Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera, to my dismay.

Though a Rose May Fade…

Chapter VII- Broken Fairytales

"Christine?" Erik croaked.

He had been waiting for this moment to come, just itching for it to take place. He had always imagined of how she would just rush into his arms and claim that she had made a grave mistake that she loved him and not Raoul no matter if he had a disfigurement. He imagined that she would be crying and pleading for him to forgive her and he would silently pretend to contemplate about what answer to give then would shout a "yes" loud enough so the world could hear it. He imagined them getting married and living happily ever after just like a fairy tale. But that, of course, was only a fairy tale. Fairy tales were nonexistent. There was no such thing as living in "La- La Land" for the rest of eternity after you found your soul mate.

"In fact," the phantom thought, "it is quite the opposite. They turn on you and betray you just when they find your weakness. At least, with my life, that happened. Love is weak and blinded."

But there he still gaped at the presence of his lost love just like in his dreams. She looked just as beautiful as ever. He swore it was a dream, convinced himself it was a dream… but a part of him still hoped and believed that it was no dream but was a dream that came true. Would she do as she did in his imaginations? Would she profess her love for him?

"No. She will just reject you again and make you suffer." His mind spoke to him but he refused to believe.

Christine stood there, her feet planted to the ground. The awkward silence was making her go ballistic. Why couldn't she say something? Why couldn't the phantom say something? She so desperately wanted to move and to speak so she could tell him of how she felt, but her voice was caught in her throat and her feet were planted on the earth. One look at that mask and all her memories and a flood of emotions made its way through her. She was afraid of how much she could possibly take.

The way her feet would not budge or the way how she would not speak unnerved Erik. What the hell was she trying to do? It mad him self-conscious and insecure. It made him give into his own mind, which he had been fighting so hard to win.

"So what are you doing here now, Christine? Have you come to make my life more of a torture than you had already done? Have you come just to mock me or make me weak in the knees over you once more? Have you come just to laugh at how your so-called 'Angel of Music' is going through his self-made hell? Are you trying to kill me now because if you wish to than please do so without heed." Erik spat, glaring at the helpless girl before him. Christine's emotions were beginning to take control as tears began to fill her eyes.

"No. I don't even know why I thought of coming here. What a fool I must be." She muttered her voice hoarse and weak.

Erik laughed hollowly. "Come now, Christine we have already begun. Please, tell me what you are trying to say. I am eager to hear."

His voice sounded sarcastic and amused. Christine's defenses were beginning to fade.

"You are heartless. I was so foolish as to think you would ever contain compassion. You know nothing of love." She spilled then instantly regretted the words.

Erik turned away from her eyes in disbelief. "Are you so certain, Christine, when I had proclaimed my love for you when you gave me back my engagement ring? Am I the one who knows nothing of love or are you? Surely you do for you have your precious Raoul to fulfill your ever present needs! No, Christine, I have loved someone and if you name the first person you can think of you are probably correct. I did and still do, but they turned against me and put the music of the night to its grave. They betrayed me and spoke venomously of their hatred for me but I persisted still. And for what? It was all for nothing. I know love, Christine, more than you think.

"I'm so sorry, so very sorry… I didn't mean it…"

"Yes, I'm so sure. Where is your beloved Vicomte? Shouldn't you be with the man you so utterly adore at this hour rather than with this hideous monster!"

At those words, Christine fell to her knees and sobbed. They tore her heart and ignited the memories she so deeply desired to be lost forever in the flaming furnace. The words broke her. It was more than she could handle. Tears and make-up streamed down her cheeks forming small rivers. Her cheeks were flushed. Her breathing was ragged. She just realized how exhausted she was. Erik pretended not to notice although it hurt him to see her like this. Slowly Christine tried to regain composure.

"Do you even know how much I had gone through after that night in your godforsaken lair? Do you? My beloved Vicomte and his whole family made me feel like a fool. They treated me like filth. They insulted me, the Opera Populaire, you, Meg, Madame Giry… everything and everyone! I didn't know what to do or what to say so I sat there allowing me to be a fool and allowing them to make fools of everyone and everything that had occurred in my life like it all was just some damn joke! Then after it all happened I ran to the one person I thought that could help me. So I searched for him for endless painstaking hours just to know if he would have the heart to forgive me. Well, you can just screw that plan!" Christine's voice wavered dangerously.

"They insulted the Opera House?"

"Monsieur, I am quite aware that you heard what I had spoken."

"And the Vicomte did nothing to defend you?"

"No. He just let me be played a fool."

Erik nodded. Even he thought that Raoul would stand up for her. He hated Raoul for all he was worth. He never truly trusted Raoul, but felt that he was trustworthy enough to stand by Christine's side till death. This made no sense. He felt sorry for her, no doubt, but something still felt off.

"Fine. You can… stay for the time being." He said in defeat. It was extremely difficult to brush her off even if she had done some horrible things to him. Christine's eyes lit up with gratitude.

"Thank you so much! Thank you…"

"Erik. My name is… Erik."

"Erik…" she repeated, letting the word roll softly from her tongue. She liked it.

"Thank you, Erik."