A/N: Taking another stab at The Phantom of the Opera fanfiction. This one is based on the book. Well, after the book that is. I would like it if I got some responses from readers on rather to continue or not. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Phantom of the Opera.

Erik somberly returned to his house beside the lake after explaining to the Persian what had happened to his beloved Christine and her Raoul. He had brought no harm to them, but instead, he let Christine go because he loved her. Because he loved her. And, when you love someone, you let them go if and when they wish to leave. Whatever they want, you want it for them, too. In this case, his Christine wanted freedom, so he gave it to her. Not because he truly wanted to, but because she did. And what she wanted, he would do for her.

Sighing, he practically threw himself down in front of his organ and began to play a mournful tune. Erik could never play anything angry while thinking about Christine. No, he loved her too much to ever think anything ill about her. She was his Angel of Music, and without her, he was nothing. Nothing at all.

He continued to play for hours without stopping. It was his one escape from the cruel world he had grown to hate. The world that had shunned him into his isolation. The world which Christine loved and longed to be apart of. A world in which she and her Raoul could live together in marital bliss without any worries of the world. Without thinking of him. Without worrying about him haunting them. He would never do that to them, not if Christine was happy. Erik would sacrifice his happiness for her. So she would live in peace, no matter how much it hurt him. No matter how much it killed him.

His playing became faster as he tried to forget all about Christine. About everything. Nothing mattered to him now, nothing but his music. Music was his life now. Music would take the place of everything until he withered away in the dark cellars of his Opera house. It wouldn't be long now. He could feel it. Death was upon him, its grip slowly but surely taking his life away from him. Erik would not stop it, nor would he fight it. He would let it take him away into a, hopefully, happier world.

Erik shook his head. Now was no time to think about the future. Right now was a time to think about music. Beloved, soothing music. Everything his heart longed for. No longer would he convince himself of false thoughts of being loved and cared for. No longer would he leave his house by the lake. During his last days he would be content. He would know his love was happy. And, he would have music to comfort him. Music knew him. Music loved him. It would never, ever leave him, its great composer. It would haunt his dreams as Christine once had. It would sing softly in his ears as he admired what he had created. He would die hearing music in his head.

With those thoughts comforting him, Erik stood and walked away from his organ, the maker of music. He crossed his house toward his room. Opening the door, he gazed into the room. His coffin still lay at the far side, undisturbed and just how he had left it. The urge to sleep overwhelmed him. Before he succumbed to his bodies physical needs, he slipped off his cloak and top hat. Too tired to even take his mask off, he opened the lid to his coffin and placed himself inside of it, blocking out the entire world for blissful sleep.

A/N: That's it for chapter one, or even the whole thing. I'm not sure if I will continue or if I should stop. It's all for my reviewers to decide. If I do continue it though, it will be a short story. Not a long epic or anything. Just about his last days on the living plane. Definite one-sided Erik/Christine.

-The Phantom's Voice