Wait – what? You mean Christine could have gone to a library to find that book? She didn't have to go to Erik's to get it? Well, I'll just have to redo the last chapter and call the story: "Christine Goes to the Library and Nothing Eventful Happens." ;)
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm glad so many of you had fun with the morbid nutcracker part. This story is meant to be fun, along with the angst. There are some heavier parts, especially toward the end, but I don't want it to be a downer.
Read and Review!
The days crept by once more, into dreadfully green and wet May, when his underground home developed a slightly damp smell. He did not see her for an entire week and miserably wondered if she had changed her mind. Until he heard the bell and the door opening on a Friday evening. His decomposing heart felt instant relief.
"Hi." She poked her head into the room with a small smile. "Is now a good time to visit?"
Oh, no, darling. I have not been waiting for you all week, clutching onto that pink shirt you left here months ago. I have so many important events occurring in my life, so many other things to look forward to - parties, sporting events, and…whatever the hell the young people do these days. Orgies? So many of those to attend. "Of course. Come in."
She had her backpack. "I thought I could study, too. It's quiet down here. I have three exams next week."
Did that mean Chagny's house was not quiet? Was his idiot elder brother coming over and throwing his infamous two-hundred-people parties/orgies?
"Yes, study," he stated. "Whatever you like."
"Thanks." She slid her backpack off and put it beside the couch. She took a seat and looked up at him. An awkward silence passed. "Is...is that my shirt?" she asked, noticing it on the arm of his large black armchair.
"Hm? Oh. Yes. I have barely noticed it. I suppose you left it here long ago." A pause. "I think there is a hole in it, so you will not want it back."
"Oh. Hm." She crossed her legs. "I've started singing again," she hesitantly continued. "I took off for a little while. But I really missed it."
"That is wonderful," he replied and meant it with a genuineness that was uncharacteristic of him.
"Yep. I'll let you know if I need any practice. I probably will." She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a red notebook. She flipped it to the middle. She opened her textbook. She looked back and forth between the two. She gazed up at him. "You don't have to stay in this room if you have better things to do. I'm happy just being here."
Better things to do? Hahahaha.
He cleared his throat. "I acquired food. For you, I mean. Cookies. With chocolate and vanilla frosting. You like those, yes?"
"Yeah. Thanks!" She tilted her head. "Do you like cookies?"
"Not especially."
"What food do you like?"
He shrugged. "I only use food for sustenance. Whatever is nearby is acceptable."
She tilted her head. "You must like something."
"I cannot taste very well," he admitted. "Eating is not all that pleasurable."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." A pause. "I suppose dark chocolate is enjoyable."
Her eyes widened. "I like dark chocolate, too." She shook her head. "There's a lot I don't know about you. When we first met, before you even let me see you, all we talked about was my life. And then…well…"
And then all they had discussed was why she was not allowed to leave his underground home for two weeks and why Chagny was a terrible, horrible choice for her. He tensed as memories of her begging to leave returned to him, right after he had brought her here. "You kidnapped me! I thought you were my friend! I trusted you! Are you going to kill me? Why do you keep asking about my boyfriend? Why do you care? I don't understand what's happening, Erik!"
The franticness of that time contrasted sharply with the calmness of the present moment. She was now doing her homework, her forehead creased as pencil scratched against paper. Twenty minutes went by. He pretended not to be watching her by flipping through a book of his compositions. "I hate science electives," she muttered. "I saved them until last. I'm regretting that now."
He glanced up with interest. "What science?"
"Chemistry. It's not even supposed to be a hard chemistry class. But this is not clicking."
"Do you want help?" Oh, please want help. I know everything about chemicals! I know how to make them do…things that I will never, ever tell you about, Angel.
She laughed. "Yeah. I do."
He reached for the book, his long arm bridging the distance between them. She gave it to him. And that was how they spent the evening, learning the equation for the dissolution of sodium sulfide. The minutes passed quickly. He had something to focus on, and so his thoughts did not go too haywire. At some points, he was mere inches away from her and felt his death's skin tingle. He noticed how her unbound hair framed her cheeks. And how her nose crinkled when she was confused.
And still that cheap ring mocked him.
He had received two kisses from her that violent night. How many kisses had Chagny received by now?
He physically pulled back. She noticed, looking up. "Well, I guess I'd better get going." She closed the book. "Thanks so much for your help."
He could not resist - "I suppose Chagny is not very good at chemistry?" She looked visibly distressed, and he instantly regretted saying it.
"I'll see you later, Erik."
"Goodnight, Christine."
After she was gone, he immediately bought more cookies. He had a flesh-like mask that he used for the store and other outings into public spaces, only going late at night, much to the horror of several younger cashiers. In the past, he had sometimes said 'to hell with it' and just stolen what he needed. But now it felt as though Christine were watching his every move as opposed to vice versa.
He also tried to make his home look like less of a tomb, as he'd done when he had first brought her there. He added some watercolor paintings of the city in winter. He placed flowers around the house, including a vase of roses on the coffee table and sunflowers on the kitchen table. He put out a box of assorted chocolates for her pleasure. Anything to get her to come as often as possible. He was certainly not above bribing her.
She returned several days later with her homework again, plopping down on the couch and looking around. He thought she would say something about his home improvement efforts. Instead she stated, "This would be a good place to be in a nuclear war. If one happens, can I come down here?"
Perhaps she was watching too much news. He chuckled. "If there is a nuclear war, we will make our own country here. We will call it Christinestan." She giggled loudly and covered her mouth. "And with the physical damage that the radiation will do to bodies, perhaps I will not even be considered a freak any longer. Everyone will look like Erik!"
"Erik!" She shook her head. Still, she was smiling. Apparently, she was only offended when he joked about the boy.
