/
"I have only a few personal desires, when we're married. I want our life together to be as normal as possible. I want to have a proper church wedding like I've always dreamed of having... I want us to be faithful to our vows like a proper husband and wife... I want us to have a nice house to live in together... I really do not think it will be as terrible as you imagine.
"Like I said, I've thought about this quite a bit. And there are concessions I am willing to make to ensure your comfort and happiness. The first is I have no expectation of consummating the marriage. I would not subject you to that horror. The second is… The second is... I will... only hold you to a period of twenty years."
"Then what?"
"What do you mean?"
"Twenty years, then what? Then do we just get a divorce and go our separate ways?"
"In a way."
/
That's what he said to her.
That was two months ago. It was April now.
The house was a spacious but ordinary two-story home in an ordinary neighborhood. From the outside it would never look like much, merely respectable and unremarkable, no different from their neighbors in the area, really―just the way Erik preferred it. On Christine's part, when she'd only ever slept in cramped apartments and the back seats of cars, it was much too large for her taste. Built in an English Tudor-style, it stood on a granite ledge overlooking the grey Atlantic, surrounded by verdant lawns that would require considerable effort to maintain. A thick woodland of carefully cultivated trees, too, enclosed the house and established their privacy so effectively that she couldn't see the homes of even their nearest neighbors, who lived just within screaming distance. If she hadn't seen them as they drove up to the property, she would think they lived utterly alone on this cold little cape.
Christine had made a point of not being invested in the house-hunt, but now that they were there she was unable to hide that she was reasonably impressed with it. The rooms were all set out with plenty of space, and it made her think that this house was far too big for just two people. Even when all the furniture was set up, she had a feeling it would still feel empty.
She tried not to think about whether this would be her home for the rest of her life. But for now, it would do, and she would make at least a vague attempt at being happy with it.
When they'd arrived at the house, she'd collected their cat Edgar out of the back seat of the car without a word to her husband. Even Edgar was tied up with Erik, with memories of the few days they'd spent out in public. Rescuing Edgar was one of the few worthwhile things they had done together. She still remembered the day they'd brought him home. He was so small. He still was.
She set him down on the top of his tower in the downstairs living room. He mewed plaintively and she smiled indulgently, rubbing his head. Since then, Christine had aimlessly wandered the empty rooms and corridors until she found a quiet out of the way room on the main floor. She pulled out her book and began to read.
Not long after, from down the hall, she heard Erik's voice becoming louder as he directed the movers, pulling her from her thoughts.
"In here, gentlemen. Gently does it."
She glanced up from her book to see a pair of men rolling in the grand piano on its side, meticulously wrapped and padded, sans legs, into the room where she sat. Hovering nearby was Erik, his spidery hands fiddling anxiously at his sides as he supervised their progress, looking ready to leap at the nearest person should the instrument be even gently bumped. He smiled faintly when he noticed her looking in his direction, and she didn't return it, watching him without a word.
The aquiline nose and the soft cheekbones suited him. If pressed, she might have admitted he looked surprisingly handsome. But it was a lie. She wasn't staring at a real face―she was staring at a masterful construction of makeup, silicone, and prosthetics made to look like one. It might fool strangers, but it didn't fool her. She knew what he hid.
"Everything alright, dear?" he asked.
"Yeah." Her attention returned to her book. She flipped a page.
"Can I bring you anything?"
"Maybe later."
"Well, don't hesitate to tell me if you change your mind."
Once the legs had been reattached and the piano set upright, Erik and the men disappeared the way they came. From the corner of her her eye, she caught him glancing hopefully over his shoulder at her as he walked away, which she tried not to acknowledge.
/
"When we're married, Christine... when we're married, I want you to be happy. I've thought a lot about this, you know... I could make you very happy if you will let me. Plenty of people, you know, get married without love and adore each other later. I don't think it will be as horrible as you imagine."
/
Memories leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, Christine moved to the dining room, hoping she would be able to avoid her husband for a few more hours.
It was sunset by the time she heard the movers get into the trucks and drive off. Without the indistinct conversation of the workers just out of earshot and the heavy tread of burdened feet stepping above and around her, the house felt uncomfortably empty and quiet, gloomy even.
She sat in the dining room, but on the floor, a book on her lap. She absently braided her hair and seemed reasonably content for the moment. Edgar now lay nearby, watching nothing in particular while his tail flicked lazily.
