I gottta thank my awesome beta Celtic Authoress for reading through this and giving me enough courage to post it!
Disclamier: …..*sighs* I own nada
The young soprano watched in horror, brown eyes darting back and forth between the two men who danced around each other in the snow covered cemetery. With each sound of steel colliding and echoing through the silence, Christine visibly flinched. Erik's brute force and untrained style gave him an upper hand on the Vicomte, who was unable to find his footing, only able to retreat and defend himself against the larger man.
Christine's mind race, taking in every movement as her thoughts rushed over the past few months. Here was her teacher and long-time father figure crossing blades with her childhood friend. Her heart screamed in fear, but she couldn't hear the name it cried. Who was she suppose to side with? How could she possibly choose which one she wished to come out victor? Christine's brown eyes were clouded with tears as the fight pressed on, and she looked back at her father's silent grave. 'Papa, please help me! I'm so lost' she mentally cried to the heavens.
The wind picked up her brown curls, whipping them around her face as Raoul cried out in distance. The breeze was different from the normal December air and felt warm against her shivering skin.
"Chrissss-tineee," the wind whispered in her ears. Her head whipped up and she rapidly took in surroundings, but knew only one voice sounded as such. Only one, one Opera Ghost called for her in such a way.
As her gaze fell back on the fight, she watched in disbelief as Erik fell and snow sprayed around him. Literally throwing caution to the wind, Christine rushed across the cemetery and threw herself on top of Erik's exposed breast. She lay flush against his chest, her legs entangled with his longer ones as her thick cloak covered their bodies.
A gasp fell from the Phantom's lips as his hand reached up to grasp her hip, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Blood rushed through his veins and he could hear nothing, but his heart beat and her gentle breathing. Her scent invaded his nose and her every touch turned his skin into molten fire.
Christine clenched her hand into the clothing over his heart, needing to be reassured that he was unharmed as she looked up at the surprised Vicomte. The hand around her waist to tighten, causing her eyes flickering to his face before looking back towards the aristocrat. "Little Lotte," Raoul snarled, the grip on the hilt of his sword constriction, "Move so I can kill this monster!"
A tremble ran down the young girl's spine, making a protectiveness grow in Erik's body. He pushed her closer to his chest, although the action was unseen because of her cloak. "You'll have to plunge your sword through my heart before I allow you to reach his," she growled defensively. Both men stared at her in shock, mismatched eyes holding a loving tenderness.
"Why are you defending this thing," the Vicomte shouted, thrusting his sword in Erik's direction. Christine pushed herself onto her hands and knees, her body straddling his leg while her torso and the curls on her hair shielded his face. "Christine, stop this foolishness," Raoul yelled, fury radiating from his coiled body.
The Vicomte reached for her, determined to pull her away from the Phantom, but she quickly flattened herself against Erik's body as she held his head to her chest. She glared at Raoul coldly, shaking her head furiously. "Christine!" Anger burned in Erik's heterochromic eyes as he sat up with a hand securely holding Christine to his chest. Her body settled in his lap as her head fell against his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck.
"Leave Vicomte! Or do the eyes of an unwilling woman hold no effect over you," Erik snarled. Raoul's eyes flashed in anger at the accusation. Christine flinched into the Phantom's hold, afraid he would truly run them through with his sword. "Please just leave, Raoul," she whispered, her voice soft yet determined.
Growling under his breath, Raoul stormed away and mounted his white steed without a glance behind before racing off. A sigh fell from Christine's lips and she allowed her eyes to fall closed. She had finally been given her moment alone with her angel, no prying eyes or interrupting voices to disturb them. The world around them seemed to fall away, leaving nothing, but the sounds of their breathing and steady heart beats.
She was shocked out of her thoughts, though, when Erik suddenly stood and set her on her feet before moving away from her. Christine tilted her head to the side in question, curls falling over her shoulder, watching his figurative mask settle once again in its place. Duel-coloured eyes looked towards the rising sun as his arms crossed over his broad chest.
The breath left her lungs in a whoosh of air as she sank to the snow, her back turned away from her teacher. A golden and a green eye flickered in her direction, softening at her dejected position. Before his mind could argue with his heart, he folded his legs beneath himself to sit behind her smaller form. The masked man leaned his exposed face against her small back, deeply breathing in her scent and listening to her racing heartbeat.
"Why," he breathed, his voice almost being carried away by the wind. He fought the urge to flinch when he felt her stiffen beneath him, bitterness biting into his heart. He had been foolish enough to allow hope back into his heart even for the briefest of seconds and it once again recoiled on him. "You should have stayed with your Vicomte," he spat quietly.
