Sleeping entwined in Erik's arms had been a strange experience for Nina. It was not that it had been her first time sleeping beside someone else, for she had huddled together with Emily many a cold English night at the orphanage, but the fact that he was everything she was unaccustomed to. Where Emily had been warm, soft, and familiar, Erik was a complete peculiarity. His entire being was cold against Nina's flesh, and she could feel his strength through the arms he had wrapped around her. Unnervingly, Erik did not act like a sleeping man. He betrayed no movement other than the rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled and he scarcely moved even then.
Nina lay awake, lonely in her attentiveness. Perhaps his nocturnal habits had become contagious.
Vividly, she examined Erik, taking in every aspect of him. His appearance was infallible as he slept, heavy lids curtained his heavenly eyes, and his perfect lips were parted just a hairline so that she glimpsed the interior of his mouth. Nina saw with a slight fascination that his teeth were defectless, like the mouth of a man in a painting. His skin appeared glossy in the small amount of dark houred light that escaped from behind the ancient and bedraggled hangers that clung to the dusty surface of the room's windows, and not a coal black hair of his lay disturbed.
Nina felt with a strange anxiety that she was in the presence of some celestial creature: Did she quite have the right to be so near this man, a man who sang so rapturously as if to suggest he was not a man at all, but a god?
But surely something so rapturous was too good for itself. Erik's voice was something sinfully delighting, something Nina felt was forbidden to her. Maybe he was not such a god, but maybe a demon, sent by the devil to stray her on the path to goodness and morality and modesty.
Nina caught herself and remembered Erik's words. Perhaps she was infatuated with him, and perhaps she did imagine him to be some dark, handsome, villain. But maybe Erik did not understand the extent of his own words. He was dark and he was handsome and he was even a bit of a villain. But did that make her thoughts towards him so bad?
Erik was exactly the kind of man who Nina knew would cause nothing but trouble for her which was exactly why she felt so drawn to him.
Still watching her dark divinity, Nina cursed herself. She was hot ice, righteous sin, piano forte, creative destruction. Oh, she was a clean addict. She felt in herself a quiet revolution, a delightful affliction, a humble assertiveness all because of this black guardian of God before her. He truly was sweet sin.
He had kissed her and she was confused as to what that meant. Did he perhaps feel amorous to her somewhere deep down inside his twisted soul where only the presence of an alcoholic depressant could bring it forth? Or maybe it was just the alcohol that felt for her. She wanted to know, oh, she needed to know. The question was agony.
In this specially unique internal struggle, Nina physically struggled against Erik's arms completely unawares and he woke to her movement.
"What- what are you doing?" He asked her groggily, removing his arms from around her. "I shouldn't have held you, I know-" He started.
"No, no it's not that." Nina said quickly. "Actually it felt quite nice to be near someone. It was just that I couldn't sleep and I was thinking about things and I, well." She stopped speaking and sighed.
"You probably can't sleep because you've slept all day. What were you thinking about that was troubling you so?"
"Does that concern you?" Nina asked rhetorically.
"I don't know, does it?" Erik answered anyways.
She said nothing and Erik grinned like a bobcat while propping his head up against his arm. It did concern him.
"Tell me what it is." He said softly, bringing his icy hand to touch her thinly clothed shoulder. She shuddered mentally at his coolness and, as if sensing this, Erik withdrew his hand.
Nina could not tell him what was troubling her, not unless she wished to reveal the information of their forgotten kiss, and she was sure he would not want to be reminded of that simple touch of flesh.
"I cannot tell you, I am to be a nun and the only man I should devote myself to is Christ and. . . ." She continued to babble and Erik narrowed his eyes in irritation.
"What is this nonsense, girl? I'm tired, we have not all spent the day sleeping away. Now tell me what is troubling you."
Nina sighed and let loose a puff of breath so that a strand of loose raven cord jumped up from her eyes.
"Close your eyes," She whispered, remembering Erik saying the same words before he had kissed her.
Erik raised an eyebrow before doing as she requested. Nina slowly lifted a hand to Erik's face and touched the cheek of his that was unmasked. Erik had to resist the urge of withdrawing from her, he didn't like to be touched, and he only betrayed a slight flinch.
Nina felt a slight sinking feeling in her stomach and she struggled for confidence in what she was about to do. She knew that if she did not act quickly she would lose whatever nerve she had and would never remind him. Perhaps her life would have turned out incredibly different if she hadn't. So, like one jumping from a great height into a pool of water, which of course must be done without thinking about it, Nina felt her mouth jump to Erik's and she kissed him like he had kissed her before: slowly, passionately and with just a bit of ache of loneliness. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her back. He didn't.
Erik broke away from her and jumped up from the bed like a cat. His hands were raised up to his head like a man caught in the wrong and Nina felt herself flood with embarrassment.
"Have I not previously explained to you what I am capable of? Good God woman, must I show you yourself? Would you like that? Would you take pleasure against my cold flesh?"
"Erik, you kissed me first." Nina said through clenched teeth, drawing the thin covers of the bed over her chest; she felt exposed. Erik was silent and he crossed his arms over his chest. "When you were drunk. At the hotel." She elaborated, feeling a coil of heat rise in her face.
"I-I- I don't. . . ." Erik trailed off and he looked dumbfounded. He felt almost. . . molested. "I'm going to get some fresh air. Just- Just leave me be."
He stumbled out of the room after throwing a frock coat and boots over his night clothes and left Nina completely alone in the dark. Inexplicably, she felt a prick of tears glossing over he eyes. He hated her now, she was sure. She had ruined whatever small friendship they had begun to from and it was all her fault. If she could have just kept her mouth to herself she wouldn't be alone in this shitty place right now. She let a noise that was half sob and half exclamation of anger loose and gripped her hair tightly in a motion of utter distress.
