well, that's it, guys! unless I do an epilogue (which I may choose to do if enough people ask me to lol), this is the end of this AU. thank you all so SO much for being so supportive of it and writing me such lovely comments and sending me asks about this, you have no idea how much it meant to me or how much it motivated me to complete this for you. I mean, this was only supposed to be a one shot originally, and I was NOT planning on expanding on it at all, but you guys are so wonderfully encouraging and supportive that you motivated me to try. I really hope this last chapter was the chapter that you guys were hoping for, my amazing readers deserve a really good ending and I did my best to deliver it. anyway I'm rambling right now but yeah, thank you so much for everything, I love you guys 3

oh, and shout out to the following people on Tumblr for really helping me throughout this journey: madiamazing, gracianasi, phantom-triumphant and an AMAZING reader for always leaving such incredibly detailed comments, magicath17. I wouldn't have been able to do this without your love and support, thank you guys 3

Christine was released from the prison of her dormitory the following morning. She received word from Erik, and her heart swelled and sunk simultaneously at discovering he was still safe and seeing that he had not replied to her declaration of her feelings, had not even granted her a few sentimental words for her to hold onto as she waited for him to return. All she saw was:

I may be able to return tomorrow. The police are beginning to think Raoul is playing a prank, and anyone else involved is delusional. Pretend you know nothing.

Erik did return the next evening, looking through her mirror to ensure that she was alone before writing to her. He found her sitting upon her bed, staring straight ahead, and he found that he had missed her gaze, even if she did not know he was looking at him. The way she stared forward with such determination, such focus - it was something that had once unsettled him, but he had now missed it so greatly in the two days he had been without it.

I am here, he wrote.

She jolted up from her bed, sprinting over to the mirror. He opened it, and they both stood awkwardly for a moment, staring at each other, feeling an intense pull but not knowing whether or not they could close the distance.

"May I…" Christine began nervously.
"Yes?" Erik asked anxiously. He desperately hoped that she did not want to ask him about what he wrote - he did not want to speak of it ever again, not when she had obviously not wanted to speak about it when she initially saw it.
"Never mind, I do not think you would...desire it," Christine choked at the end, though she did not know if it was from the awkwardness of her word choice or the pain she felt verbally acknowledging what seemed like the truth to her.
"You may speak freely, Christine. Whatever you must say, I have already anticipated."
She now looked up at him, puzzled. Did he expect her to tell him again, when he had not acknowledged her confession previously? Did he expect her to ramble on like some infatuated child? She was insulted, but her need to feel him did not ebb, and she continued voicing her previous request, forcing herself to finish the sentence. "May I hold you?" She blurted out as quickly as she could, hoping he could not see the blush in her cheeks in the darkness.
He could, and he stammered, wondering why she would want such a thing, why she would even feel the need to ask. "Of course," he croaked, and they awkwardly closed the distance, his arms stiffly wrapping around her.
"This feels wrong," she finally admitted after a few moments.
He nodded his head in agreement, stepping away. "You do not...you do not have to indulge me, Christine. I know that I am not the man that you deserve. Please, no matter what happens to me, no matter how frequently I find myself in danger or turmoil, do not feel as though you have to show me kindness."
"What?" Christine asked stupidly, before she realized. It finally occurred to her.

He didn't see the message. He didn't see the message, and he was not uncomfortable about her feelings. He did not even know of them.
"Oh my god," she whispered before looking up at him. "You didn't see," she said simply.

He looked at her in confusion, expecting her to elaborate, but she didn't, she simply stared at him in awe for several moments before he had to end the silence.
"I do not know what you are speaking of, Christine, but if it was some sort of reply to what I said, you do not have to tell me again. Any rejection or dismissal, I already felt without it being said."

Christine's head was spinning. She was lost once again. "What on earth are you talking about, Erik?" She pleaded, her eyebrows furrowing together as she tried to make sense of this conversation. What did he say?

It was now his turn to realize. She didn't see. Oh, he was such a fool. How could he not have realized? She would never ignore such a statement; she would, at the very least, thank him...he wrote to her while she was sleeping, it would've been so easy for the words to become smudged.

They now stood awkwardly, neither sure if they should admit what they said, until finally Christine took the lead. "I don't know what you said, Erik, but there is something I must say. Not because you are in danger, not because I 'pity' you, but because I cannot hide this within me any longer...I assumed you would not want to hear this since you never spoke of our kiss again," Christine began.

Erik braced himself for some sort of explanation about the kiss simply being an act of kindness, or the result of Christine becoming overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment. Instead, he saw her enter her dormitory, retrieve a quill and write on her arm, before returning to him. He did not remove his eyes from her figure to look down at his arm until she brought her fingers to it, lifting it and prompting him to look down. He shut his eyes, swallowing deeply, and opened them, ready to face whatever confession she had written that she was too nervous to say out loud:

In Christine's unique, unmistakable cursive were the words he had never expected her to write, and yet he realized she had already written them while he was hiding and he had not seen:

I love you.

His eyes filled with tears, and he could not move, could not breathe as he looked into her sparkling blue eyes.

"Oh, Christine," he finally choked out before falling to his knees, and she came down with him. "Oh, my Angel. I love you, I love you more than I can bear," he professed, his head buried into her bosom.
She let a sob escape her now too, a sob of relief, of joy, before she placed her hands around his face, her left hand running around the edges of the mask, silently asking permission. He nodded, and for the first time, she was able to kiss him fully, her lips completely covering his as she drank him in, muffling his whimpers and wiping away his tears with her thumbs. They kissed there on the ground with Christine seated in his lap for what felt like hours before he made a helpless moan, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her all the way to his lair, not wanting to stop holding her. He brought her to the Louis Philippe room where they simply lay together in bed, holding each other as she kissed every inch of his face and he whispered the words of love he had been holding back as long as he had known her. Finally, all his walls were down, all his masks removed, and they no longer needed a quill or ink to communicate - the words freely escaped their lips in between kisses without fear or the desire to erase them.