Christine's Lament

1870

Christine

The next day Christine found herself smiling all throughout the rehearsal for Hannibal. Opening night was only two weeks away now, and whereas she normally would have been drained by Carlotta's diva antics, today she found herself barely paying any attention to them at all. As she danced and sang she felt as though she was floating above everyone around her, lost in her own little world.

As she replayed the previous night in her head over and over again, she found that she couldn't shake certain feelings from consuming her. They were feelings so new and foreign, but she loved them none the less. She found she couldn't shake thoughts of Erik from her mind for even just a moment. At one point in the day she found herself leaning against the side of the stage during their break, and recalled at once his body behind hers as he'd held her tightly and whispered to her. Perhaps she'd started to daydream then, for when she turned around she saw Meg giving her curious looks. Christine just smiled in response. She didn't care if Meg thought she was turning insane from the exhaustion of the rehearsals. She couldn't hide her happiness, nor did she feel like she had to.

Because her angel of music, her guardian and teacher, her spirit in the darkness was real. A real man of flesh and bone and a soul so beautiful that it captivated her ever so much just to stand by his side. And when she'd seen him sing, directly to her, she'd felt a pull towards him she'd never experienced with anyone else in her life. She wished right then and there that he could be near, to hold her in his arms again. Oh, how blissful that feeling had been. The protection she'd always felt from his voice, she'd felt tenfold in his embraces. And when he'd nearly kissed her...

Oh, how foolish she'd been to pull herself away from him! To ruin such a beautiful moment and deny herself what they both needed so badly to discover in one another. She'd wanted that kiss so badly, but her better judgement had been weary, and the moment had fled just as soon as it had appeared. Would she allow him to kiss her tonight? Was that proper? With her music always being the priority in her life she had never had time to have such a talk with Mme. Giry, whom was as close to a mother figure as she would ever get.

She honestly didn't want to have that kind of conversation with the Madame though. What if she pried and wanted to know about the man that captivated her enough to spur such questions? She'd always known that the phantom of the opera and Mme. Giry knew each other, but to what relation? Work partners, family, or simply friends? Would she be offended, or scared for her safety if she were to say it was him? For all Christine knew the two of them could be enemies who simply tolerated each other's existence.

She would slyly see if Meg knew anything of courtship in the morning before they left the dorms. Right now though, as the curtain fell on their dress rehearsal, Christine couldn't rid herself of the stage fast enough. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird's as she quickly changed and stole a glance at herself in one of the dressing room mirrors to make sure she looked presentable. She glanced around and spotted on one of the tiny vanities a small perfume bottle that someone had left sitting around. Sneakily, she sprayed the floral scent on herself and laughed, thinking how silly she must have looked in that last minute attempt to spruce up before she began to cross through the dark halls.

Bursting with excitement, she took a calming breath before pushing open the door to the chapel. She was right on time tonight for their usual singing lesson. Though perhaps tonight they could talk instead of sing together. There was so much Christine still wanted to know about her mysterious angel. As she walked into the dark room she smiled and nodded a greeting at the statue of her familiar stone angel. She then preceded to light her father's candle, seeing the warm flame-light dance off his portrait. Afterwards, she perched herself on the ledge of the stained glass window and began to go through her warm ups as she waited for Erik to arrive. After about twenty minutes though she began to frown, wondering what was keeping him. Not once before had he ever been late to their lessons. She hoped he was feeling well. What would happen if he were sick or hurt? Did anyone even know where he was?

Feeling the need to check on him, she stood up and rounded the corner of the room to the statue of the three saints. Behind it she raised both her hands up to the wall and pushed on it hard. The stones there didn't make a sound nor move an inch as she strained, and she wondered what Erik's trick to it had been. Feeling outsmarted by something as simple as a door, she crossed her arms and sighed as she returned to her seat on the window.

As the minutes droned on, she became increasingly worried for Erik's health as well as her own. Either he was sick or she was truly a madwoman who had imagined the entire previous evening. But he had to have been real, she had felt him touch her! He'd been there, holding her in his arms. She yearned for him to be beside her again, to prove to her he was indeed real and not a figment of her imagination.

Yet, even if she were insane, as long as he would return to her, imaginary or real, that would be enough. For she realized now that she needed him in her life the very same way she needed air to breathe. That feeling had been with her all day, and she didn't quite know how to handle needing someone in that way. She had depended on him for years now for innocent companionship. But now the companionship she saw in their future was much more intimate. So suddenly she was a woman and he a man. They couldn't go back to the way things were before now. They'd passed the point of no return. There was a small part of her that was scared of the intensity of it all. She couldn't deny that it felt almost like a withdrawal of sorts as she waited for him in the very place they'd first met all those years ago.

She feared, and accepted as well, that she may very well be falling in love with the phantom that terrorized the opera house. She froze at that thought, questioning love. Did she even know what love was? She'd sung a thousand arias about it in her life during their lessons, and the lyrics in them seemed to echo her own thoughts as she pictured Erik and the tender gaze she knew he saved only for her. Would she be his one day, to have and hold until their last day, like in the songs? That was what love was, wasn't it? A friendship so strong that you needed the other person to complete you. Almost like finding the other half of a perfect duet. At that thought she smiled because she'd sung duets with him a hundred times over, and nothing had ever given her more joy than the way they sounded when they sang together.

But was she ready for love? She would be seventeen in two days, not that birthdays were a huge deal to her. But seventeen seemed young for love and the choices it brought. He was obviously a few years older than herself, and possibly many. Had he ever known love before? What if a love gone wrong was what had cursed him to become the phantom? No, she wouldn't jump to conclusions. Erik had told her he would share his story in time, and she knew she needed to hear it without prior judgement if she ever wished to entertain the thought of something more between them someday.

She thought about a life spent with Erik. About the way he spent his life now; hidden away in the cold, dark cellars without a friend in the world or a true place to call home. Sure, he'd made a decent life for himself beneath the opera house, but could she join him there? Give away the sunlight and the morning sky to be his? Would he ask her to do such a thing? To do such would be to live as the undead. She didn't want that. Didn't want to give up summertime, the ocean, or the sunrises of Paris. She began to trace a line of dust in the window ledge beside her as she stared out the stained glass in deep thought.

She began to sing to herself, weighing the pros and cons of the romance she craved. She knew in her heart that the moment she gave in, gave herself over to him, that she'd be powerless to follow anywhere but where he led. But had it not been for Erik in the first place she'd have withered away into nothingness in her youth. She never would have known all the joys that music had brought her over the years, and her voice would not be what it was now without his tutelage. In a way she felt as though she owed him all she was and all she would ever be. And ever since that first night he'd always been there for her. When she was sad or scared or just needing a friend his voice had always been there in the shadows to comfort her.

Where was he and why hadn't he showed up? Didn't he still care? He had tried to kiss her. She hoped his affections were as genuine as the ones in her own heart. If not, she didn't know if she would ever be able to get through the loss.

Christine sighed as she realized how late it had gotten. She got up from the window, crossing the room slowly and opening the chapel door with hesitance. With one sorrowful gaze back into the room she longingly whispered into the dark:

"Erik, please...please I beg you. Don't make me love you unless you truly love me in return."

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xoxo,

Nicole