Christine shuffled her feet. She did not tell a soul that she indeed faced her Angel. She was hopelessly curious a trait much like her selfishness was unwanted. "What's wrong, Christine?" Meg asked as she watched her friend silently sulk. Christine? She asked herself. Was she regretting betraying her teacher's trust? "My instructor.." Christine muttered wanting to tell Meg everything. But what if he was listening? Could she face him if she betray even more?

"Did he scold you? Like my mother does? Or did your Angel turn to be the devil?" Meg joked not realizing how true her words were. "No, nothing like that." Christine replied as she remember the touch of his hands and hers cascading across the piano keys. She blush ever so slightly but Meg knew her to well. "Christine Daaè! Are you smitten?" Meg exclaimed. Christine's light tinge turn to a feverish red. "I would not dare!"  Meg knew her friend was lying. A lie so well hidden that Christine was even fooling herself.

Christine feared that her Angel was over hearing their private convesterion as they headed to ballet practice once again. He was. He heard every word and saw Christine blush at the mere thought of her a student and him her teacher. He knew that they could never be but who was he to crush a lovesick girl's dream. No, he wouldn't she was still to fragile.

"Miss  Daaè, do you wish to dance or to fill the halls with meaningless babbler?" Madame Giry asked as she shoot her daughter a look. She expected Meg her flesh and blood to know better. The class wasn't easy. A punishment for being late. Caroletta of course was late, fashionably late as she liked to call it. "That Opera Ghost was in my dressing room again!" She yelled a the stage manager. Caroletta was different then everyone in sense she didn't live on the grounds, no living with a bunch of talentless commoners was not her cup of tea.

The Opera Ghost was one of her most constant complaint. She said "He stole my dress!" or "He moved my accessories."  Of course no one knew if the Opera Ghost actually exist and if he did why would he waste his time tormenting Caroletta? "He's a madman. Wearing that mask and scaring poor defenseless me." " Christine snickered a bit she couldn't help but be entertained.

"Do you think this is funny?!" She yelled in Christine's direction realizing that maybe antagonizing Caroletta was a bad idea. "Aren't you his prodigy?" Caroletta asked as if those words were a bullet in a gun ready to fire. "My teacher is not the Ghost that haunts you." Christine couldn't believe the amount of courage those words took to form. "Of course he is, you gullible girl. He stalks the shadows only to prey on the most innocent of girls." "If that's true then neither of us should deserve his company." Caroletta was both surprised and offended. "What sin have you committed to condem your purity?"  Caroletta asked wanting Christine's fellow ballerinas that Miss perfect was in fact no better than a gazelle in a lion's den.

"I..." She thought for a moment. Should she dare say she had feelings for her teacher or that she betrayed him? She couldn't. She couldn't speak. It was if her own body was telling her that giving into Caroletta's taunt was a fool's errand. She returned to her required post. Never again. She told her. The mask man found her comment quite concerning. She washed her innocence away with her words. What sin did she commit? She was pure as far as he knew? Did she have dalances before he became her student? Was her youth ripped a way so young? Many questions lined his mind each one getting progressively worse than the last.

"How dare she?" Was her innocence all just a act just to wrap him around her dainty little finger. "Christine." he spat. Her name now equivalent to curse word. "Who am I to judge? A monster? No, a poisoner of sorts. Pouring acid into my own heart." He was as lost with his emotions as his counterpart was. The ballet session was over but all Christine could think about was her Angel.

She had to find him. She had to tell him what she meant. But she was interrupted by her ballerina coworkers. Babbling questions, wanting to pry her open like a paint bucket. "Is he cute?" her strawberry blonde friend, Margaret asked. "Who cares if he's cute? As long as he's rich it doesn't matter. Is he? Does he ride horses?" Her friend, Hannah asked who possess equally as long and dark hair as Christine.  Christine didn't know much about these two except they were born to be each other's best friend and it showed.

They were pretty good judge of character. They befriended Christine all those years ago. They always told Meg and Christine that "A brunette and a blonde, what would one be without the other?" Margaret or as most people called her Maggie was the one with her head in the clouds just like Christine. They both need a more level head friend to grounded them back to Earth or who knows where they would fly off to.

"I don't know if he rides. I don't care if he's rich as for cute." Christine smiled shyly. She didn't get a good look but she knew just what to say next. "He's voice will make you cave at the knees." She couldn't to resist to brag just a bit. "Where do I sign up?" Maggie teased as she nudged Christine with her elbow. "Does he serenade you?" Maggie kept asking questions to try to amuse Hannah who honestly could care less of other people's love life. She wanted to ride. Hannah only four requirements for men so if they didn't meet her standards, she in her own words "Didn't give a flying squirrel."

"I am a sailor victim to a siren's song." Christine replied both girls didn't expect that from little Miss Perfect. She was blushing just thinking about something so intoxicating as his voice. Christine wondered if she was too selfish not wanting to share such a voice with the rest of the world. Her friends and her parted. Christine went back to the Music room and sat in her usual seat hoping he would be there. She thought maybe this was too forward.  Too soon. Too much.

"Christine." he called his voice slightly shaken. She could feel herself immediately regretting her decision. She turned around only to be face to face with her strickenly tall teacher leaning over her. Face so close, feeding her curiosity. He put his hands by Christine's hips. Being careful not to touch her. Not to scare her off. He wore a white mask over half his face. One eye blue the other green both full of mixed emotions as Christine lips were barely out of reach. To Christine he was like a hungry cat with a quivering jaw sitting in the window watching the birds wondering how did they taste. And she was his bird.

She leaned closer almost grazing her lips on his but he pulled away. He couldn't tarnish such beauty even if she may have sinned, he couldn't burden her. He looked into Christine's chocolate eye's as she sat there with her finger on her lips. Almost she thought. "Christine." he said but this time he threaded his right hand into her hair. Words weren't needed or wanted in this moment. He knew he didn't deserve her affection. He was so close physically but emotionally he was out of her reach. She was denied the very thing she sought to earn.