- - - Current time - - -

And so Christine attended her lesson that night, obedient as ever and perhaps bolder after proving her instructor wrong. He was glad she did so. They went over some lines of Il Muto,Christine singing the Countess' parts under Erik's instruction after he heard the news Meg told her. It was ironic to have the girl in the role of a countess as Raoul, the Vicomte, was vying for her attention.

A few days passed, no major events occurring at the theatre. But there was something that was added to Erik's collection of Christine-related items during this blissful time. Now that their lessons were face-to-face for both parties, the girl didn't bother to leave things on the windowsill since she could simply hand things to Erik. He continued playing tricks on more irritating cast members who tended to mess with the new soprano. In return, she discouraged such activities and presented him with a collection of new fountain pens for composing.

- - - Back to pre-Il Muto lessons - - -

"It makes me feel guilty for not giving you anything in return for all of the tutelage, Erik. And since I know you would discourage me from presenting frivolities to you, I purchased some pens for your compositions. They'll prove to be quite useful, not frivolous." Christine assured him, handing over the boxed set of pens.

His heart softened at the motion.

"Oh Christine, I will treasure these completely useful tools. The remainder of my Don Juan will be written with these. Though I must insist that you need not fret over giving me anything in return for the lessons."

"Nonsense. Now are we going back to your home so you can play that lovely organ? I think you are somehow even more skilled on it than the violin you usually use."

"Ah, I did not think of that." Erik lied, knowing that his thoughts throughout the entire day dwelled upon their lesson and wishing she would want to go back to his home willingly, however impossible it seemed.

"That is, if you would be alright with it. I don't wish to impose."

"The power you posses over poor Erik prevents you from imposing. What's mine is yours, dear girl. It's a miracle that you have returned but I am more thankful for it than I am for life itself."

Together, they walked through the passage back down to Erik's subterranean, and lavishly decorated with various oddities, home. Christine grasped onto him tightly, knowing that losing her place could be disastrous with the sheer number of differing routes there were. Her teacher, on the other hand, was barely able to breathe at such contact.

Upon entering the house, the pair went off to the music room. The girl stood to the side of the organ while Erik positioned himself in front of it, beginning to play a few simple chords from the piece. Christine's gaze wandered over the rest of the room in awe of everything.

Several instruments were sitting in open cases across the floor and on top of wooden furniture. Sheet music, both his own and that of other composers lay in neat stacks beside the instruments. Gilded candelabras illuminated the entire room and their gothic style matched nicely with the burgundy rugs and dozens of leather-bound books. On the walls, there were a few paintings but the most attention-drawing thing were the sketches. These were clearly Erik's works, all of them drawn with a passionate hand in charcoal and each of them centering on Christine.

Here the girl realized just how expansive those tunnels really were. There was no explanation for how her mysterious tutor managed to see her in all of these places unless there were hiding spots for him to watch her there. Her slight form was pictured in several dancing poses, speaking to Reyer, smiling at Meg, tying the ribbons of her ballet slippers, waiting patiently in the chapel, or sleeping peacefully in her chamber. Each showed Christine at differing ages, from when she began hearing her Angel to just the previous day.

But there were others that she did not recognize. Though the subject was definitely still her, they all took place in what she assumed to be this underground home. Many of them were partially covered by other papers, crossed out, or drawn in a very smudged hand. In these, it seemed to be that Erik had drawn himself as well.

She tried to pull her gaze away, but Christine's eyes would periodically dart back to the unfamiliar sketches while singing her scales.

One of them was in plain sight- Erik's spindly arms and fingers caressing a sleeping Christine. The girl couldn't help but blush. In another, he seemed to be joining her in rest, both of their expressions weary and Christine's hair a tangled mane over the pillow. But there were lines across it, like Erik attempted to scratch out the beautiful image he created. The rest of these drawings were the same: intimate poses between the pair that weren't noticeable from underneath all of the lines trying to cover them up.

"You seem distracted, Christine." Erik's haunting voice brought her mind out of its thoughts.

"I'm simply admiring your music room. How is it possible for one person to be so talented in so many regards?"

"In which regards?" He scoffed, "Lying, deceit, music, illusion? I have done many unforgivable things, Christine. As I said before, the man sitting here is no angel."

"I meant to compliment your artistic skills in the form of playing all of these instruments, composing, singing, and drawing. Your sketches are magnificent."

Erik paled underneath the mask.

"I did not mean for you to see those. My apologies if you think me an intruder in your daily life." He said, hoping she hadn't seen the other sketches that were half-hidden.

"Not at all, I quite like them. Though you did exaggerate the order in my hair, it is not so neat, and I look too un-blemished in them."

"They're drawn by a biased, yet honest eye. Surely you don't believe that I am too kind to you in lessons? I do not hesitate to correct even the smallest of your blunders and so you cannot tell me that the drawings are too flattering. That is simply how I see you. Now, on with the singing and please focus upon it."