The Phantom's face looked at her, questioning her at first and then he ordered, "What is the meaning of this!" His harsh tone scared her, but she knew she had hurt him, and he must have been dying inside ever since the Don Juan performance. She looked at him, a lone tear trickling down her face, and she replied softly, with her hand cupping his left side of his face, "Angel, it has taken me too long to realize how much you mean to me. Please forgive me."
He put his hand over hers, still upon his face, and held it to his cheek. The Phantom closed his eyes for a second, breathed, and opened them again, looking at Christine. "My dear, what do you speak of?" His eyes burned into her own, and she stared, "I want to be with you, Angel." Just then, the Phantom cracked a hollow smile and shook his head.
"I am sure the Vicomte has made you very happy, and I do not need your sympathy." He turned from her, returning to the stairs by his organ. Christine followed him and took his hand, which was resting on it's keys. The Phantom turned to look at her and she replied with empathy, "But he doesn't make me happy. You should know by now, that after that night," His expression became dark as she continued, "I couldn't think about anyone other than you." His unbelieving face searched her for truth, but seemed to not find any as he moved further away and retorted with angst, "I said I didn't need your sympathy!" Before now, his yelling would have frightened her, but now she seemed unscathed by its fierceness. "But, Angel." She ran to him, "This is not sympathy."
Christine reached for his hand and placed it upon her chest, "My heart beats for you now. Please, "She looked at him with pleading eyes, "believe that I love you." The Phantom relaxed, and slowed his breath from his previous aggravation. "Christine." He said, "You are not serious. You do not know what you are doing. Turn now, and the Vicomte may still take you back. Christine," He continued, "You do not want to spend your days with me. My face-"
She stopped him and finished, "is beautiful." Christine took off his mask deftly. He reached to cover the abhorrent part of his face, but she stopped him. "You do not need to hide, dear Angel." She cupped the bad side in her hands, the rough surface unfaze her as she kissed it softly. He looked at her in shock. How can she touch my horrid face? Why doesn't she draw back in fear, or disgust? The Phantom thought this as he dared to touch her. He held her cheek in his hands gingerly, as if afraid he might break her like a china doll. He is so untrusting; Christine thought I have to teach him that there is more to him than his face.
Their conversing eyes filled the silence that followed. Questions left unspoken resulted in another kiss, the two drawn to one another, more trusting, less fearful of betrayal or reaction. Their lips clasped onto another's like a finished puzzle and the moment was savored, like the closing of the curtains after an intense opera, the two stood, and embraced one another like long lost companions.
I am SO sorry it's so short! I felt it was right to end it here, and I sort of need advise for the next chapter. I'd like to see how you all would like the story's direction to go. I also really wanted to update for all readers, because I hate it when people wait like a year to update. Should this be angst and romantic or just romantic? I am open for suggestions. Thanks for reviews!