A tall dark shadow suddenly loomed in the corner of her vision. Erik took a seat at the table with his laptop and while it booted up, she could feel his eyes on her. Over the past few months she had turned pretending not to notice his gaze into a fine art. After a moment, he turned away, and began typing thoughtfully. Without looking directly, she instinctively knew the face was gone, replaced by his usual black, leather house mask. They would be staying in for the evening.
"Will pizza be alright tonight?" he asked. "Tomorrow morning we can properly stock the fridge."
She shrugged back out of habit more than anything. "Just as long as we get vegetarian. I'm gonna barf if I ever have to look a slice of pepperoni in the eye again." There was a slight teasing glint to her eye, but she hadn't looked up from her book.
"I'd be very alarmed to meet a pepperoni with eyes," Erik murmured. "Certainly wouldn't want one on my pizza."
At that, she smiled slightly. "I'm gonna assume you've never been to a really shady pizza joint then."
"I've been to a few in my time, though normally the sausage had legs. I hope it was sausage anyway." She felt him glancing hopefully in her direction. It had been worth a chuckle, but she didn't bother. He gave up and returned to presumably sending their pizza order. Once done, he closed the laptop and stretched while surveying the cavernous, still unfamiliar landscape of their home. "How do you like your ocean?"
She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her book on top of them. "'S nice. I like this house."
"I thought you might. I'm quite partial to the tall ceilings myself..." Erik's eyes drifted upwards and gave a wan smile. Christine glanced at him. After a moment, he continued. "The basement is unfinished, though I prefer it that way. That will be my first home improvement project, I think... Would you like to see your bedroom?"
She nodded, getting to her feet. "But... why do you need the basement when... I mean we- you already have the house."
Erik shrugged at her question and gestured for Christine to follow him around the corner to the stairs that lead to the second floor.
"It will be someplace quiet I can work or play without disturbing you... Besides, the house won't feel complete to me without a safe room. It's a peculiarity, I know..."
Peculiarity, indeed. Christine thought back to his old place outside the city and the panic room―apartment, really―in the basement where he had lived. The place had been so secure even she could not find the door out until he decided to show her where it was. It was where he had taken her the first time he… brought her to visit, and all the other times she returned. At the time, Erik told her he felt safer down there than in the house above, but she had always felt an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia when they had descended the narrow staircase together. Always together.
He led her to the master bedroom, filled with unfamiliar furniture and cardboard boxes stacked along the walls. The room's greatest feature was a large French window overlooking the ocean opposite the king-sized bed, whose bare and pristine white mattress, combined with the open window, only emphasized the emptiness and sterility of the room. As was his habit, he lingered in the doorway, as though unable or unwilling to cross the threshold, like some sort of vampire.
Her face remained blank as she looked out the window, even though the view, and the room, pleased her. She watched him for a moment. "How many bedrooms are there?"
"Five total. I imagined we could turn at least one into a guest bedroom in case your family would like to visit, or Ghaz and Darius..." Erik crossed his arms over his chest. "Then perhaps a library... a coffee laboratory..." From the glimmer in his eyes, he was probably kidding. Probably.
She didn't rise to the bait―eventually, yes, she did want a plumbed coffee machine, but she could work on that particular goal later.
"Five," she echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"It's hard to find large houses with only one or two bedrooms," he replied airily, sounding entirely unapologetic, though his shoulders hunched defensively. "A music room would be lovely, too, don't you think?"
"Where's yours?"
He stepped out into the hall to open the door directly across from hers. His room was smaller by default with only one modest window. She felt rather like she was looking into the quarters of a servant.
She crossed her arms and stiffened visibly, the content expression disappearing. For all his harping on about propriety…
"Oh," she intoned quietly. "Okay. Fine."
He closed the door on the dark room and watched her cautiously. "Something the matter? Would you prefer I took the one at the end of the hall instead?"
Her arms tightened around herself. "Um... n- of course not. You don't have to do that."
"You would prefer it," Erik said flatly, frowning.
Christine pursed her lips and looked down, away from him. "I didn't say that."
"And yet that is very much the implication. Why does it bother you? They're separate bedrooms, and you have your own bathroom now..." He pointed into her room.
"I didn't say that," she insisted a little more harshly.
"Then do tell me what it is you're actually thinking."
"Nothing." She chewed on her lip for a moment, before making for the stairs to go back down.
Erik sighed loudly in frustration and threw his hands in the air. "What are you so afraid of? It's hardly any different than our previous sleeping arrangements. Better, in fact. Are you afraid I'm going to pop over for sleepovers from time to time?"
