This little thing was written when I was being emo about Christine finding out that the angel of music was just a man and was probably extremely upset...so yeah! I hope you enjoy it, haha. I also made a tumblr post about it. My blog is madiamazing if you would like to check it out. :)

Summary: A quick, modern retelling of my favorite scene from Leroux, in Christine's point of view.

Thank you so much for reading, and please review.

~Deception~

The first thing I noticed when I came to was the scent that surrounded me. Floral, pleasant, almost overwhelming in its sweetness. When I finally felt brave enough, I opened my eyes and pushed the golden hair that blocked my sight away from my face, finding myself in an unfamiliar bedroom. I was lying on a large, four-poster bed, the framing a deep mahogany wood and the bedding thick, plush, and off white with floral patterns.

Surrounding the old fashioned yet stylish room were countless arrays of flowers, vases of bouquets covering every possible surface. Well…that explained the scent. The dresser, end tables, the vanity, chairs…all covered in ridiculous flower arrangements that had my brows furrowing together in confusion.

And then, a flash of movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I found that I was not alone in the room, as I'd assumed. With a sinking stomach, I studied the extremely thin, black-clad figure that stood watching me, sitting up cautiously. It was the same man that had brought me here; for that I was sure. Those strange, glowing, yellow eyes still did not stray from my face, as they had not during our entire journey here. Below.

We were in a house…below the theater?

The man still wore the black mask that covered every inch of his face except for his thin mouth and chin. Now that I could see better, I noticed he was dressed in black business wear that looked very expensive, and his black hair was slicked back and smooth.

As I studied him, saw how his scorching eyes looked on me with longing, sorrow, and guilt most of all; I knew immediately what I would never be able to admit to myself. My stomach twisted, my head shaking slowly in denial. I could feel my pulse racing, could very nearly hear it in my ears. No…

I think he could see that I was figuring it all out, because he opened his mouth to speak. I shook my head more frantically, pleading at him with my eyes to no, please, don't. If he spoke, and it confirmed what I already knew, it would be the end of my angel…the end of everything.

Despite my silent pleading, he spoke anyway, slowly. "You will not touch my mask." Oh, no… "You are safe as long as you abide by that one rule. Do not be scared." The voice…

No, no, no, no, no… My heart shattered in my chest as his voice confirmed my awful, horrible suspicion.

It was the voice of my angel.

"Oh my God," I whispered in agony, the tears already welling up in my wide, disbelieving eyes. I crawled off the bed and stood, frantically approaching the impossibly tall form until I was only a foot away from him. "You're a…a man. " My voice shook with tears, and a sob burst through my chest before I could stop it. "Please, please…it can't be true." But it was. I had already known it.

For some reason, though, I still couldn't help but ask, "Are you…only a m-man?" Hot tears fell down my cheeks and I stared up at him, waiting.

When he closed his eyes in regret and gave me one slow, pained nod, I wailed, "NO!" I struck the man's boney chest with my fists as hard as I could, as much as I could, and he merely stood still, letting me. The man. He was a man. I sobbed loud and hard as I hit him, over and over, screaming that he was a liar and cruel and disgusting, and I could see in his tearing eyes that he agreed with me. Eventually, my knees buckled beneath me, causing me to fall to the floor.

How could I have been so stupid? It was all a lie. My father never sent me the angel of music like he'd promised. Instead, some psycho with an otherworldly voice had pretended to be one, filling me with so much joy, hope…had made me devoted to him and him only. And then ripped it all away from me. "Why…" I cried, heartbroken, weeping into my hands.

He let me sit there and cry for a very long time. "It is true," I eventually heard the tortured whisper close to my ear, and when I looked up, the man was kneeling in front of me, crying with me. "I am no angel. I am Erik. Just…Erik."

I stared at the grown man that wept before me for a while. I was not afraid of him; he made no move to touch me or hurt me or anything…and he was obviously upset with what he'd done. He looked at me as if he'd do anything for me to stop crying. Still, I shook with sobs as I looked on him with unexplainable grief and betrayal. Why would anyone think this kind of deception would work? Would be okay?

"How could you, Erik?" I spat, my breath shaky. "Why would you…?" I couldn't even finish, needing to take deep breaths to calm my intense sobs. I hadn't cried like this, like a child, since my father's death three years ago. If I didn't find some way to stop now, I feared I would never be able to.

The man's, Erik's, strange, tear filled eyes burned into mine, and he told me with an intensity that took my breath away, "I love you." I gaped at him, unmoving. "I love you, Christine."

What? I could do nothing but sit there, stare at him in confusion and horror. No…it couldn't be true. How could love be the explanation for what he had done? I had so many questions swirling through my head, so much disappointment and grief and loss weighing me down, overwhelming me. No, no, it's all too much to handle! I swayed, my eyelids fluttering shut.

I collapsed forward, and the last thing I felt before going under completely were the skeletal arms that had caught me, holding me close.