It was Christine's turn to hold back a flinch as she laughed hollowly and looked at the Phantom over her shoulder. He refused to look at her, knowing those eyes would make him forget any anger and pain he felt because of her. She had the power to make him nothing more than a loyal dog at her feet and ready to die at her simplest command.
"Clearly I did not wish to remain with him or I wouldn't have protected your breast from the cold steel of his blade," she whispered, a soft shiver running down her spine. It was the first time she had thought of how close she had come to actually losing Erik. If she had waited a second long, she would have been too late and he would forever be gone. "Neither death nor Raoul will take you away from me, mon ange," she spoke protectively.
Laughter bubbled in Erik's chest as the image of a little, white bunny swearing to protect a wolf flashed across his mind. Wrapping a solid arm around her waist, he once more pulled her to her feet and draped his cape over her thin shoulders. "Let's find the warmth of a shelter before you catch your death, petite," he whispered, guiding her by the shoulders.
Pulling his cape closer around her body, she gave him a gentle smile and reached up to brush a kiss across his exposed cheek. A blush dusted over his pale skin, becoming extremely interested in the grave stones around them, trying to avoid her eyes. A happy giggle fell from her smiling lips.
Xxx
"Raoul! Raoul," Christine call out, rushing towards the Vicomte with tears streaming down her cheeks. He opened his arms in time for her to crash into his chest. She tightly clung to him with her hands clenched in his top, burying her face in his shirt and staining the white material with her tears. Christine flinched when his hands wrapped around her arms to pull her away.
"Little Lotte, why do you cry," he questioned, brushing curls behind her ear. His blue eyes were filled with concern and sympathy. A choked sob came from her lips and she clenched her chocolate eyes shut. "He…he tried…tried to…," the words were caught in her throat as she began to sob. Raoul growled low in his throat, his grip on Christine tightening causing a whimper to fall from her lips.
In his anger, the Vicomte demanded to see the injury's the Phantom had caused. With shaking hands, Christine pulled the sleeves of her dress up enough for him to gaze upon the hand shaped bruises that littered her pale skin. His body began to shake once she replaced her sleeves and slightly lifted the hem of her skirt to show identical marks across her legs.
"That bastard! I'll have him hung up by his neck for his crimes against you," Raoul shouted, causing Christine to flinch away from him. The aristocrat stormed off towards the managers' office, whispering angrily to himself and quickly forming a plan. With a crescent-fallen face, tears still streaming down her face, Christine followed close behind Raoul. Both remained unaware of the shadow that watched from the rafters above, mismatched eyes never leaving the brunette's face.
Xxx
Tremors shook Christine's body as she looked at the audience, talking happily among themselves and creating an excited buzz through the Opera House. The cast and crew alike scampering around the backstage, making sure everything was in order for the performance. Madame Giry placed a reassuring hand on Christine's shoulder as they watched Meg waltz onto the stage with her cue.
A hush fell over the opera as Christine slowly walked onto the stage, feeling the cold wood floors beneath her bare feet. Her hands clasped a wicker basket of red roses, a creamy chemise of lace and silk lay across her torso, with lace-trimmed straps resting loose upon her shoulders; a black corset was secured just beneath the chest, drawing the upper swells of her breasts to show above chemise's low neckline. The black corset seemed to extended down over her hips and into a skirt while leaving her right leg bare; a golden laced wrap fell around her legs before pooling at her feet and silently dancing over the floor.
No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy!
No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!
Slowly kneeling on the stage, trying to be careful of her fading bruises, Christine ran her fingers over the delicate rose petals. And she waited. To those watching she seemed lost in thought, unaware of her surroundings or the deep, alluring voice that began to sing behind her. How wrong they all were! Every one of her senses seemed to be alert and waiting for his voice to rise through the Opera Populaire.
Passarino, go away. For the trap, it is set
And waits for it's prey
A man dressed in all black stepped out from the curtains, his lower face covered by a black cape that hung off his right shoulder. Heterochromic eyes watched the young soprano kneeling on the stage through a black mask, a smirk slowly sliding across his face as he slowly pulled the cape away. He paid no attention to the other cast member except for a dismissive nod of his head. He slowly circled the glowing fire in the center of the stage, his steps graceful and forever silent.
You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge
In pursuit of that wish which 'til
Now has been silent, silent.