Christine glanced back at him, a little shocked. "I didn't say that either."
He followed after her, eyes briefly narrowing. "No, you didn't. In fact, you've said absolutely nothing and that's what's annoying me. This is your house too, you know. You're allowed to request adjustments and alterations."
"This isn't my house," she said quietly, returning back downstairs and to her place on the floor. "Don't lie to me."
Erik massaged his temple with a long finger as he followed her, then detoured to the kitchen in order to set out dinner for Edgar. "How am I lying to you? This is your house. You live here. With me. Now, if you want to spend the next two decades pretending it isn't, that's your choice, but then you have no one to blame but yourself if you're uncomfortable or annoyed with something."
"I didn't pay for it. It's not mine. It's yours." Her eyes narrowed and she scratched at a patch on the back of her neck, finger tracing over a scar. "I don't want you to move. God forbid I disadvantage you."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest again and scrutinizing her expression.
Christine rolled her eyes and idly turned a page in her book.
Erik sighed with exasperation and stalked towards the fridge to procure a soda from the very empty fridge.
"You know, I was fully prepared to pick a different room if it bothered you so much," he said, cracking open the can. "I really was. But if you're going to be impossible and ridiculous about it, then I think I'll stay put. Obviously whatever is annoying you about the arrangement can't possibly be all that serious."
"I don't want you near me," she said quietly.
Erik flinched at that, watching her with unreadable eyes, then snapped hotly with renewed anger: "There, was that so hard? Now, shall I sleep in the basement? Or is that still too near?"
She nodded minutely, but managed to say instead, "Don't be silly."
Erik rolled his eyes and could not have replied in a more disingenuous tone. "Right, I'll move to the basement then at the next earliest convenience."
"Thank you," Christine snapped, moving to sit on top of the dining table, where she was evidently more comfortable. For a few moments she read on in silence, hoping and believing that the topic was over for the time being.
No such luck.
"Why does it bother you so much? I've already promised you I won't touch you―as per your request―and I've done quite well so far I think. But I should be allowed to be in my wife's company from time to time."
She turned another page, disinterestedly glancing up at him for a moment. "Doesn't mean I trust you."
"I don't see why you shouldn't. I've never laid a finger on you without your permission. I have been nothing but respectful," he said darkly, setting aside his drink and―as if desperate for something to do―cut open a box at random in the kitchen with a savage swipe. He began to lift dishes onto the counter in quick, efficient motion.
"So how about coercing me into marrying you?" she asked, eyes narrowing. Her lip curled and her voice was mocking. "Is that the respectful behavior of a gentleman?"
/
"I will not force you to marry me... but again, I remind you, that comes at the cost of your boy's life. I am perfectly capable of making him disappear where neither you, his brother, nor the federal government will ever find him, then carry on with my life as I always have. I've been alone for nearly forty years. What is another forty more?"
"And that's not forcing me?"
"No. Decline my offer and you may go on to live whatever life you choose, marry whomever else you like."
"And if I do this, you won't go near him? Ever?"
"If you do this, I will be too busy taking care of my wife to go near him or even think about him. Because you will be too busy being my wife to talk to him. You have my word."
/
"That has nothing to do with the subject at hand! We're talking about physical contact. And you could have said no."
"And killed someone. You knew I wouldn't do that."
"Perhaps I wouldn't have killed him. Perhaps I would have kept him for my own amusement," Erik snapped. "It was still a choice you made."
"It wasn't a choice," she said, her voice almost a growl. "You knew I wasn't going to say no."
"I didn't, actually. I was fully expecting you to decline." He turned his back to her, robotically setting plates into a cupboard.
Her eyes narrowed. "Then why did you ask?"
Erik didn't answer at first, continuing to unpack. When he did, it was with a shrug. "What did I have to lose?"
She paused, breath catching in her throat. And quickly, got down off the table, picking Edgar up as she went, moving back towards the stairs. The cat mewed in surprise.
"I'm not hungry," she snapped as she made her escape.
"You've hardly eaten anything all day!" Erik protested, following after her but stopping at the bottom of the stairs. "And you're not going to like what happens if you pass out or waste away."
She raised an eyebrow, turning on him halfway up. "Oh, really? And what's that?"
"Because then I'll be forced to touch you for your own good. I'll have to pick you up to feed you or take you to the hospital to have a needle put in your arm. It is in your best interests to look after your own health if you don't want your husband putting his awful hands on you."
