Erika's POV 

       I unlaced my corset, feeling my ribs instantly drop. I sat down in front of my piano again, and put up my composition.  

                                                         'Don Juan Triumphant'

      My newest, best work. The music was akin to spice, burning and sizzling even the least innocent. I made a mental note never to show this to Christine, as this would destroy her. Well, it would destroy her innocence, maybe not her. 

                                                                           'Still'

     I began working again, pressing on the keys. I was happy with it, but Christine could make it so much better. She could sing, she could dance, and her gorgeous dress would swirl around her like crazy. 

    But I couldn't kiss her onstage. I couldn't publicly announce her as my wife. I couldn't just take her out to dinner and have a nice night. 

                                       ' And your face is HALF of that problem!'

      My mind wandered, and wandered, and wandered. Soon, I was sketching out how I would look as a man. 

                                              ' Erik Destler, suave angel of music'

     I could only laugh at the thought. If I was some, I don't know, sexy guy in a suit and deep voice, I would have Christine wrapped around my finger. 

    I could kiss her onstage. I could publicly announce her as my wife. I could take her out to dinner and have a nice night. 

                'Shower her with jewels, have her bathe in a sea of pearls and fine fabrics' 

    I still laughed. Christine only thought of me as an 'angel', possibly a friend. Definitely not someone who she would blush and giggle at. If that happened, if that happened, 

                                                         'But that hug..'

     That's what got me. The hug. 

     My first miracle. My first feeling of affection. The closest thing I would get to her loving me. 

                                            'She will never love you as you love her!'

    I stepped up, not going to work Don Juan anymore. Christine needed me. 

                        'She just needs a friend, Erika, don't fucking kid yourself!'

 Christine's POV

   I waited for my angel.

  She would appear any minute. She would appear with her sweeping cloak and bright blue eyes and curled, lovely black- 

                                           'Christine, what the heck are you thinking?!'

   I snapped out of my thoughts as someone seemed to open up my door. 

   "Christine?" a man asked, and walked in. I turned, faintly recognizing him. 

                                            'Now where have I-'

  "Raoul!" I exclaimed, smiling widely. "How did you get here?" He only smiled back, "I'm the new patron. Christine, I'd thought I'd never see you again!" I only nodded, trying to ignore the thoughts in the back of my head. 

                        'Your angel, Christine! She's so much more important!'

   I suddenly realized that she would be here any minute, and Raoul would suspect something off if a woman stepped out of my mirror holding music notes and saying that I didn't do very well. 

 "Raoul, thank you for visiting. Now, can you please leave?" I asked, getting up and trying to usher him out. "But why?" He asked, blocking me. I only huffed, "Personal matter. Please leave!" He blocked me again, "Is someone coming over? You can tell me." I only tried to get past him again. "Leave, Raoul, please!" 

   It went on like that for a full minute, before he actually followed my orders and got out. 

   But not without slapping me. 

  As if on cue, the angel threw open my mirror and came rushing in. "Christine!" She exclaimed, running over to me. "What has that fop DONE?!" She growled, and I only laughed, tearing up, at the nickname. Her tone softened as she, almost reluctantly, decided to hold me. 

  I knew she didn't want to. I knew she was just doing this because angels are cursed with incomparable empathy. That she would only hug me if I was hurt. 

 It seemed like only seconds before she let go, pulling out her music notes and asking if I would like to sing a bit to calm myself. 

    'That's all she cares about, she could never care about you in the way you want her to.'

 I sang, but it was without passion. Without happiness. She only cared about how good it sounded, anyway.

Third Person POV  

  To say that Erika was about to cry with Christine's voice was a drastic understatement. The way the brunette sang, as caused of Erika, no doubt, was without anything. 

  It was her normal voice, good but with nothing into it. Just completely empty. 

  Erika left, unsatisfied. "Christine, are you okay?" She asked, pushing a lock of black hair behind her ear. The brunette only nodded, simply acknowledging Erika and wanting for her to go. 

  But that only set the black-haired girl more concerned. "Christine, are you sure?" 

 "I'm FINE!" Christine exclaimed, and that just caused Erika to completely leave and slam the mirror shut angrily. 

  Christine stood there in shock, before dissolving into tears. 

                                                                                    'You hurt an angel.'