Christine slowly lifted her gaze, brown eyes immediately catching his every movement as he glided over the stage like a king. She felt the urge to laugh at the thought, for that was what he truly was, a king in his musical domain. He brought a finger to his lips in a sign to remain silent as he gave her a knowing look. His voice caressed her ears and she couldn't help the sigh that fell from her lips or the way her eyes closed.
I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge
In your mind you've already succumbed to me
Dropped all defensives, completely succumbed to me
Now you are here with me, no second thoughts
You've decided, decided
Those who listened to this new man's voice were in awe, both the audience and cast where enraptured with his instrument. The women in the wings of the opera could visibly be seen swooning at the simple sound of his voice. Men seemed to watch him in envy, clearly knowing of the power he commanded over those around him. Christine looked at him once more, a look of practically pure lust on her face as she pulled herself to her feet, the straps falling away from her shoulders.
Past the point of no return, no going back now
Our games of make believe are at an end
Past all thought of 'if' or 'when' no use resisting
Abandon thought and let the dream descend
As his voice grew more confident with each note, bi-coloured eyes fell closed as if a sweet memory was washing over him. He drew closer to Christine, beginning to circle her with slow motions; similar to that of a predator hunting it's prey. Madame Giry stood off to the side with her hand pressed against her stomach in worry as she watched the display her adoptive children put on for those around them. She loved them both dearly, but worried about the decisions her trouble-some son made. Brown eyes met mismatched ones and they held each other's gaze, almost as if they did not possess the strength to turn away.
What raging FIRE shall flood the soul?
What rich desires unlock it's door?
What sweet seduction lies before us?
The tall man quickly stepped behind Christine, their bodies flush as his bare hand grasped her neck, the twin pressing against her stomach and pulling her firmly against him. His callous fingers stroked the smooth column of her neck as her head fell back against his shoulder in pleasure. Her eyes closed as her lips parted; it was the first time his bare skin had touched her flesh. His face buried in her curls, his breath hot against her ear as he sang for her.
Before the moan that was building in her throat could fall free, his body was suddenly gone and his hands roamed down her shoulder. His fingers feathered over her arms, barely touching the bruises those same hands had left. She watched in wonder as he cupped her hand and barely brushed his soft lips over her knuckles.
Past the point of no return, the final threshold
What warm unspoken secrets will we learn,
Beyond the point of no return?
He slowly pulled her across the stage as if she was mesmerized, hanging on his every note. She remained an arm's length away and she could feel her body call out to feel his once more. A smirk played across his features as his voice faded away and he released her hand. The young soprano blinked at the sudden silence, appearing as if she had just been released from a trance. Christine quickly struggled to fix the straps of her dress, her eyes never leaving his.
You have brought me here, to the moment when words run dry
To the moment when speech disappears
Into silence, silence.
Her voice floated over the audience like that of an angel's and the same amount of awe was inspired by this young girl's voice. Brown eyes flickered towards Box Five, were they met the gaze of Raoul's as he leaned over the railing. He was clearly anxious, his knuckles turning white from the grip he had on the railing of the box, waiting for her signal that the Opera Ghost had arrived. Mismatched eyes that watched Christine's every movement, turned towards the young aristocrat and immediately turned cold. His jaw slightly clenched in anger, but a deep breath reined in his fury.
I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why.
In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining
Defenseless and silent. Now I'm here with you
No second thoughts. I've decided, decided.
Her voice pulled his gaze away from the Vicomte, giving him a small smile. The straps of her dress fell once more as she turned to face him, chocolate eyes seemingly hazy with passion. He observed her in a wary fashion, unsure what to make of the slight happiness of her face. Yet a breathless moan fell from his parted lips as her voice took control of him.
Past the point of no return, no going back now
Our passion-play has now at last begun
Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question
Her eyes seemed to challenge him to follow her as she stepped away from the center stage. His movements mirrored her own as they glided across the wood and slowly began to climb the separate staircases before them. Half way to the top both stopped, one observing as the other leaned towards him, beckoning him to come closer.
How long should we wait before we are one?
When will our blood begin to race?
This sleeping blossom burst into bloom?
When will the flames at last consume us?
Lifting the golden lace wrap, Christine slowly began to climb the steps, constantly looking to see if the man continued to follow her movements. As they reached the top and looked across the bridge at each other, he discarded his cape and a gently smile played over her beautiful features. They moved towards one another, reaching out to grasp each other's hips with their foreheads almost touching. Bringing her hands into his, the Don Juan spun her around and pushed her flush against his body once more. Meg joined her mother in the wings, both looking up in mild awe and uncertainty.
