This story isn't as successful as I wanted it to be, compared to how much time I actually put into it.

Hwever, because it is a stress relief for my other fic, I shall continue.

Sorry folks.

The auburn with the pale whirlpool blue eyes spun around on the stage with the ease and grace of a seraph. As her bow glided along the strings of that elegant instrument a euphoric sound derived from it. For the first time in his life, he had saw someone with such a passion in their heart that could rival his.

Continuesly, she spun. The melody was happy, major. Despite her dress she managed to leap and twirl like a proffesional ballerina as the spotlight followed her across the stage. Her long auburn pigtails seemed to glissade behind her, swirling around her.

Since the last time he saw her she had changed her dress. It was still the usually fiery red that she wore, however this time it was loose with no hoop. So as she spun it rose. Fluttering with each and every movement. The speed increased, his heart beat did also. It was as if each beat was the metronome for her musical tale, that he read as simply as a book.

At first the music was chipper, in short spurts - like a child, a happy child. An image was painted in his mind of a little girl, spinning and dancing with her violin, playing simple melodies in the meadows. Distant and careless from the world. Then, the notes began to get longer and lower. Signifying age and impurity.

It all sudenly went very dark and slow, in a high minor. Sadness and sorrow echoed from the slow and melancholic sways and expressions on her pale features. Loss, or realisation. The whole thing stopped dead. Once again, it started up in short spurts, sharpness and callousness throbbed in each note like a gaping wound.

The tone was lowered and occasionally went high, despair and tragedy, deep loss and failure. Then it slowly faded out. Starting off once again slow as she lowered herself to sit on the edge of the stage. It was happy, echoing feelings of love and purity. No expression on her face. Then it took a turn that Erik was not expecting.

The tones became dragged out and low, exhausted at first as she stood back up. Now her movements were slower put deliberate. As the low notes shook sultry tones and purred almost seductively. Even her movements portrayed his. As she spun, bending slowly and biting her lip. The music began to get faster and faster and Erik found himself getting rather warm.

Taking in deep and shaky breaths as he watched this teasing display. Her music made him feel. Made him feel emotions that were so genuine it affected every inch of his body. It could make him quake in fear, fill his eyes, make him smile, or think those thoughts that men were most predictable for thinking. How he hated those dark and forbidden thoughts.

Finally, to Eriks chadgrin, the music faded to a melody pleasant and fine. Happiness and joy. This improvised piece told a story as good as any book, novel or opera - infact it spoke it better. Those educated enough in soul to see it were blessed with it's blissful content. She was a truly talented and beautiful player.

When she finished, she stood centre stage. Trying to catch her breath and letting the real wolrd come back into focus. It was silent. deadly silent, with only her rapid breathing and thundering heart to keep her company. Or so she thought. For she did not know of the eavesdropper in the orchestra pit, tha man she so loathed and would rather see dead than see again.

Then, as began to lower her violin, she heard a light noise. It could have been a trick of the mind, maybe a ruffle of paper - but something definately moved. She snapped alert right away, trying to sound confident. Despite her shaky voice.

"Wh-Who's there?!" She called out, heavy breath in her words that gave away her terrorized appearance. Erik had never seen the woman look so... scared. She was always such a strong, powerful and overwhelming figure. But there was a subtle shyness in her music, as if she was only convincing herself that she was the woman she is today.

Erik got the impression that behind that hard, cold exterior - was a woman, true and kind. That, that auburn hair of hers was not only fiery with the anger of those who mocked her, but aflame with a burning love that could not be extinguised. Everything about her was so intense. Nothing was subtle, except in her playing. Almost as if her playing was her soul, her true persona, whilst her appearance was a blockade to her friendship and love.

The masked man was unsure if he should stay quiet, announce himself or run. If he was quiet enough he could slip away, his cat like feet could carry him out and she would never know that he had heard her. Alternatively, he could applaud. Congratulate her on her performance, no one had influenced or inspired him that much since...since...his Angel.

Perhaps if he did, he could hear her play more, maybe even with her! Oh but those thoughts were too dreamy! He could not indulge himself on music again, let his feelings become too strong - he wasn't ready. So he stayed quiet. Standing and watching her in silence as she tried to listen for more noise, none came.

A little shaken at nearly getting caught, she knelt her violin away with such care. It was almost as if it was her child, her most precious possetion - like she was packing her heart and soul away into that box. Erik watched.

He remembered his old organ in the Opera house. How lovingly he used to treat it, despite the wrath of his anger that he played on it - there was an organ here too. He would have to play it soon, though he had lost his spark.

He watched as she darted her head around frantically, trying to hear for that noise earlier. So very paranoid. Then she gasped and nearly dropped her violin.

"M-Mr. Kahn?!" Nadir walked up to the stage, dressed in his best. Erik rose the only eyebrow he had, for his usually confident Persian friend looked embarassed and nervous. He was taking short rapid breaths and was wobbly on his legs and constantly clearing his throat.

"M-Miss Rivard... there is... something I want to ask of you." Erik's heart stopped in his chest. Nadir was going to put himself forward as suitor! Something stung inside him and he felt as if he needed shout out or object against his friend. But then she would know he was listening.

The auburn adjusted her standing, makinga strong curtsey. Which he returned with a bow, low and then stood at the bottom of the stage. Putting himself forward as her suitor.

Erik was confused, his friend Nadir, the Daroga who used make women swoon for him, wooing whomever he wished. Having as many as he wanted. Now he was commiting himself, but he had come far since those days...

At first, the auburn looked shocked, a blush evident on her cheeks. Erik noted that she was writhing her hands behind her back, she wasn't sure. Yet she didn't refuse, nodding frantically. Why would she do that? Erik thought, for he recognised the unsure and quizzical expression upon her.

Nadir was delighted, laughing and leaping up onto the stage. Such a grin on his face as a delighted child with a new toy. He took her hand, placing a kiss upon it as she smiled almost sympathetically.

It felt as if he had been stabbed in the side, she was so talented and... beautiful. Not like his Christine of course, nothing could compare to his wonderous Christine. Alas there was something about her that made his heart warm and smile. Someone who understod how cruel the world could be, finding solace in music and the beauty of the sounds all around.

Now he thought of how cruel he had been. Reporting her to Nadir, calling her a disruptive and insulent cad. What he had done to her as well, being so insensitive about her condition, he put his head down in same. Watching as Nadir escourted her out.

Nadir could treat her right, like a real woman. Erik would never be able to do such a thing, with his cursed face and horrid temper he doubted he could ever understand the act of giving love. He hated not being in control.

It was almost like he was Lucifer himself, the fallen angel of impurity and sin, anger and hate. Everyone despised him, even those here who didn't know his gruesome fate. They hated him because his soul was as corrupt as his ugly face.

The Persian left with the woman on his arm and Erik slumped back down in his chair. Why did he feel so heart broken when she wasn't even his? He didn't want her to be his, did he? A few minutes ago he loathed her, now he... He didn't know.

But should he steal her from his friend who sorely deserved her to see if it satisfied hi needs? His mind was racing and he was so confused. What to do , what to do?

If you enjoyed, please review.

Thanks.