(You're right, and I'm sorry, You both said the same thing, so I'm combining a response for you both:

I'm sorry I was rude... Bad day I guess. But I'm better now. And thanks for the kind reviews, even if I was a jerk.

Oli: -nods head- You tell 'em. Now I want to see some groveling.

Ali: At them or you?

Oli: Both sounds good.

Ali: -sighs and bows down low to Oliver- Alright. -turns and bows to reviewers- Happy now?

Oli: -smiles happily- Very.

Oliver sighed and pounded a sharp note on the organ. He could not think straight. Ever since he had seen what he saw... He growled, unable to cry anymore, for he used his last tear hours ago. He pounded once more on his master's organ before standing and pacing. What did he have to do? What should he do? Ever since he had seen her so long ago she had not left his overworked mind.

xxxxxxxxxXXXXXXXFlashbackXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxx

Oliver loved to climb in the high parts of the stage as sopranos rehearsed their parts for the next opera. He would stand way up high where no one could see him and drop mice down. It became a game. If he got the mice on the soprano's head, he won the game and no men would come to get him. But if it landed elsewhere, the soprano had better scream in the next five seconds otherwise the game was over and the men wouldcome and get himand kill him because his face was so ugly.

He was doing just this when the maestro was stopped and a man with a small girl next to him stepped onto the stage. The man had dark blond hair and had a protecting hand on the girl's shoulder. It was the girl that caught Oliver's attention most. She was so... pretty. So unlike all the little ballerinas that fluttered across the stage clumsily. He watched her intently from above as she was introduced as Mademoiselle Diane Chagny and she wanted to be a chorus girl in the opera house. The man was her father, Monsieur Raoul Chagny, one of the most important patrons of the opera house. The manager, Hien, immediately agreed to let her stay, and even gave her one of the better dorms. Oliver was delighted to hear this, because there was a secret passage that led to that room through a mirror.

And so began his life as someone who would watch as young Diane danced and sang and went about her life as a ballerina. He would make sure that he did not play his game of Mice when she was around, and even once saved her from a loose piece of stage that had been laying precariously up in the rafters. He became obsessed, and longed for her voice, but mostly to only touch her. Oh, he wanted that so! To stroke her soft, warm skin and to bury his face in what he imagined as honey-smelling hair.

But, Erik had told him so... No woman wanted to spend her life with a monster! Oliver grieved for days, weeks, thinking that he could never actually meet Diane. After all those years of doting and dreaming. And then when he saw Diane and that stage-rat canoodling on the rooftop he felt more sorrow than he had ever felt for all his life as a phantom.

And so Oliver made a mask. It was to be different from Erik's. Oh, he had seen that piece of white porcelain. But that was meant for the left side of his face. It was his right side that had been mauled and blinded oh so long ago. And so he stole pieces of cloth from the costume designer's room, and began to put together a thin, black mask that covered his nose and most of his face. There was only one eyehole, for who wanted to see the eye that could not see? A thin ribbon was tied at each end, and was long enough to go around his head comfortably. When it was done, Oliver put on the mask and went to look into the dusty mirror that he had always feared. As he stood in front of it, Oliver was surprised to see that he looked rather handsome.

No ugliness showed through the mask and his face, though pale, had a gentle look to it. he smiled for the first time in months, and decided that maybe Diane would prefer him to that Adamo. What kind of name is that, anyways? Oliver pondered this as he watched Diane through her routine. How could he meet her? And then it came to him. She was always singing to herself about an Angel. One of Music. Could that be the answer? It seemed that this Angel came to teach how sing to someone who deserved it. Could Oliver pose as this Angel?

The new idea made Oliver shiver with excitement and his brilliant mind began to plan how he could start this. In stories a person or creature that beared gifts would come at night, or in the person's sleep. This sounded like a good start.

And so Oliver began to get ready to meet Diane... sort of. he couldn't come to her face to face. No Angel would do that. And so, he began thinking some more. The mirror! He could sing to her from behind to mirror! Oh, he could imagine her delight and wonder already! But what would he sing?

Oliver sighed, and began to piece together bits of sheet music that Erik had left behind. It would be a lot of work, but he would make sure that Diane would be happy.

(Ali: Oh, I think this is a good chapter. It is short, mind you, but I think it describes Oliver's character more. he was kinda dark and mysterious before, and not the young, troubled mind I have pictured.

Oliver: -nods- Yeah, you've got me down to a point. How'd you know all that?

Ali: I made you up, remember?

Oli: -nods slowly- Oh yeah... right. You kinda forget when you're the one made up... Thanks for making me depressed. I'm nothing more than a figment of some hopeless romantic 14-year-old girl.

Ali: -shoves Oliver into a closet- He needs a timeout. You can come back when you're feeling more happy and ready to sing. You'll be doin' some of that in the next chapter.

Oli: -muffled shouts-)