AN: Edited to the best of my abilities which are not a lot (cut me some slack :). No but seriously, send me some constructive feedback, I will appreciate it to the moon and back. FYI this is on wattpad and I do update there quicker because it's more convenient. So feel free to read this there if you desire.
Next Chapter: Reflections: CPOV
Enjoy!
WC:2418
Christine
His anger had terrified her, but it had melted as soon the sound of his pained sobbing reached her ears. It completely broke her heart. She gingerly picked up that mask, not knowing what she intended to do with it, but knowing she had to go to her angel.
Her angel who she knew to have a sharp mind was so broken. He did not even realise that she had crawled in front of him until she lightly put her fingers on his shoulder. It pained her to see him shrink back as if she would hurt him. It told her a lot about why he had been so angry with her. That her poor angel had been hurt by many before.
But she could not give up. She had waited ten long years to meet him and the last two had been more torturous than ever. She had to touch him. Prove to him that she was sorry. Anything for him not to be so broken. She would do anything to gain his forgiveness. To be back in his favour again.
"Angel," she whispered softly, enjoying his sharp intake of breath, as she moved closer with their knees touching now.
She put down the mask behind her before gripping his strong shoulders with both of her hands. And this time he didn't shrink and she was relieved to see that instead his sobbing had turned quieter. But it was no less painful. She had to stop this heartbreak.
She mulled over where to begin, which of her secrets should she share first. Because she needed to know everything about this mysterious man. But to expect for someone to share their secrets, you always had to part with one of your own.
"Erik please look at me," that seemed to do the trick. Yes she knew what name her angel went by. A name she had carried and cherished in her heart for two long years. His whole body had gone rigid but he still did not look up. She was terrified of his wrath for what she was about to do. But her devotion outweighed her fear.
She slowly moved her hands from his shoulders to his chin, pausing a moment letting him know her intent, hoping he would allow it, before daring to gently cup both sides of his dear face in her small palms. She hoped what she was that her intentions did not bring her hopes crashing down on her. She slowly lifted his bent head and surprisingly he let her. She bit her lip so as to not make any sound as she looked at the extent of the damage of his face.
She was glad to see his eyes were closed as if he were afraid to see her repulsion like the rest of them. But she wasn't glad because she did not want him to see her reaction, far from it. But the things she had in mind to accomplish, she would not have had the nerve to do it with his intense amber eyes set on her.
First in order was wiping his tears. She did not like it, not one bit. It was amazing how she could think about anything else with the cause of his pain so clearly displayed in front of her. She brought her attention back to his disfigurement. She was glad that she felt more calmer than she had hoped for.
It began at his hairline which was heavily discoloured and pitted. His eyebrows where one was thick and arched the other was completely hairless and gouged in. Her thumb traced the area where it should have been.
She worried at his stiffness, but did not want to shatter the peace that they had settled in. She noticed that his eyelash on the damaged side was hairless and the eyelid so much thinner than the perfect side. She remembered that his right eye had seemed to be sunken in.
As her fingers traced his cheeks, his damaged cheek followed the pattern on his forehead but it was more damaged. She had no way to describe it but the only words that came to mind were discoloured, sunken, and thin in so many areas.
What worried her most was his caved in nose, his poor poor nose. Could he breathe properly through it, she wondered. It would be the first thing she would ask him when he was ready to answer her questions.
Lastly, her eyes settled on those bloated lips before her thumb settled in to trace it. The rest of his damaged face caused her to feel sympathy but it couldn't be roused for those uneven lips, no matter how misshapen.
She was rather curious, what if she dared to experiment on her curiosity, would it quench the thirst she had carried for so long. She was glad his eyes were closed now or she would have lost her courage. She moved her hands back to his shoulders to steady herself before moving towards his face with her own. She was nervous yet determined at the same time.
With an undeniable hunger she closed her eyes and softly touched her lips to his. His lips that were surprisingly soft but firm at the same time. She had nothing to compare it to, but it did feel wonderful. But what seemed to ignite a fire within her seemed to act like bucket of iced water on him.
His eyes opened as he jerked back to see him staring at her his fists clenched on his knees. Too many emotions swirling in those wide amber eyes for her to pick just one.
"Christine, what do you think you are doing?" He hissed at her both scaring her and embarrassing her at the same time. Did he think her a harlot now? But the years she had known her Angel, she knew he didn't apply the same boundaries or rules on women as the rest of the world did. His anger deflated so quickly soon to be replaced by what it seemed was shock.
"Christine kissed her Erik. No...no...Christine kissed a monster. Erik is the monster. Erik does not..." he moaned brokenly.
"Angel I..." her voice snapped him out his self monologue and it seemed his anger had been ignited again.
"Do you now fear the monster Christine, or do you simply pity it? Whatever your reasons do not believe for a second that you will ever be free from me. Those who see this monstrosity are forever bound to me," his voice rose from a hiss to a loud angry threat. A threat that was completely unnecessary.
"I do not want you to let me go," she whispered softly waiting to see his reaction. Her heart feeling a tender rush of emotion at seeing his face so endearingly shocked before he lowered it again.
"Erik does not understand," he said in a voice that was almost child-like and fearful. She would be brave. She would confess. Her secret hopes. Her needs. She would make him listen and maybe he would grant all of her heart's desires. She rested her hands on his clenched fists.
