside you

Anywhere you go, let me go, too

Christine, that's all I ask of you."

Erik sang softly, pleadingly.

My heartbeat returned with a vengeance, wildly reverberating within me. It felt like my entire body was covered in gooseflesh; I was both hot and cold, a fuzziness settling in my mind. I knew that my next words would mark the decision I needed to make.

So I chose to stay silent.

When Erik must have realized I wasn't going to say anything in response, he placed a soft kiss to my forehead and returned his mask to its position on his face. He stood and slowly walked to the open mirror, looking back at me before stepping into the glowing passageway.

"Get some rest. If you want me to return, you need only call my name and I will come to you."

The glass closed quietly behind him then and I was left alone with my heart and my brain, ever at odds with one another.