Past the point of no return, the final threshold
The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn
We've passed the point of no return
Christine's head had fallen back against his shoulder once again with her eyes closed and lips parted. His large hands covered her smaller ones as he dragged them across her body. Their left hands skimmed over her stomach and hip bone, dipping lower as the others moved over her breast and onto the exposed skin of her neck. Duel-coloured eyes had fallen closed as he hid his face within her curls, his slow breathing fanning over her flushed skin as both tried to slow their heart beats.
His left hand came besides its twin, slowly caressing Christine's neck and shoulders, trying to touch as much bare skin as they could. Raoul had stood from his seat and watched in devastation, his blue eyes shining with tears, at the pure passion that rolled off their bodies as the audience looked on in an awed silence. A moment of breathless silence fell over the Opera Populaire. Christine noticed nothing, though, except the felling of the Phantom's hands against her skin.
Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime
Lead me, save me from my solitude
Say you'll want me with you here, beside you
His fingers began to run through her dense curls as she remained beautifully unaware until his words finally began to reach her ears. Brown eyes opened slowly, blinking away the haze that both clouded her thoughts and vision, and turned to gaze up at Erik. He grasped her hands between his, golden and green eyes begging her to hear his words. The audience watched in silence, both awed and confused at the new melody that played without music.
Anywhere you go, let me go too!
Christine
That's all I ask of you!
A sad smile spread across Christine's face as tears welled in her eyes, his pain and loneliness shining through his words. She cradled his cheek as he reached out and skimmed his fingers over her clavicle. Her thumb slipped under his black mask and before he could even issue a word to object, she pulled it away from his face and tossed it aside. Screams and gasps of horror rang throughout the Opera House as their eyes view his ravaged face. Madame Giry covered her mouth in dismay, quickly wrapping an arm around Meg's shoulders.
The right side of his face was severely burned, turning the skin red, especially around his golden eye. The burns were so horrible that the bones of his face could almost be seen in through his thin skin. Long healed lacerations were scattered over the already damaged skin, each looking as though it was caused by an unsteady hand that wielded either a knife or shard of glass. They each healed differently; some seeming raised and ragged while others left deep grooves in his skin. One in particular seemed to pull the corner of his lip down in a permanent frown.
Christine's eyes shined with sorrow as she viewed his damaged face and heard the audience's unfair judgment of this brilliant man. She tried to catch his gaze and offer a small smile of comfort, but he only continued to stare through her with a deep look of betrayal and sadness. Turning his eyes from her, Erik examined the chaos below them and the gendarmes rushing forward before drawing his sword to cut a rope near them. As the giant chandelier in the center of the Opera House began to fall, he pulled Christine to his chest and kicked a lever which had them rapidly falling through the bridge; her wrap coming up to expose her legs. The pair fell through the floor with the sounds of the screams of the audience drifting away.
Xxx
Erik grasped Christine's wrist tightly as he pulled her through the catacombs, his pace too quick for her to keep up causing her to stumble. Their only light was the torch he clenched in his hand, fury and anguish at her betrayal rolling off his body. The winding crypts seemed to never end and with each look behind her, Christine felt exceedingly lost. Her brown curls had fallen loose and bounced around her, obscuring her vision as she tried to follow Erik's steps.
Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair
Down we plunge to the prison of my mind, down the path into darkness
Deep as HELL!
Whipping around and pulling Christine closer to his body, he glared into her chocolate eyes. She tried to pull away from his tight grasp, fear of his anger clear on her features. All thoughts of gentleness towards her vanished, she could feel the new bruise forming on her wrist. His mind seemed blank except for his anger, to the point that he did not seem to notice how he exposed his face to her.
Why, you ask was I bound and chained
In this cold and dismal place?
Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!
He pushed her into the boat, allowing her barely anytime to catch herself as he began to push forward. Her body trembled as she looked back at him shyly, practically waiting for him to strike her. Yet he refused to look at her, his heterochromic eyes staring ahead with his jaw clenched tightly. The statues and engravings seemed more terrifying as Christine tried to keep her gaze down, each seeming to mock her and her fears. Those fears held her voice, making her unable to call out to her teacher, every time that she tried the words caught in her throat. The trip was fairly short, thankfully, and Erik allowed the boat to collide with the shore of his home before lifting her harshly into his arms.
