"Wow… I can't believe I've never taken you to my apartment. Are you sure I haven't invited you over at least once?"
Christine put the key into the ignition, turning to face him as she spoke. He was settled into the passenger seat, his black outfit and wide-brimmed hat allowing him to blend into the dark night.
"No," he replied quietly. "You have not."
"Oh. Huh." Her nose wrinkled. He found the small motion rather endearing. "Well, I guess I'll just have to give you a great tour, right?"
He managed a slight smile, but inwardly his stomach was performing violent somersaults. She had invited him to her house. Where she slept.
"That sounds grand, my dear," he said, his voice smooth as always. She flashed him a smile, and his heart decided to join in on the acrobatics.
They pulled out of the theater's parking lot, the small clock on the dashboard revealing the time to be a little bit past 10 P.M., far later than their lessons usually ran.
It had all begun when, after practice had 'technically' ended, Christine had started ranting about the state of her apartment.
"Believe me, Erik," she moaned, rubbing her face. She plopped down on a nearby chair. "It's absolutely deplorable! With school and your coaching- not that I'm complaining, I love these practices- I just haven't had time to clean it!"
The light of his life had laughed softly, then.
And, like a fool, he could not hold himself.
"I could assist you in decluttering," he offered, the admiration in his tone akin to a love-sick teenage boy. His hands twisted nervously together, clasped on his lap. He still sat at the piano.
"Really?" she blinked. "That would be fantastic, actually. You've seen my place before, right?"
Erik shook his head.
Now he sat in her green Toyota Prius, trying his hardest not to appear awkward as they drove through the mostly empty town.
The drive really wasn't that long, only five minutes from the theater. While the majority of it was spent in darkness since the streets were sparsely lit in the lower part of the city.
They pulled up to a shabby complex, parking in the designated spot.
Christine unbuckled herself. He remained in his seat.
"You live here?" he narrowed his eyes up at the building. One of the windows was broken, and the door was swung wide open. Down the street, two people were yelling. He was distantly reminded of his own shady background, many of which dealings had occurred in such areas. A shiver ran down his spine.
"Yeah," she shrugged. "It's not that fancy, but it's cheap, and all I can really afford right now."
"If you were impoverished, you should have told me. I have a bountiful amount of money, Christine. I can help you."
Christine rolled her eyes, and he followed her up to the front steps. "I'm not impoverished, silly. Not everyone has a bountiful amount of money," she grinned cheekily.
He was ready to continue arguing, but she grasped his hand to lead him inside, and all of his functions failed. She half-dragged half-led him up to her apartment, talking all the while. He was unable to listen, instead entranced by the feel of her soft hand on his. She was holding his hand. His hand.
Suddenly, his mouth felt very dry.
"Hey, Erik?" she shook him from his thoughts as she spoke. "This is my place. Again, it is, uh, not very aesthetic-y. Not like your place. You have a really fancy house."
She'd only been there once (which had ended up being a not-good idea,) but he immediately assumed her opinion was absolutely correct. He would agree with anything she said.
"Your home will be fine," he assured.
Putting the key into the lock, she swung the door open to reveal the living room.
It wasn't very big, the main room containing not much more than the couch, small kitchen, and television. There was a table with two seats pressed against the wall, but multiple boxes were stacked upon it. He assumed it was not used frequently.
"I was expecting more of a mess," he said, tilting his head. Entering he had half-expected for litter to be scattered all over the floor, boxes spread high to the ceiling, and just overall filth. Instead, it was cluttered… but in a neat sort of way. At least the floor was clean.
She tugged her hand out of his grip, waving at the kitchen. He immediately missed the warmth her palm had provided.
"You don't gotta sugarcoat it, Erik. It's not very nice." Christine sighed. "Well. Anyway. This is my living room… Hey, you don't mind if I changed into something more comfy for a few moments, do you?"
"I do not mind at all," replied Erik. She smiled at him again and disappeared into a door he had not noticed before.
Taking a seat on the couch, he leaned back and tilted his head to survey the room. Christine didn't have very many decorations, just a few pictures of her and her father on the walls.
Blinking at the television, he vaguely wondered how long she had lived in the dreary apartment.
