Almost thirty minutes had passed since Christine had called for a taxi. She was standing outside the opera house, her legs beginning to ache. There was no benches or anything nearby, and she was certainly not going to sit on the floor.
Suddenly, a black Rolls Royce pulled up. The window was rolled down and revealed a man, wearing a black fedora hat, and dark, formal attire. He hardly turned his head, but looked at Christine with golden, almost glowing eyes.
"D-do you need a lift somewhere?" He asked. Christine's eyebrows raised. She had never heard such a beautiful, soft, melodic voice. It was like that of an angel. She also realised that the man seemed nervous, and a blush almost crept up onto his pale skin. Then she snapped back to reality, and her anxiety began kicking in.
"Oh," She said quietly, "I'm just. . . waiting for my taxi."
"You've been waiting f-for half an hour." The man replied, anxiously. He took a shaky breath and seemed to attempt to steady himself. Christine frowned. He seemed a good person, but how could she trust him? He had unusually coloured eyes, very pale skin, wore a dark fedora hat (which hardly anyone even wore anymore!), had an strangely hypnotic voice, and he was also seemingly wearing a cloak of some sort, over a suit. From what Christine could see, he looked like he was in his late 30s, perhaps even early 40s. And for all she knew, he could be a rapist. But what rapist would be so nervous? Unless he was an amazing actor, what reason would he have to be so anxious? Besides, how'd he know she was waiting here for half an hour? Had he been watching her?
"I. . . I'll just walk. Thanks, though." She blurted out, and silently cursed herself for it, as she began walking away. God, she did not want to walk for twenty-five minutes to her apartment, especially at night. It was super busy, and of course, Paris being 'the city of lights', it was quite bright too, however this being one of, if not the most famous city on the planet, it probably consisted of pedophiles, kidnappers, murderers, and rapists. This man was probably one of them.
"Please, Madame, I- I bid you a lift home. You cannot walk if it is far."
The Rolls Royce was driving slowly next to Christine, with the man watching her intently. She stopped and sighed. There was definitely something in him that made her trust him. And so she nodded in defeat. The man got out of the car almost instantly, and walked to the other side, opening the door of the passenger seat for Christine to get in. She obeyed, and went to go in, when she noticed that despite his hat being largely tipped, he was wearing a white mask on the right side of his face. It was practically glowing against the lights of the city, and it stood out so well. It made him look quite attractive.
But he caught Christine staring for too long, and his polite look was replaced by a threatening one. He narrowed his eyes at her.
"Take a photo, maybe it'll last longer." He hissed. His voice sent shivers down her spine as she sat down. The man slammed the door, and flounced back to the left side of the car, getting in, and slamming his door, too. Christine could do nothing but look out of the window, sighing. She clipped her seatbelt and looked down at her hands, fidgeting. What had she gotten herself into? She was currently in the car of a weird stranger, who had apparently been watching her for half an hour. Suddenly something hit her. She turned to look at the man who had now begun driving.
"I'm sorry, Monsieur, but you don't know where I live, do you?" She asked in alarm, and the man, well, God knows what expression he made under that mask.
"No. So if you'd care to give me directions, that'd be great, if you really want to get home." He seemed a bit frustrated after the small incident earlier. Perhaps the mask was an insecurity? But then again, why would he wear it if he felt uncomfortable with it?
"Right, yes, my apologies." Christine typed in the address on the GPS, and the man stared at it for a while.
"Mon Dieu, you live there?" He asked, a hint of unkind laughter in his voice.
"Yes, Sir."
"Mmm. You don't happen to know someone called Nadir Khan, do you?"
Christine nodded, "He's my neighbour."
The man chuckled, "Oh dear."
Afterwards, no words were exchanged. Christine realised that his nerves had faded, he seemed slightly easier to talk to now.
Except she'd also realised she gave him her address, not even knowing his name.
"If I may," She spoke, "What's your name?"
The man didn't answer for about a minute.
"M-my name? You want my name?" He asked, as if it had been his full personal details she'd asked for.
"Yes, I mean, I think I ought to know the name of the man who ever so politely offered to take me home." Christine furrowed her eyebrows, looking at him.
"Erik's name is an awful name. I won't be surprised if you choose not to address it as so."
Christine was taken aback. Had he just referred to himself in third person, and then as an it? Immediately, she decided to somehow make him feel better.
"Erik is a beautiful name, my favourite male name in fact. And don't you ever, ever dare to refer to yourself as an it. You are a man. A good man. I shan't ever want to hear you speak like that of yourself again." She demanded, anger boiling up inside of her. Whoever had made him feel like this deserved to burn in the depths of hell!
Erik let out a sound which sounded a bit like a sob, then turned to Christine.
"Christine. . ." He whispered.
