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"ERRIIIIKK!" (Name) yelled from the living room for the umpteenth time.

She groaned in frustration as the soft melody of Pachabell's "Canon in D" - wafting in from the masked man's room - didn't so much as waver at her call.

Bloody friking typical.

If anyone were to ask, she could say with complete and utter confidence, that though the virtuoso had spent half of his time in the 21st century doing what any man-out-of-time would - which was getting confused over new things - the other half of his time was not for eating, sleeping, or staring outside the window with a haunted look in his eyes. Quite literally fifty percent of his waking hours, was solely dedicated to playing the old, banged-up keyboard she had dug out from the dark void known as her hallway closet.

She sighed when she came to the conclusion that her flatmate was having one of those moments again. Those unfortunately frequent "music comas", where he would stay in his room - not sparing a moment's thought for neither food, nor sleep, nor hygiene. No - he would play and play and bloody play, until (Name) dragged him to the dining room, kicking and screaming promises of her "painfully slow demise".

Overgrown man-child.

As much as the masked man was against her forcing him out of his solitude, (Name) knew she should, under no circumstances, let it go on for too long. She had learned that the hard way, in an incident involving a broken refrigerator, a flooded bathroom, and a still-missing bar of soap.

The girl heaved a long-suffering sigh, and ran a hand down her face.

'When did things get so weird?' she asked herself wearily. And the answer to that query, was probably around the time a hostile masked man literally appeared out of thin air in her humble, little flat.

It had been nearly three months since she had found Erik in her living room one morning - both of them screaming at each other in surprise and confusion. Since then, the "Phantom of the Opera" - as he liked to call himself - had been taking a crash course on modern society. With (Name) as his instructor - though she still didn't know how that happened - he began to acquaint himself with the washing machine, horseless carriage ("It's called a car, Erik!"), and the greatest discovery since electricity: online pizza delivery.

The aforementioned food was currently the cause of the young girl's frustration.

"PHANTOM OF THE BLEEDING OPERA - GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE AND CHOOSE YOUR STUPID TOPPINGS ALREADY!"

She received a response in the form of the opening bars of Debussy's "Clair de Lune".

... You know what?

That. Was. It.

No more.

She was hungry damn it!

With a viscous growl, the (Hair Color)-haired girl stood up, and marched angrily towards the source of the music.

If Erik thought his own face was terrifying, he had obviously never seen a starving (Name).

Erik sighed in contentment as his fingers danced across the thin, discolored keys of his flatmate's old keyboard. It was a far cry from his carefully maintained organ under the Opera Populaire - but it did not matter.

Music was music.

He could feel it consume him. He could see all the wonders it had to offer to one who surrendered himself to its glory as he did now. He freed himself from the confinement of his suffocating mask, and felt alive as his digits flew across the keys of black and white - the notes thrumming, pulsing, thriving under his touch. He felt in control as the melody bent to his will - all under his command, and his alone.

And oh yes... he could lose himself here.

When he played, it did not matter where or when he was. Music was just as sweet and beautiful - just as easy to drown in as the music at home.

It was in these moments he felt almost - just almost - human.

And so he didn't hear (Name)'s yells or calls. He didn't hear her stomping footsteps that grew closer and closer, lost as he was in his art.

But the explosive sound of a door slamming open dissolved his suspension of reality, and snapped the world into focus so swiftly it was almost painful.

A growl left his lips as his fingers froze mid-piece.

Why did she always have to do this? Could his roommate not leave well enough alone! He was perfectly fine, and didn't give a damned two-pence about his physiological needs!

Standing up from his seat and drawing himself up to his full height, he turned around to face the girl, who was the cause of his most recent irritation.

He waited for the inevitable tongue-lashing he would receive - which he would also promptly ignore - but when his eyes met hers, her expression morphed from one of anger and impatience, to once of pure, unadulterated shock.

'Why does she seem so surprised?' he questioned - confusion coloring his mind's voice. 'It's not as if-'

He froze.

His body went rigid, and his eyes were blown in fear.

No.

Let it be anything but that...

