No shame.
Erik was only mildly surprised to see an angel standing in his living room.
Well, technically she was kneeling, not standing, but an angel was there nonetheless. Her curly brown hair down and free, creating a curtain of satin around her face. Erik could imagine running his fingers through her soft hair, as he had done so often in the past. Every time she sat near him (her own way of asking him to brush her glorious, worshipable curls,) he was dumbfounded. Yet, funnily enough, she seemed to even enjoy having him run his disgusting, cold and bony fingers through her hair.
Indeed, Erik loved every part of Christine Daae, but her curls held a special place in his heart. Perhaps it was because he, himself, had very little hair of his own? The hair he did have was not soft and most certainly not enjoyable to run one's fingers through.
He was half tempted to kneel beside her on the ground when he noticed the perplexed expression on her face. She sat before the television, her bright blue eyes narrowed at the small white game system that was settled before the television, on the 'entertainment center,' as Christine called it. Erik hadn't actually wanted a T.V., but as Christine spent more and more time down in his home, he fretted that she did not have enough to do.
"Erik," she had giggled at the time. "I don't need anything fancy to do. As long as I can talk to you, I'm fine."
He had scoffed at the time. While he did not encourage nor discourage her company, he would most definitely not have her bored. (And honestly, he really did want her to stay.)
And so he had bought the television, as well as a thing that was apparently a Wii to accompany it. During the two months that both electronics had stayed in his home, he had not seen Christine use them once, let alone acknowledge the items. Until now.
His attention was once more drawn to her face as she cursed under her breath. Christine sounded rather annoyed.
His brows furrowed beneath the mask, unwilling to see her so unhappy. Erik approached and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder.
"Christine," he murmured, "Are you alright?"
Erik was alarmed to see tears in her eyes when she looked up. Why was she crying? Had someone hurt her? If anyone dared to harm his Christine in any way, Erik would not hesitate to bring the Punjab lasso out of retirement. His hand already was already twitching in the direction of his bedchamber, where the thin rope was stored.
She must have noticed the angry gleam in his eyes, for she sniffled once. "N-no, I'm just trying to figure out how this damn Wii works!" she pointed (rather aggressively) at the white electronic.
He himself almost cried with relief at her words. She wasn't hurt, they were merely tears of frustration! Erik would not have to kill someone today after all.
Exhaling, he leaned down to take a closer look at the small game system. It appeared that she was trying to get it to plug into the television, but with much difficulty.
"Why won't it turn on?" she rubbed her nose on the sleeve of her sweater, trying to stifle her tears.
"Don't fret, my dear," he reassured her. Erik would do anything to halt her tears.
XXxxXX
Two hours (and many Google searches later,) they were both seated before the television, Erik with his hands clasped together and Christine holding a game case in her hands. Turning it over, she showed him the title. "It's called Super Smash Bros," she read, then turned to blink up at him. "Raoul's brother- you know Philippe, right? He gave Raoul a copy for Christmas, but Raoul already has one, so he let me have it."
Not noticing Erik's flinch at the sound of Raoul's name, she opened the case to reveal a white disc.
His eyes narrowed at it. "Brawl," he murmured, seeing the word beneath the game's title. No thank you.
"Christine, you're free to enjoy your game, but I think I'll pass." Pushing himself up, Erik was about to stand when he felt Christine's small hand wrap around his own.
"Wait, Erik, can't you just play one round with me? It'll be fun."
She bit her lip at the dubitable look he sent her but did not make another move to get up. "I highly doubt watching Mario and Link beating each other with sticks will be fun."
"First of all, that's not quite how the game works. Second of all, please, will you play? It won't be as enjoyable alone."
Erik found himself powerless to resist as she continued tugging on his sleeve, her bright blue eyes wide and pleading. Sly girl, he thought, scowling. She knows exactly what she is doing. With a huff of indignation, he plopped back down beside her, wordlessly accepting the controller she handed him.
Christine hovered the pointer icon over the main menu and selected the game. There was no turning back now.
Against his will, he found his foot tapping to the theme song at the Start screen, finding it annoyingly catchy. Then, at the character select screen, he watched as Christine clicked Pikachu.
"Why did you select a mouse?" he blinked at her, and she shrugged.
"It's cute." Was the only explanation she gave.
After two minutes of examining all the available avatars, he settled for Bowser.
Thus the game began, and he found his odd-dinosaur-turtle-thing standing on a platform, while what appeared to be stars hurtled by in the background. (He vaguely recalled Christine calling the level Final Destination. Whatever that meant.)
The next thing he knew, Bowser was being hurtled off the side of the platform by a bright yellow lightning bolt. The avatar disappeared down the bottom of the screen, and the loud music was punctuated by Christine's giggles.
"I'm winning!" she exclaimed, shaking the controller a little bit in his direction.
Well, Erik could definitely not let this go on for much longer. It took only a few moments for him to figure out the controls, and within moments Pikachu was punched off the edge, and he grinned triumphantly.
That was until the small yellow rat double jumped back up. His smile disappeared, and Erik leaned forward, now fully invested in winning this round, this pointless game about pitting animated characters against each other.
Erik and Christine barely moved from their spots on the carpet that day.