"How do you know my name?" Christine asked, her eyes widening.
"I work at the opera house, uh. Kind of. P-part-time, you know. Haha. Yes. Part-time." He said it so awkwardly, Christine began wondering if he was lying.
"Oh, I've never seen you around. Have you ever seen me around?"
"Um, yes."
There was silence, and Erik pulled up next to the flat. It was white, and beautifully carved, with black swirly railings at each window. He stared for a long time, giving Christine the chance to study him. He was truly good looking, from what one could see, and seemingly, it looked like he had a bit of makeup on. Like he slightly filled in his eyebrow, put some foundation on, and it looked like he had a bit of manliner on. But it made him so much more intimidating and attractive.
She hadn't realised that Erik was looking at her the same way as she was looking at him.
"Are you done?" He asked quietly. Christine looked down in embarrassment and nodded, getting out of the car. She walked towards the door when suddenly she stopped and turned back around. Erik had rolled his tinted window down and was watching her, to make sure she got in. He gave her a puzzled look when she turned to look back at him.
"Thank you for the lift, Erik. I hope to see you around." She smiled, and Erik grinned smugly, rolled his window back up, and drove away. Christine took a deep breath and turned to walk into the building, when all of a sudden she was met with a shadowy figure.
"M. Khan!" She exclaimed, flinching and stepping backwards, "Gosh, you scared me." She put a hand to her heart and tried to steady her breathing again. M. Khan looked rather angry.
"What were you doing with him, Mlle. Daaé?" He asked curiously, a hint of rage in his voice.
"He- he offered to give me a lift home when I was waiting for my taxi. I think the taxi got stuck in traffic, because I heard on the radio that there was a crash. So, I was waiting about half an hour, when Erik pulled up and offered to give me a lift home. He was nervous, but super sweet and polite about it. Honestly, I didn't trust him at first, but then I sort of gave in, something in him just made me rely on him. I accidentally stared at his mask for too long and he snapped at me, and then it was pretty awkward, but then we kind of just acted as if nothing happened. And his voice is so soft and mesmerising, I don't think I've ever heard such an angelic voice. Honestly, he's fit for ASMR. Oh yeah, and he did mention you. When I put the address in on the GPS, he went 'mon Dieu, you live there?' and I said 'yes' and he asked me if I happened to know someone by the name of Nadir Khan. I said yes, because duh, it's you. And—"
"Alright, that's quite enough."
"Oh, God, I should've asked him what he worked as! Now I'll never know unless I just. . . see him."
M. Khan frowned, "What do you mean by 'what he worked as'?"
Christine didn't hesitate to reply. She seemed really eager to talk about him. "He said he worked part time at the opera house. That's how he knows me. Because I work there too."
The man's eyes widened and his coffee-coloured skin grew pale. "Oh no." He whispered, shoving past Christine while dialling a number and putting his phone to his ear, then getting into his car. Before he closed the door, he leaned out to Christine.
"I apologise on his behalf!" And he drove away.
It didn't take long for one of Erik's trapdoors to be thrown open by the daroga.
Erik flinched and watched Nadir, as he stormed down towards him.
"You put that book down and talk to me right this instant." The daroga demanded. Erik merely turned back to his book and continued reading, when suddenly it was snatched from his hands, causing him to practically leap up.
"Hey, give that back, you moron!" Erik whined, trying to reach for it, but then Nadir threw it backwards, causing it to land in the water, and then it sunk. Erik's face contorted into a dark look.
"You have four more copies of that book. Don't act like it was something special." Nadir said, "Besides, you threw my whole journal into my fireplace the other day!"
"Doesn't give you the right to act like a bitch! Grow up!" Erik snapped, turning 90° away from Nadir and folding his arms across his chest. The daroga sighed.
"Listen Erik, I want you to tell me all about the situation with Christine. Now."
Erik gasped, whipping back around. Nadir didn't think that Erik's face could get any paler, but yet it did.
"Who told you?" The masked man began walking towards his companion, and Nadir had no choice but to edge backwards in fright. Indeed, they had known each other for years by now, however Erik was definitely still very scary. He was an unstoppable and careless murderer, after all! Was he not?
"Ch-Christine told me."
At the very mention of the girl's name, Erik froze, now the bare side of his face turning pink.
"Christine?" He asked. It was barely a whisper. He looked into a random space behind Nadir, and seemed to be daydreaming.
"Yes, Christine!" Nadir exclaimed, "Will you tell me what's happened, you man baby?"
Erik's gaze snapped back to Nadir, and he walked past him, muttering a "very well".
The two of them sat down on the loveseat and Erik leaned his head back and took a deep breath.