...But when had fate ever been kind?

He took a shuddering breath, and turned to look behind him to confirm his fears.

And there it was.

Funny how much pain can be caused by seeing a discarded mask lying on the floor.

Erik numbly bent down to retrieve the fallen material, and set it over his face.

Pathetic, he knew - because what good would it do now?

(Name) had seen him.

He had known from the start he was being selfish when he had accepted her offer to lodge with her. He had taken advantage of her ignorance and naivety - the fact that she had not known just what monster she invited to live in her home. He had fervently prayed it would remain that way - that her trust in him would remain intact. That he wouldn't be forced to leave the place he had come to regard as something akin to a home.

That maybe, if God was merciful... maybe he could just have a real life.

A fool's hope.

And now look at what he'd done.

Even if he were to leave this place, it would do nothing to prevent the nightmares and horrors that would plague (Name)'s dreams. To be reminded of his abhorrent face day and night was not something he would wish even on the worst of his enemies... and yet he had doomed this young, innocent girl to such torment.

Greedy. Selfish. Disgusting.

Mustering as much bravery as he could, he raised his head to meet (Name)'s eyes. The sight that greeted him nearly broke his already-battered heart in two, and caused him more pain than any scathing look ever could.

(Name) stood with her back to the masked man - shoulders shaking and head buried in her hands. He could hear the muffled, hitching breaths, and how the girl would vainly try to gasp for air.

She was crying.

"I-I..." Erik stammered helplessly.

What could he say? Would he not do the same if he knew that a creature as repulsive as he, had for months lived under the same roof?

  No. He could not fault her for this. Not in the slightest.

Brushing away the lone tear that had trailed down his unmasked cheek, he gathered his resolve, and spoke in the steadiest voice he could muster.

"I shall leave now," he whispered - and though he endeavored to keep his voice even, the sight of (Name)'s still sobbing form choked his words. "I-I only pray that you may one day forget me entirely, and that these horrors will not haunt you for too long a time."

At his words, the young girl's shoulders shook harder, only soundless gasps escaping her mouth.

'Perhaps she is upset that I am to leave...?' he hoped vainly, but a moment later, was sickened by the thought.

  Had he not caused enough damage? Even one as kind-hearted as (Name) would never consider the thought of forgiving such a damned creature.

  Trying - and failing - to swallow the lump in his throat, Erik walked with shaky legs towards the doorway. He did not care that he had no place to run to. All he knew was that he had to leave now. The very least he could do was spare her further torment.

But before he could step over the threshold, a shaky voice halted his steps.

"Y-you never know anything d-do you?"

Erik sighed in despair.

Of course.

He took a deep breath and turned to face the girl - steeling himself for the verbal abuse that was to come. If she was to spew insult after insult, then he would take it all to his face. God knows he deserved it.

When he finally had the courage to meet the (Eye Color) eyes, he could see that they were filled with...

...Mirth?

No. He did not dare to hope...

And yet there it was! Plain as day, and as obvious as a single splash of color on a blank canvas.

And it was then Erik began to notice other things as well.

Her lips were pulled into no scowl nor frown, but rather a very amused smile. The sound escaping her mouth began to sound less like a sob or a cry - but resembled a cheery laugh more and more. And her shoulders did shake - though not out of despair, but rather out of glee.

What? No. He didn't understand. What had come over her? Had she been driven insane by his revolting features? I-It was possible but-

"Oh gosh! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she wailed in between peals of laughter. "It's not funny! No, it's not supposed to be funny! But-but... AHAHAHAHAHA!"

The masked man was nothing if not confused. Was she... laughing at him?


Though he could feel the beginnings of anger - his rage had neither the power nor intensity to compete against his more prominent confusion.

What was going on?

"Are you-are you always this dramatic?" (Name) managed to blurt out. She then began to - rather terribly - imitate Erik's voice. " 'I only pray these horrors will not haunt you for too long a-' AHAHAHAHAHA!"

The older man did not know if he should feel offended, perplexed, relieved, embarrassed, or even concerned.

And so he settled for irritated.