Likely because he had nearly made the boy's head explode.
Must she hold that against him forever?
This pattern of visitation continued for several weeks, into June. She had decided to take a summer class. If she requested help with her homework, he gave it to her. Otherwise, they would sit in the quiet, occasionally chatting about inoffensive topics like the news or the weather or…why her laundry detergent made her skin itchy. This progressed to her coming in and telling him about her day. Enraptured, he clung to every word. He had desperately missed these conversations, and she was so very animated. She would tell him about a professor who came to class drunk. Or the girl who kept cheating off her during exams, using a makeup mirror. Or how her friend, Megan, had invited her on a fall trip to California. "Have you been there, Erik?"
"Yes. Los Angeles and San Francisco. They gave me a terrible headache. And the traffic made me want to set off a nuclear weapon simply to clear the highway." A pause. "But perhaps you will enjoy it. You do love the sunshine." He sighed wistfully. "And the daytime."
"I like the day and the night," she gently corrected. "The night is cozy and mysterious."
Upon hearing this, he nearly fell apart. And it took all his sanity and self-control to keep it together.
One evening, she came and asked him to help with her singing again. He could barely contain his excitement. With the piano playing and her voice ringing out into the air, he could almost forget that she was married. He could pretend as though the disaster had never happened. He could pretend as though Chagny had never entered the picture and blackened it.
After their lesson, she said, "I don't know what I'm going to do after I graduate. Maybe go audition on Broadway?"
At first, he cringed at how much he would miss her if she went to New York. But he quickly realized that someone else would certainly miss her, too. "Would your husband follow you there?"
She twitched and blinked two times. "Oh. Um. He said he'd support me no matter what. I'm sure he'd come."
This was not the first time that something about her tone indicated all was not quite right. But what? Was she unhappy with her new life? Did Chagny not support her aspirations? He quashed the diabolical voice in his head that urged him to follow her and discover these truths. "You should audition," he said. "I am sure you would receive many roles."
"I don't know about that. It'd be fun to live there even if I didn't get any parts." She frowned. "New York City is expensive, though."
"Chagny could afford ten Manhattan apartments. Why worry about that?"
"Erik…"
"Fine, fine. I will not speak of him. But you are worrying over money, and that makes little sense under your circumstances."
"Could we just keep singing?" she pled.
"Yes. Of course." A pause. "One question, and then I will never speak of him again. I promise. Does he know you come here?"
"Of course not!"
"Where does he think you are?"
"Rehearsals. Seeing friends. School. Studying. Anywhere but here."
"Well, I hope he never figures it out. I would hate to have the FBI down here. I mean, there would be a bit of fun in it. But not your kind of fun." The kind of fun that would require a lot of clean-up afterwards, including a comprehensive carpet shampooing.
"Erik. He won't do that. We're safe. I promise."
He kept his word and did not insult the boy again.
Even when Chagny did not attend her vocal performance in September. She sang two songs at a university concert, accompanied by a piano and violins, and Chagny was not present. She had invited him, though.
Which was a delightful surprise.
Considering that -
Last November, he had beaten one of the theater program's directors, a professor, within an inch of his life after the fool had not cast Christine in the starring role of a college production of "Snow White." He had needed Christine to have that role. It was supposed to be a gift to her. So when that idiot had not given her the role, justice had to be doled out.
After walloping the man thoroughly, he had strung him up by the arms and neck in a lecture hall, making sure the professor had enough air to gasp but not enough to speak or to scream. The unpleasant sight of the black and blue twitching marionette was the first thing that the students saw the next morning, and it had caused quite a panic.
Christine had somehow known it was his doing.
And then everything had spiraled downward. She had run to Chagny in terror and also told the boy the story of her 'kidnapping' – which he preferred to think of as an extended visit, complete with a wholesome breakfast and clean linens.
She had then disappeared with Chagny. He had considered pursuing them immediately but ultimately chosen to give her a week to return, hoping that she would calm down and come to her senses – realize that he had done all this for her.
It had been a mistake to let them leave.
She had returned engaged.
And now she was married.
And he was still her loyal dog. He would attend any performance than she asked him to. He would do anything for her.
Her voice was, of course, lovely that night. It had only deteriorated slightly from disuse, but he had been able to quickly restore it to its former glory. She earned a standing ovation, and he felt great pride in her. She had accomplished this all on her own and with none of his darker machinations. He was also very pleased when they announced her as Christine Daae. She had kept her last name, at least for performing purposes.
At the end, he came backstage to see her. She was already out of her sparkling blue dress and back into jeans. She looked up in surprise, then smiled. "I'm glad you came. I couldn't see you."
"I made myself inconspicuous. I doubt they would want to see me here unless the security guards need target practice. I noticed that they hired more of them."
Her smile faded. "I guess that's smart." A pause. "Raoul is on a business trip. That's why he isn't here."
"I did not ask, did I?"
"No. Thank you."
He did feel a sting of resentment. Why must Chagny have so much of her while he was the one who was present tonight, celebrating her glory?
The feeling vanished when she suddenly gave him a hug, directly around his narrow waist. Instant warmth engulfed his flesh and bones. "Thanks for coming, Erik. It really means a lot." Her voice was a little hoarse. Stunned, he stiffly wrapped his right arm around her, his trembling hand lightly touching the back of her head. He curled his fingers slightly to feel the softness of her hair, a lump forming in his throat. She held on longer than he expected. His heart clenched with a pleasant sort of pain. When she released him and bid him goodnight, he felt the cold return to his body. That was the physically closest he had been to her since the two kisses...
He remembered why he had let her go. And now...
It was better to have a small piece of her than to have none of her.
It was better to have a little of her in joy than all of her in hatred.
Even in mere friendship, she gave him a reason to live.
Undeniable yet cruel truths.