Her mouth stiffened into a line. "I'm not hungry. Leave me alone."
"For how long?" Erik asked snidely, canting his head and not concealing the irritation in his voice.
"Twenty years," she muttered and moved briskly towards her room.
"You wish!" snapped Erik at her, launching up the stairs at an aggressive speed.
But she got there before he did. Once inside, she slammed the door behind her and sank down against it, wrapping her arms around her legs. She felt him lurking just beyond, but he did not try the handle.
"I remind you," he growled through the door, "that it is also in your best interests to remain a living bride. A dead one cannot protect that ex of hers."
"Don't tempt me," she hissed, not allowing herself to cry.
But before he could further do anything rash, she heard him storm away down the stairs with a snarl of frustration. The clatter and chink of briskly moving cutlery resumed from the kitchen.
From her lap, Edgar regarded her with his owlish, yellow eyes. He purred noisily, then slunk to the carpet to begin prowling the room. She watched him, heart pounding, and wanting to scream. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger until it hurt.
/
"I have something to tell you."
"What is it?"
"I'm getting married."
"What?"
"I'm getting married. To him."
"But…why?"
"That's not important. It doesn't matter."
"It does matter!" A few heads turned toward them in the restaurant. He quickly lowered his voice. "It does matter. Is he… is he making you..?"
"No. He gave me a choice."
"A choice? What choice?"
"Whether or not to say yes. I chose to say yes."
"You said yes? Why?"
"Because it was the right thing to do."
"The right thing? How is this the right thing?"
"It's what's best for everyone."
"How is this benefiting anyone but him?"
"Raoul… Please try to understand this from my perspective. I could have said no. I could have said no and I didn't. I made this decision. It will be much better for you."
"How could it possibly be better for me? I love you, Christine. Please don't marry that… that man. You don't have to. After all he's done, he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve you. I… I'm not saying I do either. I don't, but… I know you won't be happy with him. Please don't marry him."
"I ask that you don't try to contact me or find me after this. It would be much better for you to move on."
"So I'll just never see or talk to you again? I… I can't do that, Christine. I don't want to move on."
"Neither do I. But this is what has to happen. You'll be very happy if you give yourself a chance, you know."
"But it doesn't have to happen. You don't have to marry him." He grabbed for her hand. " ...Marry me instead! You don't have to marry him. Please!"
"I want you to leave us alone and live your life."
"No… Tell me the truth. Please..."
"That is the truth."
"It's not. I know it's not. I know you don't want this. Please, just tell me what you really want."
"So you can try to give it to me and get yourself killed. Leave us alone."
"No...Christine, please… please don't do this. ...I'll look for you. I will. I'll come find you."
"No, you will not. You will stay away from us."
"You know I can't do that."
"I hate you."
"You… You don't mean that…"
"I hate you. You annoy me. I want you to leave me alone. Forever."
"I… I love you. That will never change."
"I know."
/
When she finally did manage to master her breathing, Christine rose to her feet and narrowed her eyes, moving quietly to a stack of boxes in the room.
Oh, her husband was so thoughtful to have all her things brought up for her! However could she thank him?
About an hour later, Christine returned downstairs, barefoot and in a silky nightgown that went only down to her mid-thigh. Truthfully, she wasn't quite sure why she owned it, but suddenly she was glad she did. Indeed, she wasn't going to let Erik touch her. And, if he was going to be such a bastard about it, she was also going to be sure to make it painful for him.
She found Erik in the kitchen working diligently on his laptop while listening to some classical Internet radio station, his unblinking attention fixed on the screen. A half-empty bottle of wine stood on the table near a greasy pizza box. When he heard her enter the room, he glanced up with a pointed glare in her direction and took a disinterested sip from his glass. But upon really seeing her, he stared openly in shock that the mask could not conceal while his ears flushed pink. The glass fell from his numb fingers and landed with a shatter, sending red wine over the hardwood floor.
Christine sat quietly at the dining table, crossing her legs and opening her book again. She smiled slightly, inspecting a fingernail.
"How was the pizza?" she asked quietly, ignoring the drink on the floor.
"It was... ah..." Erik closed his mouth and swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from her in spite of his best efforts to inspect just how much of a mess he'd made. Satisfaction bloomed in her chest. "Are you... sure you aren't, er... hungry? I can... get..."
She glanced disinterestedly up at him, toying with a strand of her hair and smiling obliviously. "Sorry, what? You're mumbling a little."