Sweet sin, indeed!
At the same time Nina was having her slight mental breakdown, Erik was having a bit of a panic attack.
Erik had gotten outside some way, though he did not remember how, and he was quickly making his way through an open field that, at that time, were so common among the roads between Paris and Calais. He dropped onto his knees in the middle of one of these fields and stared up at the stars, cursing their Creator.
"After all this time, after all Your darkness You have never failed to bestow upon me, You now send me something worth of light? Is this Your way of compensation? Is this You asking for forgiveness after the tortures you have given me over Christine? Why now? Why. . . why now, now that I am a broken man? I am empty now, I tell You! Completely hallowed out, just as You must have wished! And now You send this girl into my bed! What for, I ask You? What! For!" Erik screamed at the heavens, shaking his fist at those saint's eyes that glittered across the sky. He shook in his ferocious anger and he felt sob after sob rising up in his mysterious throat. In the cold night air, his screams came to the surrounding established village people's ears like the screams and moans of a ghost.
"Why have You always hated me? Why have You always despised me so? You have cursed me since the moment I was born, and all for Your fun, I presume! What a cruel being You are, what a terrible thing! What is this now? Why have You finally given me something now? Now, now that it is too late, now that I am to die in a mere matter of weeks, and at my own hand! Now that Ii will finally go to your fiery playground, that place where you put all of your disliked souls!"
In a rage, Erik ripped off his mask and showed his gloriously hideous face to the sky above.
"I thought You had finally sent me love with Christine, but that was all one lie! So why, after years of yearning, have You sent me this girl? Tell me, will You make her love me? Will You have great fun watching the beauty fall in love with the beast? I'm sure you will! Why can You not just leave me alone like everybody else? Why must you antagonize me so! And she says that I have kissed her! You have bestowed upon me, in all these years, three kisses, all of which happen to happen in a mere matter of days! This must be some trick of pity! Tell me, oh great and loving Father, have you finally begun to feel guilt in your anfractuous game?"
"Everyday I am in agony, and all because of You! Why did You do this to me? Why must You be so cruel?"
Erik slammed his left fist against the frost covered ground and hid his face behind his right hand and sobbed. He thought about taking his life right there; he was sure he could find a way. But he did not. Because when he thought of suicide, he saw a dark skinned face framed in light above him, smiling and touching his masked face without a hint of fright. Here was something for him, someone for him.
He did not love Nina, and he doubted he ever would. But, she was his for the taking. And he would take her.
At the same time that Erik was having his deep, one-handed conversation with God, Christine was making her way through the underground labyrinth of the Opera Populaire.
She had sneaked out of the Viscount de Chagny's grand estate and had slipped through the streets of night time Paris, a place where stars shone in trees and drunks lay on streets, where chorus girls rose to fame as Prima Donna's and prostitutes roamed the streets with no better place to go then a filthy bed. A magical, terrible place where anything seemed possible. A place where Angels were Phantoms and Phantoms were Angels. To Christine, it was home.
Christine was armed with nothing but an open heart and an apology that she was sure would be replied with forgiveness. She was to be married tomorrow, the date a secret she had somehow managed to keep secret from her Angel, and she had returned to his home to give him one final goodbye.
She was in the gondola now, it had been in the exact same place where she and Raoul had abandoned it on. . . that night. Struggling with her weak arms, Christine rowed her way through the thick water of the underground lake and watched the darkness slip past her as she made her way to the island. Christine wondered what awaited her there.
He had to be there. Her angel had to be there, there was no way possible that he would not be there. He was her Angel and Christine knew that when it came down to it, he would always be there for her. He loved her. He was her angel.
The night was cold and Christine shivered like a summer deer suddenly caught in Winter. For a moment, she regretted coming. What if he did not let her go again? Would she care?
What would Raoul say if he found out she was here?
Christine didn't want to dwell on the thought. Over the time they had become engaged he had changed from merely being protective of his sweet heart, to being obsessed with her utter safety. And she supposed he had a right to be with her Maestro around, Christine thought quietly to herself, but she had still felt terrible when he had plotted to destroy that one person who had found her and polished until shone as a star in a spotlight.
The bottom of the gondola scraped against a stone floor and Christine stepped out and waded her last few steps, caught up to her calves in water. She lifted her skirts and nearly tripped on entering Erik's open cave home.
Her stomach sank.
It was dark. Not a candle was lit. Not one.
"Angel?" She called out timidly. "Angel, do not hide from me. I am here. I must tell you something." There was no answer. Her stomach plummeted even further. "There is no use hiding. I will find you, mon ange. I am here, my Maestro, come to me, please."
Still there was no answer.
"Angel!" She cried out her voice echoing into a million 'angel's inside this depressing crypt.
But there was no one there and somewhere deep inside herself, a little part of Christine died. He was not there for her. A petty thought went through her childish mind: he did not love her anymore because he was not there for her any longer. No, her angel was not there and he was no where to be found in the city of Paris or even it's outskirts. Her angel had vanished.
In anguish, the soon to be wed bride dropped to her knees and screamed in utter distress, deep in the catacombs of the opera house where no one would hear her. He was not there. Her angel was not there. One who might be observing might have called the sad girl mad and may have been entirely true, for madness can be contagious and Christine's angel was certainly mad.
Christine sobbed to herself in the dark, holding herself for the first time in a long time and curled up on the damp stone floor, with no companions whatsoever but the echoes of her screams and sobs.
For the first time in a long time, Christine was alone.
Throughout this night, three distressed souls nearly ripped themselves apart all because of each other. These occasions are much more common then you think.