A/N: Hello all! Yes, I still exist! I have been trying to get through this year's difficult school schedule but wanted you all to know I am still writing and am actually working on my next long story which I hope to put out or at least work on this coming Christmas break. It will be a bit different from anything else I have written and will even have a Tumblr page to go along with it! Fun, right?
At any rate. Welcome to new readers and old readers alike and I hope you enjoy this one-shot to tie you over until I finally have my next story out. Feel free to review and check out my other stories if you are not already familiar with them. I always love new readers!
Erik sneezed. Wait. Erik sneezed?!
Christine leaned out around the edge of the wingback in his living room to stare at him in shock and concern as he sat with his back to her, still slightly leaned over his organ as if nothing had interrupted his musical composing.
'Erik?' She asked slowly. 'Did you just-'
'No.' He answered sharply, but something in his tone sounded off.
'Wait, say something else.' She requested, staring at his tensing back muscles. He looked slightly over his shoulder, his golden eyes glinting with uncertainty and a half-meaningful glare.
'Why?' He asked tersely but with obvious worry.
'You're congested.' She pronounced more in shock than anything else.
'No.' He sounded more like a child now, disputing the fact that he was sick.
'Yes, you are. You have a cold.' She told him with something akin to scientific fascination. One look from his slightly hurt eyes brought this curiosity withering away. 'Oh, Erik.' She cooed sympathetically.
Rising easily from her chair, she came over to place a hand lightly on his shoulder. He turned his gaze to the floor.
'I am not sick. Erik does not get sick. He could make his Christine ill.' He mumbled in his childlike voice.
'Erik, everyone gets sick sometimes. There's nothing wrong with it. I just wonder how a man without a nose can manage to sneeze.' She told him softly, trying to bring a bit of levity to his downcast demeanour.
'I am not sure either. It is also running, but as you well know I do not invest in handkerchiefs.' He told her with his normal formality, though just the tiniest bit more pitiable. He then proceeded to somehow sniffle.
Christine tried hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. 'Well lucky for you, I do. And they're called Kleenexes, Mr. 19th century.' She giggled a bit at his grumbling.
Dashing off to her room, Christine held in further laughter at his immature behaviour. She had known him for nearly a year now and he was only slowly becoming less stubborn about admitting his flaws. His face seemed to be the only one he would acknowledge for the longest time. It had felt like an eternity until she had convinced him even partially to not refer to it as a travesty anymore. He still wore his mask most days which vexed her to no end as she could only tell his emotions from his eyes and the set of his thinly lipped mouth. He was an adorable pain, some days. Still, he was improving. Slowly, but improving nonetheless.
Coming back into the living room, she found him still seated at his organ, sniffling in what he thought to be a subtle fashion as he leaned over to write something down. His eyes were heavily lidded and his posture more crumpled than usual. He was tired, but like a petulant child she knew it would take some serious wiggling to get him anywhere near resting.
'Here you go.' She told him, handing him the box and looking at him expectantly.
Erik took it, but did not move to use them. When he caught her sharp eye of insistence, he sighed heavily. 'I doubt my visage will be much improved with the mucus, my dear. Perhaps it best you refrain from looking,' he added a pleading light to his baleful eyes. 'Just this once.' He added hopefully.
Christine gave a laboured sigh and walked back over to her chair to collect her book. She took an extra long time to locate the illusive bookmark and find her place again. She looked down into the fireplace, wondering if he would bother to tell her when she could turn around again.
'Thank you.' Came the small mutter from across the room after what felt like a small eternity.
'You're welcome.' She smiled softly over her shoulder to see him adjusting the strings of his mask again into their normal place. 'Now, you need to rest.'
'I am fine.' He argued flatly.
Damn, she thought. He's going to be stubborn in this.
'Now Erik, if you go around wearing yourself out instead of resting, you won't be able to get better.' She shot back, knowing this would by no means be the argument with which she might triumph.
'I have managed before, my dear, and I believe I shall do so again. Thirty five is not so decrepit an age as you might think.' He replied, keeping his back firmly to her.
'You are truly impossible.' She sighed to herself.
'A small pride I have in myself, I assure you.' He said with a bit of humour.
