They both felt oddly nervous and formal the next morning. Every now and then one of them would feel the facade slipping - a moment of self-loathing on his part, or a flicker of longing for her Angel again, but that feeling would be swiftly pushed down once more.

Erik had been convinced that her idea would not work at all, and she had her own private doubts on the matter as well, but surprisingly the lesson went much better than the previous ones - it almost felt normal.

She made progress with the songs she needed for the show, he didn't flinch away from her gaze or try to hide himself away in the corner, and she managed to not let her eyes linger on his mask.

It seemed to work, so they continued on in that manner, meeting several times a week if her schedule allowed for it, sometimes in her dressing room, sometimes in the room with the piano. She found she much enjoyed having musical accompaniment, and she only wished every now and then that he might sing with her as well, but for whatever reason he avoided duets for her practices.

They settled into their new roles rather easily - Erik was strict when he needed to be, but he often found reason to give her praise as well. Christine was still an ideal student and while they never quite on friendly terms as they had been before, they were at least polite to each other. A 'good morning' here and a 'have a nice day' there, it was all just fine - but Christine still found herself missing the easy camaraderie that they used to share.

How strange, she mused to herself, that she should be able to get along so well with a supposed heavenly being yet struggled to make conversation with a man here in front of her, even though they were one and the same.

She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was afraid that maybe underneath of it all she was still a little mad at him. Perhaps mad was not the right word - annoyed. She thought about this for a long while and finally realized that it wasn't him she was annoyed at - it wasn't even how she had lost the Angel of Music - no, it was how she had lost a friend and didn't know how to get him back even though he was right in front of her.

In as much as it was possible, she had considered the Angel a friend. She had spoken to him on nearly every subject, and it pained her to not have that ability anymore. He had always managed to make her laugh with his dry wit and occasional sarcasm. She felt like she hadn't laughed in ages.

Perhaps it would up to her to repair that connection between them - but every time she began to say some little story that had happened eariler or ask a question not related to music, something always stopped her.

Had he thought her silly all that time? Telling her angel about her day as though he cared? If anything, it should have been more embarassing when he was an angel, because surely an angel wouldn't care one fig about things like that.

But something stopped her all the same. After all - he never asked her how her day was, or if anything interesting had happened. Was he waiting for her to bring it up? Or was he just not interested? So she kept silent.

Erik, in turn, dearly wanted to speak to her about anything - anything at all, but he didn't quite know how. It had been so easy to talk to her when he was behind the mirror. But now - now it was different, somehow. More vulnerable, more open to being judged. So often at the start or end of lessons he'd have some morsel of small talk ready to go, only for it to die on his tongue as he thought about how he'd feel if she didn't reply or was no longer interested in talking about those things.

The lessons themselves were going nicely, and he was hesitant to do anything that might upset that delicate balance. He supposed it was almost like having a regular job like a regular person - he showed up on time and taught her and then left and went back home. Wasn't that how normal people had jobs? But still, being around Christine was his only true human contact - he missed being able to talk. He liked having a job, but he was certain he'd like having a friend even more. He knew, however, that if he messed up any further and was no longer allowed to teach her, he would be utterly alone again. He had learned his lesson the last time - better to be content with what little he had than to attempt to reach for something more. And after all, if Christine wanted to talk with him, well, wasn't she fully capable of starting a conversation?

Lessons filled the empty days and the days turned to weeks turned to months. A new normal had been achieved, and their lessons went smoothly. It remained formal between them, despite the odd intimacy of the situation.

Several months into the new arrangement, Christine could stand it no longer.

She arrived to her dressing room quite early, sitting down in her chair and tucking her legs under her, a carefully chosen book in her hands. She held up in front of her as though she were reading it, but in truth she was too nervous to really see what was on the page. She chided herself for her silly nerves - but she couldn't help how she felt. They had talked about books quite often before, and she hoped they could return to that.

Erik knocked and she called out for him to enter. He came into the room and Christine made a show of lingering for just a moment longer in her chair, eyes glued to the pages, before she stood and placed the book as obviously she dared on her vanity, glancing expectantly at Erik.

He waited patiently for her to be finished, tilting his head just slightly to read the title of the book. It was one that he'd read before, one he'd enjoyed, too - and he very nearly asked her what her favorite part was so far, but then he remembered what had happened the last time they discussed a book.

"Ah. A good book," he nodded towards it.

Christine very nearly jumped right into her thoughts on it and how much she loved the redemptive story arc of the main character, but she paused for the briefest of seconds and Erik continued speaking.

"I have a new set of warm up exercises I believe will help you greatly," he started, as though he'd never mentioned the book at all. "We will still keep some of your old ones, of course, and add these in as well."

She nodded, biting her lip. She'd missed her chance. But still, it was something, wasn't it? It was the closest they'd come to actually talking about something other than music or their sorry situation ever since he'd become a man to her.

She tried again at their next lesson, nearly flaunting the book in a manner that seemed horrifically comical, but all she managed to pull from him was a slightly puzzled look. After the third try and the book didn't draw any response, she decided she'd have to resort to drastic measures.

She could still remember that lovely day that felt so long ago, when she had received a pink knitted shawl from Meg on her birthday. She had been delighted with gift, wearing it nearly constantly until the weather became too warm. She had, of course, worn it to her lesson with the Angel, and he had commented on it, calling it charming and asking where she had gotten it from. Perhaps, she thought now, perhaps it would take some new piece of fashion to draw his attention and his conversation.

First she borrowed some bangles from the costume department, but their clinking and tinkling noise and bright sparkles didn't so much as draw a second glance from him, even when she gestured needlessly and excessively throughout the lesson.

An elaborately curled and twisted hairdo garnered no reaction whatsoever, not even with the rhinestoned hairpins she had carefully placed across it.

Out of the numerous things she wore in hopes of a reaction, it was the flower crown that came the closest to fulfilling the purpose she'd set out to accomplish. The flower crown was not like the dainty little ones she used to make with her friend Raoul in childhood - this one was a large, gaudy thing, oversized and piled high with lavender and forget-me-nots and bluebells. She had hope for moment as she walked into the piano room and Erik turned to greet her, only to be momentarily struck dumb by the sight of what was on her head. His brow furrowed in confusion and he frowned. She had truly thought he was going to ask about it, but instead he merely turned to the piano.

"I have a new piece I'd like you to learn, Christine. I think you'll like it."

She had resigned herself to their fate. They were teacher and student, not friends. But hadn't he said anything that he wished to be her friend? Perhaps he had changed his mind after she pulled his mask off.

Erik, for his part, couldn't figure out why the girl kept coming to lessons wearing such outlandish things. Some of them bordered on the ridiculous. A tiny part of him wondered if, in fact, she was trying to get his attention - did she want him to comment on what she was wearing? But that made no sense to him - if she wanted to talk to him, why didn't she just talk? He shrugged it off as some feminine mystery. Who could understand the minds of women, really? She probably had her own reasons for dressing so, and they probably had nothing to do with him at all.

Christine eventually gave up. She knew it was silly and could likely be remedied by simply explaining to him that she missed how they used to talk, but she was too embarrassed to bring it up. She wanted it to be natural, not something that she had bring up and ask for.

It seemed nothing would change in that regard, either, until the most unexpected thing happened to put a crack in the wall they had unwittingly built between them.

Oddly enough, it was all thanks to La Carlotta.