"It wasn't really much," He began, "I saw her around at the opera house previously as a stylist, mainly for the Giry girl. I don't know. . . I saw something in her. That night, she had called for a taxi but the taxi never came because there was a car crash and it got stuck in traffic, so Christine was waiting for almost half an hour. You know, she's lucky it's summer otherwise it would have been colder and she'd have frozen. Anyways, I kind of just sat in my car for a while, watching her. I was there the whole time, actually. You're going to think I'm creepy, but, honestly, I found it quite amusing. All her smallest moves and details. The little frustrated looks she'd have on her face. You see, she made me chuckle every so often. It went by so fast, and when I looked at the time, twenty-eight minutes had passed, and I could tell she was getting genuinely frustrated. So I cursed myself, loathed myself, and built up the courage to offer her a ride home. . ."
"You offered her a ride home."
Erik swallowed, "Let me continue before you comment."
Nadir raised an eyebrow and nodded for Erik to continue.
"So," The masked man continued, "I. . . I was shaking so badly. My anxiety had truly reached its peak and I could barely build up the words for her. And my mask! I couldn't let her see my mask yet. So I barely turned my head. She had such a look on her face, she probably thought I was bizarre. Like the monster that I am."
"You're not—"
"Hush. Anyways, she could probably tell I was nervous, and I could tell there was a hint of trust in her eyes, but she declined my offer politely, and said she'd walk. So she started walking, but knowing Paris at night, I couldn't let her walk alone. I felt awful. I pitied her and I hated myself. That I wasn't normal. That maybe, if I didn't have a fucking disfigured face, my life would be most different and she wouldn't be so uncomfortable. But I pleaded, and she gave in. I stood to let her into the passenger door, forgetting she had not seen my mask yet. And she stared, Nadir. She stared! Oh, it took all of my strength and sanity not to rip the mask off there and then! I got so aggressive, and I detest myself for it. I hissed at her. And I scared her. That was the last damn thing on my imaginary to-do list. I hated it. I felt so nauseous, and she looked so frightened. Daroga, it was a nightmare! A nightmare, do you hear me? I began driving her home and I told her my name because she asked, and when I referred to myself as an it and in third person, she scolded me! She scolded me for doing that! She didn't agree with me! Can you believe it? But. . . that's not the worst part. The worst part was when I said her name. Being the dumbass I am. I said her fucking name! I said it! 'Christine. . .' I couldn't resist it. Her name just. . . it rolls off so well. I love saying it. And the look on her face. She had no idea how I knew her name, because, well, obviously. She didn't know me. And evidently, I got too comfortable. So I had to lie and tell her I had a part-time job at the opera house. God, it was horrible. I could tell she wasn't convinced. Then I found out she was your neighbour. As if things couldn't get any worse! I knew she'd tell you all about what happened, and I couldn't stand a scolding from you. You're like the older brother I never had! I do get scared of you, sometimes, when you shout or get angry. I'm not totally fearless and I am scared of a lot of things. So when you stormed in, I tried to stay as calm as I could. You know. That's it really." Erik looked down, pink hinting at his left cheek. Nadir frowned.
"And how did you firstly find out about her?" He asked curiously. Erik sighed.
"I heard her sing. When she was a tour guide. I heard her voice, and I thought it was an angel! It was beautiful! I had never heard anything like it. And compared to Whorelotta, her voice was truly the equivalent of melted chocolate. Of melted marshmallows. Just, of anything good, you know. I had to see the face of the voice. And, just like that, I. . . I. . ." Erik was having difficulty with the following words.
"Spit it out!" Nadir encouraged him.
"I fell in love!" Erik blurted out, holding the bridge of his masked nose, "Yes, I fell in love with her! How could I not? She was the most beautiful creature on this planet that I had ever seen. She was more beautiful than what I remembered of my mother. I. . . had to know more. When she got fired, I almost snapped the man's neck! I was so happy she came back, for I could not lose her under any circumstances! And I, well, I kind of stalked her in a way. But please don't think of it the wrong way. You know, I just. . . I want to marry her one day."
"Marry her? Damn, Erik. You've just met her. She hardly knows you. 'You can't marry s—'"
"'. . . omeone you just met'," Erik finished with exasperation, "I know, I know. You forced me to watch Frozen. It was awful, by the way. You think I, a love deprived thing, would like that?"
"You're not a thing, Erik!"
"Whatever."
The daroga snuck his hand towards Erik's ribs and poked him, causing him to jerk away with a small chuckle.
"Stop," Erik moaned, "I hate it when you tickle me. I'm not the type to laugh."
"Oh?" Nadir questioned, lightly poking him again. Erik laughed and poked him back.
Nadir was careful not to touch Erik too much or to get too close to him, because he knew the guy was sensitive to touches. Poor, poor Erik!