Christine let her shoulders slump. 'Fine,' she said sharply, knowing this would only be won when one of them lost strength. She had the slightest advantage for once, and she was also more determined than usual. She had faith she could win out with the proper words. 'You need to drink something, though.' She told him.
'I have coffee.' He pointed absently to the mug which had been sitting beside him for the past two hours.
Christine held in a shiver of knowing how strong he liked it, and how horrid hours old coffee could be. 'No. No caffeine; that will only dehydrate you. You need real liquid, and something warmer than tepid brown sludge.'
Erik gave a tired sigh. 'You drank some once.' He said, remembering the adorably comic expression of disgust which riddled her normally happy face when she had tasted some of his coffee. He was lucky she had actually swallowed. He chuckled under his breath at the memory. He heard Christine groan mildly behind him, knowing she knew what he was thinking.
'How about some tea?' She offered.
Erik sighed again, thinking of her caffeine-free tea that tasted like water that was flavoured noncommittally. He of course still bought it for her. Anything to make her happy and comfortable in his home. 'If it will please you.' He resigned, apologising to his tongue mentally.
'It will.' She said, already turning to walk off to the kitchen.
Heaving yet another sigh –as it was convenient due to the lack of oxygen coming through his nose cavity- he rose from his bench and followed her. He paused in the doorway of the kitchen to watch her stand on her tip-toes, still well trained for demi-pointe. Her slender yet pleasingly curved build stretched to reach a slightly taller shelf. He held in a slight gasp when her long-sleeved shirt came up at her reach to reveal a bit of tantalisingly porcelain skin underneath. He swore she bought clothing just to torment him. She relaxed back down, letting her calf muscles in her tight jean come back to their usual curve. Her socked feet slid a bit on the linoleum floor as she skated over to the kettle. It was only then that he fully realised what she was doing.
'I can make my own tea, thank you.' He told her with only minimal agitation.
'I know. But you don't have to.' She replied without turning.
Shaking his head at her tiring persistence, he trudged back to the living room.
'Just go sit in your chair by the fireplace and relax.' She told him with enough sternness to make him believe she would find some way or other to get her way. He was getting nowhere in composing, anyways. She was fortunate to have had as much of his attentions as she had. Were it not for the sudden sneeze, he would have been too absorbed to note a single word she had said, as she often complained.
Sitting down in his chair, he let the wind come out of him a bit. His eyes just felt so damned heavy he could not resist their downward pull. He hated feeling this tired as he had not really done anything to deserve it. He was envious of Christine in her youth to be able to have the energy to do anything and everything. Yes, despite his words, he felt old. His gorgeous student of barely twenty four was a great source of envy. He felt like a lecherous old fool gawking at the young beauty though he barely deserved to share a room with her. How had he ever come to steal her away from that handsome, young Viscount anyways? She had chosen him and remained. He had offered to let her go, but she had stubbornly stayed by his repulsive side. She even argued that it was a better choice for her. Silly little child.
Christine came back into the living room after making sure the tea had steeped long enough to get plenty of flavour. She knew he despised how lightly she brewed it as well as how much sugar she added. He would complain that it was bad for her voice, but he never acted on this. He would only ever roll his eyes and shake his head disapprovingly. She would laugh and eventually he would do his version of a tired smile in return.
'Erik, your tea is read-' She stopped short upon seeing him in his chair, peacefully asleep. Smiling at the sweet sight, she set the tea on the table beside him and fetched a blanket. Draping it lightly over him, she watched a smile twitch at his lips for the extra warmth. Despite his moaning to the contrary, she knew he got cold.
Thinking it over, she gently reached behind his sideways slumped head and untied his mask. Setting it aside, she beheld his face. Once inspiring fear in her, it now simply belonged to the man she loved. Yes, she loved him. She loved him so very much in all of his imperfections and brilliance.
His face, thinly skinned, looked much as a corpse's. His bones jutting out from nearly transparent flesh almost painfully, his nose nothing but a triangular black hole with only the thinnest membrane to cover it to an extent. His lips were also thin and his eyes sunken in with dark rings around them. This brought a frown to her face. How long had he been fighting this cold? And all to seem strong for her, she knew. He was foolishly and hopelessly in love with her, and his way of showing it was to be forever her powerful protector and carer. She adored him for it, but not when he sacrificed his health.
