Christine

I slept fitfully, tossing and turning ceaselessly.

Twice, I turned over, expecting to see Erik. When I found him absent, I lay back with a soft sob. Where was my Angel, when I needed him so? Why was he not with me?

Finally, I fell asleep properly, after tossing endlessly. I dreamed of Erik, as I always did.

Bright flashes of light was followed by him, standing there, silhouetted by the blackest night, or the deepest blue. He was reaching out to me, the white face mask standing out stark—like white silk or snow—against the deep black that surrounded him, always swirled and swished around his thin person. I reached out, trying to grasp his outstretched gloved hand, but he just smirked, and with a swirl of his cape, he was gone. I cried out into the dark, swirling nothingness. My voice echoed, resonating in the dark place I was, and then was swallowed up in the thick blackness.

Oh, Erik!

I sat up, blinking against the candles that I always kept burning—I never knew what time it was, unless I looked at the clock in the parlor.

I shook off the remnants of last night's fevered dreams, and slowly slipped off the bed. Where was Erik? Why had he not slept beside me, as he normally did?

Opening the door, I heard the organ's music flowing through the house. How had I missed that?

I sighed, relieved. Now I knew why he had not slept beside me! He was up all night, composing...Or at least up very early, composing.

I padded to the kitchen, humming quietly along with the music that flowed through the walls, and into my soul. I knew he had not eaten anything for at least five hours—most likely ten, now that I was thinking on it—so I decided I would make breakfast for us.

Humming, I got out the silver platters and set them on the countertop. I walked to the icebox that was up against the wall and rustled through it until I found the jam, butter, cheese, and fruit. I set them out, and began putting together a little breakfast—some jam in little dishes for the bread I would get out of the bread box, sliced cheeses and fruits I placed on the platter, and butter by the jam. Then I took the bread out of the box, and cut it up into slices, which I then put on the platter, too.

I sighed, it looked almost perfect. Quietly, I took out plates, and silverware from the cupboard. I placed the dishes on the table, before heading back to the kitchen so I could cook some sausages I had seen in the icebox. Fishing them out, I placed a pan on the burners, and slid the sausages into the pan. While they sizzled, I filled the kettle with the water from Erik's tap—that was what he called it, anyway—and then placed it on the other burner, for tea.

Whistling a little, I set teacups on the table, then cream and sugar by my silver breakfast platter. Hearing the sausages sizzle some more, I went back to the kitchen, and quickly slid them onto the platter I had placed by the burner. Spinning, I placed that, too, on the table.

The kettle started to boil, and I filled the teapot with the boiled water.

I sighed, resting on the countertop, waiting for the tea to steep a touch before I went and got Erik for breakfast.

He was so thoughtful around me, so I figured that I was repaying him, a little, for always being so kind.

If I hadn't prepared breakfast, Erik would have not eaten at all, that I was sure of.

Sighing again, I gingerly picked up the teapot and set it on the table. I regarded the table with a severe eye. Yes, it looked like a nice breakfast.

I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and padded towards the sounds of Erik's playing. I could hear it coming from his room. I dawdled by his door, not wanting to disturb him, but needing him to come out and eat breakfast. "Oh, just go in already! Or knock if you do not want to go in!" I muttered furiously at myself.

I raised my hand and knocked at the door to Erik's bedroom. The music halted—that man had the reflexes and hearing of a cat!

"Yes?" he called from inside the room. I heard rustling, and then I knew he was at the door. "I've made breakfast, Erik. Will you join me?" I asked, lightly resting my hand on the door.

"That would be lovely...You need not have done that, Christine!" He sounded amused. I laughed back, "If I had not prepared breakfast, no one would have! And besides, you're always taking care of me, I figured it was my turn." I heard him laugh, deeply and fully. For some reason, I felt warm and watery inside when I heard his laugh. "You deserve it all and more..." I heard him mutter. I ignored his comment, and continued, "Are you coming or not?"

"I am coming. Give me a moment, please." He answered; and I felt his hand through the wood, almost touching mine, before I knew his hand had moved.

I turned away from the door, knowing he was either getting dressed or doing something important.

I walked to the dining room, and poured the tea, adding the ingredients for the respective tastes of Erik and I—a little cream and a pinch of sugar for Erik; and a quarter of milk mixed with the three-quarters' tea poured into the cup, then a teaspoon of sugar added to the mix.

I set the tea pot in the sink, humming lightly as I washed it out and set it to dry.

I heard Erik's soft footsteps in the hall, and quickly sat down.