Christine entered again, now wearing a different t-shirt and bright blue pajama bottoms. But that wasn't what caught his attention. It was…
"You wear glasses?" he was dumbfounded and continued staring at her face like a complete dolt.
She shifted on her feet.
"Oh, yeah. I'm pretty nearsighted, heh."
"I- I never realized that."
"Well," she shrugged, and moved to plop down onto the couch beside him. "I wear contacts during the day. I don't like wearing these very often. I look funny."
"Ah," he said, still absorbing information. Her glasses were red, wide-rimmed, and framed her face perfectly. She looked even lovelier with them on, if that was possible.
"You don't mind, do you?" her brows furrowed. Crud, she had noticed his staring.
"No! No." he replied too quickly, "You look fine. Better, even."
She laughed. "I'm glad you think so. I've always felt a little self-conscious about them."
Erik took a risk, reaching out to grasp her hand. "You do not need to- you look fine." The understatement of the century.
Her eyes glimmered with an unfamiliar emotion, and she smiled. "Thank you, Erik."
She shifted to hold her hand fully in his. The contact caused him to suck in air between his teeth.
For a few long, deliriously happy moments, they sat together, holding hands on the couch.
But of course eventually, it ended, with her yawning and standing up to stretch.
"Do you want something to drink?" she asked, turning to look at him. The overhead light fixture glinted on the rim of her glasses, once again attracting his attention. Erik found he was quickly becoming rather attached to them.
Suddenly he recalled she had asked him a question.
"Tea would be fine," was his response, "If it isn't too much trouble."
"It's not!" she perked up. "I'll get to making that right away."
Christine went over to the small kitchen, and he leaned back against the couch once more, feeling terribly awkward. What was he even here for? Did she expect something from him? He wracked through his mind, trying to think up any possible reason she would desire him in her apartment.
It was clear she was nervous. About what was beyond him.
No, that wasn't true. Her nervousness was probably because of him. Instantly he paled.
Way to fucking go, Erik. She probably invited you out of sheer politeness, and like an ignorant fool, you pounced on the chance to see her more. No wonder she's anxious, she doesn't want you here!
Gods, he could be such a complete heel sometimes, especially when it came to women.
He opened his mouth to rectify his mistake and ask to leave when she spoke again, now returning with two mugs of tea.
"I forgot to ask how you'd like yours," she said, apologetically. "So I just put a little bit of sugar in it."
Christine handed him his cup, and he took it gently and thanked her. Then she moved to sit beside him once more on the couch.
"Careful, it's hot," she warned, softly blowing on the steam. He tried to mimic the motion but ended up nearly spilling the mug.
To hell with it, he thought and tilted the still very-very hot mug to down the tea.
Erik's grimaced. She had not been joking. It was incredibly hot and scalded his throat and tongue. But he deserved it, for not realizing her discomfort earlier. A proper punishment.
"It is very delicious," he told her, and she grinned, then began to drink her own tea. She, at least, sipped hers. As opposed to drinking it as quickly as possible in order to harm oneself.
He crossed his ankles from his spot on the too-short couch (well, too-short for him) and tried not to appear as uncomfortable as he felt.
"So," he swallowed and set down his empty mug. He tried to ignore his aching, burned tongue to no avail. She looked up at him expectantly.
"I… suppose I will head home after this."
Erik scarced a glance at Christine and was shocked to find her eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Wait, really? I thought you were gonna stay longer. You just got here..." Her face fell, and his heart raised.
Erik nearly choked. "You… want… me here?" Beneath his mask, his eyebrows furrowed. This was an entirely unseen turn in events. "I had assumed you wished me to leave."
"No! I want you here. Why would you leave?"
I want you here.
His heart now began to pound.
"You were nervous," he sputtered. "Was it not because you were discontent with my presence?"
"No, not at all," she shook her head so violently he was momentarily worried it would fall off. "I am a little awkward, but it's not because of you, per say."
"If not me, then why?" he was still terribly confused.
Her expression darkened for a split-second at his question, so quick that he might have believed it.
"How about I show you my rock collection? I know it sounds really cliche… but I have a pretty big one. And they're all super pretty."
