Summary: Christine Daae loves and is loved in return, but she cannot understand her feelings of sadness. E/C, no particular time frame.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Phantom of the Opera, nor do I intend to make a profit off of this story. I do however, own the story plot.
Dedication: To my Angel, perhaps you will understand better now…
He deserves to have someone much better than me, the whining, selfish, little slip of a girl who does nothing but complain and cry into his shoulder about every single wrong in her life. God, he deserves so much more than that. He deserves to have someone who is always happy, someone who can make him happy, someone who never cries.
He is such a kind man to me, always caring, always loving, asking nothing of me in return but to love him. I do, I love him with all of my heart, with my body and soul. But there is more than just love I feel for him. There is fear and pain too. Pain because he does not deserve such a person such as I. But the pain is infinitesimal to my feeling of fear. At one point he will see me for what I truly am. I am no more than a silly little girl playing pretend when she should have stopped the charade long ago. He deserves more. I should let him go, shouldn't I? I should let him be truly happy…
But I am only human, therefore I am selfish. I cannot let him go because I desperately need him. I fear that if I let him go, I will fall shamefully apart, unable to mend a hopelessly broken heart of my own doing. Whose heart you ask, mine or his? Mine I suppose, for he has a strong heart. Out of the two of us, he is the only one who can withstand hurt and sadness and not shatter. He has done so before, I have not.
Every time I think thoughts like these, a little piece of me wishes to die. It wishes to die because that part has cringed far too many times from embarrassment. This, this little confession of my own selfish heart is embarrassing. He gave me happiness and laughter, things that I have craved for all my life. He gave my soul a home, after wandering so lost and alone, yearning for his guidance.
Oh, Father, I pray that you will forgive me for my sins. I do not deserve him….
Christine put the pen down and sighed at the red spot on her knuckle. It was the ink she knew, she should have been more careful when holding the pen. She guiltily tidied up the desk she had been using. Once it was cleaned, she went back to her room and read her confession over and over again.
When Erik returned from his prowling in the Opera House, he found Christine asleep with tearstains on her cheek. He saw the bits of torn paper around her and caught a few of the words and guessed what was on the paper.
Oh my poor Angel, he thought sadly as he stroked her hair. I will never understand why you believe you do not deserve to be loved, for I love you more than anything…