AN Please let me know what you think of this, I am writing another POTO fanfic right now called "Music of the Light" but I have planned this one out a bit more so hopefully it will be less crap. Rated M for later scenes - things are going to get steamy folks! Italics indicate a flashback but I will alsp put (FB) in italics beforehand
Christine woke to the first few strains of Elvis' "All Shook Up" and groaned. She had hit snooze far too many times now.
Rolling out of bed, Christine was thankful that she had thought to pack her lunch last night - tuna and cucumber sandwiches and a packet of hula-hoops. Uni had water coolers she could get a drink from so no need to pack one.
Her 'scandal and sobriety' seminar was at 9 but she had to leave at quarter past eight to get the free bus that was a short walk from her house in a popular student area of Bath.
Christine had half an hour to eat a banana, have a cup of tea and sort out her short brown curly locks.
These plans were thwarted when she learned she was out of lactose free milk. Black coffee then.
Humming to herself, Christine smiled when her house mate Heather padded into their small kitchen.
"You had a good night then?" Christine asked, waiting for the kettle.
Heather shoved a stray lock of hair out of her face roughly. She looked a little green.
"I spent way too much money, but drunk me left sober me some chow mein, so that was a nice surprise".
The kettle boiled.
"Mmm, i haven't had a chinese in ages. Want some tea?" Christine replied wistfully. She couldn't justify it right now. Maybe next month.
"No thanks, I just came down for water. I'm going back to bed!" Heather wandered back to her room upstairs.
On the way out, Christine locked the door and noticed something poking out of the plastic box that recycling went into.
She pulled it out curiously, though if she lingered any longer she would miss the bus. The piece of paper had her name on it in messy hand writing. It was sheet music for "La Pastorella Del Alpi" an opera song in Italian. She knew it vaguely from when she had singing lessons when she was fifteen, but she was so cripplingly shy that her mother had decided there was no point in the lessons if she did nothing with her voice. Christine hadn't protested but she had loved her lessons, the way the music could change her mood so quickly.
Back to the matter at hand, Christine folded the music back up and slotted it into "Tess of the D'ubervilles". Walking through the light drizzle, Christine wondered who on earth had left it for her. Neither of the girls in the house knew that she could sing - it wasn't a secret, it just never came up.
And they wouldn't have left it in the recycling bin. It also occurred to her, as she crossed the road, that the paper had been fairly dry. So it couldn't have been there long. The mysterious music giver was either watching the house or knew she left at quarter past the hour.
The somewhat curious case lingered in her mind for the rest of the day. Throughout her lecture she wondered who this person could be - why hadn't they just given it to her?
Lunch came and went, followed by a meeting with her mentee, Lara. Her italian accent was soothing as she told Christine she was stressed, but otherwise doing alright.
Then an hour long environmental society meeting which was really just a handful of people watching documentaries about global warming with some snacks in an empty lecture hall.
When Christine finally got home, it was dark. Her house mate Meg's bedroom light was on, but she detected a deep male voice. So she ate alone and went to bed, still wondering who was watching her.
ERIC
Christine bent down to pick up the gift he had left for her, hair swinging forward as she did so, obscuring her face. Eric wished he could see her eyes as she read the title but as she straightened up, folding it in half to slot into a book to prevent creasing, the ghost of a smile played across her lips. She liked it!
Making a mental note that she liked italian pieces of that era, Eric finished up his pretence of tying the shoe lace of one of his soggy grey converse and stood up to his full height. Tall and slim, he easily slipped through the crowds of students in Oldfield Park. But days like today, where the rain kept most students in bed, it was harder to hide his face. His face. Eric scowled, pulling his hat down lower and wishing the wind would stop blowing his hair everywhere - he needed his hair to cover what the make up couldn't.
'Don't worry about it son', his Dad had said. 'The ladies like a distinctive face. And yours sure is distinctive now...' His dad's voice trailed off, losing its' chummy tone. His step mother sighed.
"Why did you go to that silly bar anyway, you were itching for a fight. And now look what's happened'. She had little pity for Eric and reserved soft spots in her heart only for her designer dogs and the designer purses the unfortunate pooches travelled around in.
Eric swallowed. He knew life would be different now. Even as he left the hospital, where people were used to the sick and dying, the scars attracted stares.
Coming back to the present, Eric realised with a happy jolt that he was getting the same bus as Christine. Not that she would notice. She was in her own world, thinking about something. He hoped it wasn't a boy. No one deserved her love. She was so perfect.
The bus pulled up to uni, brakes screeching. Everyone trundled off, umbrellas and hoods alike going up. Eric sighed, brushing his hair into his face once more, and began mentally preparing for the droning voices of overpaid fools to tell him what he already knew.