A/N: Hey everyone hope you're all well! Please if you're enjoying the story (or even not) would love to hear criticism and feedback as I'm eager to improve upon my first fic, also I'll try to make my chapters a little longer as I've realised how painfully short they are

Weirdo Witch of the West: We all know deep down Erik is just gorgeous of course ;)

grandma paula: Glad you're enjoying the romance between the budding couple!

And guest speaker: Yes...Yes Erik is a slice

Also if anyone is interested recently began a Les Mis fic that I'm pretty excited about so please check that out

Anyway thank you and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom Of the Opera

Chapter Seven

I awoke that morning to a smile upon my face, something I had not experienced for a long time, as my mind dreamily lived out the night with Erik. Slowly but surely I could see a bridge of trust forming between us, his tentative kiss last night symbolised more than my desperate kisses that were a sudden moment of fuelled passion and pleas for forgiveness. I rolled over on the silken sheets wanting to see Erik but also still in a morning haze that willed me to burrow back down under the sheets. Finally I gave in, curious as to how he would react the morning after our midnight stroll.

I quickly made the bed and chose a pale pink dress for the day; It was neither demure nor too flirtatious although its close fit and frilled 3/4 length sleeves were mildly suggestive. On my way to the en suite I checked the time, as it was still only dawn I decided to draw myself a hot bath filling it with the tiny vials of sweet soaps that were neatly laid out in the bathroom. The soapy rose smelling bubbles gave me time to refresh myself and calm down a little before greeting Erik for the morning. When I emerged from the bathroom my skin was left soft with a pink glow, I would've washed my hair although its thickness and length would result in it taking an age to dry and instead I styled it into my usual loose chocolate curls that waved down my back. I gave myself a quick look in the mirror trying to quell the excitement that danced across my eyes; I was acting like a love struck teenager.

To my dismay when I emerged from my room I looked down to find a blooming red rose sitting atop a folded note;

"My Christine,

I didn't wish to disturb your slumber, but I had business I had to attend to that was rather important. I will return mid-afternoon, until then

Yours, Erik"

The note was signed with a flourish of his calligraphic handwriting. I huffed feeling as though my effort and excitement this morning had somewhat gone to waste, however it occurred to me perhaps me being along here wasn't too awful, I could discover more about Erik. I inhaled the sweetly sent of the rose before placing it amongst the other white ones in a vase above Erik's organ.

Erik was such a secretive man, always hiding from the world and even now he was like an iceberg only slightly thawed. This man who I loved I barely knew anything about, a thought that disturbed me slightly but I shook this off, determined to find out more in the precious hours before he returned. I decided perhaps searching his home would give me some incentive. I walked down the lit corridors, its deep blue wallpaper accenting the golden candles that hung lighting the way along past the library and several rooms I was yet to explore. I often wondered where Erik slept as he made a point of clearly showing that my bed was not to be shared with his, it seemed childlike but I assumed he didn't sleep, as if he wasn't of this world. Some of the doors I walked past I had briefly explored, however I was yet to enter the very end one. The door was strong oak with a golden brass handle, it was dark and inviting how could I resist?

Curiosity won out over guilt as I turned the brass knob and stepped inside the mysterious room. Unlike the lavish decorations of my bedroom or the other grand rooms in Erik's home this was a step down from the luxury that was just a turn of a door away. A small narrow bed was placed at the side of the room, with a simple beige spread so different from my deep red patterned one that lay upon an almost queen size bed. A small painting hung above the simple desk which held numerous scribbled notes in Eriks exquisite handwriting. I walked over to get a better look at the painting; It was a portrait of a woman, most likely in her thirty's. She had jet black hair that was woven atop her pale head, the painter had obviously thought her beautiful as the painting was stunning. However there was a coldness in her severe expression, her mouth although full was plain and held no warmth and those piercing golden eyes…

I gasped as I realised who the woman must be

"His mother" I whispered, as I saw the resounding similarity between the two. I asked once about Erik's childhood and his blunt reply led me to presume that perhaps he was orphaned at a young age, a silly thought as I realised his talents and intellect must have been the result of an educated upbringing. Her eyes seemed to follow me as I walked through Erik's room, her intense glare burning into me as I was about to reach for a notebook that lay upon Erik's desk before deciding against it. Some things should remain private.