Hounded out by everyone, met with hatred everywhere
No kind words from anyone, no compassion anywhere
The Phantom slammed Christine against the stone wall, his hands digging into her shoulders as he loomed over. She could feel the tears well up from the pain, her muscles aching from the bruising, but pushed down the hurt and gaze at the face that so many shied away from. His breathing was ragged, his chest rapidly rising and falling. "Why," he asked desperately. Once more the words fell dry in her mouth and she could only look at him. He roughly shook her, a gasp falling from her lips. "Why? We had a plan! Why did you alter it? Why would you shame me so," he cried out in agony.
His tight grasp suddenly fell away from her, his shoulders slumping as his head drooped in defeated exhaustion. His eyes stung with tears and he felt as if his body would give out beneath him at any moment; he was tired, so tired. A jolt ran through his body as a small hand was placed against his damaged cheek, slowly bringing his face up to meet brown eyes. Christine gave him a small, sad smile while her thumb ran over his scarred skin.
"A pure creature such as yourself shouldn't touch such monstrosities, it will only taint -," his words were silenced when her fingers ran over his lips, his breath tickling her sensitive skin. "You speak of a monster, a beast in human flesh. I see no such creature. Do you want to know what I see, Erik?" Bi-coloured eyes searched her face, his genius mind working rapidly to try and understand her words. Christine knew that Erik hated not comprehending what was occurring around him. "I see a man who has been damaged, with a heart so mistreated that it knows nothing of human compassion, never feeling the touch of another. A heart filled with such passion and soul-inspiring music, that enraptures and caresses its listeners," she whispered, her gaze never leaving his, allowing him to see the truth in the depths of her soul.
"I did not mean to betray you, mon ange, but none as beautiful as you should have to hide from the world. You should be able to walk in the world, basking in the sun as the king that you are meant to be," Christine spoke with perfect clarity and a wide smile play across her features. Erik stared at her, feeling his heart constrict in his chest as the breath was knocked out of him. He was truly looking at an angel. None such as her had ever accepted him; he had seen nothing, but disgust and horror. A choked cry fell from his lips as he rested his scarred face against her flawless flesh, wonder coursing through him when she did not pull away, instead leaning against him.
"Christine!"
Student and teacher, soprano and tenor, woman and man jumped slightly away from each other in shock at the intruding voice. They turned to see Raoul, soaked to the bone in knee deep water, leaning against the iron gate of the Phantom's Lair with his hand outstretched towards Christine. "Remove yourself from Christine's presence, monster," Raoul shouted in both anger and disgust. Erik stepped away from the young woman and slow moved towards her fiancé. "Monseuir, I bid you welcome. Did you have a pleasurable swim in my lake," the Phantom mocked, sneering at the intruder standing before his grand piano.
Raoul reached through the bars with a look of anger on his pristine face, his eyes gazing at Christine. "Free her; do what you like only free her! Have you no pity," the Vicomte spat, playing the part of the white knight coming to rescue the frightened princess. As Christine looked at her childhood friend, she realized there was a time that she would have enjoyed such displays of heroism, but now his demands only served to aggravate her. "Christine, Christine, let me see her," Raoul exclaimed in frustration.
The young soprano grew wary of Erik's thoughts as she saw the smirk that spread over his face, knowing a plan was forming in his sometimes wicked mind. "Be my guest, Monseuir." The tall man hit a lever that caused a low moan to come from the iron entrance before slowly rising for the aristocrat. Raoul stepped in the lair and made to go to Christine, but Erik stopped his attempt. "Did you truly think I would harm her, Monseuir," the damaged man questioned, his head cocking to the side with an eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his chest.
Raoul seemed to bristle in Erik's presence, trying to pin him with a cold and frightening glare that was only laughable in the Phantom's mind. The image reminded Erik of a puppy trying to be intimidating. "I would not trust your blood stained hands with such an angel. You would more likely break her than love her," the Vicomte snarled, his hate rolling in waves off of his body. Erik's face contorted into a look of rage, his scars becoming more defined as his knuckles turned white, ready to strike the whelp before him.
"Enough! Raoul, you speak of matter you do not comprehend," Christine urged determinedly as she stepped towards the rivals. Blue eyes turned away from the Phantom, gazing at Christine and her defense of the man who had terrorized the Opera House. Ignoring the taller man, Raoul walked towards Christine, hand out stretched to her, a silent command to come with him. "Little Lotte, it's time to leave this incarnation of Hell and return to the Light," he urged, becoming impatient that she had not ran directly into his arms the moment she gazed upon him.