Leaning forward, she placed the faintest of kisses on his now exposed forehead, resting the mask on the table beside the tea. He would be angry she had removed it, to be sure, but she would explain as she always did that it no longer mattered to her what he looked like.
Christine went over and took her seat beside him, turning back to her book and keeping a slight eye on Erik as he slept. She worried about him, knowing he had nightmares often and hearing him wake, yelling, at odd hours of the night. He seemed calm enough, though, in his bundle of blanket and peaceful warmth.
An hour or so passed before she heard stirring from the chair next to her. Then she heard coughing.
Erik sputtered a bit, his head having tipped back to rest on the back of the chair and somehow avoided snoring –though he would hum occasionally which Christine found charmingly adorable. He pushed forward, coming groggily from his sleep to start coughing wetly.
'Erik,' Christine flew to his side in an instant. 'Are you all right?' She asked with worry.
He nodded as he continued to hack a bit before finally calming some. 'Went down the wrong pipe.' He said hoarsely. He looked down at her tiredly as she knelt before him, hands resting on his knees comfortingly. A faint smile came to him as he saw the gentle concern in her eyes. He reached out to stroke her cheek, but something occurred to him and made him stop. He could feel the heat of the fireplace on his face.
His smile turned to a scowl as he looked beside him and found his white mask staring back at him. He whirled his now burning eyes to his angel. He did not even need to say a word before her face crumpled a bit. Her words and actions silenced his oncoming tirade, however.
'You know I love you.' She said, rubbing her thumb over his cheek as he had intended to do to her moments before.
All ire instantly left Erik at this. He closed his eyes and pulled her hand farther to his cheek. He leaned into her soft touch and tried to breathe fully through his nasal cavity. 'What did I ever do to deserve you?' He murmured gently into her palm.
'You let me go because you loved me.' She told him.
'And yet you stayed.' He said it more as a question, his eyes searching hers.
'If you don't understand now, you never will.' She told him, her own love shining right back to him. He closed his eyes and gasped as he clung to her hand as if it would disappear at any moment.
'I'm sorry.' He continued in his hushed voice.
'For what?' She asked.
'Not being strong enough for you today.'
Christine brought her other hand up to wrap round the back of his neck and bring his face closer to hers. She put their foreheads together and looked him dead in the eyes. 'Erik. You have not failed me, disappointed me, or done anything to make me unhappy by being sick. The only way you ever come close to doing any of those things is by doubting yourself and how very much I love you. Trust me when I tell you I care about you, would happily take care of you, and don't care if some days you are not well enough to sweep me off my feet at a moment's notice. You are only human, my darling, and I love you for it.'
A tear slipped down his cheek onto hers through this as he saw just how deeply her heart cried for him. She did love him, and he loved her with his every ounce of pitiful being.
'I love you.' He told her in a broken whisper.
'I know you do, dearest.' She smiled at him so radiantly then that he thought he may go blind for loving her.
Erik sniffled again, much to the fascination of Christine. How could a man without a nose do that? He was certainly full of mysteries today.
'Here now,' she said in her vaguely parenting tone. 'Why don't you go take a hot bath? The steam will help your sinuses drain a bit.' She offered, not pulling back just yet. Only when he tiredly nodded against her did she lean away to offer a hand to him to stand. He looked at it witheringly before she laughed, taking his hand anyways and nearly dragging him off to the bathroom adjoining and between their bedrooms.
Leaning over the overly long claw footed tub in the green tiled bathroom, Christine waited for the water to heat up while Erik, feeling somewhat useless, stood behind her. He tried very hard not to admire her bottom more than was necessary, but found himself without the strength of will to care if she caught him.
'I promise my ass hasn't changed since I was fetching your tea, dearest.' She told him without looking.
Erik finally looked away, feeling his face flush. So much for not caring. He did not look back until he felt her hands slide up his chest and her voice silkily at his shoulder, craning in vain to reach his ear. 'Would you like for me to join you?' She asked.
