"He's here—The Phantom of the Opera!"
These words escape my lips each time I see him watching above. And each time, my heart skips a beat, dancing wildly in my chest. It feels like a thousand little butterflies fluttering about between my ribs, bursting to break free. I love my mother's stories of Erik the man and the ballet rats' stories of the Opera Ghost. And I've grown to love him from a distance. Perhaps it is only a dream or a fairytale I love. But it's an imperfect fairytale, mingled with peril. Soon, I shall have my dark prince.
A/N: This is an ALW drabble, as opposed to my previous Lerouxbased one. Please read and review!