September 3, 2018 update! - Disclaimer: I am not a professional singer by any means (though I do like a party with karaoke like any other Filipino-American) so a tiny adjustment has been made since a small technical error was brought to my attention! Please continue to enjoy!
Christine did not think herself to be the jealous-type. In fact when Erik promised her a night at the opera, she couldn't have been more excited. Christina Nilsson had just appeared in the inaugural performance of Faust at the Metropolitan Opera. After her well-reviewed performance as Marguerite, she began touring all over Europe as part of her farewell tour. And tonight, she would be performing in their very own Opera Populaire. A fellow Swedish soprano. An idol.
She was very excited indeed… at the beginning.
Erik's strides were much longer than usual, as they made their way through the darkness. Christine was having a hard time keeping up.
"Erik, please slow down," she said, almost tripping over her skirts. She would hate to ruin her favorite blue dress due to a fall.
"Christine," he replied, his cloak whooshing behind them, his gait unchanged, "arriving late would be extremely rude. Especially since we have a very special guest in our Opera house tonight."
"She wouldn't know."
Erik rolled his eyes and she smiled.
"She sang here once you know," he said excitedly. "You were still a child then…"
Her smile left. I am not a child now, she thought, her annoyance growing.
"She is also Swe-"
"Swedish, yes I know Erik."
"-dish and I've heard she's improved greatly since her last visit."
Christine hummed unenthusiastically, a frown beginning to form.
"Ah, wait here ma chère," Erik said as he paused in front of a seemingly solid wall. Lifting his left hand he began searching the wall, skimming the surface slowly with his fingers, carefully searching around the stones for a hidden notch. His other hand held hers gently. His thumb grazed her knuckles softly, back and forth, as if the motion aided in his left hand's search. She gasped when the wall shifted. Suddenly a small opening was made visible. She smiled again. His genius never failed to impress her, even when he annoyed her so.
"Just a short climb up, then we will be in box 5," he said, revealing a narrow circular staircase, a dim light coming from above. "Please," he said, motioning for her to step inside as he followed. He turned and pressed at another hidden mechanism, the wall moving back into place.
Erik led them up the narrow stairway, stopping midway to assess the wall to the right, one leg bent on a higher step. "One moment."
Through the wall, she could hear the audience members below. Erik reached for something up top, exhibiting his incredible height. A small click followed.
"Voilà," Erik whispered, as he gently pushed the panel aside, the entrance to the box granted.
Christine gasped softly and hurriedly stepped forward into the box, her excitement rising.
Erik followed, sliding the panel back into place. "Unfortunately, we will only be able to sit in the second row," he whispered. "We must be… discreet."
"Of course," she replied softly, taking her seat.
The orchestra began the first piece.
"Just in time," he whispered as he sat next to her.
They both leaned forward slightly, anxious to see the leading soprano.
Act One went on just as she had remembered. Although this time she was delighted to watch it through the eyes of an audience member, especially with Erik by her side. He stayed perfectly still, sniffing and rolling his eyes every once and a while to note his disapproval.
Act Two began, and the audience collectively gasped as Marguerite made her first appearance. Her blonde hair shimmering in the light. Her lips pink with a soft cupid's bow. Her piercing eyes looking around at the audience. Christine noticed in the corner of her eye, that Erik shifted when she appeared, sitting up straighter than he normally did. Her brows furrowed slightly.
In Act three, the audience again collectively held their breaths just before Marguerite's first aria, The Jewel Song. And then she opened her mouth to sing.
"Oh," Christine said softly. She could not believe her ears. She had never heard such a crystal clear sound come out of a human before - except for Erik's voice, of course. She looked at him then and saw his fingers flexing above his leg, his other hand cupped his jaw, and his eyes, wide with attention, transfixed.
"Ah if only he was here! He would see me thus. Like a lady!" Marguerite sang looking at her jewels.
Erik shifted again at this line, crossing his right leg over the left, his free hand sliding down his thigh to lightly pick at the fabric above his knee. He seemed… pleased. Almost amazed. She felt a sudden ache in her chest as she looked back to Marguerite, Christine's mouth gaping, astonished yet un-amused.
"He would find me beautiful!"
Marguerite hit a particularly beautiful high note here and Christine managed to snap her mouth closed at the audacity of such a note, her hands squeezing the arms of the chairs tight, brows furrowing, eyes narrowing.
The last note rang out effortlessly, almost, flute-like in sound, her lips moving in a steady vibrato.
"One must greet her as she paaaaaaaasses!"
She glanced at Erik once more. He had closed his eyes and began inhaling deeply, as if wanting to ingest the note. She had only seen Erik do this during their lessons... and only during an exceptionally good rendition. She hated that this moment was shared with someone other than herself.