He was not aware his face could get any redder and hated every living thing on the planet who he knew to somehow be mocking him. He dared not look into the piercing jade eyes which stared up at him as his jaw visibly tensed.
'You're too easy, dear.' She said after a long pause and a sighing crooked grin. Reaching up on tip-toes again, she managed to kiss his cheek slightly before patting his shoulder as she passed him to leave the room.
'I'll make you some fresh tea when you get out.' She promised, not looking back.
Erik closed his eyes hard, fighting the urge to grab her wrist and swing her round to kiss her as they always did in the movies. One big dramatic kiss to show he could. But he did not. No matter how his mind screamed at him to prove her wrong in thinking he would not just dunk her fully clothed into the tub with him and have his way with her, he would not. Oh, to feel that soft warm skin beneath his frigid fingers at last. But instead he stood there, frozen like a statue as she walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Sliding into the warm water and having it heat his bare skin felt lovely, he had to admit. He absently remembered he had not fallen asleep in his chair with a blanket on. Christine must have covered him while he slept. And also while she removed his mask. A mask he had yet to replace. He was a mess today. Forgetful and moody. Well, one of those was normal, but the former was most certainly not. He sighed, sinking a little farther into the water and letting his muscles relax.
He let memories of Christine's saint-like kindness and patience flood his mind as he calmed his breathing now that the steam had allowed passage of air. He thought of the night he had actually somehow won her. She had been crying and worn down with emotion, but the moment she looked to her dismal options, he saw her resolve spark fiery and he knew instantly without any doubt he may have somehow previously possessed that he loved every possible side of her. His heart was irrevocably hers forever. She would be the only name he ever engraved upon that vital organ, and her face would be the greatest treasure his memory could ever summon. He loved her without reservation and he would die whispering her name with all of the affection his last breath could offer. And yet even that would never be enough to fully credit her perfection.
He had watched her in disbelief as she instantly became the most stunning and unearthly beauty the world had somehow managed to produce. He had not even realised she had turned the scorpion until he saw the plea in her eyes. In an instant, his life was undone. He felt as though he were walking in a dream to release that boy from the lasso. He watched the lad try to come at him, he could not think to defend himself if the boy had, but Christine held him back. She had said things, things which made the Viscount look at her with disgusted incredulity. Erik could have killed him for looking at her that way, but he had sworn to himself and her that he would not.
Then it happened, he realised something in that moment. He loved her. He had known for months, years, really, but he had never fully realised what it meant.
'Go. Both of you. Go. Leave this place -this monster behind. You are free.' He had said it with sad resolve in his eyes. He remembered faintly shouting at them both to leave, and the Viscount trying to pull Christine away, but she remained. She sent the boy off, telling him something Erik had not understood at the time. The boy had taken some convincing, but had finally left. He left with many backward glances before seeing enough.
Christine, his darling angel, Christine. She had walked up to him, now turned away so as not to see her leave with that boy, and pulled him to face her. Erik knew his face was a mess of emotion, but so was hers, oddly. Yet her eyes, her eyes stayed firm as she said those three words and his name so beautiful he knew he had sobbed.
'I love you, Erik.'
He took more convincing than the boy had, strangely enough. After everything he had done to her, all the horror she had witnessed, she stayed to love him.
Even now, soaking in his tub with her wandering his house, he could not believe it. Tears still ran down from his golden eyes and sobs still threatened at his throat when he thought of the gift he had been given. Not only had she stayed, but she loved him. She truly and deeply loved him.
Feeling the water grow a bit cooler, and also the need to hold his beloved in his arms, Erik pulled the plug from the bath and stood. There was only one problem: they were out of towels.
He looked in stone-faced astonishment at the open cabinet which normally held the towels. Figures. Just when he needed them, they were gone.
He tried to calm himself and looked to back of the door for his robe. Also gone. Holding in a growl, he stepped out of the tube and slid just enough to shoot adrenaline achingly through his heart and bring it up to his throat. The bath mat was absent as well.
'Christine,' he called, not succeeding as well as he wished to keep the anger from his voice. He listened to the hurried footsteps outside the door.
'Yes?' She called in.
'Where are the towels?' He asked with gritted teeth.