Erik cleared his throat and tried again in a stabler voice. "Are you sure... you aren't hungry?"
She shrugged with a little more exaggeration than necessary. "I'm fine, thank you."
Erik casually rubbed a hand over his mask, pressing it firmly against his skin as he did when he was too warm. "Then… would you, ah... like some tea or... coffee instead?"
Christine smiled at him for a second as if she was aware of exactly what she was doing. She leaned forward to brace her elbows on the table. "Mmmm... no, I'm fine, thanks."
"Y'sure?" he asked in a slightly choked voice, his ears now very red. He pulled his eyes back up to her face with some difficulty, shame reading very clearly in his gaze.
Her smile was innocent again. "Yes, I'm sure, thanks. You haven't answered my question."
"Question?"
She shook her head in tired amusement, as if speaking to a child. "Honestly, don't you listen? I'm not gonna eat the pizza if I don't know how it is. How was it?"
"Oh, ah... sorry, my... ears are ringing a little," he mumbled. He slouched in his chair. "It was... fine. I don't much like vegetarian... I only bought it for you…"
"So thoughtful," she said, getting to her feet, moving to the kitchen, and bending in front of the fridge for a moment longer than was strictly necessary. "Thank you for being so considerate."
Erik hastily glanced away with a soft, incoherent word under his breath and pressed his face into his hands. "You're welcome―how, ah... that nightgown is... it's new, isn't it?"
Christine looked down at herself, an innocent expression crossing her face as if she'd only just noticed what she was wearing. "Oh, this? Mm, I've had it a while. Nice, isn't it?"
"Really nice, yeah." He dared to chance another look, looking very much like a child peeking through his fingers at a film. "You, ah... you look very well in it."
She bit her lip to suppress a proud smirk. "Oh, do I? Thank you. I was thinking of going to bed early tonight, so..."
"Are you very tired?"
Christine pretended to yawn, taking the opportunity to stretch, the hem of her skirt inching a little higher as she did. "Now that you mention it, I am a little."
Erik slouched a even lower in his chair and crossed his legs. "I'll... be awake a little longer I think. But if you need anything... ah... anything at all, let me know, alright? I'm here to... help."
Christine grinned, putting two slices onto a plate and into the microwave, pressing a few buttons before she returned to her chair. She pouted sympathetically. "Aw, can't you sleep? Why's that?"
"I, ah... no reason," he stammered, struggling in his diligent attempts to keep his eyes averted. "One of those nights, you know?"
"Aw, that's too bad," she said quietly, reaching out as if she might rub his arm before changing her mind and placing her hand back on her thigh, tapping impatiently. Erik visibly tensed as she reached out, but his relief was short-lived.
"You'll just have to stay up, huh?"
"Yeah," he breathed, staring up at her with a look of fear.
She bit her lip, meeting his eyes with confidence and smiling invitingly.
He hesitated, the temptation clear in his gaze, but uncertainty overcame him. He quickly turned away with a shaky breath and rested his elbows on the table to massage his temples as best he could around the edge of the mask. "So it's, ah... it's alright if... you touch me but I don't touch you, right?"
She chuckled breathily, getting up to fetch her pizza. "Why do you ask?"
Erik took that opportunity to get to his feet and walk briskly towards the sink. He wet a new rag, then returned to carefully crouch down beside the table to pick up broken glass and sop up the wine. "Just... just curious what the rules are."
"Depends on my mood, I s'pose," she said, sliding back into her seat. "You'd make a terribly handsome footstool."
"Do you really think so?" He kept his eyes resolutely on the floor. "Didn't think you were... into that sort of thing."
She laughed quietly, and it may have sounded a little sadistic. "Isn't your business if I am, babe."
Erik opened his mouth to answer, then apparently thought the better of it. "But hypothetically."
"Hypothetically..." She was laughing again. "Well, you could do me a favor."
"...Yes?" He made a valiant attempt to conceal the uncertainty in his voice.
She tilted her head. "You're not looking at me. Look at me."
He stopped what he was doing, holding the dripping rag in one hand. Then he very reluctantly allowed his gaze to drift upwards to where she was sitting, making unblinking eye contact. His ears had gone red again; so had the parts of his neck unconcealed by makeup.
She grinned, turning her attention to her pizza. She picked a piece of mushroom off and inspected it closely. "That was all. Better finish cleaning before that sinks in."
"You're really beautiful, you know that, right?" Erik said in a quiet voice, watching her a little longer.