Though still not entirely assuaged by this turn in the conversation, he nodded his assent. She led him into the closed door to the left- her bedroom.
It was as small as the rest of the home, with a little dresser containing multiple nick-nacks, a single framed portrait of her father, and a black box.
Christine went over to the dresser to pick up the box, flicking open the hatch. She moved over to sit on the bed and motioned for him to join her.
"Look-" she said, and lifted a dark blue stone with a smooth imprint in the middle. "Meg gave me this one, what you do is rub your thumb in the middle and it's supposed to be calming. You wanna try?"
She passed the stone to him, and he did as she said. The small rock was still warm from the heat of her hands. He handed it back.
"This rock," she returned the blue stone and picked up another. This new one was a purple geode. "Is kind of self-explanatory. It's really pretty, I found it while hiking, once."
They went through a few others before she showed him an amber gemstone. She held it gently as if afraid it would break.
"The amber is my favorite," Christine looked up at him. "It kind of reminds me of your eyes, you know."
Erik was genuinely baffled. "That's a good thing?" He asked softly.
"Of course! You have really neat eyes. They're the color of honey. Way better than my plain old blue eyes."
"You're eyes are anything but plain, my dear." He was fervent before he even realized it. "You're eyes are soft, like ocean waves, or the color of blueberries, or-or cobalt crystals." Erik could go on and on about her eyes, for they were part of her, and he loved her very much. Yet as she sat stock-still, her breathing oddly rushed, he worried he had overstepped his boundaries.
Then Christine leaned forward in an instant, her free hand moving to cup his masked cheek. Before he realized what was happening, she pressed her lips to his. A flash of movement, and then a light, velvet pressure on his mouth. Her curls tickled his chin.
Erik was stunned- electrified- in complete awe.
She… kissed him. Him. A hideous joke of a man who hid in the shadows and did nothing but teach her to sing.
It was over much too quickly, and she pulled away to tuck her hair anxiously behind an ear.
"Was- was that okay?" she bit on her plump bottom lip. The same lip his own had touched seconds earlier. "I haven't just ruined everything, have I?"
It was a complete struggle to encourage his tongue to function.
"No, n-not at all," was all he could manage. She had most decidedly not ruined everything. The exact opposite, in reality.
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh. Good. I'm sorry, I was just so worried that I would mess things up with you coming over and being around you and not being able to touch you has been so difficult and that's why I was so nervous earlier and-"
"Wait," he stopped her, breathless. "You… feel… for me? You want to touch me?"
"Well, yeah," she said it as if it was something obvious, or an event to be expected. Her eyelashes fluttered as she glanced down. Erik could scarcely breathe.
"Christine," he murmured, but it came out as more of a whimper. "May I...I kiss you again?"
"I'd love that," she replied, and this time he initiated the kiss, leaning forward. Christine responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck to tug her closer.
She tasted like honey and sweet tea, and he wished to savor it for the rest of time. Her kiss drugged his mind, and he couldn't get enough of it. Her softness seemed to envelop him, with her warm arms and perfectly delicious lips.
And oh, she slid onto his lap, not breaking the kiss, and pulled him even closer, if that was even possible. His hands had been clenched into the blankets before, but now they raised to encircle her waist and lock her in place. She was allowing him to hold her waist. A very distant part of him felt lightheaded.
Erik was positive he had ascended from Earth and reached the heavens. This had to be a dream, it was too delightful.
She broke away for breath, her chest heaving. She blinked at him a few times.
"Oh, Christine," he whispered. "You are magical. A faerie. An angel."
She giggled and shifted on his lap to rest her head against his shoulder. He tilted his head to press his face against her hair. They could remain in that moment for the rest of eternity, sitting on her bed, locked in a warm embrace. It would be perfect.
"Erik?" she broke through his thoughts.
"Hm?" he couldn't bring himself to pull away, not yet. His voice was slightly muffled.
"Since you're already here… do you want to sleep over for the night?"
Erik could cry tears of joy, but he managed to hold himself.
"I- that would be perfect, my dear."
She lifted her head, smiled, and kissed him again.