He heard a tell-tale pause from the other side of the door. 'On my bed awaiting folding and replacing.'
'And the bathmat?'
Silence.
'And my robe?' He put a bit of extra venom into the word as he looked to the clothes he had placed upon the floor. He did not wish to ruin his shirt by using it as a makeshift towel.
From the other side of the door came a whimpered, 'I'm sorry.' He heard the sharp intake in breath accompany it.
Merde. He had made her cry.
'Christine,' he started in a defeated yet kind voice.
'I'll be right back.' She told him, interrupting any comfort he may have been preparing to deliver. He waited a few seconds, listening to the rustling on the other side of the door. He knew she was in her room and he could have sworn he heard her sniffle. Part of him prayed it was because of tears. He would never forgive himself if he made her cry and got her sick. Before long, he heard a knock at the door. He watched with mild panic as the door opened, but it stopped just wide enough for her to stick her hand in, holding the bath mat and towel. He took both, making quick work of drying himself off. To his momentary puzzlement, the door remained slightly open. Her hand reappeared holding the scruff of his robe. In truth it was more of a dressing gown with its shining black satin and silk lining. Taking this as well, he wrapped himself thoroughly before sighing and opening the door the rest of the way.
Christine stood with her eyes downcast penitently. She sniffled again as he loomed before her. He did not mean to, it was simply the height difference.
'I'm sorry.' She said again. 'You are always taking care of me, I just wanted to take care of you, but I messed up. I'm sorry.' She was doing a good job this time in restraining her tears. The one thing that made her strength of will impressive was the fact that when she thought him disappointed in her, she would crumple instantly. Here she was, trying her best to look after him and see to his needs, and he had snapped at her over a simple misstep. Feeling a beast, he took her chin with his index and thumb to look at her glistening eyes. God, even when crying she was beautiful!
'Christine, you have nothing to apologise for.' He told her, hating how congested his voice still was. He was amazed she had not laughed over it yet. 'I know you were trying to be kind, and I really have no room to complain about it. It is truly the nicest thing you could do for me, my love.' He told her before planting a whisper of a kiss on her forehead.
With a relieved cry, she lunged forward, nearly knocking him off balance as she held his thin frame to her and buried her face into his chest. The surprise quickly wore off for Erik as he softened and brought his hand up to smooth her curling hazelnut locks. His other hand pressed into the small of her back, ensuring that she would remain in the embrace at least a moment longer.
'I love you.' She mumbled into the fabric of his robe.
'I love you, too, my darling angel.' He cooed into her hair, letting it tickle his face. Planting another kiss this time into the part of her hair, he pulled back a bit to look at her. She met his gaze with similar light. Thumbing away a tear stain on her cheek, he smiled. His Christine.
'Shall we have that tea now?' He asked, finally admitting defeat to her big green eyes. He really did not take that much convincing, he just liked to give her a challenge.
Her face lit up with the victory, nodding eagerly. 'I could make you some soup if you're hungry.' She offered, leading him off to the dining room adjacent to her bedroom.
'Just tea for now, darling.' He told her obligingly. He let her bounce off to the kitchen while he headed the opposite direction to the living room. Settling back into his chair, he focused himself on looking through some of the sheet music he had written so as not to fall asleep again.
When Christine reappeared with two cups of tea, Erik beckoned her over. As she neared he held out his arms as if asking for a hug. Christine looked at him questioningly until he tugged her hips and helped her to clamber into his lap. Wrapping an arm easily around her, he held her close while managing to drink his tea. This earned him a quick kiss on the cheek. He knew she was purposefully ignoring the fact that this would make her potential for getting his cold more likely so as to spend time with him. He knew she was clingier than she liked to let on with him.
When the tea was finished and more careful kisses were exchanged, it was determined –mostly by Christine, whose determined attitude was a great amusement to Erik- that he should go get some rest. He tried to protest, but at last an arrangement was settled upon. And so, with the covers tucked up warmly around them, a decongestant in his system thanks to a very convincing Christine, and his nightclothes on, he laid down in her bed with her beside him, holding him close. He fell asleep quickly to the sound of her heartbeat at his ear and the soft touch of her hand running through his ebony hair.