The song ended and the audience cheered. Erik began clapping gently for the first time that evening, crossing his legs over once more, switching positions. She couldn't bear it and she crossed her arms childishly in protest. He did not even notice. A heat came into her cheeks, her eyes burning, fighting away tears.
The rest of the evening went on as such: Marguerite singing beautifully, Erik fidgeting in his seat, and Christine simmering. She never wanted an opera to end so quickly in her life.
"Christine?"
Her thoughts were interrupted. She looked up to find Erik standing, his hand held out towards her.
"I said, 'We should probably go now,'" he whispered. "Are you alright, ma chère?"
"Yes," she lied, resentfully taking his hand. He gave her a look of concern for a moment, but continued towards the hidden panel.
She went through first and Erik followed, latching the panel behind him. She felt her heart grow heavier with each step. She hated the feelings she harbored inside. She hated how amazing Christina's performance was. But most of all, she hated Erik's undivided attention towards her.
"You're very quiet this evening," Erik noted, guiding them through the darkness once again.
"It was a good performance. Thank you for the... pleasant evening," she replied stiffly.
"You're very welcome Christine," he added obliviously. "It was a tremendous performance, very inspiring."
She had never heard him use that word before. Her jaw clenched.
"Perhaps we should have a quick lesson before we part," she baited. "Since we are so full of inspiration this evening." She nearly spat the word.
"Are you sure, ma chère?" he asked, surprised. "You are usually begging to retire at this hour."
The audacity. She swore there was steam coming out of her nostrils.
"Yes. I would love to," she replied slowly through clenched teeth. Lord knows she would not be able to sleep peacefully tonight. Not when Erik's last thoughts could possibly be of Christina's tremendous performance.
"What a good girl you are Christine," he said as they entered his home. "How obliging you are to your teacher."
Erik took their cloaks and hung them away. Christine stood by the organ and huffed. He shall remember his true inspiration.
Erik sat gracefully at the organ. "Very well. Your scales then Mademoiselle." He looked at her and paused. "And please, do mind your posture."
Christine straightened her back, inhaling sharply, narrowing her eyes at him. As she exhaled, she continued narrowing her eyes slowly, finally closing them, her jaw flexing in annoyance. Patience be damned.
She began her scales, warming up her vocal cords. She could not hide the strain in her voice as she continued to clench her jaw after each scale. She could hear Christina's voice, mimicking her, overpowering her, a rage building up inside, scale after scale.
Suddenly she felt a light touch below her ear, on her jaw. She opened her eyes to find Erik's fingers there, his concerned face looking down at her.
"Christine, please relax," he said. She exhaled softly, her jaw slacking, his fingers still present. "You are far too tense, ma chère. Is something troubling you?"
She blinked slowly to avoid rolling her eyes at him. "Not at all," she lied again. "I'm sorry, please, let us continue."
Erik hummed, sitting once again at the organ. He thought for a moment. "Shall we sing The Jewel Song, in honor of tonight's Opera?"
Her eyes widened slightly, dumbfounded. The audacity.
"If it pleases you Erik," she said swallowing back the imminent rage.
"Good." Erik turned to face the organ once more.
She began, hearing the impossible woman's voice in the back of her mind as she started. She sang stronger with each line, trying to conquer the wretched voice, her inflections becoming more and more pronounced and exaggerated, almost mimicking Christina. She began singing at Erik, pouring her rage into every word.
"Arrête," Erik interrupted, his hand in the air, signaling her to halt. She paused and looked at him, waiting for his instruction. He walked over to her slowly, and stood before her in his impeccable black evening wear, a hand resting on his chin, covering his mouth, his eyebrow raised. He was studying her. Trying to find an answer.
He walked towards the nearby wall, his eyes never leaving her. He leaned against it, crossing his right leg over his left slightly. He raised his hand back onto his chin, the other, slightly fisted, resting under his elbow. His eyes, inquisitive. She had never seen him look so… comfortable.
"Continue."
She became nervous; without the organ he was able to stare at her intently, unobstructed. Not that he needed the organ to be distracted. He could very much instruct her without looking at the instrument. But now her voice was isolated, and he was right in front of her.
She began the verse again, calmer than before. Act natural. But it wasn't long until she heard Christina's voice again echoing in her mind, singing better, clearer, louder. Christine was at battle again, belting out harder, trying to overpower the voice, nearly becoming one with it as her frustration grew.
"Christine."
Erik called out bluntly, almost like a command. She stopped and turned to look at him. He slowly rose from his position on the wall, stalking towards her.
"Why have you changed your voice like that?"
She froze. He knows.
"What do you mean?" she said feigning innocence. "This is how I normally sing."
