You were never quite sure why Erik was so stressed all the time, but it was easy to tell when it got the better of him. He would get agitated, the smallest sound could set him off. Other times he would retreat into himself and it would be impossible to get through to him. He would hunch over his piano, furiously scribbling or ripping up pages and throwing them across the room in anger.
You hated seeing your angel like this. He spends all of his time putting unnecessary pressure on himself, for reasons you will probably never know. The opera house, the operas, keeping up this Phantom façade. It seems like too much for one man.
You walk into the lair to find Erik at his usual spot, bent over his piano. Writing at force and then moving back to the keys, and then again to his pen.
"Erik?" You call his name. He doesn't respond. There wasn't even a movement to suggest he heard you at all.
Slowly you walk towards him, unsure of what mood he would be in.
"Erik, my love?" Still no response. You walk towards him, cautiously placing both hand on either sides of his shoulders.
You feel him jump under your touch. Yet he remains silent. It wasn't uncommon for Erik to put himself in a trace like state when he was writing. He had spent years doing so without interruption, going days without eating and very little sleep so he could finish particular scores. Bringing you into his life wasn't going to change that.
He takes his hands away from the piano, letting them rest on his knees. You lift your leg over the free space on the piano stool, straddling it as you gently turn his body away from yours.
Slowly you begin to work your hands across his shoulders, pressing and kneading each tender spot. Erik's breath becomes heavier and his body melts under your touch. You hated seeing him in any form of pain, especially something that could be remedied so quickly.
You take your time with him, massaging his back, taking care to respond to every gasp and gentle moan that he exhaled. Your fingers working their way along the back of his neck. He was still cautious over any contact you made with him. There was no getting past his lifetime of isolation, where every gesture towards him was often met with a malicious outcome. He still tensed at the smallest movements you made, whether it was holding his hand, or lying on his shoulder at night. But eventually he would calm down and embrace it. You weren't going anywhere after all.
You continued your efforts to relax your angel for what seemed like forever. Years of knots bundled together between his shoulder blades. You dropped your hands away from him and watched as he rolled his shoulders forwards.
He was still silent. You lifted your arms and wrapped them around him, resting your head on the centre of his pack. There was still no movement from Erik as you both sat there, listening to the rhythm of his heart beat.
Eventually he lifted his hands and took hold of yours, bringing one to his face and placing small gentle kisses along it.
"Thank you, ma chérie." He kept your hands in his grasp as you closed your eyes, your mind returning to the sound of his steady heartbeat.