She ate the mushroom, not even glancing at him. "Try talking when your blood's in your brain, kid.
She was met with embarrassed silence. Erik got up and quickly returned to the sink to rinse out the rag and toss the broken pieces of glass into the trash. He lingered at the counter. "That wouldn't alter my observation."
She blinked. "Really. You think so?"
"It wouldn't," he mumbled, staring at the pattern in the granite countertops.
She was chewing on her lip. Her demeanor shifted. "Then why do you treat me like this?"
"Like what?"
/
"You're drunk. Go to bed or something."
"Or something… Look at you.. acting scared... do you think that makes me feel bad? I treat you... the way you treat me... if you're going to be... capricious, then so will I."
"I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I... you are scaring me. Please stop."
"Good! If you don't want to be scared... then don't piss me off... you think... I have to let you go back? I could make you stay here until you fucking die if I wanted. Don't take... my kindness for granted. I don't have to give it... if I don't want to."
/
Christine squeezed her knee with one hand to keep herself composed. "You really think you didn't force me into this?"
"Perhaps a little," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"A little." She looked up at him, and the humour was gone. There was hurt in her eyes. "A little?"
Erik was suddenly looking everywhere but her face. "I still maintain you could have said no. I was confident you'd say no, but... you're a good person and... I suppose good people don't... see choices like that."
She got to her feet and walked confidently towards him. "You still think I, the good person, the beautiful person, was going to say no, and let somebody die? You still think I'd be capable of that?" She stopped a couple feet shy of him, hands on her hips and feet firmly planted.
He back up against the sink and turned his head to look away at the floor, looking remarkably like a shamed dog. Erik shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "People are capable of hideous things when I'm concerned. I honestly wasn't sure. I know better now."
"Hideous things?" Her eyes narrowed, and she smiled again, stepping closer to him, but not touching. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."
Erik stood utterly still, his eyes closing. He snorted once in ugly laughter. "No, honey, you have no idea. If this is the worst you can do..."
Her nose wrinkled with her spiteful expression. "You think I saved the worst I have for my first try?" She clicked her tongue. "No husband should underestimate his wife."
He leaned away slightly, in spite of himself. "I'll try to be impressed."
She stepped closer, barely a hair's breadth away from him. "If you have the presence of mind, I'm sure you will."
Erik gripped the edge of the counter, breathing gone shallow in a concerted effort not to close that tiny gap between them. His pulse was visibly rapid in his throat. "I look forward to it," he whispered.
She laughed under her breath. "Oh, do you?" She stared up unfalteringly at him. "You're kinda cute when you can't breathe."
"Creeper," he whispered, side-eyeing her with a smirk.
Christine placed her hands either side of his face, tugging him roughly down to an inch or two away from hers. "What'd you call me, kid?" Her voice was still teasing and flirtatious, lips curled viciously.
A shiver he couldn't suppress ran through his tense body. His eyes snapped shut again, but a smirk emerged. "I didn't say anything."
She pressed her nose against the nose on the mask. He swore helplessly under his breath, gripping the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles went white.
"I think you did. C'mon, don't lie to your wife."
Erik didn't say anything at first, then reluctantly repeated the word under his breath. "Creeper."
"Thought so," she said, smirking back and stepping away, stretching again and facing away from him, her hands far above her head. "Oh, gosh, I'm sleepy..."
"You should sleep..." he mumbled. He leaned weakly back against the counter, his breathing uneven.
"Oh, gee, ya think? Thanks." She smiled sweetly in his direction, daring to wink. "Think I will. Nighty-night."
"Nighty-night," he echoed, his gaze still slightly unfocused. "Let me know if you need anything..."
She grinned, turning to blow him a kiss. "I'm sure I will, babe."
Erik clapped a hand over his heart as if struck by it and smirked faintly. "I'll be up later."
Christine winked again and turned up the staircase. Once out of sight, she stuck a finger in her mouth as if to gag, for nobody's benefit but hers. When she got to her room, she slammed the door behind her.
/
"I understand the idea of wedding a monster is the stuff of your nightmares. Don't think I'm unsympathetic to that―believe me, Erik is trapped with him second of his life―and I, of course, cannot force you. But neither can I say which is more horrifying to you―marrying me or living alone in a world your boy no longer inhabits."
"D- Don't you dare say that. I'll never do that. No."
He canted his head and spoke in that pedantic tone that drove her crazy. "Never do what?"
"Marry you. I would rather die."