"Angel, I have always sang just for you, whenever and wherever you asked me to. But today I would like to tell you a story if you would be willing to listen, please mon Ange," she told him looking at his bowed head, and he finally gave her a barely perceptible nod.
So she began the story a young Swedish girl. A girl who at the tender age of seven had lost her sickly papa. But her papa had promised her the angel of music . And how on the same night she had lost her papa and she had gained her angel.
The angel never let her feel lonely. Whenever she called for him he was always there singing songs in her head. And his voice it was so beautiful nothing she had heard before or after meeting her angel. As a child it brought her peace and calmed her fears. But as time passed the music between tutor and protege changed. Their music lit a fire in her that whatever she did or tried it could not been stopped.
She did not want an angel anymore she admitted. What she wanted now was a man. Someone who wasn't so unreachable or untouchable. But not just anyone would do. It had to be someone with her Angel's voice. An impossible feet. It seemed that her budding love was to end before it even had the chance to begin.
Until, she started paying attention to things that had always been there. But she had been too distracted in her own little bubble to pay attention. The rumours she had naively dismissed took root in her mind with the arrival of the new managers. She started thinking and looking for signs.
Her Angel. The Phantom. The Mask. The face of death. An undeniable suspicion was born. Were her Angel and the Opera ghost one and the same? The ghost who had the face of death they used to say in whispers. Why else would her angel hide unless he was truly hideous to look at. Angels were beautiful beyond belief after all. She ignored his flinch but squeezed the top of his fists instead.
Because if she stopped now she probably would not finish and she had to tell him everything and so she continued on with her tale. How could she not make the obvious assumptions she asked him.
That maybe he was no ethereal being but just a man with a voice so heavenly. A voice in which she always lost herself. A voice which brought forth music which was both serene like an angel's and passionate like a Greek god's.
Her Angel, someone, she had known and cared for, for ten years. Someone who had sung to a heartbroken little girl and since then had always been there for her. How could she not care for him she asked, her silly Angel.
But she was the silly one. How could she have realized and accepted that he could be ugly, but not have realized that the mask was proof enough that he wished for it to remain hidden. Even from her.
Not that she thought him ugly, but unfortunately disfigured on half of his face. Her heart ached with sympathy at what he must have suffered and what he could have had. The perfect side of his face was so inhumanly beautiful, it was almost unbearable to look at despite his disfigurement.
And she continued further. Telling him about how it was becoming impossible for her to bear the lack of her Angel's physical presence. And so with the help of her one and only female friend, Meg Giry, together the two of them had formed a plan. A plan to catch the Phantom.
Ever since then she would beg him to sing for her and then pretend to fall asleep during their music lessons waiting with baited breath to see what he would do. How after long minutes she had felt strong arms lift her up and carry her to her sleeping quarters. And so the routine had continued where she pretended to sleep as many times as possible to both feel his arms around her and be tucked close to his warm chest. His undoubtedly human chest.
Thus with this discovery came the surge of feeling betrayal and bitterness. The hurt for not being trusted. But despite the anger the hunger still had not abetted but had only increased. It had escalated by simply knowing that her angel no ethereal being, but just a man. And regardless of her anger she still wanted him nearer. She more eagerly now wanted to know more about her mysterious tutor.
And so the spying followed suit, wherever Madame Giry went she and Meg were sure to follow whenever they could. To eavesdrop over all the secret conversations. To steal into Madam's quarters to read those letters she was sent by the Phantom. She told him all about the new discoveries she had made through all her methods of subterfuge.
The very first one, his name. Erik Dessler. A name she had cherished in her heart for two years. Erik, a powerful ruler, someone who ruled over everything dark and night. Oh, how he had ruled her mind and soul without even trying to.
And then there were the other things. Things like how all of her Birthday and Christmas gifts had been his doing. How he had taken care of all her needs, wants, and more, better than anyone ever could have for their loved one. And so her anger faded but that hunger? It still burned harder. But she did not have the bravery to go after whom she wanted, fearing rejection.
She smiled hearing his huff of disbelief before explaining.
She had deduced a possible disfigurement but that was not what concerned her. It was his age she admitted embarrassedly. He was obviously older, but she didn't know by how much, what if for him she was just a child to be indulged. He had already been an adult when she was a young child.
So she kept her secrets. Until today. She had told him everything in this moment. "There was never any fear Ange, not until today, you anger it terrifies me even, but I do understand it. In the last ten years you have given me too many reasons to love you. And I love you, I have for what seems to be the longest insufferable time," she completed both proud yet afraid.
"Christine..." he whispered in a strong voice but it was laden with incredulity. Oh, his doubts she could handle, but his pain? It shattered something within was totally unbearable.
And at that thought she couldn't help but tackle him in a hug, as both of them fell downwards to the ground. She looked at his face for a moment and it seemed even more shocked than before. Oh, he had always claimed over the years, that her impulsiveness was the bane of his existence she remembered with a touch of fondness.
She had emptied out her heart, she didn't know what more to say. So she simply tried to convey what she could with her body by hugging him tightly, hoping to transfer her emotions through the physical contact.
After what seemed a very long time, she felt his arms wrap themselves around her. And at that moment she knew that everything would be alright. That their music would play on for a long time to come.
PS: Feel free to befriend me on twitter (heeta_j) or instagram ( ) if you want to talk about books, anime , and manga. Is anyone obsessed with Inuyasha like me?