Christine felt her heart clench at the old endearment and the pain must have shown on her face because while the Vicomte was not looking, Erik sent a shove into his chest. Raoul toppled to the cold water while Erik approached Christine and gently ran his fingers down her face. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she looked up into heterochromic eyes with a gentle smile, leaning into his gently caress. "Release her! Do not taint her with your presence anymore! I love her, show some compassion," Raoul shouted.
He was shocked by the Phantom's quick and furious reaction as he whipped around to face him. "The world showed no compassion to me! I am not willing to let go of this one ange who has," Erik roared, standing protectively in front of Christine; bristling like a savage beast protecting its mate. Christine looked up at his coiled body with sad brown eyes, touching his back with a small hand. "You tried to rape her! I've seen the bruises your cruel hands have left upon her flesh, you wretched monster," Raoul yelled, gesturing towards the silent Christine.
"He did no such thing," Christine finally shouted, stepping in front of Erik's tensed form. Raoul stared at her as if she had a second head, his jaw left askew. "I saw the bruises, Christine! Why do you lie and protect such a beast," Raoul snarled, his blue eyes flashing angrily. "We used your fault against you, Raoul! Your anger at the thought of any harm coming to me worked in our advantage. Your rage was the only way that we would be able to sing on stage together. Erik and I knew if you thought I was harmed, you would convince the managers to use me as bait to draw the Phantom out," Christine explained, her breathing still heavy, but her anger slowly subsiding.
Pure disbelief showed on Raoul's face as he stammered over his word, clearly unable to form words. "I am not the innocent girl you grew up with. I've changed and matured, Raoul." Disbelief changed to anger as Raoul took a step forward, pointing an accusing finger in Erik's direction. "What have you done to her, you vile creature?" The Phantom's jaw clenched in anger yet his movement was stopped by Christine's hand coming to rest on his lower abdomen. "He has done nothing to me! You act as if he has some magical control over me, but he is nothing more than a man! You just refuse to accept the fact that the helpless little princess chose the opera beast over the dashing white knight who came to save her! Raoul, I love him," Christine cried.
The Vicomte's reaction was almost immediate and well expected, revulsion clear on his handsome features as his face became red with anger. Erik's response was a complete shock as his knees gave out beneath him, falling into Christine's arms as they sank to the rock shore of his home. His scarred flesh came to rest against her unmarked breast as she wrapped her arms around him, his hands gripping tightly to her waist. Holding him closely to her, Christine felt his hot breath tickling over her flushed skin as her fingers combed through his black hair.
"Christine –"
Pulling her hand away from the Phantom's head, Christine held it up in front of her as a sign for Raoul to be silent. "There is nothing that you could possibly say that will change my mind, Raoul. Please just leave," she begged. The aristocrat gave her a cold glare, accepting defeat and trying saving his dignity, but not before spitting, "May God have mercy on your soul, Christine, for loving a man who will only burn in the fires of Hell." Christine pulled Erik closer to her as if her hold would shield him for Raoul's cold words, watching the Vicomte storm out.
Brown eyes falling closed with a sigh, the young woman let her forehead fall to rest atop the man in her arms. A strong jaw began to tremble against her skin before warms tears soaked through her torn chemise and left goose bumps across her flesh. Cupping his cheeks, Christine pulled his head back far enough to look into his heterochromic eyes as her thumbs wiped away his tears.
"Erik? Are you happy," she whispered, soft pads running over both scarred and smooth skin. Golden and green eyes blinked rapidly, trying to rid of the layer of tears that clouded his vision.
"Happy – is this happiness?"
His voice was quiet, choked with tears, as he asked her a question that he truly had no answer to while he reached out to gently stroke the bruises he had left upon her skin. He had not known the feeling of happiness, never knew the warmth that would swell in one's heart. Tears and emptiness had haunted him for years yet when this small angel held him, he felt – there were simply no words to describe it.
Christine gave him a watery smile, failing to fight the tears that over flowed form her brown eyes. She nodded her head vigorously. "Yes."
The curly haired brunette rested her forehead against his with a gentle smile, the tears rolling hot down her cheeks. "Yes, Erik, this is happiness," Christine whispered against his lips before letting them meet. And they fell; fell into the perfectness of this simple kiss between them.
So Review? Pretty pretty please? I have cookies Also thanks to MusicOverMatter I am clarifying the fact of Christine's bruises. They are real and Christine convinced Erik to place them on her. It is not talked about in this story, but you can kind of see Erik's guilt in the Don Juan scene by the way he gently runs his fingers over her arm. Hope that clears up any type of confusion.