"What is so funny, if I may ask?" he huffed in annoyance, as he crossed his arms over his chest.

(Name) knew a serious tone well enough. She began to calm down; taking deep breaths with the occasional giggle. Once she had regained full control over her vocal faculties, she chuckled one final time, and faced the disgruntled Phantom.

Her laughing eyes softened, and shone with something you could almost call sympathy. She took a step towards him, and Erik's bearing changed from one of irritation, to one more fearful and anxious. He took a cautious step back as the girl continued to close the distance between them, until they were only mere inches apart.

Her eyes inspected his face for a few moments - in which Erik had stood stock still. He couldn't help but feel very nervous and self-conscious at her careful scrutiny.

His eyes widened in horror as she lifted a hand to his face.

He was so tempted to grab her wrist and push her away and just run and run and get away-

...But no.

(Name)'s hand rested on his mask, and he saw the unspoken plea in the (Eye Color) depths.

'Please... trust me.'

And so against all thought or reason - in an act of pure blind faith - Erik took a deep breath, and minutely nodded his assent.

The young girl's eyes filled with such appreciation and gratitude, that the raven-haired man felt quite unnerved to see it directed at him.

He felt the exact moment the material came off, as the cool chilled his face, and when he was laid bare for all to see.

(Name) blinked a few times, gazing at both sides of his countenance - but he could see no real horror in her eyes. She looked almost... curious as she inspected his deformed features.

And once she was done, she beamed so radiantly that Erik was sure her smile could shame the sun.

"Well," she began. "It's not your usual cover of 'Men's Health' - you've read those, right? Magazine. - but... it's you. And for some godforsaken reason, I'm friends with you. So... It's fine. Perfectly fine."

She then held the mask out towards him.

"Look - if it makes you uncomfortable, then you can keep wearing this. Just... Know you don't have to wear it around me."

She smiled fondly at the man, whose face was an open display of childlike hope at the sincerity of her words.

He took the mask with trembling hands, and could do nothing more than stare at the white material. It slipped from his shaking fingers, and hit the floor with a barely audible *thud*.

"D-did you just...?" he asked hoarsely after a few moments had passed.

What he had heard in her voice was nothing like the resigned tolerance of his mother - nor was it the sufferance of his beloved Christine.

No. In (Name)'s words he had heard something very different, and far more beautiful:

Acceptance.

And oh God... he had never thought he would ever hear anything close to that pass from another person's lips. Especially not directed at him.

So even before he knew what he was doing, he swiftly took the girl he now saw as nothing short of an angel, into his arms. He held on as tightly as he could - as if she was going to disappear right then and there, yet if he held her tight enough, he would prevent it from ever happening.

His embrace awkward at best - his body uncomfortably rigid and stiff - but (Name) didn't mind. She returned the hug warmly, and let her head settle against the other man's chest - hearing his rather frantic heartbeat.

"I-is this alright?" he asked uncertainly. "I confess... I've never had experience in this area."

The girl smiled to herself, and lowered her head enough so that Erik was able to rest his head upon the (Hair Color) shock of hair.

"It's alright," she whispered - squeezing him affectionately. "You're doing great."

If he moved to hold her closer as he finally melted into the embrace, she didn't comment.

And if she could feel hot moisture trickle from where he buried his face in the crook of her neck...

Well, she didn't say anything about that either.

And as they held onto each other while reality fell away - everything fading into nothingness until all that remained were these two tethered souls - a lonely, white mask lay forgotten on the floor.

If one were to go there now, and ask Erik that if he had to go through all the heartbreak, pain, grief, despair, torment, loneliness, and all he had suffered throughout his once miserable existence, just so he would end up here where he had finally found his first friend... was it was worth it?

I can tell you my dear readers that this is what would happen: his gaze would soften in fondness, he would smile to himself just the tiniest bit, clear his throat, and answer-

-"ERRRRIIIKK! Come on! The pizza's getting cold and the X-Factor audition rounds are on! I know how much you love to criticize other people's music, SO GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE AND JUDGE THESE AMATEURS WITH ME!" -

Yes. Most definitely.