Guilt got the better of me as I retreated out of the dark room, quietly closing the heavy door before turning to walk straight into Erik's chest before stumbling backwards with a sudden scream. He loomed above me like an animal staring down upon its helpless prey. His masked face was cold, but his eyes burned with fury;

"Find anything interesting Christine?" he hissed, as I stood staring helplessly trying to justify my blatant invasion of privacy

"E-Erik I'm so sorry! I-I was just…?"

"Bold are we now Christine?" he mocked a menacing smile stretching across his face, his fists clenched

"I suppose you seen it all now didn't you? Discovered the real me did you Christine? Well I hope you-" he spat at me before I interrupted

"Erik I only seen the portrait, I swear I didn't see anything" I trembled as his glare softened a little

"…You didn't read anything?" he asked an air of suspicion in his voice

"No Erik" I replied my voice steadier now as I brought a hand cupping his face gently, as he tensed a little under my touch

"I was curious Erik. I'm sorry I really am but I only looked at the portrait. It's just Erik I know nothing about you yet live with you, I feel for me…us to move forward I need to know more about the man I care for" I explained as his face softened listening to what I had to say. When I finished he sighed and gently moved my hand down as he took it and we walked back into the dark room, beckoning me to sit at the edge of the bed as he stood ringing his hands looking up at the beautiful painting.

"The woman in the painting…is my mother" he began his voice dark as I listened intently not daring to breathe too loud

"I was born into a rich family Christine. One of status and wealth, one of the most powerful families in Paris. Before my birth my mother had given birth to two girls, however what use was a female to my father. Who would carry on the legacy of our name, run our businesses? When my mother gave birth to me however their joy at having a baby boy was short lived" his glare dropped down towards the floor as his body tensed, reliving the pain of his childhood

"This face…repulsed her" he whispered

"My father told me repeatedly as a young child that I was evil. A monster that was born to ruin their otherwise perfect lives. If the family wasn't of such high status I would've been cast aside, left to rot and die in a gutter but instead I was hidden away from the world. Kept out of the public's eye in the rooms that were locked to shield my sisters against the demon that was their brother. They told family and friends that I had sadly died during childbirth. My mother and father acted as though I didn't exist and kept me there, hiring a nanny sworn to secrecy to care for me" his face softened a little at her thought

"Her name was Cécile" he smiled sadly

"She was elderly. Incredibly firm but she loved me like no one had or ever will love me. She was my whole family, my whole world, the only kind thing I had known. She was also talented, and taught me to read music and play piano. Much to my parents anger I was talented too and my music would echo around the halls of the empty house. Sometimes my sisters would sit by my door and listen to me play, they'd never known me but they would whisper compliments through the locked door. Occasionally the younger one Emée would push notes through the door, or small drawings she thought I would like" his face was so sad now, I wished to go over to him but didn't want to interrupt his emotional reflection

"When I was 12 there was a fire" his face was intense now

"I don't know how it happened, but my room was so far away from everyone else that the flames didn't reach me. It was the middle of the night and I woke to a thick cloud of smoke that pushed through the door, then the sounds of Cécile banging the door screaming for me to run…I-I couldn't get the door open in time and when I did…she was unconscious. I dragged her out of the house through the window in my room. But it was too late" a tear ran down his exposed face

"…When we were outside. Her breath was short and I-I didn't know what to do. As she died she held my hand and told me what a good boy I was…she called me her beautiful angel" his voice was but a whisper now as he turned his back to me his shoulders masking me from him.

I couldn't stand it any longer and slowly went to him. When I faced him he tried to turn his tear stained face away, but I firmly cupped his bony cheeks and slowly raised my hand to his mask and slid it away from him. I smiled gently although my eyes were watery from hearing about the pain he had gone through. I then pulled him into a hug holding him tightly, shielding him from the pain of his past. His hands fluttered slightly but eventually they settled as he gripped me back

"Now you're my beautiful angel" I whispered before moving gently to his lips and kissing his softly.