"No it certainly is not." He tilted his head. "You cannot hide from me ma chère. You are a terrible liar."
"Erik don't be ridiculous, please let me contin-"
"Why it's as almost as if…"
Christine held her breath, eyes widening. He stepped closer, a slight grin beneath his hand coming into view. Is he... laughing at me?
"Why… you're trying very hard to sound lik-"
She huffed in annoyance as she felt hot tears threatening her eyes, "Well I'm quite tired now and if you don't want to hear the rest of the song then I'll just-"
"Are you trying to sound like Christina Nilsson?"
Her heart shattered and her eyes betrayed her then. She clenched her jaw for the hundredth time that night and blinked out a tear. She felt very childish and embarrassed.
"I'm tired and I want to go back," she said stiffly, turning to leave the room.
Erik held her arm gently before she could escape. He turned her back around slowly to face him, streams of tears already coming down her neck.
"Ma chèrie," he said ever so tenderly, "you couldn't possibly be…"
Christine let out a small sob. Don't say it. If you say it, it will be true.
"Are you jealous?" he chuckled.
She wiped away her tears angrily. "Do not laugh at me!"
"Incroyable," he said baffled, running his fingers through his hair. "Christine, you are two entirely different singers. She utilizes a completely different technique! In fact, she is no doubt at least 10 years your senior!" He lowered his voice as she continued to pout, "She has showcased her voice all around the world and has had time to mature her skills."
He reached over to brush her tears away, but she quickly swatted him away in anger.
Erik gasped, then furrowed his brow in anger.
"Now Christine, you are acting absolutely childish!" he said harshly. "Erik certainly did not do anything to deserve such treatment."
"You certainly did!" she said quickly as she took a step forward, raising her voice.
"And what, pray tell," Erik said, raising his voice as well, "did Erik do for his student to yell at him thus so?"
"You wouldn't know, would you?" she asked sarcastically. "Not with your eyes so fixated on her. You never looked at your poor Christine all evening. Of course you wouldn't know what irked her so!" she yelled.
"Christine stop this at once!" he yelled back. "Are you really that jealo-"
To hell with it all.
Christine grasped tightly onto his lapels and pulled herself up to kiss him hard. Erik made a surprised noise and Christine's tears continued to flow. His arms were in the air, unsure of what to do. She was angry with herself for feeling this way. And she was angry with Erik for being so oblivious... and mean. She raised herself on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head to the left, shifting both of their lips further into the kiss. He hummed softly and his hands found the sides of her face, cradling her head tenderly against him, her nose bumping against the nose of his mask gently. She noted the slightly swollen feel of his lips on the left side of his mouth. Though she did not care as it tasted heavenly all the same.
She opened her mouth wider with each taste. Erik, clumsily unable to follow, shifted up, her lips pulling gently on his lower lip. He groaned.
"Ah, Christine," he whispered, lowering his mouth onto hers once again. She could not believe how incredibly soft his mouth was and nibbled greedily.
She pulled back slowly, contemplating on releasing the kiss, only to tilt her head back to the right again, as if in a trance. She hummed, taking in his lips fully. His tongue slid in gently, almost shyly, tasting her. Her thighs clenched and she felt a warm stirring at the pit of her stomach. They both shuddered at the intense feeling. She pulled lightly at the hair near the base of his neck. His hands moved down her neck, tilting her head, allowing him more access to her swollen lips. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly pushed her away, his eyes filled with both confusion and lust, his breath ragged.
"I… I-"
"Yes,"' Christine whispered firmly. "I was jealous." Her blushes returned.
She looked at his lips again, wet from their kisses, quite pleased with herself. He looked at her with a sudden seriousness, his thumb wiping away the tears she didn't know were falling.
"Perhaps…" he said with a hint of sadness, looking down. She looked at him, suddenly fearing his rejection. Remembering the unladylike way she forced herself on his person, she loosened her grip around his neck.
His shook his head and his hand slid up her arm to reestablish the contact, the other snaked around her waist bringing her closer than ever.
"Perhaps, I should make you jealous more often," he whispered slyly, yet still looked pleadingly into her eyes, as if asking permission. She let out a small giggle of relief and he smiled softly in return, lust returning to his eyes. She barely nodded when almost immediately he took her lips once again. His hand slid down from her arm, and down her back, encircling her fully in his embrace. She smiled against his lips.
The audacity.
A/N: I would like to thank gracianasi and bogglocity for thier encouragement and inspiration! Please feel free to review (and let me know if there are any grammatical errors). This oneshot was sightly influenced by the cover image - a backstage picture of Dmitri Ermak & Tamara Kotova that was floating around tumblr for a while. Thanks for this inspiring prompt - more on the way.