"This looks simply divine, Christine." Erik whispered. I looked up at him. He wasn't wearing a mask!

So as not to bring attention to his folly—how had he forgotten his mask, that which he never forgot, except when he was drunk? Did he do it on purpose?

"Christine, is anything the matter? Have I upset you?"

I knew he had forgotten by that comment. Oh, how wonderful! I could regard him and he'd think nothing of it—that was what I hoped, anyway.

I looked into his mask-less face, and smiled, "No, no, nothing is the matter, darling." I assured him. He smiled.

While I was handing him the platter, I snuck a peek at the face he had called 'hideous'. The first thing I noticed was that he didn't have a conventional nose, that there was the part where bone was, like a—I hated thinking this—like a skull had. But I also noticed that there was a little ridge of skin surrounding the edge of his nose. Next I saw that his eyes were, indeed, ringed by darkness; but oh, how big they were, and how they glowed! I saw how expressive his eyes were, and knew he was still My angel. The other thing I noticed were his angular cheekbones, which stood out, giving his face a rather striking, attractive look. He looked refined, of good breeding, despite his different facial features. Joseph Buquet had once said that The Phantom's skin was like yellowed parchment, that his skin was thin and stretched tight across him, and that he resembled a death's head, thin lips included. But My Erik's lips weren't thin at all, they were full. Of course, I knew that before I saw his mouth properly—his kissing would allow nothing less. The only issue was that they were almost the exact shade as the rest of his face, just a little pinker than his actual skin. However, I noticed that he had a perfect cupid's bow. I knew many would kill to have such a perfect rounding of his mouth. I knew also that many would call Erik a monster for his appearance. I did not share that opinion. He still looked beautiful to me.

"Is something the matter, Christine? You are staring rather fixedly at me..." I looked down at my plate, feeling my face become scarlet. "Um..." I murmured, pulling my cup to me and sipping out of it. "Are you well, Christine? You have not even touched your food." Erik cooed, reaching out and taking my hand in his. I giggled, loving how un-selfconscious he was, how he had forgotten his mask altogether!

"I'm fine, Erik." He raised his eyebrow like he didn't believe me, but sighed, placing my hand on his cheek. His eyes remained the calm, warm they usually were for but a second. Then, as my flesh collided with his, his eyes widened, and he dropped my hand, letting his head fall to hover over his plate.

I bit my lip, hoping he wouldn't misunderstand...

Erik ate quietly, nibbling his bread, his hair flopping over his forehead, hiding his face from view.

I saw him pull his tea over, and sip from it. "The tea is perfect." He whispered, before lapsing back into silence.

I sighed, and finished my meal.

Erik slowly raised his head, and I had to restrain myself from giggling—Erik had jam on his nose!!

Erik

I raised my head, watching as Christine's oceanic eyes widened, something filling them.

I refused to meet her eyes. The first time she had seen my face, in proper light, she had screamed. This was the first time, in this life, that she had seen my face. What would her reaction be?

Christine's face changed, her nose scrunching up. I tensed, knowing what she was about to say—that I was hideous, atrocious, horrid.

"Is Erik too hideous to look at, Mon Ange?" I asked softly, afraid of the question I'd asked.

She made another face, as if trying to hide some inner emotion or response.

"Not at all Erik!" She giggled, confusing me immensely, "The mighty Phantom has jam on his nose!"

Christine burst into giggles, covering her mouth with her hands.

I blushed, as tears formed around Christine's eyes.

Christine

Erik blushed crimson, and surreptitiously tried to rub the jam off his nose, which only succeeded in making the jam rub in tighter.

I giggled, "That only rubbed the jam in," He blushed again, the skin on his cheeks becoming a pale, petal pink.

"Here, let me help you!" I laughed, coming over. He cringed when I came closer. I looked up at his wary face, "Erik, worry not. Your face isn't who you are." His eyes filled with some unknown emotion, "Oh, Christine..." I smiled up at him, reaching for a napkin.

But I realized I didn't want to simply wipe it off.

I grinned as I leaned forward, parting my lips slightly. I pressed my tongue against his nose, licking the jam off him like a kitten licks up cream.

I pulled back, blushing self-consciously. Erik blushed.

"Excuse me, please.." He whispered.

Erik

After placing my mask back on, and waiting for a few moments, I gave in to the instincts which steamed inside me, and spun around the room, before letting out a whoop of delight—she had seen my face! Seen it, and had not run screaming!

Oh, how I loved her..

Christine

I heard Erik scream in delight, hiding a smile behind my cup. I'd let him think I hadn't heard.